The Masuda Affair

TWENTY-TWO

Tora arrived back at Lady Saisho’s house early the following morning. He had left while it was still dark and ridden as fast as he could without breaking his horse’s legs.

The house lay silent in the gray dawn amid the roaring of the waters and eerie drifts of mist rising from the river.

He was worried. Nothing had prevented the women from setting out for the capital to warn Sadanori and Ishikawa. He decided to make sure. After tying up his horse a little distance from the house, he walked along the fence to the back where Lady Saisho’s rooms overlooked the river gorge. Worrying about waking the dog brought back unhappy memories of Trouble.

At the corner, he turned and followed a narrow footpath along a steep wooded slope until both fence and path ended at the cliff edge. There, he looked up at the house. He saw the moon-viewing platform outside Lady Saisho’s room only twenty feet away, but the ground was treacherous with loose rocks, and below the river tumbled through a gorge so deep that it was impenetrable mist and noise. The very air above it seemed to suck at his body. He eased around the fence.

The thought of setting off a rock slide and plunging into the gaping darkness far below made him shudder. He began to crawl upward on his hands and knees. He had almost reached the platform, and could make out the dim light of a candle burning inside behind the closed blinds, when noise reached his ears. It was muffled by the roaring waters, but he thought he heard shouts and the dog barking. He reached the veranda and stood up.

Two women’s shadows moved behind the blinds. Breathing a sigh of relief, Tora hoisted himself up on the veranda. The boards were slick with dew and treacherous, but he was not going back.

A third shadow appeared inside, a man who knelt and bowed. A servant or messenger? Tora crept up to the blinds and put his eye to a crack and suppressed a gasp. The face that had appeared for a moment was the face of Ishikawa. Then he heard voices.

‘What is this? What do you want here at this hour?’ Lady Saisho sounded angry.

Ishikawa said, ‘Begging your pardon, My Lady, but my master was concerned about your safety. And I just heard from Seijiro that you had visitors.’

‘What is that to you or my son?’

‘Your son has reason to suspect that Lord Sugawara is plotting against him.’

Mrs Ishikawa cried, ‘Oh, son, you’re not in trouble again?’

‘Nonsense, Mother.’ Ishikawa’s voice was harsh. ‘Beware of your rash tongue and remember the two noble houses we serve. Foolish words can do much harm.’

Lady Sadanori snapped, ‘You will not speak that way to your mother in my presence. She is upset enough with your behavior. We are safe, and you may leave.’

‘I’m sorry, My Lady. Seijiro says that Lord Sugawara’s party is planning to return. It will be best if he finds you gone. You may gather a few things and return with me to the capital. Seijiro is getting the sedan chair ready.’

Tora cursed softly. He wondered how many men Ishikawa had with him.

Lady Saisho broke the short silence with an outraged: ‘How dare you tell me what to do? I’m not going anywhere!’

Tora relaxed a little and wondered how Ishikawa would manage that one. He was beginning to like Sadanori’s mother.

Ishikawa muttered something under his breath. ‘We’re wasting time,’ he said. ‘I have my orders. You must get dressed or you’ll leave in your nightclothes.’

Mrs Ishikawa whimpered. ‘Son, you mustn’t speak that way to Her Ladyship. It isn’t proper.’

‘You will have to tie me up then,’ snapped Lady Saisho, ‘for I will not go.’

Ishikawa’s voice sounded desperate. ‘You must. Your son’s life is at stake.’

Lady Saisho snorted. ‘Ridiculous. I shall see you dismissed for this.’

Mrs Ishikawa burst into tears and rushed to her son. He pushed her aside, saying harshly, ‘Get her ready, Mother. You’re both leaving now. It’s a fine thing when women set their minds against men.’

‘You’re nothing but a servant, Ishikawa.’ Lady Saisho folded her arms and turned her back on him.

Outside, Tora considered. If he burst in on the scene, he might well find himself surrounded by Ishikawa’s people and killed. That would not serve anyone. On the other hand, Ishikawa would prevail over Lady Saisho. He sounded determined enough. In that case, he, Tora, could do nothing but trail them to the capital.

He turned to cast an uneasy glance at the gorge gaping below, when he heard a woman’s cry of pain.

Inside, behind the blinds, two figures were struggling; the third rushed to help and was flung aside so violently that she came stumbling through the blind, slipped on the boards, and fell. It was Mrs Ishikawa.

Lady Saisho cried for help, and Tora made up his mind. He flung aside the torn blind and jumped into the room.

Ishikawa had hold of Lady Saisho – in her night robe and with her white hair hanging loose.

‘Let her go,’ Tora growled.

They stared at him. Ishikawa released the old lady and reached for his sword.

Tora’s own sword was tied to the saddle of his horse. He crouched, his eyes on Ishikawa.

Lady Saisho said, ‘Put away that weapon, Ishikawa! How dare you bring a sword into my quarters?’ When Ishikawa ignored her, she raised her voice. ‘Seijiro!’

Ishikawa laughed. ‘Seijiro isn’t coming.’

But Seijiro did come. He slunk in nervously behind a couple of frightened maids, who burst into the room to clutch at Lady Saisho.

Tora decided Ishikawa was alone. ‘Don’t be a fool,’ he said. ‘Why kill more people?’

Ishikawa called to Seijiro, ‘He’s a robber. Grab him.’

Seijiro took a step forward.

‘No.’ Lady Saisho shook off the two maids. ‘Ishikawa’s gone mad, Seijiro,’ she said. ‘Disarm him and lock him up until we can send for my son.’

Seijiro blinked and stopped in indecision.

Tora said, ‘Ishikawa’s wanted for murder.’

Ishikawa laughed. ‘Yes, yours.’ He started forward. ‘You won’t live to repeat your slander.’

The tall candles flickered and spattered in the draft from the torn blind. Tora risked a glance, but this was a lady’s room and contained no convenient weapons. The maids whimpered, and behind him, Mrs Ishikawa sobbed her heart out. Tora shivered. The current of air carried the musty smell of rotting things – the rank breath of the gorge. He feared having his back to it and moved away from the door.

Lady Saisho said, ‘Only a coward would cut down an unarmed man.’

Ishikawa shot her a venomous glance. ‘A gentleman does not cross swords with scum.’

Tora ignored the slur in the supreme confidence that he was a soldier and Ishikawa was not. Even an unarmed man could win against an inexperienced fighter, and this Ishikawa was a coward as well, as Lady Saisho had pointed out. Though he held a sword, the former student hesitated, not sure how to proceed. It was a great deal easier to strike an old man down when his back was turned than to use an unfamiliar sword against a young and alert adversary. Tora kept his eyes on Ishikawa’s sword hand and waited.

Mrs Ishikawa scrabbled on the veranda behind him, and Ishikawa’s hand tightened its grip. The next moment, he lunged at Tora. Tora spun away easily, catching Ishikawa’s sword arm with his left hand and jerking it. Ishikawa gasped, stumbled, and fell to his knees.

Short and sweet, Tora thought, and twisted the sword from Ishikawa’s hand. He was about to put its point against the other man’s neck, when the women screamed, and a heavy weight hit his back, pitching him forward to the floor. He landed on his chin, jarring his teeth and nearly knocking himself out. Half dazed, he realized that Ishikawa’s mother had come from behind and flung herself on him. She was clawing at his throat and head, and he was about to throw her off when someone stepped hard on his hand. He lost his grip on Ishikawa’s sword as pain shot up his arm, but the pain cleared his head. With a curse, he tossed the woman off and rolled away. He heard rather than saw the blade strike the boards near his shoulder and rolled again until he came up against a wall. The room seemed filled with movement and noise, but he focused on Ishikawa. When the sword hissed down again, he flung himself forward and grabbed for Ishikawa’s legs. Ishikawa skipped away, but his sword had missed.

Tora managed to get to his feet and put some distance between himself and his attacker. He was still a little dizzy and his hand throbbed, but he no longer had the river gorge behind his back. Ishikawa was now about ten feet away, his face contorted with rage.

His mother cowered on the floor, her mouth open in mute fear. The others huddled in a corner, Seijiro standing in front of Lady Saisho, and the maids cowering behind. The fight was between him and Ishikawa – and possibly that vicious mother of his.

Ishikawa laughed. He had found his courage at last. ‘Look who’s the coward now,’ he cried. ‘I think I’ll kill you slowly. One cut at a time. Like this.’ He darted for Tora with the quickness of a snake and struck at his thigh. Tora felt the blade sear his skin as he jumped out of the way. He was now close to the women’s bedding and risked getting tangled in it, but his move had taken Ishikawa towards the platform. He danced about a little, then feinted again. Tora, cursing the other man’s agility, jumped aside again, too far this time, so that he slipped on a silk quilt and almost fell.

Ishikawa laughed again, and so – horribly – did his mother.

Tora’s patience was gone. Scooping up the quilt, he flung it at Ishikawa’s face, then made a grab for one of the tall candlesticks. The candle fell and rolled away, but the candlestick was iron, and the moment he held it in his throbbing hand, he was filled with enough fury to kill.

Ishikawa was fighting free of the quilt, slashing about with his sword. His mother rushed to help him. Tora heard her scream and saw her fall, but Ishikawa was free and attacked. Tora deflected the sword with the candlestick. The blade clanged and jumped away, and he pressed forward immediately, swinging the iron candleholder at Ishikawa’s head. He saw fear on Ishikawa’s face as he backed away. Tora pursued, forcing him through the blind and out on to the platform.

There, with the river roaring below him, Ishikawa panicked. He rushed forward, slashing wildly, across boards that were too wet and slick for that sort of footwork. He slipped, tried to catch his balance, skidded, and fell over the edge of the veranda to sprawl on the rocks.

Tora followed more carefully. He stepped down from the platform and went across the stones towards the fallen man.

Ishikawa got up on his hands and knees and scrambled up the loose rocks.

Tora saw disaster coming and froze in place.

The rocks began to slide towards the edge – slowly at first, then faster – taking Ishikawa with them.

Ishikawa let go of his sword and scrabbled for something, anything, to hold on to. There was nothing. Tora flung himself down and stretched out an arm. Terror in his rolling eyes, Ishikawa reached for it, but the distance was too great. He made a desperate effort and loosened more stones beneath him, slipping downward towards the edge of the cliff. An ominous rumble began and gained in volume. The rock slide gathered momentum, and Tora flattened himself against the hillside.

He lay still and prayed. Through the rumbling, he heard Ishikawa scream once, shrilly, as he plunged over the edge. His wail faded away among the boiling mists of the gorge. The shifting stones slowed to a trickle. Then all was silent.

Tora raised his head. He was alone. Cautiously, he crept back up the hill until he reached the corner support of the platform. He was shaking so badly that he could not pull himself up right away.

Slowly, his relief at being alive gave way to the realization that his master would not approve of this night’s work.

Nori seemed to enjoy the trip. There was no cormorant fishing in the daytime, but they stopped to see the birds and boats and all the paraphernalia that were used for it.

This pleasant mood changed abruptly when they reached Lady Saisho’s. Akitada halted when he saw the gates standing wide open. He passed the child to Tamako, told her to wait outside, then drew his sword and rode in.

The corpse of a broken man lay in the middle of the yard in a puddle of blood and water, and Tora stepped down from the veranda where he had been sitting. Akitada heaved a sigh of relief, put away his sword, and looked at the body more closely.

‘Ishikawa,’ said Tora unnecessarily. ‘We fished him out of the river after sunrise.’

‘What happened?’

Tora gave him a brief outline of the night’s events.

‘And the women?’

‘His mother’s hurt. He caught her with his sword.’

Tamako, with Nori, came up to the gate and peered in. Akitada went back to explain. She nodded. ‘Don’t look, Nori,’ she said to the boy. ‘There has been an accident, but it does not concern us.’

Akitada said nothing; the ‘Accident’ concerned the child very much indeed. He wondered what new complications the unexpected death of their prime suspect would bring to the case.

They dismounted at the steps to the villa. Akitada led them up and into the reception area, where he clapped his hands and shouted for the servant.

A pale-faced Seijiro appeared and bowed. ‘My lady expects you, sir.’ He led them to the same pavilion where Lady Saisho had received them the day before. Lady Saisho herself slid the door back.

Akitada’s eyes scanned the room. The torn blind to the outside was lowered. Filtered sunlight fell on a floor that still showed traces of bloodstains. In a corner lay a swaddled shape under a layer of quilts. The boy clutched Akitada’s hand.

‘Thank heaven you are in time,’ Lady Saisho said. ‘She is very weak.’ Her eyes went to the child. ‘Oh, he is a handsome child. Are you sure he cannot speak?’

Akitada nodded.

‘Well,’ said Lady Saisho, ‘we shall know more in a moment. Come.’ She led them to the swaddled shape and lifted a corner of the quilt. Mrs Ishikawa lay on her back with her head supported by a wooden neck rest. Only her face and her hands showed. They were almost as white as snow, and her skin seemed transparent. Though her eyes were closed, Akitada guessed from the set of her lips that she was conscious and in pain.

Tamako came to kneel beside her. ‘Mrs Ishikawa?’ she asked, reaching for a frail hand. ‘Can you hear me?’ There was no response, and Tamako looked up at Lady Saisho. ‘Has a physician been called?’

‘Yes, but… she lost so much blood. She is very weak. Look.’ Lady Saisho moved forward. For a moment the two women bent over Mrs Ishikawa and Akitada could see nothing. They lifted the quilt, looked, and then replaced it.

When Lady Saisho stepped aside, Akitada saw that Tamako was very pale. She glanced up at him and shook her head slightly.

Feeling bitterly disappointed, Akitada turned to take the boy away. Once again, he had come too late.

But Lady Saisho said, ‘Wait.’ She bent over Mrs Ishikawa again. ‘Listen to me,’ she said quite sternly. ‘You are dying. I’m very sorry for it, but you must be told. You have a chance to make good an evil that will otherwise destroy you and your son in the other world.’

Tamako bit her lip, and Akitada felt slightly sickened, though he knew the need for the speech. He took the boy back to the dying woman.

Lady Saisho commanded, ‘Open your eyes and look at this child.’

The thin lids fluttered and Mrs Ishikawa looked up at her. ‘My son?’ she whispered, and tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

‘He is dead. What you say cannot hurt him any longer.’ Lady Saisho was matter-of-fact. ‘Look at this boy, and tell me if he is the child of the woman Peony.’

‘I must not tell.’

Lady Saisho gripped the other woman’s shoulder. ‘You must. There is no more time.’

Tamako half rose and protested, Oh, please don’t.’

Mrs Ishikawa’s eyes flicked to her. Then she turned her head slightly, letting her eyes pass over Akitada to the boy. She looked at him for a long moment. Then she turned her head away and nodded. ‘Yes. That is Peony’s son.’

‘Ah.’ Lady Saisho rose, her face alight with triumph.

Akitada passed the boy to Tamako, who took him from the room. He said, ‘It proves only that the child’s mother was Peony.’

Mrs Ishikawa was on the point of death. Her breath rattled ominously. Akitada bent over her. ‘Mrs Ishikawa,’ he said, ‘forgive me for troubling you, but did you take some food, gruel perhaps, to Peony’s house when young Lord Masuda was ill?’

The rattling in her throat stopped. She opened her eyes and raised her head. ‘I didn’t know,’ she gasped. ‘The gruel. I didn’t know.’ Her black eyes bored into his.

Akitada nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it was poisoned.’

‘Oh!’ She wailed and flung her head back so violently that the wooden neck rest tipped and her head hit the floor.

Lady Saisho cried, ‘What are you doing? She has said all that matters.’

‘There is still the matter of murder,’ Akitada said. ‘Young Masuda died of poison, and Mrs Ishikawa took it to him.’ He knelt and lifted the dying woman’s head on his knee.

Lady Saisho gasped. ‘She murdered him?’

‘No, I think her son used her.’

Mrs Ishikawa flailed weakly. The awful rattling began again. Her convulsion must have opened her wound because fresh blood was seeping from beneath the quilt. But she lay still now, her head on Akitada’s knee, tears welling from her eyes.

‘It was your son who sent you with the gruel, wasn’t it?’ Akitada asked softly.

She looked up at him and opened her mouth, perhaps to answer or to wail again, but all she managed was a harsh gurgle. Her stare became fixed and her jaw sagged. A thin trickle of saliva seeped from the corner of her mouth.

Akitada felt her neck and found no pulse. He placed her head back on the floor and got up. ‘She is dead,’ he said.

‘Why do you look at me that way?’ demanded Lady Saisho. ‘It is not my fault she died. Her own son killed her.’

‘I was told it was an accident.’

‘You were not here. The man was deranged. He broke into my quarters and attacked both of us. He tried to kill your man, but he wounded his mother instead. We are well rid of such a man.’

Akitada controlled himself and said, ‘We shall leave now. I regret extremely this upsetting experience for the child. Unfortunately, it was necessary.’

‘No. The child must stay. My son will be here shortly’

‘I shall speak to Lord Sadanori another time.’

She barred his way. ‘You cannot take my grandson away. I forbid it.’

Akitada suddenly felt pity instead of anger. ‘Does your son have other children?’

‘A grown daughter only. That is why…’ She broke off. ‘The boy is his. He must be. Sadanori looked just like him at that age.’

‘He is most likely young Masuda’s son.’

‘No. Never.’

‘I am truly sorry.’

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘You must prove that he is ours. They say you are clever. When you find the proof, I will pay you well and Sadanori will advance you at court. He is the chancellor’s cousin and can raise you far beyond your dreams.’

Akitada bowed and walked out.