The Masuda Affair

by I. J. Parker

  Mrs Ishikawa scrabbled on the veranda behind him, and Ishikawa’s hand tightened its grip. The next moment, he lunged at Tora. Tora spun away easily, catching Ishikawa’s sword arm with his left hand and jerking it. Ishikawa gasped, stumbled, and fell to his knees.

  Short and sweet, Tora thought, and twisted the sword from Ishikawa’s hand. He was about to put its point against the other man’s neck, when the women screamed, and a heavy weight hit his back, pitching him forward to the floor. He landed on his chin, jarring his teeth and nearly knocking himself out. Half dazed, he realized that Ishikawa’s mother had come from behind and flung herself on him. She was clawing at his throat and head, and he was about to throw her off when someone stepped hard on his hand. He lost his grip on Ishikawa’s sword as pain shot up his arm, but the pain cleared his head. With a curse, he tossed the woman off and rolled away. He heard rather than saw the blade strike the boards near his shoulder and rolled again until he came up against a wall. The room seemed filled with movement and noise, but he focused on Ishikawa. When the sword hissed down again, he flung himself forward and grabbed for Ishikawa’s legs. Ishikawa skipped away, but his sword had missed.

  Tora managed to get to his feet and put some distance between himself and his attacker. He was still a little dizzy and his hand throbbed, but he no longer had the river gorge behind his back. Ishikawa was now about ten feet away, his face contorted with rage.

  His mother cowered on the floor, her mouth open in mute fear. The others huddled in a corner, Seijiro standing in front of Lady Saisho, and the maids cowering behind. The fight was between him and Ishikawa – and possibly that vicious mother of his.

  Ishikawa laughed. He had found his courage at last. ‘Look who’s the coward now,’ he cried. ‘I think I’ll kill you slowly. One cut at a time. Like this.’ He darted for Tora with the quickness of a snake and struck at his thigh. Tora felt the blade sear his skin as he jumped out of the way. He was now close to the women’s bedding and risked getting tangled in it, but his move had taken Ishikawa towards the platform. He danced about a little, then feinted again. Tora, cursing the other man’s agility, jumped aside again, too far this time, so that he slipped on a silk quilt and almost fell.

  Ishikawa laughed again, and so – horribly – did his mother.

  Tora’s patience was gone. Scooping up the quilt, he flung it at Ishikawa’s face, then made a grab for one of the tall candlesticks. The candle fell and rolled away, but the candlestick was iron, and the moment he held it in his throbbing hand, he was filled with enough fury to kill.

  Ishikawa was fighting free of the quilt, slashing about with his sword. His mother rushed to help him. Tora heard her scream and saw her fall, but Ishikawa was free and attacked. Tora deflected the sword with the candlestick. The blade clanged and jumped away, and he pressed forward immediately, swinging the iron candleholder at Ishikawa’s head. He saw fear on Ishikawa’s face as he backed away. Tora pursued, forcing him through the blind and out on to the platform.

  There, with the river roaring below him, Ishikawa panicked. He rushed forward, slashing wildly, across boards that were too wet and slick for that sort of footwork. He slipped, tried to catch his balance, skidded, and fell over the edge of the veranda to sprawl on the rocks.

  Tora followed more carefully. He stepped down from the platform and went across the stones towards the fallen man.

  Ishikawa got up on his hands and knees and scrambled up the loose rocks.

  Tora saw disaster coming and froze in place.

  The rocks began to slide towards the edge – slowly at first, then faster – taking Ishikawa with them.

  Ishikawa let go of his sword and scrabbled for something, anything, to hold on to. There was nothing. Tora flung himself down and stretched out an arm. Terror in his rolling eyes, Ishikawa reached for it, but the distance was too great. He made a desperate effort and loosened more stones beneath him, slipping downward towards the edge of the cliff. An ominous rumble began and gained in volume. The rock slide gathered momentum, and Tora flattened himself against the hillside.

  He lay still and prayed. Through the rumbling, he heard Ishikawa scream once, shrilly, as he plunged over the edge. His wail faded away among the boiling mists of the gorge. The shifting stones slowed to a trickle. Then all was silent.

  Tora raised his head. He was alone. Cautiously, he crept back up the hill until he reached the corner support of the platform. He was shaking so badly that he could not pull himself up right away.

  Slowly, his relief at being alive gave way to the realization that his master would not approve of this night’s work.

  Nori seemed to enjoy the trip. There was no cormorant fishing in the daytime, but they stopped to see the birds and boats and all the paraphernalia that were used for it.

  This pleasant mood changed abruptly when they reached Lady Saisho’s. Akitada halted when he saw the gates standing wide open. He passed the child to Tamako, told her to wait outside, then drew his sword and rode in.

  The corpse of a broken man lay in the middle of the yard in a puddle of blood and water, and Tora stepped down from the veranda where he had been sitting. Akitada heaved a sigh of relief, put away his sword, and looked at the body more closely.

  ‘Ishikawa,’ said Tora unnecessarily. ‘We fished him out of the river after sunrise.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Tora gave him a brief outline of the night’s events.

  ‘And the women?’

  ‘His mother’s hurt. He caught her with his sword.’

  Tamako, with Nori, came up to the gate and peered in. Akitada went back to explain. She nodded. ‘Don’t look, Nori,’ she said to the boy. ‘There has been an accident, but it does not concern us.’

  Akitada said nothing; the ‘Accident’ concerned the child very much indeed. He wondered what new complications the unexpected death of their prime suspect would bring to the case.

  They dismounted at the steps to the villa. Akitada led them up and into the reception area, where he clapped his hands and shouted for the servant.

  A pale-faced Seijiro appeared and bowed. ‘My lady expects you, sir.’ He led them to the same pavilion where Lady Saisho had received them the day before. Lady Saisho herself slid the door back.

  Akitada’s eyes scanned the room. The torn blind to the outside was lowered. Filtered sunlight fell on a floor that still showed traces of bloodstains. In a corner lay a swaddled shape under a layer of quilts. The boy clutched Akitada’s hand.

  ‘Thank heaven you are in time,’ Lady Saisho said. ‘She is very weak.’ Her eyes went to the child. ‘Oh, he is a handsome child. Are you sure he cannot speak?’

  Akitada nodded.

  ‘Well,’ said Lady Saisho, ‘we shall know more in a moment. Come.’ She led them to the swaddled shape and lifted a corner of the quilt. Mrs Ishikawa lay on her back with her head supported by a wooden neck rest. Only her face and her hands showed. They were almost as white as snow, and her skin seemed transparent. Though her eyes were closed, Akitada guessed from the set of her lips that she was conscious and in pain.

  Tamako came to kneel beside her. ‘Mrs Ishikawa?’ she asked, reaching for a frail hand. ‘Can you hear me?’ There was no response, and Tamako looked up at Lady Saisho. ‘Has a physician been called?’

  ‘Yes, but … she lost so much blood. She is very weak. Look.’ Lady Saisho moved forward. For a moment the two women bent over Mrs Ishikawa and Akitada could see nothing. They lifted the quilt, looked, and then replaced it.

  When Lady Saisho stepped aside, Akitada saw that Tamako was very pale. She glanced up at him and shook her head slightly.

  Feeling bitterly disappointed, Akitada turned to take the boy away. Once again, he had come too late.

  But Lady Saisho said, ‘Wait.’ She bent over Mrs Ishikawa again. ‘Listen to me,’ she said quite sternly. ‘You are dying. I’m very sorry for it, but you must be told. You have a chance to make good an evil that will otherwise destroy you and your son in the oth
er world.’

  Tamako bit her lip, and Akitada felt slightly sickened, though he knew the need for the speech. He took the boy back to the dying woman.

  Lady Saisho commanded, ‘Open your eyes and look at this child.’

  The thin lids fluttered and Mrs Ishikawa looked up at her. ‘My son?’ she whispered, and tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

  ‘He is dead. What you say cannot hurt him any longer.’ Lady Saisho was matter-of-fact. ‘Look at this boy, and tell me if he is the child of the woman Peony.’

  ‘I must not tell.’

  Lady Saisho gripped the other woman’s shoulder. ‘You must. There is no more time.’

  Tamako half rose and protested, Oh, please don’t.’

  Mrs Ishikawa’s eyes flicked to her. Then she turned her head slightly, letting her eyes pass over Akitada to the boy. She looked at him for a long moment. Then she turned her head away and nodded. ‘Yes. That is Peony’s son.’

  ‘Ah.’ Lady Saisho rose, her face alight with triumph.

  Akitada passed the boy to Tamako, who took him from the room. He said, ‘It proves only that the child’s mother was Peony.’

  Mrs Ishikawa was on the point of death. Her breath rattled ominously. Akitada bent over her. ‘Mrs Ishikawa,’ he said, ‘forgive me for troubling you, but did you take some food, gruel perhaps, to Peony’s house when young Lord Masuda was ill?’

  The rattling in her throat stopped. She opened her eyes and raised her head. ‘I didn’t know,’ she gasped. ‘The gruel. I didn’t know.’ Her black eyes bored into his.

  Akitada nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it was poisoned.’

  ‘Oh!’ She wailed and flung her head back so violently that the wooden neck rest tipped and her head hit the floor.

  Lady Saisho cried, ‘What are you doing? She has said all that matters.’

  ‘There is still the matter of murder,’ Akitada said. ‘Young Masuda died of poison, and Mrs Ishikawa took it to him.’ He knelt and lifted the dying woman’s head on his knee.

  Lady Saisho gasped. ‘She murdered him?’

  ‘No, I think her son used her.’

  Mrs Ishikawa flailed weakly. The awful rattling began again. Her convulsion must have opened her wound because fresh blood was seeping from beneath the quilt. But she lay still now, her head on Akitada’s knee, tears welling from her eyes.

  ‘It was your son who sent you with the gruel, wasn’t it?’ Akitada asked softly.

  She looked up at him and opened her mouth, perhaps to answer or to wail again, but all she managed was a harsh gurgle. Her stare became fixed and her jaw sagged. A thin trickle of saliva seeped from the corner of her mouth.

  Akitada felt her neck and found no pulse. He placed her head back on the floor and got up. ‘She is dead,’ he said.

  ‘Why do you look at me that way?’ demanded Lady Saisho. ‘It is not my fault she died. Her own son killed her.’

  ‘I was told it was an accident.’

  ‘You were not here. The man was deranged. He broke into my quarters and attacked both of us. He tried to kill your man, but he wounded his mother instead. We are well rid of such a man.’

  Akitada controlled himself and said, ‘We shall leave now. I regret extremely this upsetting experience for the child. Unfortunately, it was necessary.’

  ‘No. The child must stay. My son will be here shortly’

  ‘I shall speak to Lord Sadanori another time.’

  She barred his way. ‘You cannot take my grandson away. I forbid it.’

  Akitada suddenly felt pity instead of anger. ‘Does your son have other children?’

  ‘A grown daughter only. That is why …’ She broke off. ‘The boy is his. He must be. Sadanori looked just like him at that age.’

  ‘He is most likely young Masuda’s son.’

  ‘No. Never.’

  ‘I am truly sorry.’

  She was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘You must prove that he is ours. They say you are clever. When you find the proof, I will pay you well and Sadanori will advance you at court. He is the chancellor’s cousin and can raise you far beyond your dreams.’

  Akitada bowed and walked out.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Trouble Returns

  Akitada blamed himself for putting the child through a confrontation with the dying woman. Tora was also unhappy. Akitada thought his gloom was due to having inadvertently caused two deaths, but Tora seemed cool enough about the Ishikawas.

  ‘I wish the bastard had confessed first,’ Tora muttered. ‘Now you’ve only got his mother’s word about the poisoning. And you say she never blamed it on him.’

  ‘No. But then she was his mother and she loved him. Having a child means protecting him, come what may.’

  They were riding homeward, and he glanced over at Tamako and Nori. His wife’s arms held the boy securely, and her head was bent to his. She seemed to be chatting, and the child smiled up at her. His heart warmed, but he feared that she might become too attached.

  His own recent efforts at detachment made him see the child’s situation in a new light. The tangled lines of the troubled history of two families formed a tight knot, and Nori was at its center. The child had at least part of the answer, and Akitada wished he could speak. Perhaps he was as callous as Lady Saisho, but he wanted answers. Human obsessions, his own as much as those of the Masudas and of Sadanori and Ishikawa, had been responsible for the confusion and eventual disaster.

  However, his comment about mothers’ love had cheered Tora, who broke into Akitada’s thoughts with: ‘Hanae thinks we’ll have a boy.’

  Akitada smiled. ‘Women know such things.’ He looked over at his wife and said, ‘I am deeply in your debt, Tamako. Thank you for your help.’ ‘What help?’

  ‘For coming with me to Otsu. For your wise counsel. And for your patience and forgiveness.’

  She blinked and looked away. ‘Oh, Akitada, it was nothing,’ she murmured.

  ‘I’m sorry about the scene at Uji. If I’d taken the right steps earlier, I could have spared you that.’

  She said earnestly, ‘You must stop blaming yourself for everything. It’s one thing to set things right for other people, and quite another to take on everyone’s burdens.’

  ‘I have been a fool, and look where it got me.’

  ‘Nonsense. This is no worse than our usual predicaments.’

  And that made him laugh.

  They reached home at dusk and were greeted by the sound of barking. Tora gave a joyful whoop. ‘I’d know that bark anywhere.’ He pounded on the gate. ‘Trouble!’

  Inside, the dog yipped his excitement, and heavy steps came running. Then Genba threw wide the gate, his face all smiles. ‘Trouble found his way home on his own,’ he cried. ‘I heard him scratching and whining outside the gate last night, and there he was.’

  It was a joyous and confused homecoming. The dog, looking thinner and missing part of an ear, rushed about, barking and jumping up at them. Hanae came running and flung herself into Tora’s arms. Tamako’s maid peered from the doorway and ran down the steps to greet her mistress. Seimei hobbled slowly to the top of the stairs. Even Cook ran out of the kitchen with a smile on her face.

  Akitada went to greet Seimei. Seimei smiled, but he lost no time telling Akitada that the board of censors expected him to report.

  This was a heavy blow because it meant that his case had been found serious enough to warrant an official investigation. An investigation alone carried the stigma of public disgrace. For a moment, Akitada’s mind reeled, then he bit his lip and accompanied Seimei inside to read the document.

  The letter was no more enlightening than Seimei’s blunt report, but Akitada looked up from it and said, ‘It must be Sadanori’s doing. He did this to stop my meddling in his affairs. I wonder what he will say when I tell him that Ishikawa is dead and that he is suspected of several murders.’

  Seimei looked nervous. ‘You are not going to see Lord Sadanori again?’

  ‘Even w
ithout the summons from the board, I would have to speak to him. There are loose ends in this case, and the boy deserves to know what happened to his parents.’

  Seimei twisted his thin old hands in silent protest.

  Akitada touched his shoulder. ‘Seimei, trust me. All will be well. Her Ladyship has taken us in hand.’

  That made Seimei smile again. ‘Oh, very good,’ he said. ‘Then happiness has indeed returned to this house.’

  But ‘trouble’ had also returned, both figuratively and literally. While he was not certain how deep Sadanori’s involvement in the murders went, Tora’s report of the conversation between Ishikawa and his master suggested that Sadanori knew about them.

  Akitada washed and changed his clothes, then went to tell Tamako about the summons from the board. Nori was sitting on the floor playing with Hanae’s white cat. He looked like any happy, healthy little boy.

  Tamako listened to his news and sighed. ‘I suppose it had to happen. You will know how to answer them.’ They had both learned that the decisions made by the mighty were not always based on reason and truth, and that punishment and reward were equally unpredictable.

  ‘You won’t mind living in poverty again?’

  She shook her head and smiled at him.

  His heart lifted with hope. ‘I’m on my way to see Sadanori,’ he said.

  Her smile changed to alarm. ‘Take Tora.’

  ‘You know I must see Sadanori privately.’

  ‘Yes, but … he could wait outside.’

  He laughed. ‘You haven’t seen Sadanori. I’m a much better fighter than he.’

  ‘You will take your sword?’

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t be admitted. I meant with my bare hands.’ He flexed them and scowled ferociously.

  Tamako giggled. She had always had a very pretty laugh. ‘Be careful and hurry back, husband,’ she murmured.

  A short while later, when Akitada was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, putting on his shoes, he noticed a strange rumbling sound that seemed to come from beneath his feet. He paused to listen. Trouble was barking furiously in the stable, and birds fluttered among the trees. Akitada got up and crossed the yard quickly, afraid that some part of a building or wall had collapsed.