by I. J. Parker
Akitada wisely did not answer that. He smiled down at the little man. "Just sight-seeing," he said vaguely. "What about you? When you left me yesterday, you were running after Lord Minamoto, weren't you? When I didn't see you at the inn this morning, I was afraid you'd got in trouble over it."
"Oh. No, I'm all right. He's always nice to me. I was hoping for a few coppers, but he didn't have any time for me. He stopped at the Golden Dragon to ask some questions and then rushed away again."
"Hmm, well, I'm glad you're all right. After you left I thought there was something familiar about him." Akitada frowned as if trying to remember. "Minamoto," he mused. "I wonder which Minamoto he would be. You said he comes here to hunt?"
"Yes. He's very rich, that one. He owns a lot of land on the mountain and used to bring his friends along to hunt grouse and pheasants. I think he must be a wonderful bowman."
"Well, that doesn't ring a bell. What is his first name, do you know?"
Of course, the dwarf knew. "Sadamu," he said. Minamoto Sadamu!
Akitada said the name aloud a couple of times, and an image rose in his mind, the image of a young boy of eleven with a tear-stained face and a fierce look. "Sadamu?" he said again. Could it be?
Junichiro was all avid interest. "Do you know him? How did you meet?"
"It was a long time ago when he was still a child and grieving for his grandfather. How strange that we should meet again here and now!"
The memory of the grieving child had been joined by that of the child's great uncle, Bishop Sesshin, an imperial prince who had become a monk and had been one of Akitada's benefactors. The imperial link could well be significant under the present circumstances. If so, Sadamu might well be helpful. Akitada was so intrigued by the possibilities that he had become less than cautious about talking to the dwarf, who still waited to hear all about his "master's" memories of the great lord.
Pulling himself together, Akitada smiled at him. "Ah, memories! That was a very long time ago. He would not remember me. Even then he was one of the good people, and now he is a great lord, as you say." He sighed. "Blessings follow the great, while the rest of us must struggle along as best we can. Come, I'll buy you dinner again if you can recommend some other delicacy."
The other delicacy was fried abalone and the meal elicited two further pieces of information. One of these was the location of Lord Minamoto's hunting lodge; the other concerned the friendly maid at his inn. Junichiro had watched her departure earlier in the day and said she had been weeping. "Had a fight with, her mother," he explained.
"How do you know?" Akitada was surprised by this because he had just spoken with the mother who had seemed sad that her daughter had left.
"Because I heard the mother shout after her not to come back."
This was puzzling, but Akitada was eager to be free of Junichiro by then. He had made up his mind to renew his acquaintance with Sadanu and did not want Junichiro or anyone else to know.
10 Forgotten Favors
Akitada and ,Junichiro parted at the door to the River Palace. Inside, the ill-tempered innkeeper was signing in new guests.
He seemed in passable humor tonight and even gave Akitada a nod. "Staying another night, sir?" he asked in his rough voice.
"Yes, and possibly longer."
The man bared his teeth in what Akitada took to be a smile. "I don't blame you, sir. I'd like to be so lucky myself. There are some fine girls in Uji-tachi." Seeing Akitada's lace, he added quickly, "No offense. Just wishing the gentleman a good time."
"Thank you. Have some tea sent to my room."
Akitada could not imagine what the pretty girl's mother could have seen in that lout who could barely write. Perhaps his skills lay elsewhere.
In his room, he sat down by the window overlooking the slow-flowing river and thought about the missing princess. Unless she was still in the Bamboo Palace, as her lady-in-waiting claimed, she must have left without being noticed. Perhaps such a thing was possible after dark. The guards probably never left the main gates to the compound. But in that case she would have done so of her own free will. And then? Where would she have gone? And on foot? It was unthinkable.
Again the image of the dead girl at the river rose in his memory. A young woman wandering about in the forest in this area could have run into serious trouble. What had Junichiro called those highwaymen? The prowlers. Robbers who worked after dark taking the money of incautious visitors. What they might have done with a young woman walking alone was unthinkable.
He reminded himself to ask Lieutenant Matsuura about the prowlers.
His tea arrived, brought by his hostess herself. She, too, looked more cheerful. She had added a sweet rice cake to his order, and he thanked her. Still puzzled by the sudden departure of her daughter, he asked where the girl lived.
A shadow passed over her face. "Keiko works for a family in Mikawa. She was here only for a short visit." "I see. Thank you, Mrs. Inabe."
Alone again, he sipped his tea, leaving the rice cake for later. When he thought it late enough, he took out his writing utensils, rubbed some ink, and wrote a brief note, which he tucked in his sleeve. Then he put on his sword, borrowed a lantern from the inn, and set out for the Minamoto hunting lodge. He tried to remember Lieutenant Matsuura's map. The distance was significant, but he thought it should be manageable.
His recent thoughts about the prowlers made him uneasy on his journey across Uji Bridge, past the now deserted shrine and into the large forest that clothed the side of the mountain. He was glad of his sword, but wondered how many men he might have to defend himself against. It seemed the prowlers worked in bands.
Somewhat to his surprise he reached the rustic building inside its cedar fence without encountering anyone or getting lost. The gate was closed, but he saw a dim aura of light on the other side and used his fist to pound on the wooden boards. For a long time nothing happened and he knocked again. Then a door slammed somewhere inside, and wheezing voice cried, "I'm coming, I'm coming! What's the rush?"
The gate creaked open, and a bent old man with a thin white beard held up a lantern and peered up at limn. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want? It's nighttime."
"I'm an old friend of your master's. I've come to pay him a visit."
"I don't recognize you." The old man stepped closer. "No. Never saw you before in my life. You'd better run along. His lordship's in a very bad mood."
Akitada took the note from his sleeve. "Take this to him. I'll wait here."
The old gatekeeper took it and slammed the gate shut again. His retreating steps were accompanied by muttered complaints about disturbing honest people in the middle of the night.
It was not long before the steps returned and the gate opened again.
"Come in, then," the old man said ungraciously. "It's getting so a man can't get any sleep around here. Comings and goings. Day and night."
Akitada said nothing. He looked around curiously. It was too dark to make out much, but the single dwelling appeared of comfortable size, though it had more the appearance of a hermitage for one rather than a place to entertain groups of friends. There was a modest stable and another small building, perhaps the place where the gatekeeper had hoped to lay his head. But this was all, and all was of the simplest materials, unfinished wood, bark roofing, and a courtyard of plain dirt and trees.
They climbed the steps to the veranda slowly, the old man wheezing badly. Once there, he pointed to the simple door. "Go in," he said and turned back.
Akitada was beginning to wonder if he had indeed the correct Minamoto Sadamu. First names often ran in families, and the Minamoto clan was large. More to the point, the boy Sadamu had had imperial blood, recent imperial blood. He had been removed from the succession by only one generation. It seemed unlikely that he would live here.
He opened the door and hesitated on the threshold. The room he looked at was a large open area. It had a rustic fire pit without a fire, and the walls he could see were covered with huntin
g paraphernalia. He had never seen so many bows except in the armory of the Uesugi fortress in Echigo. There were also basket quivers of feathered arrows, and many knives, probably used for dealing with dead prey.
In the middle of the room stood the tall young man Akitada had seen twice before. If he had not been young, Akitada might have thought him seriously ill. He was unnaturally pale; his eyes glittered feverishly and were red-rimmed, and there were dark shadows under them. In his hands was a woman's fan that he handled absentmindedly. Akitada guessed that he wasted his health with late nights, probably with some of the women of Uji-tachi. He searched in vain for the features of the boy Sadamu.
But it was so after all. This elegant young nobleman was Sadamu.
He said in a voice that was both tight and sharp, "Are you really Professor Sugawara? But it cannot be. What are you doing here? Why have you come?"
Clearly Lord Minamoto was under some sort of strain. Akitada could hear it in his voice and the curiously unfriendly greeting. Out of his confused set of questions Akitada cautiously chose to answer one. "I'm paying a visit to the shrine and heard you were here. How are you, my lord?"
Minamoto held the fourth rank, well above Akitada's rank. Given his reaction, Akitada began to regret his decision to pay this unannounced visit. Still, he had been fond of the boy Sadamu, and the adult would surely remember the service he had done him.
The young nobleman came closer. "Yes," he said in a tone of wonder, "You really are my old professor. After all those years! You have changed." He suddenly recalled himself. "
"Forgive me, but your sudden visit has confused me a little. I, er, expected someone else. Will you take a cup of wine?"
Akitada also felt confused. He was not sure what he had hoped for in meeting his former pupil again, but it had not occurred to him that he would be unwelcome. The comment that Sadamu expected someone else made it clear that he should not have come here uninvited. And the reference to an "old professor" was not only less than friendly but positively humiliating. For a moment, Akitada saw himself as a seedy elderly academic who was seeking favors from a wealthy and powerful nobleman because he had once been his teacher.
He stiffened immediately and said, "No, thank you. I hope you forgive the untimely intrusion. In my surprise I made the mistake of rushing off immediately to pay my respects. My apologies." He bowed and turned to leave.
"Wait!" Lord Minamoto sounded distracted. "Please," he said, waving the hand with the fan, "don't
go away angry. Soon, perhaps tomorrow, I'll call on you. You are staying in town?" .
Only sligltly mollified, Akitada nodded. "I'm staying in the River Palace. You will have to ask for Yoshimine Takatsuna."
Minamoto stared at him blankly. Good, he thought. Let him wonder what I'm up to. He will not call on me. That was merely a polite lie. Our paths have diverged. He is a great lord now and has no time for me. Well, let it be so. I don't need him.
The gatekeeper was waiting for him. Glaring at Akitada, he said, "OId friends, eh?." Looks like he didn't, remember you."
Akitada flushed with anger and opened his mouth to reprove the old man. But he bit his lip, reminding himself that he must play an ordinary and humble man a while longer.
11 A Face from the Past
Tora returned to the tribunal to share his information about the Owari merchant with Saburo. "Clearly there is something illegal going on and it's big," he summed up. "The master mentioned his concern about local pirates to me and this is just the opportunity to teach them a lesson. I'm thinking of using the provincial guard and some conscripted fellows used to fighting and go down the coast to find them. And if we find the stolen goods, all the better, though I still don't trust that merchant."
Saburo had listened attentively and now pursed his lips. "The merchant does sound like a suspicious character. That claim of losses strikes me as excessive. Have you investigated him? Is he regularly involved in such shipments?"
Tora said impatiently, "I'll look into it, but the pirates are more urgent. If we don't go after them now, they'll sell the goods and we won't have any proof."
"Tora, you cannot conscript people for such an undertaking. Only the governor can do that. It will have to wait until the master returns. Meanwhile, I'll send some letters to Owari and Totomi and ask them for information about Takanami. What did you say his first name is?"
"It's Masayoshi. But, Saburo, we can't wait for the master. We have to be quick. If I can't conscript, I'll hire some extra men."
"You have the money?"
Tora glared. "Of course not. But you do. You're sitting on the provincial treasury."
Saburo drew himself up. "I shall not issue funds without the master's approval."
Tora muttered something crude and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Saburo shook his head, sighed, and returned to his labors.
The next morning, he still felt troubled by the disagreement with Tora. Their having been brought to Mikawa together had made him happy. They had begun to explore the town and share their evening rice and a cup of wine or two in the local establishments.
As soon as he was dressed, he went in search of Tora. He found him in the quarters he shared with his family, in full spate of complaint to his wife Hanae.
"There you are," he greeted Saburo with a glare. "Have you changed your mind?"
Saburo sighed. "Look, Tora," he said, "you've got to understand. I can't just reach into the provincial money chest whenever I feel like it. I would become a thief. Remember, he who touches vermilion gets his hands red."
Tora was outraged by this. It did not help that proverbial wisdom had been the method used by old Seimei to restrain the young and rash Toro in years past. He snarled, "Are you calling me a thief? That's it. Leave my house."
The house was not really his, but Saburo, deeply shocked, turned to leave. Hanae cried out,: Oh; Tora how could you say such a thing? Please, Saburo, do not take offense. He didn't mean it."
Saburo looked at her sadly. "I must go, Hanae. Good bye."
That evening, he left the tribunal alone and walked into town as the sun set over Ise Bay. It had been a beautiful day, if somewhat hot, and the sea in the evening sun was a beautiful sight, but the quarrel with his friend had upset him deeply.
Tora had changed. There was an impatience about everything he did or thought about doing. And he often looked distracted and unhappy. This was not like the Tora of the past, who had been unfailingly cheerful and optimistic. Saburo decided to forgive him and to be very gentle with him in the future. Something was not right. It might be as well to speak to the master about it.
But Tora's moodiness could have something to do with what had happened in Otsu last year. And that he could not share with the master. That was a secret only he and Tora knew about, because they had disobeyed a direct order and gone into the mountains to kill four murderous sohei, one of whom had tortured Saburo many years ago, leaving him disfigured and an outcast. The bond of secrecy placed special obligations on both, and Saburo knew that Tora would eventually come to apologize.
Meanwhile he was on his own on this beautiful evening. He strolled about, eyeing various establishments that seemed to promise a good meal. He rejected sev eral that looked too expensive and settled for a very modest place near the harbor. Appetizing smells of seafood emanated from inside where he saw ordinary laborers, porters, fishermen, and boatmen enjoying a noisy meal. He liked what he saw and smelled and entered.
Saburo was very careful with his money. Not only had he been abjectly poor at one time and had disliked the state extremely, but he now had his mother to support in the capital. He found a seat, ordered, and looked around him. At first he thought he was he only customer who was not in work clothes, though his blue robe was indeed what he worked in. Then he saw another man who wore a robe rather than short pants and a shirt like the harbor workers. His robe was brown, plain, and not particularly clean, and his short gray hair stood up stiffly while Saburo's was lon
g, tied in back, and twisted up neatly. The man in the brown robe was half turned away from him as he talked to two young boatmen sitting across from him. The boatmen had a rough and dangerous look about them.
There was something curiously fiuniliar about the man in brown. As Saburo ate his fish stew, which was fresh and good, he watched the other man, racking his brain where he might have seen him.
The hair finally gave him a clue. It looked a lot like the hair of a former priest, growing unchecked after years of having been shaved off. So this man had been a priest or a monk.
Saburo's past was filled with monks, and the memories were mostly bad. He did not feel good about this man either but had no clue who he was until the three finished their meal, and the man in brown got to his feet and turned.
He recognized him immediately.
He had been a sohei, though not quite like the brutish characters he and Tora had encountered on Mount Hiei. This man had been trained with Saburo on Mount Koya. He had been one of their warriors while Saburo, being smaller, weaker, but much more agile, had become a spy for them. The man--in-brown's name had been Hozo then, and he had had a reputation for extorting money and seducing the womenfolk of local peasants. In those days, Saburo had still kept faith in the way naive, young men will, and yet it was Saburo they had sacrificed in the end, while Hozo remained, garnering honors and titles in the process.
Life had a way of stripping men of their dreams and their trust.
But now it appeared that Hozo, too, had left the religious life and had fallen on hard times. Nothing about his appearance and companions suggested that he had changed much. And Saburo did not trust him. Where Hozo was, there was trouble of some sort.
He paid quickly and followed him.
It was getting dark outside and lights were blinking on here and there. In the flashes of illumination from some doorway or other, Saburo saw that Hozo's brown robe was not only dirty but torn in places. And his boots had also seen better days. Given Hozo's appearance, he was surprised when the fellow walked into the best inn in Komachi.
