The Old Men of Omi: An Akitada Novel (Akitada Mysteries Book 13)

by I. J. Parker

  He jumped to his feet. “I insist on joining the search party. And we’d better start wherever your sohei are quartered.”

  Kanshin recoiled a foot or so and turned a panic-stricken face to the abbot. Gyomei said, “The weather is really dreadful, Sugawara. Why not let my monks do the job? They are young and have given up the pleasures of life.”

  This angered Akitada further. How dare this monk suggest he was nothing but a pampered nobleman who did not like to get his head wet. He said harshly, “You can have little notion to what length I’ll go to get my retainer back alive.” He hoped his tone carried the threat that was implied. To his satisfaction, Gyomei blinked. He suddenly looked uneasy.

  Rising to his feet, he said, “We shall do as you ask. Please be careful. The path up the mountain is steep and treacherous in places, especially in the rain. I still think you must be wrong. None of our people would dare capture a retainer of one of the noble guests of our esteemed governor. Prior Kanshin will organize the search. If you will forgive me, I must return to my solitude now.”

  Kanshin was nothing if not efficient. Very quickly, a group of capable-looking monks had gathered. Two other senior monks joined Kanshin, and they started their journey up the mountain. Akitada had been supplied with another straw coat and hat but refused the straw boots as too unreliable for mountain climbing. He had rarely undertaken a more unpleasant journey.

  The wet mists still hung over the mountain and obscured the path ahead where trees and rock outcroppings appeared as if seen through layers of gray gauze, producing a sensation of traveling into a huge spider web.

  Or into nothingness, a more appropriate concept for a Buddhist institution—which did little to reassure Akitada of a successful outcome to this journey into the unknown.

  When they finally reached the secluded valley and the small compound which had been assigned to Enryaku-ji’s sohei, Akitada was struck by two things. Clearly the temple and monastery proper liked to keep their distance from the warrior monks, and their existence was treated in an ominously secretive fashion.

  He strode ahead to join Kanshin, noting with satisfaction that the prior looked as sodden as Akitada felt. “I take it this place is reserved for sohei? How many do you keep?”

  Kanshin hesitated. Then he said, “The precise number escapes me. We also offer temporary residence to traveling warriors here. And a few young people come for training.”

  Akitada compressed his lips. This answer covered any number of possibilities. The temple might well be gathering an army, bringing in outsiders to augment the ranks of its people. Given the fact that the mountain temple could be defended far more easily than Onjo-ji in the city below, this was troubling.

  One of the monks had gone ahead to announce them, and the gates opened. They filed in, a long line of wet monks with a bedraggled court noble in their midst.

  The courtyard and the buildings were not very different from other temple complexes, but the occupants here wore armor or ordinary clothes. Several wore the white cowls draped over their heads and lower part of their faces. A few were bare-headed, and of these some had shaved their heads, while others had long hair and beards. Clearly, these so-called monks had adopted the spiritual path only in so far as it suited them.

  More disturbing was the fact that quite a few looked like thugs and hired killers.

  However, since their party was led by senior monks of Enriyaku-ji, they were received readily enough, and the senior monks and Akitada were led to one of the halls where an older warrior received them. Akitada took him for the commandant. He had shaved his head and wore better armor than the ones Akitada had seen outside.

  Prior Kanshin made the introductions and explained their errand.

  The commandant—his name was Seison— eyed Akitada with interest. He seemed to weigh his options, but then said readily enough, “It is true that we found a trespasser two nights ago. Since he refused to identify himself or his purpose, we have kept him locked up until such a time when we can ascertain those things.” He gave Akitada a small smile. “We are by way of being the guardians of the temple. It seemed safest to make certain the man had no ill intentions before freeing him. Of course, he may not be the man you are seeking.”

  “That’s easily ascertained,” Akitada said, feeling somewhat relieved. “Bring him here.”

  The commandant gave an order, and after a short wait, two heavily-armed men brought in a chained Tora. He had added a bloodied lip to the black eye which had turned an ugly yellowish purple.

  The expression on his face when he saw the wet and mud-stained Akitada was relief mixed with embarrassment. His mouth opened and closed, and he hung his head, muttering, “Sorry, sir.” His guards grinned.

  “He’s a tough one, General,” one of them said. “Tried everything to escape.”

  Tora glared at him, then lowered his eyes to the man’s arm. It was bare, and Akitada saw the tattoo of a circle inside a triangle. He looked at Tora and saw him nod. “Is that the man you saw, Tora?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With an angry frown, Akitada turned to the prior. “Yes, this is Lieutenant Sashima. Release him immediately.”

  Kanshin gestured, and Tora’s guards reluctantly began to undo the chains. Tora rubbed his wrists and said, “Thank you, sir. These men fell upon me two days ago as I was enjoying a walk near the temple. I had no way of getting a message to you.”

  The prior raised a hand. “You did not identify yourself. If you had, this would not have happened. Your behavior, we were told, was suspicious, and you were found in a restricted area after dark.”

  “I got lost. And it wasn’t quite dark yet.” Tora glowered. “As for why I didn’t identify myself, your people jumped me. I took them for a gang of highway robbers.”

  There was some muttering from the sohei at this. Akitada ignored it and said, “Indeed, it seems very strange that peaceful monks should arrest harmless visitors to their temple and then rough them up. And why have restricted areas? I think the lieutenant had good reason to suspect criminal intent.”

  Kanshin fidgeted. “Well,” he said, “it appears to have been a misunderstanding. Your lordship must be aware that Enryaku-ji faces constant threats from our enemies. We are forced to protect ourselves.”

  Akitada ignored this. Stepping to Tora, he asked, “Are you all right?”

  Tora moved his shoulders as if checking for damage, then nodded. “I seem to be in one piece, sir. No thanks to these thugs.”

  Akitada turned back to Kanshin. “You will return Lieutenant Sashima’s armor and sword, as well as his horse. Then I want the chains on that man.” He pointed at the sohei with the tattoo. “He’s being sought by the Otsu police in connection with crimes against citizens. There are others, but this man has been recognized.”

  Kanshin blanched. “Impossible. I cannot permit it.”

  “You cannot refuse an order from an imperial investigator, Prior. Such an action would have an impact on the present investigation into the charges brought against Enryaku-ji.”

  “But the charges were brought by us against Onjo-ji.”

  Akitada smiled coldly. “It works both ways, Prior.”

  Kanshin cringed, then nodded. “Very well. If the man is indeed found guilty, we will not stand in your way.”

  “Then let’s go home!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Spring Rain

  The return journey was, if anything, more miserable than their earlier ascent to Enryaku-ji. They had Tora back, but the continuous rain became more aggravating now that this worry was gone. The horses slipped on wet rocks and mud so that the riders had to pay close attention. Their clothes, already wet, were becoming more so and chafing their necks. Thus, there was no conversation until Akitada, Tora, and Saburo reached Kosehira’s villa and released their escort for the remainder of the trip down into Otsu and to the tribunal.

  As they dismounted in the villa’s courtyard and handed their horses to a groom, Akitada said, “Let’s see if w
e cannot get a bath.”

  They could and met again in the villa’s roomy tub to soak away the miseries of the day, or in Tora’s case, of several days.

  Tora was sore but happy. “I think I’ll sleep here tonight,” he said, slipping lower in the hot water.

  His bruised face made Akitada reconsider the lecture he had planned. “Did anything useful come out of your adventure?” he asked sourly.

  “They blind-folded me and kept me locked up close. I thought that was strange, but maybe they meant to convert me.” He grinned.

  “Nonsense. You were recognized.” Akitada glared at him. “Your going there was a hare-brained idea.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tora tried to look ashamed. “And I never saw Kinzaburo either.”

  Saburo said, “But we have one of the sohei. We can make him talk. I bet we’ll learn all about Kinzaburo and a lot of other facts useful to his lordship.”

  Saburo was right. If the sohei would in fact confess. Akitada had some doubts about this. He said, “I don’t approve of beating confessions out of prisoners.”

  At this point, they were interrupted. The door flew open and Kosehira bounced in.

  “Ha, ha!” he cried, all smiles. “I just heard. There you are, Tora. Back with us, safe and sound.” He took another look and added, “Poor fellow. Were they very rough?”

  Tora sketched a bow. “Not at all. It’s nothing, sir. Thank you for helping and sorry to give you so much trouble.”

  “Never mind that” Kosehira approached to peer at them more closely, then dipped a finger in the water. “Ha!” he said, “room for one more, I think,” and started taking off his clothes.

  Saburo whispered to Akitada, “I think I’d better say good night, sir.”

  Kosehira’s hearing was excellent. “Don’t you dare, Saburo,” he said, stepping out of his full trousers and casting them carelessly on the pile of silk robes he had just removed. He was portly and performed his ablutions without embarrassment while carrying on the conversation. “Did you find that fellow you were looking for, Tora?”

  “No, sir.” Tora was still grinning. Unlike Saburo, he was enjoying the prospect of sharing a bath with one of the great nobles in the land. “They kept me locked up. I saw nothing. I figure they’ve got lots of secrets to protect.”

  “No doubt,” muttered Kosehira, casting a leg over the side of the tub and plunging in, sending hot water over the side and its three occupants. “Ahhh, hmmm!” he sighed, closing his eyes. “That’s better.”

  For a while they enjoyed the warmth silently. Akitada recalled his fear that Lady Yukiko would someday surprise him in his bath and quickly banished the thought again.

  “So,” said Kosehira and looked at Tora, “it was all for nothing?”

  Tora’s smile faded. “Afraid so, sir.”

  “Not quite,” said Akitada. “I arrested one of the sohei involved in the attack on Kinzaburo and his family. He’s safely in the tribunal jail by now.”

  Kosehira’s eyes widened. “Did you, now? How did you manage that?”

  “Tora pointed out his tattoo. Tomorrow, we’ll transfer him to the Otsu jail and confront him with witnesses. He won’t be terrorizing women and children again.”

  “He’s a stupid bastard,” said Tora, cheerful again. “Couldn’t resist being the one to bring me out in chains.”

  “I can’t believe they let you take him.” Kosehira was dumfounded. “He can claim sanctuary on temple land.”

  Akitada smiled. “I told them I have extraordinary powers while I’m looking into this matter of temple improprieties.”

  “And do you?”

  “No. At least I don’t think so. It was the best I could do at the moment. If we had left without him, we’d never have seen him again.”

  Kosehira burst out laughing. “I don’t believe it. You stood right there before the abbot and took one of his men?”

  “It was the prior Kanshin. The monk who paid me a visit earlier. The abbot did not seem interested in getting involved.”

  “Ah. I’ve only met old Gyomei once. Yes, he either pretends to be above all this wrangling or he really has no idea what is going on.” Kosehira had become serious again. “I don’t have to tell you how difficult things have been with Enryaku-ji and Onjo-ji squabbling like bad little boys while they are grabbing land right and left. I’ve been told many times that I have no power to administer my own province. It seems most of it is owned by the temples.”

  This was the first time Kosehira had voiced a complaint. Akitada looked at his friend with new eyes. He wanted to know more about his life but could not ask with Tora and Saburo present, so he only said, “I hope I haven’t caused trouble for you. Tora thinks the man will talk when confronted by local witnesses.”

  Tora nodded. “Those tough-looking bastards with tattoos always end up being cowards.”

  “Well then, tell me everything that happened,” Kosehira said.

  They complied, taking turns. At one point, Kosehira was shocked to hear that the monks had taken Tora’s horse.

  “Can’t have monks stealing horses,” he muttered.

  Saburo, who had been fairly quiet, said, “They do so already and have been doing it for years. They claim shipments of horses for the temple even though they come from private estates and are intended for the market in the capital.”

  Kosehira looked astonished. “You know this for a fact?”

  Akitada said, “Saburo was once one of them. Or rather, he was a sohei who spent some interesting time on Mount Hiei.”

  Kosehira’s eyes widened again. “Really? Is that … I mean did they …?” His eyes were searching Saburo’s face.

  Saburo looked away. “Yes, sir.”

  “Dear gods!” Kosehira fell silent. After a while, he got out of the bath. “I think I have enough to occupy my mind for a while,” he said, sounding dejected.

  Akitada joined him. “I’m sorry, Kosehira,” he said softly. “I did not mean to spoil your well-deserved relaxation.”

  “No, no,” said Kosehira, wrapping a cotton gown around his paunch. “Will you join us for dinner?”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of your ladies.”

  Kosehira smiled. “It’s among his family that a man finds true happiness, Akitada. Remember that.”

  ∞

  It was still raining steadily later when Akitada made his way along the covered gallery toward the pavilion of Kosehira’s ladies. The garden lay in a green haze, the leaves glistening and the blooms on the azaleas drooping with moisture. A warm scent of wet earth, moss, and growing things came from the ground and, as he passed an azalea growing close to the gallery, its heady scent filled the moist air with an almost intoxicating power. He stopped to breathe more deeply and was filled with a great longing for Tamako.

  Her scent had been orange blossoms, but he recalled her vividly in their own spring garden, bending over a flowering azalea to breathe in its fragrance. Kosehira had been right. His true happiness had been then, with her and the children in their garden. And he had lost it.

  “Akitada?”

  He returned from his dream of happier times and saw that Yukiko had come from the pavilion, perhaps to fetch him or to greet him. She had paused a little distance away, looking like a spring flower herself in her pink robe.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Yukiko,” he said, taking a guilty pleasure in seeing her pretty face, that graceful figure in pale rosy silks. Had not his wife favored this color? She had been quite different from this charming girl. Tamako had worn her clothes with a quiet grace; Yukiko had the quick movements of a young deer. Emotion suddenly constricted his throat.

  But Yukiko came toward him slowly, almost shyly. “I’m the one who is sorry. I interrupted your thoughts. You looked happy.”

  “A delightful interruption. Am I late for dinner?”

  “No. I came out to smell the rain. The garden always smells quite wonderful at this time.” She chuckled softly. “Do you smell it, too? The azaleas. I love the scent. It’s
always especially intense in a slow rain.”

  “I had the same thought a moment ago. Your garden is beautiful in all kinds of weather.”

  “You will always be welcome here.”

  It was a strange thing to say. He was a guest, a temporary visitor who must leave, perhaps never to return. “Thank you.” He looked out over the garden once more, and she came to stand beside him.

  “You are lonely, I think,” she said softly. “I know all about loneliness.”

  He was startled and upset by her comment. “How can you be lonely here amidst your family. I would think you would never wish to leave them.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes sad. “One can be lonely in a crowd. I love my family, but I feel they have their own lives, that I am somehow apart.” She turned away. “And adrift.”

  She said this last in a voice filled with such sorrow that Akitada reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She made a small sound, turned toward him, and came into his arms, laying her head against his chest.

  Akitada’s thoughts were in turmoil. What had happened to her to cause such sadness? How could he make things better? And then: what was he doing, standing here, holding Kosehira’s daughter in his arms? Someone might come at any moment. Yet he drew her a little closer. The top of her head almost reached his eyes. Her hair gleamed a beautiful bluish black, and he could see part of her neck, just below a dainty ear. It was a neck he wanted to kiss so very much that he felt his hands trembling with the effort not to do so.

  All around them, the rain fell with a soft music of its own, and the scent of spring flowers and warm, moist earth filled the air. At that moment, Akitada knew he was lost.

  Somehow they parted, neither speaking, and walked slowly toward the pavilion.

  Akitada did not know how he managed to get through the cheerful family meal on this occasion. He ate automatically, answered absent-mindedly, and tried not to look at Yukiko. He failed miserably. A few times their eyes met and both looked away quickly.

  He lay awake for a long time that night, torn by longing and ashamed. Somewhere among the muddle of thoughts and dreams and fears, he wondered what she would do if he asked her father for her.