The Old Men of Omi

Chapter Nineteen

Kosehira was puzzled by Akitada’s mood on the long ride to the imperial pheasant reserve and kept trying to cheer him up. He pointed out that the weather was clear, the rice paddies already green with new rice, and ahead lay some fine entertainment. After several miles of silence or mono-syllabic comments, he asked, “Is anything the matter, brother? You seem very glum. Is it the hunting still that troubles you?”

Akitada returned to the present and forced himself to smile at Kosehira. “Nothing is wrong, brother,” he lied, then offered, “I’m a little preoccupied with those Jizo murders. If someone is going around killing people, he must be stopped quickly. Unfortunately, I don’t know where to begin to look for him. If the two murders at Okuni turn out to have been the work of the same killer, we have a very serious problem. I’m sorry if I’m bad company. I shall try to do better.”

“Granted this seems to be a puzzling case, but you could let the police worry about it for a while.” Seeing Akitada’s face, he laughed. “Never mind. I do appreciate your concern and you’ll get your chance. Tonight, however, I’m afraid you’ll have to be nice to your hosts and partake of the welcome dinner they will have arranged for us.”

Akitada, a little ashamed that he had been unappreciative of Kosehira’s efforts to entertain him, said, “Perhaps you might tell me a little about them and their passion for falcons so I won’t make a fool of myself tonight.”

Kosehira complied eagerly.

“As I told you, Nakahara serves the retired emperor, the father of His current Majesty. His passion for the falcon hunt goes back to his youth when he attended His Majesty Sanjo on such occasions. He recommended Taira Sukenori for the position of supervisor of the imperial pheasant reserve, a nice little assignment that brings in both a salary and hunting privileges.” Kosehira chuckled. “You’d be surprised how many people owe favors to each other and to people above them. Nakahara is able to offer us a special entertainment because Taira owes him this favor.”

“And do we owe Nakahara now?”

“No. Don’t worry. We are simply receiving a courtesy.”

“I’m relieved.”

“Taira Sukenori has died, but his son Sukemichi now holds the post. More favors were called in.”

Akitada sighed. “I’ll never learn this game. My sister is the one who takes an interest in such things.”

Kosehira laughed. “You don’t need to learn it, but it’s good to know those things. It makes it easier to deal with people. And once you get past their commitments, you may find them entertaining creatures after all.”

“I hope so. I’m trying to convince myself that familiarity with pheasant reserves and hunting with hawks may come in handy one of these days.”

They were traveling with two of Kosehira’s servants who followed behind. Tora had begged off to spend time at home with Hanae. Akitada had been glad. Since his stay on the mountain, Tora had seemed gloomy and distracted. Akitada hoped his family would cheer him up.

He had his own wounds to lick. The parting from Yukiko had been awkward for both of them, but she had carried it off rather better than he. Her apology, delivered in the face of his avoidance of her, had been admirably brave. Where he had taken the coward’s way out, she had faced him. Akitada had never thought of himself as an unfeeling cad where women were concerned, but that was precisely what he had become. He had made her cry, and that was unforgiveable.

Shaking off these unpleasant memories, he made an effort to chat with Kosehira and to take an interest in the sights on the way.

Being on horseback again was pleasant for a change. The road was the Nakasendo, a wide and busy stretch of highway which passed along Lake Biwa and connected to the Tokaido, the great Eastern Highway. He caught broad views of the great lake, blue under sunny skies and dotted here and there with the sails of fishing boats. Now and then larger ships passed on their way to Otsu or back to Hikone. To his left stretched fields toward wooded hills, and up ahead the Suzuka Mountains were blue in the distance. There was a good deal of traffic, both by foot and on horseback. Occasional ox-drawn wagons caused brief slow-downs. But the people were entertaining and interesting and gradually Akitada’s depression lifted.

Toward sunset, they arrived tired and dusty at their destination in the foothills of the Suzuka Mountains. The Taira manor was a large walled compound and, being near the highway, used to offering shelter to important travelers. In this case, they were expected, and servants rushed to take their horses and to announce them.

Their host greeted them on the wide veranda of the main house. Taira Sukemichi was their age, in his early forties, a handsome man with a small mustache and a ready smile. Apparently he led an active life, for he was lean of body and brown from being out in the sun. He was also affable, greeting them with expressions of joy at seeing Kosehira again and at making the acquaintance of the “famous” Akitada.

Akitada, who hated flattery and knew he was anything but famous, shrank into himself and was at a loss for words. No matter. Kosehira and Sukemichi carried on a lively conversation. Akitada deduced that Nakahara was expected shortly and a fine dinner awaited them. Beyond this, the talk was of hunting and events in Otsu. Akitada listened, putting in an answer now and then about the sohei affair.

After a brief tour of the house, Sukemichi took them to a special room where he kept his birds. Akitada had expected these to stay in the stables, but apparently such creatures were highly prized and shared the main house with its owner.

Two servants were specifically assigned to care for the ten falcons. The takajo, or master falconer, greeted them and took them around. Along one wall of the room elaborate bamboo perches held the hawks which were displayed somewhat in the manner of fine horses in some wealthy men’s stables, each bird occupying its own perch, tethered by silken cords with tassel in many colors. Noble birds indeed!

Akitada eyed them askance. Not only did he dislike their fierce stares and the way they ruffled their feathers when he approached, but he thought displaying wild birds in this manner and at such expense (given their special room, their silk ropes, and their personal keepers) was wasteful; and frivolous.

Sukemichi clearly did not share this view. He introduced each bird by name, giving its ancestry and value, and describing its performances enthusiastically. His father, he said, had also kept falcons and used them for hunting pheasants for the imperial table. He had frequently entertained important guests, though he had never been able to play host to an emperor.

“My father almost managed it once,” Sukemichi said, “but then there was a murder here, and the investigation dragged on. In the end, the court canceled.”

Akitada’s ears sharpened. “A murder?” he asked.

Sukemichi looked a little embarrassed. “I wasn’t here at the time. I was still a student at the university.”

Kosehira made polite noises and asked a few questions about falconry, but Akitada did not bother. They were handsome birds in spite of their dangerous manner, but he hoped he would not be expected to carry one of them to the hunt scheduled for the next day.

Nakahara joined them soon after. He appeared to be in his sixties, was fat, pale-skinned, and had a mustache and goatee. After greeting Sukemichi and Kosehira effusively, he turned to Akitada. “What a great pleasure, Sugawara,” he said, smiling. “I have looked forward to this with great anticipation. Are you still solving murder cases? I recall the whole capital was abuzz when you unmasked that insane painter who had been carving up his victims.”

Akitada did not like to be reminded of that case. He had nearly lost his life when he went after the man who had abducted his little son Yori. He shuddered in retrospect and said, “Thank you, but my involvement was personal. The praise should go to the police who ultimately saved countless lives.”

They parted company to retreat to their rooms and prepare for the festive dinner planned for that evening. Akitada feared more conversation about his past and began to feel resentful toward Kosehira for involving him in this visit. Nevertheless, he dressed with care before making his appearance in the room designated for the dinner. The others were already there, wearing their fine robes and chatting about the next day’s hunt.

“It’s late in the season,” explained Sukemichi. “Hunting with hawks is mostly done in winter, but I thought it might be a pleasant entertainment for my friends, and as it happens we need to send some pheasants to the palace.”

They were served roasted pheasant for their dinner, along with excellent fish from Lake Biwa and fresh vegetables. Sukemichi’s wine was also superior, and Akitada mellowed considerably. Besides, the conversation concerned the pheasant reserve and Sukemichi’s passion for hawks.

“My father taught me,” he said. “He was a superb falconer. He also hunted with bow and arrow out of falcon season. For both types of hunting we have men go through the scrub land with sticks to scare out the birds. After that, they can be hunted either with bow and arrow or with hawks.” He eyed his guests. “I have good horses. If you gentlemen would like to try your hand at hunting with bow and arrow, we can arrange this also.”

Akitada said firmly, “Not on my account. I haven’t shot an arrow in many years.”

Kosehira laughed. “We’ll settle for watching the falcons do the work. How do you train them?”

“Oh, my takajo does that. Though I buy most of my birds already trained. A trained bird will take down its prey and return to its master’s hand where it is given a treat for good work. The dogs fetch the kill.”

The pheasant meat was tasty, and Akitada thought the hunt might prove interesting after all. Not much seemed to be required of him besides his presence and praise. He asked, “So this practice has been going on here since long before your time?”

Sukemichi glanced across at Nakahara. “My father was the first in our family. It was an imperial appointment. After his death, the office passed to me. At first, my father had some trouble establishing himself among the locals. There were factions that supported another man, and they tried everything to blacken my father’s character. Fortunately, he prevailed against his detractors.”

The conversation turned to the proper preparation of pheasant. Akitada listened with half an ear. He thought the comment about Sukemichi’s father and his troubles interesting. Information about the local people might throw a light on the murders of the two old men. When there was a lull in the chatter, he said, “Perhaps you can tell me something about the village Okuni. It’s nearby, I think. What are the people like?”

Sukemichi looked surprised. “Oh, it’s just a small place. Insignificant. Mostly rice farmers live there, and a few of our retainers and staff. It’s pleasant enough, but up in the hills. The terrain is too awkward for hunting, but people aren’t allowed to live on the reserve, so they built their houses there and carved out some rice paddies. The older people work the farms, while their children work for me or for the reserve. Why are you interested?”

“I heard they had two unexplained deaths recently. The victims died within days of each other. Both were old men on their way home after drinking.”

Sukemichi nodded. “Yes, it’s true. One was murdered. The other fell down the mountain because he was drunk. Drinking is a problem among some of the locals. But I’m surprised that you take an interest in peasants.” He paused and frowned. “Come to think of it, I believe both used to work for my father and were given land when they left his service. The one who was murdered had also been drinking. Peasants tend to get carried away by festivals and cheap wine, and violence isn’t unheard of under those circumstances. I doubt that the deaths merit your attention.”

Kosehira chuckled. “Akitada takes an interest in all kinds of cases. And I promise you, if he starts poking around, he finds out the most shocking things.”

The two other men smiled politely, but it seemed clear that they thought Akitada an eccentric and expected little excitement from the death of two old peasants.

The meal ended in the customary manner, with more wine consumed on the veranda where they had a fine view of the moonlit landscape stretching into the distance under a starry sky.

Later, when Akitada and Kosehira walked to the room they shared in the guest pavilion, Kosehira said, “You know, that business about Sukemichi’s father having had some troubles after his appointment reminded me that someone accused him of having murdered a guest. It was just ill will. They caught the killer.”

Akitada raised his brows. “You don’t say? What happened?”

“I don’t recall. But it was all very unpleasant until the betto confessed. It seems the guest had become too familiar with his daughter. It was shocking behavior by the guest, of course.”

Akitada winced. It was an ugly tale and nothing to do with him. He had quite properly avoided an entanglement with Kosehira’s daughter.

But the image of Yukiko haunted him that night.