The Masuda Affair

TEN

Akitada eyed the sleazy painted banners and garish paper lanterns with distaste. In his view, prostitution undermined the family structure and contributed nothing to the welfare of the country. Tora was an excellent example of how it corrupted promising young men.

Not to mention women.

A very young girl rushed from the door of an adjacent house and almost collided with him. She was hardly more than ten or twelve, and already painted and garbed like a courtesan. For a moment they stared at each other, then she raised her painted fan and smiled at him over it, while her dainty little figure performed a perfect replica of a seductive wiggle. He scowled so fiercely that she lowered her fan, gathered her skirts, and ran away down the street.

Akitada had not set foot in this part of the capital in years, and even then he had only come in search of a killer. In broad daylight the quarter was hardly romantic, in spite of the many willows that gave it its name. After sunset the many-colored lanterns hanging from trees and doorways would be lit to suggest that the visitor had wandered into the abode of heavenly maidens. There would be music then, too, and laughter, and beautiful women dancing – or what passed for beautiful women in that light and in expensive silk gowns. But their business was anything but heavenly.

At the moment only old women and plain-faced maids were out, sweeping or shopping for food. Now and then a poorly-dressed youth ran down the street, carrying a message to one of the courtesans or purchases from silk merchants, comb makers, or incense shops. Inside the shuttered houses, the ‘beauties’, no doubt, still slept after the night’s labors, or gathered in their wrappers to gossip about their customers.

The encounter with the young girl had not improved Akitada’s temper. The day was hot already and humid. Akitada’s formal robe clung uncomfortably to his back and waist, and his arm still ached. Sweat gathered beneath the silk ribbons of his hat and itched. He had no idea how to proceed in his search, but thought that Tora’s latest flirt would be fairly easy to find. In all likelihood, Tora was with her, and if he was not, then she would know where he had gone.

Satisfied with his reasoning, he asked a messenger boy for the office of the warden. The warden maintained a record of all the prostitutes registered in the Willow Quarter.

A neatly dressed constable stood under the lantern that identified the ward office. He bowed and ushered Akitada into a large room, where they interrupted the warden, a fat man in a blue silk robe, in his midday meal. A large number of savory-smelling dishes surrounded him and reminded Akitada that he was getting hungry himself. The warden took in Akitada’s appearance and suppressed his irritation. He put down his bowl and bowed.

Akitada cut through a long string of flowery phrases of welcome to demand information about Hanae.

The warden raised his brows. ‘A courtesan?’ he asked. ‘We have so many. The name doesn’t ring a bell. She’s not of the first or second rank.’ He gave Akitada an oily smile. ‘One gets to know the great beauties quickly, and we have the best. I could easily put your honor in touch with a very reliable person to advise and arrange a meeting?’

Akitada glared. ‘I am not here to buy an hour with a prostitute,’ he snapped. ‘A member of my household has disappeared. The woman Hanae may know his whereabouts.’

‘I doubt that one of our ladies is responsible, but if it is indeed an urgent matter, I could search the records.’ The warden glanced at his half-eaten food. ‘It might take a while,’ he added pointedly.

Akitada did not like the man and cared nothing about spoiling his meal. He sat down and stared around the room, while the warden pulled down document boxes and ledgers from shelves. This warden’s office looked more like a gentleman’s study than a place where the law was enforced. Cushions awaited guests; a brazier and wine flask stood ready. Whatever tools of trade the warden used must be neatly tucked away in wooden trunks so as not to frighten away good clients. Akitada scowled. An immoral business corrupted even the authorities.

‘How do you keep order in a place like this?’ he asked irritably.

‘Oh, I have my system, sir,’ chuckled the warden, patting his fat ledger affectionately.

‘I was referring to keeping order in the quarter. There must be a good deal of drunkenness and violence.’

‘Heavens,’ the warden cried with a hearty laugh, ‘you make the Willow Quarter sound positively dangerous. It’s nothing of the sort. Our clients, after all, come for a pleasant evening. I keep my eye on things personally. Should someone have a bit too much wine, we see him home safely’

Akitada did not believe a word of this. ‘You? In person?’

Another laugh escaped the warden. ‘Oh, no. One of my constables. No, trouble is the last thing we want here. This is a place to enjoy music and good food and wine, to spend time with beautiful women, skilled in song, poetry, and dance. Here one relaxes and forgets his troubles.’ He rubbed his hands and smiled like a personification of the god of good fortune.

Akitada looked back coldly. ‘I see. So what about this girl Hanae?’

‘No courtesan by that name works in the quarter at the present time, sir. She may, of course, be an irregular. If so, she works here illegally. But that isn’t very likely. My men are very vigilant, and so are the regulars. The ladies don’t tolerate competition.’

It occurred to Akitada that Tora might have insisted his lover stop working. Most likely he had. ‘What about a woman who has recently left the, er, trade?’

The warden bent over his ledger again. After a few moments, he said, ‘No, not in the past year. But I do recall now that we have a professional dancer by that name. She’s not a courtesan at all. Not yet, anyway. The dancers perform for large parties and are not supposed to spend the night with clients. Might the young woman be an entertainer?’

Akitada frowned. ‘Possibly. Tell me how to find this dancer.’

The warden opened another ledger and ran his pudgy finger down the page. ‘She lives in the southern ward. Between Shinano and Karasumaro Street. I hear she’s been doing well for herself.’

Akitada was disappointed. A first-class entertainer would hardly waste her time with Tora. But he had the warden write down directions to the house and the name of her dancing master. Then, on the point of departing, he asked, ‘By any chance, do you recall a former courtesan by the name of Peony? She is said to have been quite famous and worked here about five or six years ago.’

‘Of course. The beautiful Peony left very suddenly. Ah, there were many broken hearts.’ The warden folded his hands and cast up his eyes. ‘We’ll never see her likes again. They say one of the great nobles wanted to make her his wife, but she turned him down.’ He sighed sentimentally.

‘How strange. I was told she left huge debts behind.’

The warden laughed. ‘Peony? Hardly. She was a very rich woman by then.’

So much for that. Whoever the Otsu Peony had been, she had been dependent on Masuda support. Akitada thanked the warden and left.

Outside, he stood undecided. Should he follow up on the dancer or scour the quarter for Tora? He decided to take his chances in the quarter, distasteful though it was.

The willows swayed in a slight breeze from the river, doves cooed on the roofs, and the colored lanterns looked bright in the sun, but Akitada saw peeling paint and dingy whitewashed walls. Garbage still lay piled in odd corners. A mangy dog sniffed at some vomit in an alleyway and passed on to lift a leg against a tall stack of earthen wine jars at the back door of a restaurant. Akitada knew there were much worse looking wards in the capital, places where people lived and slept under a few leaning boards covered with brushwood. There men killed for food, women lay down in the fields to let strangers have their way for a copper or two, and children died faster than the rats or flies that were better nourished than they.

When Akitada saw a wine house open for business, he went in. Although it was still early in the day, two women sat in a corner, drinking wine and chattering loudly with the owner of the place. Akitada called for some chilled wine and looked at the women disapprovingly. One was middle-aged and dressed in black silk, the other a girl in pink. The older woman dominated the conversation with an irritatingly shrill voice. Akitada decided that she was the young prostitute’s bawd. He rose and walked over to them.

‘I’m looking for one of my retainers,’ he said curtly. ‘His name is Tora. Perhaps one of you may know him?’

Both women shook their heads, but his host said, ‘I think I remember him, sir. Haven’t seen him for weeks. A handsome and cheerful fellow with a small mustache? The girls liked him a lot.’

Akitada nodded sourly. The description fit.

‘We’ll keep our eyes and ears open, if you like,’ offered the man.

Akitada left his name and directions and returned to his wine. He had barely sat down and raised his cup when the young woman in pink approached with the sinuous gliding motion of the trained courtesan. Stopping before him, she bowed deeply and asked, ‘Would the gentleman care for some company?’

Akitada eyed her painted face and judged her to be quite young and pretty. He wanted to send her away, but then wondered if she knew Tora and had not wanted to say so in front of the other woman. Tora never paid for the services of his paramours. ‘You’re very kind,’ he said. ‘May I offer you a cup of wine?’

She clapped her hand for the proprietor to bring another cup and sat down gracefully beside him. ‘Thank you, My Lord. I’m called Little Wave.’

Akitada reached for the flask to pour some wine for her, but she was quicker. ‘Allow me,’ she murmured and managed to touch his hand so lightly that it seemed like a caress. Then she moved closer on her knees, ostensibly to serve the wine. She refilled his cup first and offered it with both hands and a smile. When he took the cup, their hands touched again, and this time hers lingered. ‘Oh,’ she breathed, her eyes on his lips.

She was very good, and her intentions were obvious. Akitada knew this, but his heart started to beat a little faster anyway. ‘I wondered, Little Wave,’ he said, as she poured her own wine, ‘if you had remembered Tora. He would not pass up a charming girl like you.’

She sipped daintily, fluttering her lashes at him over the rim of the cup. ‘If he’s half as handsome as you, sir, I wouldn’t forget him. Some men turn a girl’s head in an instant and she’s quite lost.’ She gave him a melting glance.

The expected rejoinder, ‘Surely a gentleman would make every effort to find her again,’ was on Akitada’s tongue, but he blushed and said instead, ‘You are a flatterer. Actually, he doesn’t look much like me. He’s much better-looking and has a very big smile.’

If she was disappointed at his refusal to flirt, she did not show it. Touching his arm lightly with her fan, she said, ‘However handsome he is, he cannot be like you. And I prefer clean-shaven gentlemen.’ She bent a little closer to let her fingertips brush his upper lip and then trace his mouth. ‘But you are very sad.’

Akitada became aware of her scent. It was strangely seductive. Sandalwood and something else, perhaps orange blossom. Tamako used orange blossom. He remembered their embrace earlier: the pleasant familiarity of her scent, the way her body fit against his. He took a deep breath and reached for his wine cup.

The wine had heated his body, and it was a long time since he had made love. He looked at the girl. In spite of the wine, his mouth suddenly felt dry. It would be so easy. She was young and charming and willing to give herself for a bit of silver. Such a thing was good for both of them and hurt no one. He looked into her smiling eyes and then down to where her breasts swelled above a small waist.

She smiled knowingly and leaned forward. Her scent was very pleasant and her gown gaped just a little, revealing a glimpse of rosy flesh. His fingers itched to reach inside her gown, to feel that soft roundness in his palm. He felt sweat beading his upper lip and gulped more wine.

‘I have a room nearby,’ she murmured. ‘Beside the river, where it’s cooler and the sound of the water will accompany our pleasure. Come with me. I will make you happy again. I’m not called Little Wave for nothing.’

He imagined making love to this young girl to the sound of the rushing waters, cradled in her arms, buoyant as on a wave, and he felt desire stir and sweat break out all over his body.

‘It isn’t far. Shall we go together? Or perhaps you would rather follow?’ She took his hand and started to rise.

It would be so easy and pleasant to forget his troubles for a little, but Akitada was suddenly appalled at his weakness and snatched back his hand. ‘Not today, Little Wave,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I must find Tora.’

She pouted charmingly. ‘Oh, this Tora again. Can’t we forget about him for just a little?’

He knew that she merely thought him a convenient customer. If he agreed, the older woman would join them to discuss the price. It served him right, and the realization helped to cool his blood. He said, ‘I won’t mention him again, but perhaps you know a girl called Hanae?’

She drew back, suddenly looking desolated. ‘Don’t you like me at all?’ Her voice trembled a little.

He felt sorry for hurting her. She was very young, too young for this coarse business. ‘I find you very attractive, Little Wave,’ he said more gently, ‘but I must find Tora and Hanae quickly.’ She still hung her head, and he lied, ‘Perhaps we can meet some other time, when I’m not so busy.’

She cast a despairing glance towards the others, but then gave him a tremulous smile. Putting down her empty cup, she bowed. ‘Thank you for the wine. I’m sorry I troubled you.’

He was a little ashamed of himself and wondered if her failure would get her a reprimand. She had good manners for a prostitute and certainly played her game very well. ‘Wait,’ he said and saw hope flash in her eyes. He fished a piece of silver from his sash. ‘Here. For your time. I came for information and am paying for detaining you. If you don’t know Tora, nor Hanae, perhaps you can tell me who might.’

She tucked the coin between her breasts. ‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling again. ‘I owe for my rent.’ Her relief was not very flattering, but she went on, ‘There’s a new dancer called Hanae. She and Kohata perform at the big parties. You could ask Kohata. I heard Hanae’s married.’ She shook her head. ‘If it’s true, she’s a fool. She could be a courtesan of the first rank.’

‘Perhaps she wanted a family.’

Little Wave laughed bitterly. ‘That’s what I thought, and now look at me. He left me with a child, and I’m just scraping by on chance meetings. It used to be that people had my name on their list and I was always busy.’

Akitada stared at her. ‘You have a child?’ He would have judged her to be no more than sixteen.

‘At least she’s a girl. In another five years I can sell her into the trade.’ She was matter-of-fact about it. Women in her profession had little chance to settle down with a decent man, and no place to go but back to the old life. And their children followed them into misery. Akitada thought of the deaf-mute boy, but Little Wave was too young to have known the dead courtesan. The world was full of tragic events and lives that ended in disaster. With a sigh, he took out another silver coin he could ill spare and gave it to her. ‘This is no life for you and your daughter. Leave this business while you are still young.’ Then he rose.

She looked up at him, clutching the money. ‘It’s only because I’m young that men want to lie with me,’ she said sadly. ‘Well, some men. I wish you’d stay. I really like you.’

She looked so forlorn that Akitada blushed. ‘I am sorry,’ he said and turned to walk away.

She ran after him. ‘Will you really be back?’

He shook his head.

She extended her hand and pushed something in his sash.

‘I wasn’t worth this much,’ she said and ran back to the others.

Outside, Akitada found that she had returned one of the silver coins.

The dancer Kohata rented a private pavilion behind one of the better restaurants. Her maid answered his knock and informed him that ‘her lady’ was at work.

‘At this time of day?’ Akitada asked suspiciously.

The maid gave him a pitying look. ‘My lady is much sought after. She is a great dancer and works very hard. She has not yet returned from Lord Sadanori’s party last night.’

And what that meant was pretty clear: someone had requested entertainment of a more private nature. He would never understand the lifestyle of these people. Somewhere he had heard the name Sadanori recently, but he could not recall where. He was one of the Fujiwaras, an important one, though they had never met.

He decided to call on the dancer. Leaving the quarter, he walked southward through streets where merchants, artisans, and the upper servants and retainers of great families lived in small, neat houses with modest gardens. The area gradually became more rural. Here and there he passed a mansion, heavily walled and gated against riffraff. Then the streets became footpaths, and the footpaths mere tracks. The wooden houses shrank in size, and in the surrounding fields people grew vegetables to sell in the market. Children played among chickens and ducks.

In a weedy field beside the road, an ox grazed, tied by a long rope to a post and watched over by a small boy. Instantly, Akitada was reminded of the child he had left behind in Otsu. He asked directions of the boy and turned down another weedy road. A bridge of timbers and boards passed over a canal where ducks and geese splashed and squawked. A woman was washing clothes on the bank, while her children chased each other and a black-and-white puppy. It was a wholesome scene after the Willow Quarter, and Akitada was cheered by it.

The dancer’s house was no more than a one-room shack, but its small veranda was overgrown with a flowering morning glory vine and a white cat sat on the top step. Someone had planted a few vegetables in a plot near the gate. The place looked deserted.

Akitada pushed open the gate and walked along the path. The cat rose and mewed plaintively. He leaned down to stroke its back.

‘Nobody’s home,’ a shrill voice called out to him.

He turned and saw a middle-aged female peering over the fence.

‘I am looking for the dancer Hanae,’ he said. ‘Do you know where she is?’

She scanned him from head to toe before answering. ‘Hanae left yesterday. In the morning. A sedan chair came for her.’

He should have expected it. Like Kohata, this Hanae had also spent the night with a client. ‘When do you expect her back?’

The woman smirked. ‘Couldn’t say. She’s in demand, that one, though she’d better make the most of her time. Noble suitors don’t like being saddled with another man’s child.’

So the famous dancer was pregnant. Like Little Wave, she had been careless or unlucky. Akitada eyed the woman’s sharp face with distaste. His good humor evaporated, he turned to leave, when she said, ‘I told the fool who knocked her up that she had better things to do than wait around for him.’

He walked over to the fence. ‘I was told she was married. Can you describe her husband?’

She was taken aback by the question, then exploded with invective. ‘Married, hah! He’s just another good-looking, good-for-nothing lay-about. Never here when she needs him. I warned her, but she won’t listen. Oh, she says, he works for a great lord and can’t get much time off. A fine husband! He comes for meals and sex, that’s all. The only thing he ever brought her was a mangy dog that kills my chickens, and when I complain he calls me names. Good riddance to such scum.’

Akitada looked at her, then looked back at the little shack, the vine, the cat, and the vegetable plot. Could it be? Was this where Tora had been spending his time? He asked, ‘This sedan chair that picked up the young woman, do you happen to know where it was taking her?’

She was pleased by this question. ‘No, but it was Lord Sadanori himself who sent for her. A sedan chair. Imagine. Hanae may never come back here.’

‘Sadanori? Fujiwara Sadanori?’

‘That’s the one.’

Akitada was appalled. If the dancer had played Tora wrong with Sadanori and Tora had gone after her, he could be getting into big trouble. ‘Who would have information about Hanae’s appointments?’

She gave a little cackle of amusement. ‘If the gentleman is interested, her dancing master Ohiya is the one to talk to.’

Ohiya lived in the Willow Quarter, and Akitada trudged back the way he had come. By now it was well past midday, hotter than ever, and he had not eaten yet. Besides, the unaccustomed walking caused unpleasant spasms to the old wound in his injured leg. By the time he reached the quarter again, he was limping. He decided to rest and fortify himself first and entered a large restaurant called The Crane Grove.

The restaurant was busy, but his clothes marked him as an upper-level official, and he was shown to a seat near the window. His waiter, a thin, eager young man, was chatty in hopes of a fat tip from the important customer. ‘We get many gentlemen during the day, this being the best restaurant in the city,’ he informed Akitada. ‘I particularly recommend the fish soup. And afterwards a dish of eel?’

Akitada nodded and glanced through the latticed window at the willows drooping in the afternoon heat. He felt glum. If the dancer expected his child, Tora’s concern for her was reasonable. But he had chosen to keep everyone in the dark and sneak off in this shameful manner because he was ashamed of the liaison. Finding Tora was not the only problem.

When the waiter returned with wine, Akitada asked him if he had seen anyone resembling Tora.

The waiter had not, but he dashed off to check with the other waiters. He was a helpful young man, but it was hard to get in more than one question at a time. Akitada sipped the wine and looked out at the street. Early customers were arriving in the quarter, well-dressed men in search of a bit of relaxation or dalliance before returning to their families after a day in their offices and bureaus.

The fish soup arrived, along with the information that one of the waiter’s colleagues remembered meeting Tora, but had not seen him in weeks. Would the gentleman like to question the other waiter?

No, Akitada saw no point in it, but asked about Hanae.

‘Hanae?’ The waiter’s eyes lit up. ‘Such a dancer,’ he cried. ‘I know her well. So graceful. Like a celestial fairy. So light on her feet that she seems to float. Even those who live above the clouds are bewitched by her. They say she’s already won the heart of a great lord. And when she sings… it’s like hearing a nightingale.’ He paused and leaned forward. ‘Don’t mention this, but she was to dance here last night. When she didn’t show up, we sent for Kohata instead, but Kohata was engaged. It was a disaster, and my boss was wild because he thought he would lose a very important client. But the client canceled before we could tell him.’

This agreed with the neighbor’s story. Akitada nodded and began to eat. The soup was excellent, but the more he heard about the dancer, the less he liked her. Hanae had found a rich and powerful protector and had better things to do than wait for Tora or dance at a party. She had gone off to give a private performance to her benefactor instead.

In due course, the eel arrived, accompanied by a bowl of fragrant rice and several dishes of tasty condiments. Akitada had just sampled the pickled chestnuts when some sort of disturbance broke out on the street. People were running and shouting, and several red-coated constables trotted past the window. Akitada’s waiter dashed out the door and reappeared an instant later, chattering to two burly constables who pushed him aside to make a cursory check of the guests before disappearing into the kitchen, where loud curses and a clatter of pans greeted their invasion.

The waiter returned to Akitada. ‘I thought that you must be wondering what happened, sir,’ he said, slightly out of breath. ‘I went to find out for you. The constables are looking for a madman. He attacked the owner of the Fragrant Plum Blossom and the dancer Kohata, the same one I mentioned. I’m not sure, but he may have killed them.’ Seeing Akitada’s startled expression, he had second thoughts. ‘Nothing to worry about, sir,’ he reassured the valued guest. ‘The constables will catch him shortly. We don’t allow trouble in the quarter. It’s safer here than anywhere. Is the eel to your liking?’

Akitada ignored this glowing testimonial for the Willow Quarter, popped a last bite of eel into his mouth, and approved of the food.

He paid, leaving the waiter a generous tip – though not as generous as that young man had expected – and walked to the house of the dancing master, a modest building marked with a sign that read: ‘Master of the Dance. Teacher of all forms of court dancing – bugaku (both the left and the right), gosechi, sarugaku, and dengaku. Students accepted only after interviews.’

A couple of passers-by had stopped and were looking at the open door. The sound of excited voices could be heard from inside. Akitada knocked and, when no one came, entered. He followed the voices to a large room.

Several people were in it, all talking at the same time. A thin middle-aged male in a peculiar black silk robe seemed to be having hysterics, while an older woman and four small girls clung to him, adding their anguish to his.

‘What is going on here?’ Akitada demanded.

All six fell silent and turned startled eyes his way. The man disengaged himself from the clinging females. He touched his throat and croaked, ‘I’ve been attacked. I, Ohiya. Attacked in my own house. If the police had not arrived in time… heavens… I cannot think. Look at me. I’m shaking like a leaf He held out limp hands, then put one to his forehead. ‘I feel faint,’ he moaned. ‘Help me, girls. I must sit down.’

The older woman and the four little girls, dressed as richly as the little girl who had accosted Akitada earlier that morning, rushed to his rescue. They supported the man to his cushion, where he sat, his eyes closed, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

Akitada guessed that this was where the constables had run the madman to ground. The maniac did not seem to have done much damage, however, except to Master Ohiya’s nerves. Akitada waited until the master calmed down. Then he introduced himself and said, ‘I’m told that you are the teacher of the dancer Hanae?’

Ohiya closed his eyes and moaned again.

Akitada cleared his throat. ‘I seem to have arrived inopportunely. If you will oblige me with a little information, I shall be on my way.’

Ohiya cried, ‘I wish I’d never laid eyes on her. She’ll be my death one of these days. Oh, the pain in my chest.’ He gasped and clutched at himself. The older woman rushed forward to dab at his face with a square of soft paper, and the girls wailed again and clung to him. He said irritably, ‘Let go of me. I’m having trouble breathing with all of you crushing me like that.’ They retreated, murmuring apologies.

Akitada decided that there was nothing wrong with the man and snapped, ‘Master Ohiya. I have taken a lot of trouble finding you. May I have your attention for a moment?’

His tone had the desired result. Ohiya sat up and gave him an appraising look. Then he made a slight bow. ‘I do beg your pardon, sir. I was overcome. My constitution is frail, I’m afraid, and the least thing upsets it.’ He paused. ‘Not that this was a small matter. He was murderous.’

‘Pull yourself together, man. You’re alive.’

‘Yes, well.’ Ohiya felt himself all over, then said, ‘If you’re looking for Hanae, I’m afraid I cannot help you. She seems to have disappeared.’ He added more querulously, ‘I cannot imagine why anyone would think I had something to do with it. These women are always getting into trouble.’

This echoed almost exactly Akitada’s own thoughts, but he was more interested in something else. ‘Who else is looking for her?’

‘Why, that madman. Her husband. How dare he? I told her from the very start to leave him alone. “You are going to ruin your chances,” I said. “A girl like you can rise to the top of the profession.” But she wouldn’t listen. He turned her head, and she married him, a penniless servant who lives and works elsewhere.’ Ohiya threw up his hands. ‘Because he’s handsome! I ask you. If she must roll about in the bedding with a man, let it at least be a wealthy patron. His little fling pays off handsomely, and they return to work richer and with a reputation that makes them more attractive. But her lout of a husband got her pregnant and now plays the jealous lover. What fools these people are.’