Death on an Autumn River

Chapter Fourteen

The journey was rapid and allowed little time for conversation. In Naniwa, as they waited for horses to be saddled, Akitada had read Tora his wife’s letter. They reached home after dark.

Tora pounded on the gates and called out. A fully armed Genba threw them wide. He knelt, knocking his head on the gravel of the courtyard. “Forgive me, sir,” he cried.

Akitada said, “Get up, Genba. This was not your fault.”

He and Tora dismounted, leaving the horses to Genba, and ran straight to the main house. Monks chanted in the reception room. Tamako came to meet them, bowed to her husband, and said in a low voice, “He’s very weak. Oh, Akitada, I’m so afraid.”

It was not a proper greeting, and Tamako was always proper. Akitada took her hand and drew her close as Tora looked away. “Are you and Yasuko well?” Akitada asked, his cheek against her hair. Her familiar scent moved him deeply. All that was precious to him was contained in his home.

She nodded against his chest. “Genba blames himself.”

“Why?” demanded Tora suspiciously.

Tamako gently moved from Akitada’s arms. “He was not here, Tora. Cook had sent him to the market. He thinks if he’d hurried more, he could have stopped them. It’s nonsense, of course.”

“Yes,” said Akitada heavily. “Come, I want to see Seimei now.”

He lay in his room, stretched out on his bedding, pretty screens set around, incense wafting from a small brazier, and costly wax candles lighting his pale and rigid face. He was very still; only his breath rattled softly.

Akitada knew the signs. Death was near. He sank down on his knees beside the old man and whispered, “Seimei?”

Seimei’s lids flicked open. “S-sir?” It was no more than a breath. Then, with an effort, “I t-tried to stop them.”

“I know, old friend. Don’t exert yourself. Tora and I came as soon as we heard. How are you feeling?”

The lips quirked into a smile. “You’re home,” he whispered. And after a pause for a breath, “In time.” Then he sighed and fainted.

Tora plopped down on Seimei’s other side. “Seimei,” he cried, “Seimei, it’s me, Tora. Speak to me? Don’t die, old man. Not yet. Not without a word to me.”

“Sssh.” Akitada put his finger to the old man’s neck. “He isn’t gone yet, Tora,” he said softly and got to his feet. “He’s just resting, I think.” He glanced at Tamako. “How bad is it?”

“He took a blow to the back of the head and lost a lot of blood. At his age . . .” Her voice trailed away, and she wrung her hands. “I’m afraid, Akitada.”

“Yes,” Akitada said heavily. He looked down at the frail body, the waxen face with its sharp hollows, already like those on a lifeless skull, the hands with fingers that were bones held barely in place by transparent skin. “Yes,” he said again. “Let’s go to my study. Tora, will you stay and call us if he wakes?”

In his study, he took Tamako into his arms again. “I’m so glad you and my daughter were not hurt,” he said. “That thought was too terrible to contemplate.”

She clung to him for a moment. “It was you I was worried about.”

He released her reluctantly. They went to sit on the veranda, and looked at the dark garden where fireflies danced above the moss and over the koi pond. “What exactly happened?” he asked.

“They came just before midday. Two armed men wearing half armor. Genba had left for the market because cook wanted a sea bream. Seimei opened the gate to their pounding. He thought they’d lost their way and greeted them politely, but they stormed in, flinging him aside. Trouble rushed out, barking, and snapped at their legs. One of them struck him with his halberd and nearly killed him. He’s lame and still very weak. Seimei ran after them and tried to bar their way into the house. That’s when they swung the halberd at his head. A glancing blow, but . . .” She bit her lip. “Cook and Hanae came out of the kitchen and saw it all. When they started screaming, the villains drove them into the kitchen building and locked them in. Then they came to find me.” Tamako gulped and took a deep breath.

Akitada reached for her hand. She squeezed it and went on. “Yuki and Yasuku were with me in my room. They came in with their weapons ready, and Yuki attacked the first one. I screamed. I was so afraid they’d kill the child, kill us all. But they pushed Yuki at me and only delivered a message. ‘Tell your husband to come home and look after his own, or we’ll be back and you will die.’ Then they walked out quite calmly.”

Akitada felt a deep anger. “Did they say who they worked for? Who sent the message?”

“No. I think it has something to do with your work in Naniwa.”

“Yes. Probably.” Akitada was no closer to knowing what was going on, while the person behind the pirate attacks had evidently felt he was getting much too close. “Come,” he said, “Let me take a peek at Yasuko. Then I’ll go back to Seimei.”

Yasuko woke.He held the little girl tightly, so tightly that she squirmed while she told him about the bad men and what they did to Seimei and poor Trouble.

“What’s the matter with Trouble?” Akitada asked his wife.

“He’s lame. And he doesn’t bark and rarely goes into the courtyard anymore.”

“Not much of a guard dog, then,” said Akitada, putting his daughter down.

“Don’t say that. He nearly died defending us.”

Akitada nodded. “You’re right. It’s only . . . I wish Seimei had been spared.”

In Seimei’s room he found Tora weeping like a baby and went to touch Seimei’s hands, half afraid he was too late. The hands were cold as ice, but at his touch the old man’s eyelids twitched. He said quite distinctly, “I’m a little cold.” Akitada found another quilt, put it over Seimei, and then sat down to warm his hands between his own. Seimei opened his eyes. “Is it snowing?”

“No. It’s a beautiful autumn night.”

“Autumn chill turns to winter cold. I’m a little cold, but isn’t snow beautiful?”

Akitada shuddered, and Tora sniffed audibly, then shuffled closer. “Seimei? Can you hear me? It’s Tora.”

“Tora? You must try harder with your brush. Then your father will be pleased. Your father loves you.”

They exchanged a glance across the old man’s figure. “He has us confused,” Akitada said softly.

Seimei smiled suddenly. “The gods have been good to me. Two such sons! What more could a man want?” His eyes looked from Tora to Akitada, and he grasped a hand of each. Then the smile faded, a distant look passed over his face, and he lost consciousness again. After a while, his breath resumed its horrible rattling.

They sent for the doctor, but stayed at the old man’s bedside. Seimei did not wake again. The doctor arrived in time to pronounce death.

*

Early the next morning, Superintendent Kobe arrived. He was startled and dismayed to find the Sugawara household in mourning. After paying his respects to the dead Seimei, he met with Akitada in his study.

“I’m very sorry,” he said simply. “I liked him and envied you such loyalty.”

Akitada, who had sat up all night with the body, nodded wearily and tried to gather his thoughts. “Thank you for coming. The two men who killed him need to be found and arrested. My wife tells me that she has reported their descriptions.”

“Yes, to the warden. The matter just reached me this morning. Apparently, these men were no ordinary criminals. Robbers in our capital do not carry swords and halberds. They use cheap knives that can be concealed easily. Neither do they wear half armor over figured silk. From their clothes and particularly their weapons, I would say they’re trained warriors attached to some nobleman’s household. That makes the situation serious and difficult.”

“They may belong to someone in Naniwa. I think they didn’t intend to kill anyone, but rather to warn me away from my assignment in Naniwa. More than likely they are attached to either Governor Oga or his prefect, Munata.”

Kobe frowned. “Then I doubt I can be of use. Perhaps you’d better report to His Excellency, the minister, and let him handle it.”

Akitada sighed. “I will, but first I must take care of Seimei’s funeral.”

Kobe left some of his men to guard Akitada’s residence and departed.

Akitada returned to the reception hall where Seimei’s body, wrapped in white hemp, rested amidst tall candelabra. The candles cast weird shadows of the seated monks on the walls, and the draft from the open door stirred the shadows into a ghostly dance, as if the spirits of the underworld had also gathered to welcome Seimei’s soul.

He closed the door and went to kneel beside the old man. Death had not been kind. The flesh seemed to have shrunken from his face, leaving only yellowed skin stretched taut over the skull. Already, he was a stranger. Akitada suppressed a shudder and reached for Seimei’s hand. Bowing his head, he let his thoughts go back to his childhood. Seimei, who could not have reached fifty yet, had seemed old even then. Akitada recalled kindness rather than embraces. Seimei’s hand on his head or shoulder, or holding his own small hand as they walked through the garden, were the most vivid memories of their closeness.

Seimei’s hand had guided him into young adulthood. On the day the young Akitada had rebelled against his father’s harshness and left his home, there had been tears in Seimei’s eyes, and his hands had clutched Akitada’s shoulders almost desperately.

Later, Seimei had fitted himself into Akitada’s young family, being ever present and caring. He had kept the accounts, served as Akitada’s secretary when the young official could not afford to hire one, treated the family’s wounds and illnesses with his homegrown herbs and medicines, taught his young master’s son, and stood by Akitada when the boy had died.

What would they do now? Who would he turn to for advice?

Who would fill the awful void that twisted and sickened his belly?

The candles flickered, and the chanting stumbled briefly. A touch on his shoulder.

He looked up and saw his wife’s face, her eyes swollen and red from weeping. He rose and together they walked out into the corridor. The monks continued their chanting, and Tamako slipped into his arms and sobbed against his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I could take away your pain, but I have too much of my own. I loved him as I did my father.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, grief thick in his throat. “I know.” He had not loved his father. Seimei had taken that place.

She detached herself. Taking his hand, she led him to Seimei’s room. An oil lamp flickered on the floor and cast its light on Seimei’s books and boxes. “I’ve been sitting here, thinking about all he has done for us. And . . . and about how little we’ve done for him. I’m so ashamed, Akitada. He had so little in his life.”

Akitada looked around at the simple shelves holding Seimei’s treasured books on Kung Fu Tse and his herbals; at his small jars of medicines with the neat lettering on them; at the plain and worn roll of bedding and the plain and threadbare robe that hung over a stand; at a picture young Yori had drawn and another, a mere daub that was likely Yasuko’s work. “No,” he said almost angrily, “don’t say that. He loved us and we loved him. He was happy. We were his family.”

She sniffled and nodded her head. “Yes. It’s just that I wish I’d told him how we felt.”

“Our worst fears and doubts make us look for blame. Tora is angry with Genba. I blame myself for having caused this with my work.”

“Genba is blameless, and so are you,” Tamako said firmly and turned to leave the room. “No one is to blame. It happened. It was karma.”

Akitada would have none of it. “It happened because of my investigation in Naniwa. Someone wanted to make sure I abandoned it.”

Tamako stopped in the corridor and looked back at him. “Are you meddling in something very dangerous?”

He did not like that “meddling” but said only, “Perhaps. It has to do with the pirates on the Inland Sea. They may have abducted Sadenari, sent thugs after me in Naniwa, and now they have struck at my family. This time they succeeded.”

She drew in her breath sharply. “I don’t suppose you can get out of it?”

“Not unless the Minister of the Right drops the investigation or replaces me.”

“You must be careful of yourself, promise me.”

Akitada promised and they parted, she to see to household matters, and he to work on his report. He would have to use a messenger. Because of Seimei’s death, they were ritually unclean and could go out only for emergencies, and then only while wearing a tablet to warn people in case they had been preparing for Shinto worship and would have to begin their elaborate purification rites all over again. Members of the court were particularly likely to be involved in Shinto ceremonies.

*

He had just sent off the messenger, when Tora brought Superintendent Kobe into his study.

“I’m back.” Kobe gave Akitada a sharp look. “You look terrible.”

Akitada brushed a weary hand over his face. “Is there any news?”

Kobe sat down. They had been close friends for years now and dispensed with formalities. “It seems your attackers were strangers in the capital. We checked all the retainers of the local families. As you suspect, they must serve some provincial lord.”

Seimei would have arrived by now with wine and refreshments. For a moment, Akitada felt utterly bereft; then he got to his feet. “Excuse me. There must be some wine.” He looked about, at a loss.

Kobe said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, no. I’ll be only a moment.”

In the kitchen, Akitada found wine, cups, and some nuts. He carried these back to his room.

Kobe served himself and then filled Akitada’s cup. “We’re now checking the hostels and temples that provide lodging. Something may turn up there. They enjoyed a certain degree of status. Good quality clothing and arms. If they arrived on horses, they would have stabled them someplace, and the innkeepers or monasteries can tell us more.”

Akitada sighed. “I’m sure these men have been sent from Naniwa or Kawajiri. Someone protects not only a lucrative business but also a position of considerable power. It’s possible that piracy is only a small part of a larger conspiracy directed against the emperor himself. I don’t like this at all.”

Kobe raised his brows. “You’re thinking there is another Sumitomo uprising brewing?”

“Perhaps. The government has been notoriously lax about controlling provincial governors and local families. That proved dangerous in the past. They contained the Sumitomo and Masakada rebellions with a loss of many lives and at great expense – and the expense matters more to them. This time they may not be so lucky. Our man may think that they’ll be unwilling to interfere on this occasion.”

“But who is behind it?” Kobe refilled his cup.

“I have no idea. I have not only failed in my assignment, but brought about tragic calamities. No doubt, I shall soon hear from the Ministry of the Right. Perhaps they’ll send me back. Or they’ll reprimand me and send someone else in my place. If they send me back, my family will be in great danger.”

Kobe cleared his throat. “You know, Akitada, you have a very bad habit of always looking at the worst outcome. And you certainly lack confidence in your abilities. You should be a little more like Tora. He thinks he can do anything.”

Stung, Akitada said, “Even Tora makes mistakes. And I cannot afford to make mistakes.”

Kobe raised his hands. “Forgive me. That was a thoughtless remark, especially under the circumstances. If they send you back to Naniwa, I’ll do my best to keep your family safe.”

“Thank you. I’m deeply grateful. Unsolved cases make me peevish.” Akitada emptied his cup. He trusted Kobe, but at the moment he could imagine all sorts of circumstances that could arise and leave his home unprotected. He forced a smile. “No doubt, this one will unravel in time. Let me tell you what I’ve learned so far.”

Kobe listened attentively to Akitada’s account. “It seems to me,” he said finally, “that the matter is in Sanesuke’s hands. There’s little sense in proceeding until you know what the great man and his brothers wish to do. They may be protecting private interests on the Inland Sea.”

Akitada agreed glumly. Since Fujiwara Michinaga’s retirement, the government had been in the hands of three of his sons, Yorimichi, Kinsue, and Sanesuke. They occasionally changed places, but one of them usually occupied the chancellor’s seat, while the other two served as the two ministers of state. At the moment, Sanesuke was Minister of the Right.

They sat quietly for a while, considering the political difficulties. Eventually, Akitada abandoned the subject and mentioned the drowned girl and Professor Otomo’s strange idea that young Korean girls were being abducted and prostituted in Eguchi. Kobe was intrigued and chuckled. “You’re insatiable. Not satisfied with a case of high treason and piracy, you find a drowning victim and suspect multiple murders of child prostitutes. But this case at least is a good deal more promising and less dangerous. Let us pray that Sanesuke drops his investigation, and you can solve a simple murder instead.”

*

For a while it seemed as if this was precisely what would happen. Akitada’s report to Sanesuke’s staff received no more than an acknowledgment. The Ministry of Justice was another matter. His immediate superior, Fujiwara Kaneie, a distant relative of the ruling Fujiwaras, was nominally in charge of all that pertained to import taxes and the laws governing foreign goods and merchants. He responded by letter, expressing considerable anxiety and shock at the attack on Akitada’s family. Kaneie was a decent man and begged Akitada to take the time to bury his faithful friend before reporting to the ministry.

Akitada made funeral arrangements and had several talks with Genba and Tora. Genba said little, but his eyes were bleak, and Tamako told Akitada that he had lost his usual appetite and barely touched his food. It was Genba who took care of the injured Trouble. Trouble was Tora’s dog, and Genba’s care of the poor dog eventually touched Tora. This, more than any words from Akitada, healed the rift between them.

The funeral was quiet, but Akitada saw to it that it was done properly and with the care for detail that Seimei would have approved of. Seimei’s idol, Master Kung, had liked ritual. After the funeral, Akitada and Tora took Seimei’s ashes to his ancestral temple, where another service was performed.

When they returned home and Akitada walked into his house, he felt Seimei’s presence almost physically. For forty-nine days, a man’s soul lingered in the place where he had died, but Akitada thought Seimei would be with them much longer. This had been his home, this house and the Sugawara family. He could not leave them. Rather he would be a benevolent spirit watching over them.

He thought this rather guiltily and would not have shared such sentimental beliefs with anyone. Instead he put on a calm face and directed his family’s affairs with the utmost attention. He played with his little daughter and chatted with Tamako about Eguchi and Naniwa, subjects she seemed to find enormously interesting. The distraction was a welcome thing. She thought the disappearance of Sadenari most likely a matter of youthful hijinks and a lack of responsibility on the part of the youngster, but she was quite upset about the young drowning victim in Eguchi.

“The way very young girls are forced into that profession breaks my heart.” Tamako got up to pace around the room. She paused before Akitada. “Can you imagine how they must feel? They are children who are suddenly in a different, harsher world where men are allowed to abuse them for money. Accustomed to the love of their family, they are abandoned to pain and despair. It’s no wonder they drown themselves.” She was flushed with anger and quite beautiful.

Akitada wanted to argue that in a poor family such love was probably not very deep since it was the family who sold them, and that life as a pampered courtesan had its consolations, but he knew better and only said, “Hmm.”

In the evenings Akitada withdrew to his study, ostensibly to work or to read, but really to remember Seimei. Akitada wept in private.

*

Two days after Seimei’s funeral, Akitada steeled himself to pay the overdue visit to Sadenari’s parents. Kaneie had suggested that the news would come better from him. He had been right.

Dressed soberly, he made his way to the modest neighborhood where Sadenari’s father, a low level official in the bureau of palace repairs, lived with his family. As he walked, he prepared the sort of speech that would apprise the parents of their son’s disappearance without throwing them into a panic that he had been murdered.

When he found the house and heard the cheerful voices of children, he felt worse. He should have informed himself better about Sadenari’s background. In retrospect, the youngster now seemed naive and innocent rather than disobedient and willful. He knocked at the gate.

Excited voices burst into shouts: “Someone’s at the gate!” “Tell Dad!” “Maybe it’s a letter from Sadenari.”The gate flew open, and five youngsters, boys and girls of assorted ages, stared at him. Their faces fell simultaneously. The biggest, a boy, said, “This is the Miyoshi house, sir. Did you want to speak to our father?”

“Yes. Thank you. My name is Sugawara. Would you please announce me?”

It was not necessary. A middle-aged man already hurried down the steps of the house, blue robe fluttering and a pair of incongruous straw sandals flapping on his bare feet.

He clapped his hands. “Children, run along now! Don’t detain the gentleman.” He followed this up with a deep bow to Akitada. “Welcome, sir, welcome! Please come in. I apologize. My home is very humble, and my family large and uncouth. We don’t see visitors often.”

Akitada smiled. “You’re blessed with a large family, Miyoshi. Most men would envy you. I’m Sugawara. Your oldest son works for me as a junior clerk at the ministry.”

“Oh, indeed. Yes, that is so.” Miyoshi’s round face broadened into an even wider smile. “What an honor, sir!” he cried, bowing several times quite deeply. “Sadenari has spoken much about you, my Lord. He’ll be so pleased to hear that you have called on his family.” He caught sight of Akitada’s taboo tag. “Oh, my condolences. Not a close family member, I hope.”

This was not the sort of thing that made Akitada’s errand easier. He cleared his throat. “Thank you. A trusted family retainer. Perhaps we could go inside?”

“Oh. What was I thinking? Leaving you here standing in the open while I babble on. Please come into the house.” He made a move toward the stairs, then decided that the honored guest should go first. But how would he find the way? He stopped again in a small panic.

“Perhaps you would be kind enough to lead the way?” Akitada said mildly.

“Yes, thank you! This way then.”

He bustled ahead, muttering apologies for the lack of comforts. The house was, in fact, small, plain, and so filled with people that the one room that should have been reserved for guests had been turned into family living space. It was cluttered with shabby trunks, piled higgledy-piggedly on top of each other, and enough rolled-up bedding for a small military contingent. In addition, abandoned robes, books, arm rests, small desks, braziers, cosmetic boxes, bird cages with birds, and the toys of small children had gathered in its four corners and along the walls.

Miyoshi rummaged and found two cushions under some bedding. These he placed on the floor in the center of the room, inviting Akitada to sit. From several doorways peered the faces of children, only to be withdrawn when Akitada glanced their way.

This would be difficult.

Looking at his beaming host, Akitada said, “You know, of course, that Sadenari just recently accompanied me to Naniwa.”

Miyoshi nodded eagerly, beaming more widely. “Oh, yes. He was so excited, so honored. He’s such an admirer of Lord Sugawara’s brilliant work that it was a stoke of the greatest luck to him. He told me he hoped to learn from you so that maybe someday he also might become an investigator. And here he was, selected to assist in such a very serious matter! It was an honor, a great honor. The greatest! We are very indebted to your generous regard for our boy, sir.”

“Hmm, er, thank you. Sadenari is indeed a very eager young man. I returned because of a death in my family and had to leave him behind.”

His host was nodding his head with apparent satisfaction. “I understand,” he said. “He wrote to me about his assignment.”

“He wrote to you?” Akitada wondered what Sadenari had told his father about being left behind in Eguchi and having to walk all the way to Naniwa.

“Oh, yes. The letter got here a few days ago. He’s very excited about being given a special assignment. Says it’s of the highest national importance. And he writes that he has already made excellent progress and hopes he’ll soon justify your faith in his abilities. Isn’t that wonderful? I said to his mother only this morning that my eldest son will bring great honor to the family. We’re very proud of him.”

Akitada digested this with surprised dismay. “He wrote a few days ago?” It sounded as if Sadenari had written his father after he had disappeared. “Where exactly was he, er, making this great progress?”

“He didn’t say. Would you like to see the letter, sir?”

“I would indeed. I haven’t had a report from him myself.” And that thought brought back anger. Perhaps all his worry had been for nothing. The rascal was gallivanting about again without a thought to his duties. No telling what damage he had been doing. Or perhaps Akitada knew well enough: there had been the two soldiers and Seimei’s death.

Miyoshi returned with a much creased sheet of cheap paper. “Here it is. I could wish Sadenari would take more care with his brushwork, but he was clearly pressed for time, and the note was just to his old dad.” He chuckled.

Sadenari’s brushwork had given Akitada some concern in the past, and this sample was distinctly worse than what he produced at work.

“Honored Father,” Sadenari scrawled. “You’ll wonder how I’m doing here. Be assured that your son has finally gained his lordship’s complete confidence. He has given me an assignment of the greatest national importance. I’ve already made excellent progress, but the secrecy involved doesn’t allow me to write about it. Suffice it to say I’m on the trail of a villain who plots against our Divine Sovereign himself. I’m filled with an energy that could move mountains. Give my best love to my mother and to my brothers and sisters. Tell them to expect their big brother to return covered in triumph.”

Sadenari was not precisely modest, thought Akitada sourly. The letter was dated after his disappearance. Akitada turned the sheet over, looking for some clue to where it had been posted. There was nothing but the superscription and some grease stains that might have been put there by the grubby fingers of all the little brothers and sisters. He glanced toward the doorway and caught sight of two little girls and an older woman. She must be Sadenari’s mother. She was smiling proudly until she met his eyes and ducked away with a small cry. The two rosy-cheeked girls remained, wide-eyed at the visiting courtier who sat in their living room.

Akitada did not know what to think or tell this family. Sadenari might indeed be well, though Akitada doubted he would cover himself in glory or even uncover any clues to the identity of the traitor. Alternatively, he might have encountered trouble shortly after sending this letter and be dead even now.

He returned the letter with a heavy heart and cautioned, “There may be some danger. We must hope he’s being careful. He is very young.”

Miyoshi chuckled. “Oh, Sadenari is one lucky fellow. It’s always been that way with him. His karma is excellent. He’ll be fine, sir, don’t you worry. Nothing bad ever happens to Sadenari.”