Death on an Autumn River

Chapter Twenty

Having made up his mind to make one more attempt at solving the mystery of the girl with the amulet, Akitada walked to the Eguchi post station where he rented a horse and got directions to the River Mansion. On an impulse, he said to the groom, “Do you know anything about the lady who resides there?”

The groom eyed Akitada with an impudent grin. “The lady’s choosy, but it may be your lucky day, sir.”

Akitada flushed with anger but decided to let it pass. He was in a den of iniquity, and one could hardly expect either good morals or good manners from the local people. Still, whoever lived in the River Mansion clearly had a reputation.

The ride was short and pleasant, in spite of the increasing clouds. His mood improved, and he soon found himself at an elaborate blue-tiled gate decorated with golden dragons. Beyond rose trees and more blue-tiled roofs. Birds sang, and through the trees beside the road he could see the green Yodo River.

What sort of person lived in this near-paradisal state? Was it really a lustful princess who scoured the countryside for handsome young men to take into her bed? Akitada smiled. The ludicrous tale was typical of Tora. When it came to sexual exploits or scandalous behavior of the nobility, Tora was very gullible, and this story had both.

He called out, and one wing of the great gate swung open. He rode in under its elaborate roof trimmed with gilded fretwork and found himself in a large courtyard covered with white gravel. Before him stood a lovely building, a smaller version of Chancellor Michinaga’s great Phoenix Hall, though it was by no means so very small, being more than twice the size of the Sugawara residence.

A servant took his horse. Another servant asked his name.

“Sugawara,” said Akitada. “Special investigator for the Minister of the Right. I would like to speak to the majordomo.” He would soon have some answers, he thought. A senior servant could tell him the owner’s name and who was in residence, and he would also know about visits from young women belonging to the Eguchi brothels.

“We have a betto, sir,” the servant said. “Betto Kakuan.”

A monk? How very proper! “Very well, Kakuan, then.”

The servant took him up the wide stairs and into an extraordinary room. The first impression was of color, movement, and ornament. The carved columns and the ceiling were painted and decorated with carvings. The dais had a backdrop of water scenes painted on sliding doors, and deep blue and green brocade cushions lay on its mirror-smooth floor. The other walls, lying in the shadows, displayed paintings on hanging scrolls. It was a noble, even a princely abode. Tora’s imperial princess came to his mind again.

As he waited, he walked around, looking in astonishment at the carvings on the columns and ceiling. These were of water creatures: fish, crabs, cranes, ducks, and gulls, while the paintings on the paper-covered doors depicted scaly fish jumping in waves, a pair of ducks swimming among reeds, koi splashing in a small pond, a pair of cranes grooming their feathers on the shore, and-on the center panel-a gorgeous dragon rising from a stormy sea, all serpentine contortions and writhing scales, grasping talons and snapping jaws. The paintings had been done with consummate artistry, and no doubt had cost a great deal of money. He turned to examine the hanging scrolls, when a woman’s voice asked, “Do you like my little hermitage, my Lord?”

He swung around. A figure materialized from the shadows, a lady, small of stature and enveloped in stiffened silk gowns of peculiar shades of blues and greens. He took her for an apparition at first, so silently had she entered and so odd was her appearance.

A tinkling laugh acknowledged his stupefaction. She glided closer across the floor, a painted fan held to her face. Her eyes seemed unusually large, but when she stood before him, he saw she had outlined them with black paint, and the effect was misleading. He also decided that her movements were ponderous rather than ethereal, and found himself in a quandary.

He had disbelieved Tora’s tale of the aging imperial princess and had doubted some of the other stories. Now he did not know how to address this female. Formalities had not been on his mind. He had come to ask questions of a majordomo or some other senior retainer and not of the owner of the mansion. More disturbing perhaps, she was alone with him. Where were her attendants?

He covered his embarrassment by making her a deep bow. “My name is Sugawara, my Lady. We are not acquainted, I’m afraid. I hope I have not intruded rudely on your seclusion?”

Again that disconcerting tinkling laugh. He thought resentfully that she was too old for it, and wondered again at the colors of her gowns, combinations never seen at court or elsewhere. Those light blues were more commonly worn by men, and here they were combined with greens. All the women he had seen had preferred to use green with rosy reds, or the deeper reds of autumn maples, or-if they were more mature ladies-browns. Then he realized that the diaphanous silks were meant to resemble water. Of course: the River Mansion. The paintings and carvings, and even the appearance of its owner symbolized the watery realm.

She waved a hand toward the dais and its cushions. “Please, let us sit and converse. Company is welcome in my solitude.”

He followed her up to the dais where she extended a hand so he could help her lower herself onto a cushion. Her hand was warm, soft, and rather fleshy and hung on to his heavily as she sat down. He realized that she must be fat under all those stiff gowns. He seated himself on the cushion next to hers and searched for a way to learn her name.

She giggled again. The eyes above the fan twinkled with amusement. “How old are you, my Lord?”

Taken aback, he said, “I’m in my thirty-fifth year, my Lady.”

“Hmm. Not so young any longer. And certainly no longer brimming with vigor either.”

If she was indeed an imperial princess, he could hardly object to her teasing, no matter how rude. He decided to ignore her flirtatious comments and go to the heart of the matter. “I’m investigating a death in this area, and came to ask some questions of your staff. Your servant must have misunderstood.”

The painted moth eyebrows rose. “How dull you are. Here I am, in one of my most fetching costumes, and you ask to speak to my servants. Don’t they teach gentlemen manners these days?”

He bowed. “My deepest apologies, my Lady. Your gracious reception has overwhelmed me.”

She tittered, switched the fan to her left hand and reached out with her right to touch his eyebrow. He managed barely not to flinch away. A wave of perfume enveloped him.

“Such fierce brows. Such a fierce man,” she murmured. “Fierce men have always appealed to the dragon race. Did you know that I have the blood of the dragon kings in me?” The finger traced his cheek and touched his lips.

He could not speak, did not know what to do. The thought flashed across his mind that Tora’s tale had been all too true, and that this female had taken it into her mind to seduce him. Worse, if she was in fact an imperial princess, he knew of no way to refuse her without causing an offense that could cost him his career.

“You know the story of the Dragon King’s daughter, don’t you?” she went on, letting her finger wander down his neck, pulling playfully at his collar and stroking his Adam’s apple.

He said hoarsely, “In the Lotus sutra, the Princess Otohime proved that even a woman can attain Buddhahood.”

“Ah, yes. A woman may do anything she wishes, even gain Buddhahood. Do you believe that?” Her hand rested on his chest, exerting a slight pressure.

Akitada found it hard to breathe normally. “When I look at your ladyship, I find it easy to believe.”

She laughed softly. “Better. But I really meant the tale about the daughter of the dragon king arising from the depths of the sea to find herself a human lover.”

The hand had slipped lower, past his sash, and had come to rest on his thigh, near his groin. He knew he was flushing deeply. He was also angrily aware that he could not control his body or avoid the problem any longer. Either he submitted or he offended. He reached for her hand-a shocking liberty with any woman of his class-and raised it to his forehead before placing it back on her skirt. “Fortunate human,” he said softly. “But he must have faced a terrible dilemma.”

Her eyes narrowed over her fan. “How so?”

“To be offered the love of a divine creature would surely completely unman the average human male.”

The frown faded. She giggled. “But her choice was not an average man,” she said, leaning close again. “Are you an average man, my Lord?”

“Very average, I’m afraid. A mere lower-level official with a wife and a small daughter.”

She withdrew with a little sigh. “Ah!” she said. “That is a great pity.” She regarded him silently for a long moment while he cringed inwardly. “What did you want to know?”

The question was unexpected and Akitada gulped before saying, “I came for information about a young woman who drowned in the river two weeks ago. I was on my way to Naniwa on the tenth day of this month when my boat encountered the body below your mansion. The boatmen fished her out and took her to Eguchi. People there said that she was a courtesan who had committed suicide. But she did not look old enough to be in that trade, and her death was not investigated properly. I have not been able to get her out of my mind and came to see if anyone here might know her.”

He paused, unable to express the depth of his feelings about the dead girl. In the end, he said only, “She was very young.” The grief and anger he felt on her behalf was largely due to her youth and the fact that he was now the father of a girl. The cruel unfairness that a child should have suffered such a fate and encountered death before tasting much of life twisted his heart. He looked at this woman of high rank who sat there in her eccentric finery and resented her. The dead girl had not been privileged and protected; she had been bartered off to be used by men who felt no pity, men who were of his own class and of this woman’s.

He had her whole attention now. She was either shocked or frightened and had lowered her fan. Yes, he thought with satisfaction, she is no longer young. The smooth round face with its tiny painted mouth was covered thickly with white paste, but around the jaw line, the flesh sagged in an unattractive way, and two deep lines ran from the nostrils to the corners of her mouth. The contrast between her and the beautiful dead child was poignant.

She saw him staring and raised her fan quickly. “Wh-what did she look like?” she asked.

Akitada felt a small thrill of triumph. So he had been right. Something had happened here, and she was aware of it, perhaps had even known the girl personally. “In Eguchi, they told me her name was Akogi,” he said, “and that she was in training in one of the houses but had not started working yet. As I said, she was very young, fifteen years at most. She was tall and already well developed, with very long, thick hair. Her face was exceedingly beautiful.” He searched his memory for other words to describe her. “It was oval, but soft like a child’s. Enchanting. There was very little make-up, but the water may have washed that off. She wore only a very thin silk undergown.” He remembered and took the amulet from his sash. “And this was tied around her neck.”

She took the amulet, glanced at it, and gave it back. “Poor child,” she murmured, looking away. “Poor child.” For a moment every part of her figure seemed to sag.

“You’ve recognized it? You know this girl?”

Her eyes returned to his. She said angrily, “Surely you joke, sir. I do not know such women. In any case, I have answered your questions. You may leave.”

Akitada could only blame himself. Even given his ignorance of her identity, he should have realized that she belonged to a family where matters such as prostitution were never mentioned in the women’s quarters. He bowed deeply. “Forgive me. There was a chance that this child was not in the trade. She looked as if she might have belonged to a good family. The amulet suggested as much. I merely mentioned what I was told in town.”

Her manner softened somewhat. “She did not belong here,” she said. “All of our women are accounted for. You must ask your questions elsewhere.”

Akitada bowed again and rose. “Please forgive the intrusion. I have been honored beyond my deserts.”

“Well,” she said, looking up at him, “if you like, you may return tonight. I am giving a small entertainment for friends from the capital.”

It was a gesture of forgiveness that Akitada could not refuse. He bowed again and murmured, “The sun shines on me again. I am a fortunate man.”

Halfway to the great doors, he turned to bow again, but the dais was empty. He thought he heard the faint sound of a titter as a door closed somewhere.

Outside, his embarrassment turned to anger. She had toyed with him, and he would not have it.

The servant who had taken him into the reception hall approached eagerly. “Shall I have your horse brought, my Lord?”

“Not yet. I asked to speak to your betto. I still wish to do so.”

The man’s face fell. “But my lady received you herself.”

Akitada glared at him. “Do not argue with me. Get him.”

The servant bowed and ran. A moment later, he returned accompanied by a tall, handsome man with a shaven head who was dressed a fine green silk robe. He bowed and said, “I am Kakuan. How may I be of service?”

A monk in layman’s clothing? Akitada eyed him with interest. Such a one might well serve as a lover. He spoke well and was, no doubt, educated. Taking care with his phrasing, Akitada said, “I confess that I came here in part to see the architecture of this residence. Tell me, is this building not very much in the style of the great chancellor’s Phoenix Hall?”

Kakuan smiled. “It is indeed, my Lord. You have a sharp eye. Lord Michinaga had the River Mansion built for my mistress when my lady ended her service at the shrine.”

“Beautiful. Which shrine was that?”

“Hakozaki-no-miya. The River Mansion is much larger and more elegant than the shrine, of course. It was a very generous gift.”

Hakozaki-no-miya was of minor importance. So the lady was no imperial princess, and probably not even an acknowledged daughter of the great chancellor. Perhaps she was a lesser member of the clan, or even the child of a favorite. In any case, he now knew where he could learn her identity. Perhaps the rest of his questions would be answered tonight.

He thanked the monk-betto and took his leave quickly.