by I. J. Parker
Akitada laughed, a new sound even to his own ears. He dropped the armful of wood, awkwardly because his left arm was still swollen and sore, wiped his hands on his robe, and bowed to his superior. ‘Good morning, Excellency. Since I’m on leave of absence, I make myself useful.’
‘Oh, dear,’ murmured the minister, absent-mindedly brushing at his own fine green silk robe. ‘Oh, dear, I had no idea you were reduced to this. I am so sorry, my dear fellow.’
‘I like to keep busy,’ Akitada said cheerfully. ‘But perhaps we’d better go inside.’ He stepped to the well, pulled up a leather bucket and rinsed the dirt off his face and hands.
Seimei was already waiting on the veranda, holding a drying cloth and Akitada’s second best robe, trousers, and socks. The minister followed Akitada up the steps and watched as Akitada changed.
‘Do you engage in violent exercise, Sugawara?’ he asked, staring at the cuts and purple bruises.
‘Not the kind that involves earthquakes. I do hope Your Excellency’s home and the ministry were spared serious damage?’
‘Just minor damage, thank the gods.’
More suitably attired, Akitada led his guest through his study and out on the veranda. His small private garden with the fishpond was very pleasant at this hour of the morning. They sat on cushions, and Seimei brought wine and some small rice cakes. Akitada waited for the news.
‘How very nice,’ said the minister, after tasting the wine and looking about. ‘I am sorry that you suffered in the collapse of Sadanori’s pavilion. It must have been a terrible experience.’
‘Being trapped was unpleasant, especially after I smelled smoke.’
‘I can well imagine. The chancellor was very impressed that you should have risked your life to save his cousin.’
‘Oh?’ Everything considered, Akitada felt a bit guilty about Sadanori’s death. He had relived his time under the pavilion repeatedly, especially those last moments, and knew that in the end he had worked to save himself without giving a thought to Sadanori. In fact, he thought his moving of that heavy beam could have caused the collapse that crushed Sadanori. He said, ‘I regret that I failed to do so.’
‘My dear fellow, you did what you could. It’s a miracle you got out yourself. It is well-known in the highest circles that Sadanori had those ridiculous charges laid against you. I suppose you had gone to ask him to withdraw them?’
Akitada was momentarily speechless. He was not going to be dismissed or sent into exile after all. Amazingly, the chancellor’s anger at him had changed to gratitude. He stared at the minister in surprise.
The minister fidgeted. ‘I do hope you will forgive me for speaking to you the way I did?’
Akitada found his voice. ‘There is nothing to forgive, sir. You acted very properly under the circumstances.’
The minister said warmly, ‘That is very kind. Yes, I didn’t have much choice, but I did not like doing it.’ He flushed. His round black eyes became a little moist. ‘The fact is, hmm, I like you, Sugawara. Your hard work is much appreciated. I don’t know how I – how the ministry would manage without you, and that is the truth.’
Akitada was touched. ‘You do me great honor, sir. I am deeply grateful for your patience. Losing my son as I did … Well, I see now that I must have been a great trial to you. I apologize.’
The minister’s round face widened with a smile. ‘Not at all. Not at all. And about those charges, that has all been cleared up. The Otsu judge sent a report clearing you completely. Those people had no claim on the child you found. In fact, it appears the man was a notorious smuggler. The judge expressed great satisfaction with your help in the case.’
A smuggler? Akitada recalled the fine new storehouse next to the Mimuras’ hovel. Of course. He should have guessed it. That would have gone a long way towards clearing his own character and freeing the boy.
‘What about the poor child?’ the minister asked. ‘Will you keep him?’
‘My wife has charge of him, but he should be returned to his family’
The minister opened his mouth to ask, but said only, ‘Ah,’ and, ‘well, I wish you success. Perhaps you will tell me what happens?’ He rose. ‘Time to get back. May we expect you when you have settled the matter?’
‘Certainly, sir. In a day or so.’
In a burst of friendliness, the minister said, ‘I look forward to it, my dear Akitada. You are always getting involved in the most fascinating situations.’
TWENTY-SIX
The Masuda Women
When Akitada returned to Otsu, Judge Nakano brushed away Akitada’s thanks and returned his gold to him with many apologies. He greeted Tamako courteously, and then looked with interest at the boy. Dressed in Yori’s clothes, and with his hair neatly parted and tied, he looked like a handsome noble child.
Nakano shook his head. ‘I find it hard to believe that this is the same boy you found. Both Mimura and his wife were dealing in pirated goods. We found their storehouse filled to the rafters with evidence and put a stop to a notorious pirate who has been working on the lake.’
Akitada said, ‘Good,’ and added, ‘we are on our way to speak to the Masudas.’
‘You think the child is theirs? Come to think of it, young Masuda kept a courtesan. Is that it? Can you prove it?’
‘Young Masuda acknowledged Peony as his concubine, and we know the boy is his son.’
‘Extraordinary! Good blood shows, doesn’t it? But the Masuda ladies will hardly welcome him.’
Akitada sighed. ‘I must do my best for him. Thank you again for your support.’
At the Masuda mansion, the ancient servant opened the gatehouse window. He shook his head stubbornly when Akitada demanded to see the old lord. ‘The first lady has forbidden it,’ he said.
‘This doesn’t concern her. It concerns your master.’
‘She doesn’t wish my master to be upset again.’
‘Life has a way of upsetting us, ‘Akitada said coldly. ‘If Lord Masuda had looked after his family better, his friend Inabe need not have died.’
The servant opened his mouth to object, but then just shook his head again. ‘I don’t dare, sir.’
‘Look,’ Akitada said, losing his patience, ‘I have come with my wife and with Lord Masuda’s grandson, his son’s child by his concubine Peony. Would your master not wish to meet him before he dies?’
‘B–but,’ stammered the old man, ‘that cannot be. You must be mistaken, sir. That child is dead. Lady Masuda said so herself
‘Why is everyone in this household taking her word for things?’
The old man hesitated. ‘Amida!’ he whispered. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ Akitada said firmly.
The servant’s resistance crumbled. ‘Well, it is one of his good days, and the ladies are at a service for poor Mrs Ishikawa. Did you know she died on her pilgrimage?’
Akitada nodded.
‘Surely a blessed occasion,’ the servant said.
Akitada had no wish to discuss Mrs Ishikawa’s blessed or unblessed state. He waited until the old man opened the gate. When the servant saw the child in Tamako’s arms, his eyes widened. ‘Amida,’ he said. ‘He’s his father’s image.’
‘This is Lady Sugawara.’ Akitada handed the child down to the old man and helped Tamako dismount.
The old man paid no attention. He held the boy and crooned, ‘Oh, my little master, how very handsome you are. I used to serve your father when he was just your size.’
The boy smiled at him.
Akitada said, ‘Perhaps we should have him meet his grandfather now.’
The old servant was still looking at the child with joy and amazement. ‘Oh, dear, the ladies will be back any moment. I don’t know what they’ll say. Let’s be quick.’ He led the way.
Lord Masuda turned his head when they entered. He said nothing, but narrowed his eyes.
Akitada took Nori’s hand and brought him to the old lord. ‘My name is Sugawara,’ he said. ‘I was here once
before, sir. Today I returned with my wife to bring you your grandson.’ He told the child, ‘Bow to your grandfather.’
Nori made a very creditable bow and a small noise in the back of his throat. Letting go of Akitada’s hand, he went to touch the old lord’s gnarled fingers with his small ones. Lord Masuda looked long and searchingly at the child and from the child to the painting of his son. Akitada held his breath.
‘Yori?’ Lord Masuda’s voice was thin as a thread. ‘Is that really you, Yori?’
The boy nodded, and Akitada’s heart missed a beat. He looked at the servant.
The servant was wiping tears from his eyes. ‘His son’s name was Tadayori. The child looks just like him at that age. We used to call the young master Yori.’ He gestured to the painting.
Akitada looked at the image of the younger Masuda and saw that his eyebrows almost grew together and slanted upward a little at the temples – as did the child’s. He took a deep breath. His own Yori had been Yorinaga – but the coincidence moved him profoundly.
He had crossed paths with this child on that rainy night of the O-Bon festival. In the darkness of his heart he had mistaken him for his son’s ghost and called out his name, and the child had come to him. For the span of that night and a day, he had lived in the dream of having a son again. They had encountered a cat who had led him to Peony’s villa, and everything else had followed – so many things, including his own salvation. Somehow they had reached this moment, he and the boy – a grieving father and a fatherless child.
The old lord looked at him. ‘Where did the child come from?’
‘My Lord, when I was here earlier, I spoke to you about your son and the courtesan Peony.’
‘Peony?’
‘They had a child, a boy, born five years ago. Your son acknowledged the boy as his. This is that child.’ Akitada did not know this for certain, but young Masuda’s return to Peony implied as much.
Lord Masuda looked from Akitada to the boy and then back again. ‘He resembles my son,’ he said. His gnarled hand stretched out and traced the child’s eyebrows. ‘What is your name, boy?’
The child was struggling to speak when the door opened abruptly and Lady Masuda swept in, followed by Kohime. ‘What is going on here?’ she demanded, taking in the scene and singling out Akitada, anger flaring in her face. ‘I told you my father is not well.’
Akitada’s eyes were on the boy. He had a sudden premonition of what was to come. Lady Masuda had finally met her retribution.
But the boy looked past the first lady. His face crumpled, and the small boy erupted into violent movement and speech.
‘Sh–she … k–killed her,’ he screeched. Before Akitada could stop him, he dashed past Lady Masuda and threw himself at Kohime, fists flying. ‘She killed my mother. She did it.’
Kohime screamed, gave the child a violent push, and fled from the room.
Akitada caught the boy in his arms. The child was shaking with a storm of grief and anger, but he was still talking, a flood of incomprehensible syllables of loss and anger. Akitada had guessed the wrong killer, but his heart was filled with joy. ‘So you found your voice,’ he said, hugging him. ‘All will be well now.’
‘M–my m–mother,’ sobbed the child, pressing his wet face against his neck.
‘Shh,’ Akitada patted his back. ‘Your grandfather will take care of it.’ And somehow he knew that it would be so. The old man was far from senile; he had merely been submersed in grief and loneliness for too long. He was very alert now and fidgeted with suppressed emotion. And he was looking straight at Lady Masuda.
She was very pale, but her eyes devoured the child. ‘Thank the gods, he is alive,’ she whispered. Oh, thanks to the blessed Amida, he’s alive. How did you find him? I have searched everywhere.’
‘Are you responsible for this?’ the old lord shouted, his eyes flashing. ‘He looks like your husband. Is that why you tried to get rid of him?’
She ran to him and knelt, weeping. ‘No, Father, I wanted him. I meant to give that woman all the money we had for him.’
The old man’s claw-like hand pointed a shaking finger at her. ‘You lied to me. You took my son’s son from me.’
She shrank away.
Akitada said, ‘If you would allow me …’ He turned to the boy, ‘What is your name?’
‘Yori,’ said the child, as if the question were foolish. ‘Like my father.’
Lord Masuda’s face softened. ‘Yes, Yori, like his father.’
Akitada said, ‘Well, then perhaps Yori might stay with my wife while Lady Masuda explains.’
‘Oh, please let me take him,’ cried Lady Masuda, rising to her knees.
‘No,’ said her father-in-law, ‘you will stay here and make a clean breast of this.’ He told the servant, ‘Fetch my other daughter.’ As soon as they had gone, he asked, ‘Now, daughter, why did you lie to me about my grandson and his mother?’
She bowed her head. ‘Forgive me, Father. I wished to spare you. You were so ill after my husband died. And you blamed that woman.’
‘That does not excuse your lies.’
She cried, ‘It’s true I was a little jealous, especially after she gave him a son while I was still childless. But after my own son was born, I no longer minded so much.’
‘My son wished to live with that woman and her child. I did not approve, but as he had given me an heir, I permitted it. It was none of your business.’
‘When Mrs Ishikawa said Peony had killed my husband, I reported it to you, but nothing was done, and then my own son passed from this world—’ Her voice broke, and she whispered, ‘You should know what losing a child will do to a parent.’
The old lord compressed his lips, but his expression remained cold. ‘Go on.’
For a moment she trembled on the verge of more tears, then she squared her shoulders and said, ‘It was then that I became obsessed with my husband’s paramour and her child. I had to see her. Kohime was very understanding. She came with me. It was … strange. She was very beautiful, much more beautiful than I. I could see they were poor, and I was glad. I saw the boy playing with his kitten, and I thought if we could buy the child from her, I could raise him. I told his mother I would return with money. She seemed grateful, and he was a sweet boy and my husband’s son.’ She looked pleadingly at Lord Masuda.
He grunted. ‘Because I disliked and distrusted the woman, I believed you when you came to me with the story that she poisoned my son. But if you had brought the child to me, I would have adopted him.’
Lady Masuda wiped her eyes. ‘I went home and gathered up all the gold I could find, and Kohime added what she had saved, and then we went back to her. We told her what we wanted, but she became hysterical and cried she would rather die than sell her child. She snatched up the boy and ran into the garden with him. I was afraid she would do him some harm. Kohime ran after her and tried to take the child.’
Lord Masuda raised a hand to stop her. ‘Here is Kohime now. Let her speak for herself.’
Kohime’s round face was splotchy from weeping, and her hair was disheveled. She threw herself on the floor beside her sister-in-law and knocked her head against the boards. ‘I didn’t mean to kill her,’ she wailed. ‘I thought she was running into the lake with the child and grabbed her. It was an accident, Father.’
The old lord sighed deeply. ‘So you killed her.’
‘We struggled and fell down. She bit and kicked me. She was very strong and I was afraid. My hand found a loose stone on the path and I hit her with it, but she didn’t stop. So I kept hitting her until she stopped moving. I didn’t mean to kill her. I just wanted her to let go of me.’ She burst into more violent tears.
Lady Masuda stroked Kohime’s hair. ‘It was an accident, Father. The boy was trying to help his mother. He had a wooden sword, and he stabbed at Kohime with it. I saw it all from the veranda. When Kohime came running back to me, she was bleeding. I took her into the house to stop the bleeding. She said she had killed that woman
.’
A heavy silence fell. Kohime wept quietly. After a moment, Akitada asked, ‘Did you go back to make sure Peony was dead, Lady Masuda?’
She nodded. ‘We were terrified, but we both crept out to look. She was still lying on the path. The boy was beside her, holding her hand. Kohime said, “We must hide the body.” But there was the boy. We could not bring him back here after what had happened.’ She paused and gave her father-in-law a pleading look. ‘We were very frightened that this trouble would bring shame to the family. We thought perhaps we could make it look as if she had fallen into the lake by accident. I would take away the boy, while Kohime would hide the body because she is the stronger. I tried to talk to the child, but it was as if his spirit had fled. His eyes were open, but that was all. He let me take him, and I carried him away from the house. I did not know what to do with him. When I came to the fish market, I saw a woman packing up to return to her village. I offered her all the money we had brought to take the child.’
Akitada muttered, ‘All that gold, and the Mimuras beat and starved the boy.’
She flinched as if he had struck her.
Lord Masuda moved impatiently. ‘And you, Kohime? What did you do?’
Kohime, the peasant girl in the fine silks of a noblewoman, said with childlike simplicity, ‘I put Peony in the lake. It wasn’t far. People thought she’d drowned herself.’
‘Amida!’ exclaimed Lord Masuda. ‘What a fool you are. You are both fools and you deserve to be punished. I do not care what happens to either of you.’
Akitada looked at the two women who had caused such tragedy: one because she was a simpleton, and the other because she had been half mad with grief and jealousy. He thought what it must have been like to be the rejected wife tending to her dying child and remembered watching his own son die. He said, ‘My Lord, no good can come from a public disclosure now. Peony’s death was a tragic accident. It’s her son’s future that matters.’
The old lord said harshly, ‘Kohime killed another human being.’
‘Not intentionally. Peony drowned after she was put in the lake. I believe it was getting dark, and two hysterical women made the mistake of thinking an unconscious woman dead.’
