The Old Men of Omi

Chapter Twenty-Four

The morning after a long and futile day trying to get information from Sukemichi’s servants, the prefect’s constables arrested a vagrant not far from the manor. Before either Akitada or Kosehira could interfere, they had a confession. The man, who was very poor and not in his right mind, admitted readily that he had climbed the wall of the Taira manor and killed its owner.

The prefect was elated to have closed the case so quickly and conveniently. Sukemichi’s widow was pleased and momentarily forgot her grief-stricken demeanor. The young lord shared the general relief.

“I don’t like it,” Akitada told Kosehira as they prepared to return to Otsu.

“Well, he may have done it. He looked strong enough.”

“There is no proof.”

Kosehira finished putting on his boots and said, “There is a confession. A confession outweighs proof.”

“He did not seem a very sensible sort of person to me,” Akitada persisted. “It sounded as though he was actually proud of what he confessed to.”

“Ordinary people can be quite simple, Akitada,” Kosehira pointed out. “Not everyone has studied law at the university and is aware of legal matters. He enjoyed the attention. I expect he’ll change his attitude.”

“Perhaps, but I still don’t like it. And I’m troubled by the Jizo. I don’t think that was a coincidence.”

“Yes, that was a little strange. But you said yourself that Sukemichi wasn’t like the others. He was a ranking nobleman and much younger.”

Akitada nodded unhappily. “It’s none of my business, but you might tell the prefect not to rush the case to trial.”

Kosehira said, “I cannot ask the man to do that. He deals with matters in his district.”

“Yes, only the man they arrested-I didn’t believe him. I think he’s just a foolish creature who will agree to anything you tell him.”

At this point there was an interruption. A servant came to announce that the Okuni headman was outside and wished to speak to Akitada. Hoping against hope for something to support his conviction that all five murders had been committed by the same man and that Sukemichi had not been killed by a demented vagrant, Akitada rushed out into the courtyard.

The sturdy figure of Masaie stood waiting. He was looking about him with a lively interest. When he saw Akitada coming down the steps toward him, a broad smile lit his face.

“A very good morning to you, my lord,” he said with a deep bow. “They tell me you’re leaving us?”

“Yes. The governor and I both have work waiting in Otsu. We’ll leave matters in the prefect’s hands. What brings you?”

“Two things, sir. You’ll be pleased to hear that one of our people went down into the gorge to look for another Jizo. And you were right, sir. It was there all the time.”

“Excellent work, Masaie.” Akitada found a piece of silver in his sash and passed it over. “With my thanks to the brave young man who climbed down.”

The grin was back. “Thank you, sir. He’ll be glad of it. His wife’s expecting.”

“What was the other matter?”

“Well, I’m asking for advice, sir. There’s a young woman who walked into the village yesterday, crying her eyes out. It seems Lord Sukemichi’s first lady had her thrown out. The girl swears she’s done nothing wrong. Sir, she was born in this house and has no family left. A young woman like that isn’t safe on the roads. All sorts of people pass through looking to make money at the fairs. Thieves and highwaymen, most of them.”

So the maid had been dismissed after all. Akitada’s heart hardened toward Sukemichi’s widow. Whatever the relationship between her husband and this maid had been, she owed their servants more consideration, especially when they had grown up in the household. Her action had been unnecessarily cruel. He said regretfully, “Masaie, I cannot help you or her. This is a family matter and none of my business.”

The headman nodded. “I understand, sir.” He bowed and left.

?

They had nearly reached the highway to Otsu, when Akitada stopped Kosehira.

“Forgive me, brother,” he said. “I want to go back to Okuni. Something bothers me about that dismissed maid. You go ahead. I’ll try to catch up, or else get there a little later.”

Kosehira was disappointed. “I meant to show you the water channels of Azuchi. It’s on our way and quite famous as a hiding place for wanted criminals. Why the interest in the maid anyway? So Sukemichi slept with one of his servants. There’s nothing remarkable about that.”

Akitada agreed it was not remarkable in most noble houses, though neither he nor Kosehira (he hoped) engaged in such behavior. “It’s not that but the fact that she has been dismissed so suddenly. There is a reason, I suspect, and I’d like to know it. The family already has too many secrets for my taste.”

Kosehira looked astonished. “You think the girl murdered him? Or that his lady suspects her?”

“Probably not. Jealousy alone doesn’t quite explain it.”

“Hmm. Well, go back then. Be sure you let me know what you learn.”

?

Akitada sought out Masaie in Okuni and asked to speak to the dismissed maid.

“She’s staying with a farmer up the road,” he said. “Working for her food and lodging.” He shook his head. “It’s the best we could do. Mostly women like her end up selling themselves to passing travelers. That would be a pity, I think. I hope you can help her, sir.”

Akitada said, “I’m very sorry about what happened to her, but I cannot promise that Lady Taira will allow her to return. I only want to find out what happened in case it has some significance for Lord Taira’s murder.”

Masaie, apparently also intrigued by the mystery of the girl’s dismissal, accompanied Akitada to a small farm in a grove of pines. All around, the fields had been cleared and crisscrossed by small ditches. The ditches carried water to the rice fields, already mostly planted.

They found the farmer gone to mend one of his ditches, but the farmer’s wife, a hard-faced, middle-aged woman, was home. She looked from Masaie to Akitada and knelt, bowing her head.

“Kohime, is Mineko around?” Masaie asked. “His lordship here wants to ask her some questions about the murder at the big house.”

The woman’s eyes grew round and she covered her mouth in astonishment as she stood up. “Did she kill her master?” she asked. “If she killed him, take her away and lock her up. You shouldn’t have brought her. She might slit our throats while we sleep.”

Akitada said quickly, “She did not kill Lord Sukemichi. I want to speak to her because she may know something.”

The woman relaxed. “Oh,” she said, somewhat sullenly. “The girl’s in the back, washing clothes. She’s not a very good worker. Spoiled with her fine clothes and smooth hands.” She looked at Masaie accusingly.

“Be patient. She’ll learn,” he said with a grimace. “She’s only eighteen.”

They walked around the house and found the girl on her knees in the dirt, scrubbing some wet garments on a stone. A big wooden tub stood beside her. Gone was her silk gown. She wore an old gray striped shirt and the sort of pants peasant women wore in the fields. Her hair was cut shorter and tied back with a rag, and she was barefoot, wet, and dirty. But when she turned and looked up at them, Akitada saw that she was still very pretty in spite of the red, swollen eyes.

She dropped the shirt she had been scrubbing and jumped up. “Have you come to take me back?” she asked Masaie eagerly. “Oh, please say I may go back.”

Masaie shook his head. “No. I’m very sorry, Mineko. This is Lord Sugawara who was helping to find Lord Sukemichi’s murderer. He has some questions to ask you.”

Tears of disappointment welled up again. Looking down at the ground, she said listlessly, “I’ll answer.”

She was young, a year younger than Yukiko. Akitada felt quite sorry for her and felt again a strong dislike to Sukemichi’s wife. He spoke gently. “I’m very sorry that you had to leave. May I ask why you were dismissed?”

She rubbed her wet hands against her pants and sniffled. “I don’t know why. It was sudden. They wouldn’t tell me.” She raised watery eyes to his. “I have done nothing. I was at my lessons when the majordomo came and took me away and pushed me out into the street, saying I was never to come back on orders of her ladyship.”

From this startling account, Akitada picked one word. “You were at your lessons? What lessons?”

“Lord Sukemichi had me taught by his children’s tutor. I’m studying the classics and practicing poetry. I mean, I was.” She wiped away more tears.

This was astounding. It was unheard of that a nobleman would bother to educate a maid even if he enjoyed her in bed. And surely such preferential treatment would have aggravated his wife’s resentment. Clearly, it had been a painful shock for this girl to leave all that behind to wash clothes in a peasant’s yard. He asked, “Did you love Lord Sukemichi?”

She nodded. “He was very good to me. When I was a child, he used to carry me around on his shoulders. And now he’s gone and I am nothing.” She looked at her work-reddened hands and shuddered.

Akitada exchanged a glance with Masaie, then asked her, “Could you be with child by his lordship?”

She stared at him, turning first white and then red. Forgetting her position, she shouted, “That’s a horrible lie! He was like my father. I would never … I used to think of him as my father. He would never have done such a thing. Never! You dishonor his memory!”

Akitada felt contrite. “Forgive me. I was trying to understand his wife’s anger at you. Do you truly have no family? What about your real father and mother?”

“I don’t have a father. My mother came to work at the Taira manor in the old lord’s time. She died when I was still small.”

Akitada turned to Masaie. “It should be possible to find the mother’s family. I have to return to Otsu, but I think you might talk to people here and at the estate. Someone may remember where her mother came from. There might be relatives.”

Masaie nodded. “I have asked some questions and will ask some more, but I’m afraid there’s nobody. Her mother was a slave, bought by Lord Sukemichi’s father.”

The girl listened with bowed head and murmured, “Thank you, sir,” then turned away to continue her work. Akitada had rarely seen a more poignant gesture of hopeless acceptance of a dire fate. He did not know what to say. He had no right to give her assurances of a better life when he could not promise such a thing. But the sight of her figure bent over her chore haunted him all the way back to Otsu.

?

In Otsu, work had piled up. They were nearing the completion of their assignment. He was expected to assemble the facts and documents his clerks had gathered and arrive at a legal argument that would settle the continuous litigation between the two temples once and for all.

Over the next two days, he had barely time to eat and sleep, and he slept very little, because at night the ghosts of his failures came to haunt him.

Yukiko, whose love he had rejected;

The weeping maid in Okuni, who had no one in the whole wide world and would surely come to harm;

The dead-Judge Nakano, the sweeper Tokuno, the two peasants Wakiya and Juro, and now also Taira Sukemichi-whose murders remained unsolved;

And the poor fool who had confessed to the Taira murder and would pay the price.

He had failed them all, and all he had left was his duty as an imperial official. And there he had little faith that a decision about the cases would change anything about the war being carried on between the different Buddhist factions and temples. Meanwhile, the dead found no peace and the living, who deserved his help, suffered. Yes, even Yukiko who would marry a man she did not love and who most likely would not love her.

Before dawn on the third day, as he lay awake once again counting up his failures and searching for ways to solve at least one of the problems, he suddenly remembered a conversation with Kosehira. Kosehira had spoken of Sukemichi’s father and mentioned that he had almost missed out on his appointment to the imperial reserve because someone had accused him of having murdered someone. It had all come to nothing, to mere malicious gossip, when the real killer had confessed. The tale was old and probably meant nothing. It must have happened decades ago. But he had nothing else, and he and Takechi had wondered about some old case that might somehow have involved both the judge and the jailer. He had similarly wondered about the connection with the two old peasants in Okuni. It seemed a little far-fetched, but at this point the old murder was the only event that might connect the new murders in Okuni and Otsu. Yes, and it could also link Sukemichi’s death to the others.

Filled with new energy, he jumped out of bed and got dressed. He must wake Kosehira and ask him more questions about this old murder. But when he opened the shutters to the veranda, he saw that it was still dark. Dawn was barely breaking. The sky had turned a silvery gray, but the trees and roofs of Kosehira’s villa stood like black outlines against the shimmering light. Kosehira would still be fast asleep.

Akitada debated the matter for a moment, then decided to go sit on the veranda outside Kosehira’s room to wait for him to get up. Stepping down to a garden path that led from his pavilion to the main house, he found the darkness not quite so impenetrable after all. The first birds were making small, sleepy noises in the branches overhead, and Akitada could feel the cool dew through his slippers as he walked across the moss.

He had almost reached the main house when it occurred to him that he could not very well sit outside his friend’s sleeping quarters. It would be too embarrassing if Kosehira had invited one of his wives to sleep with him. It was not likely, since husbands generally sought out their wives in their own rooms, but such things could happen. He slowed his steps in indecision, then turned around and retraced his way to where another path led to the overlook. He would go there and watch the sun rise over Lake Biwa.

To his dismay, he found he was not the only one who had come to see the sunrise. She was there already, a slender figure with her back to him. He could not retreat without making a sound, and she would surely hate to see him flee like coward. He cleared his throat.

She turned. He could not see her face because the light was behind her. His heart was beating in his throat and he barely managed a whisper: “Forgive me. I didn’t know anyone would be here so early. Shall I go away?”

“No, of course not. I was just about to leave myself.” She sounded tense.

He did not believe her. “I came to see the sun rise and expect you did, too. Could we watch together?”

She hesitated, then stepped aside to make room for him. “If you wish.”

He came to stand beside her at the railing. She was quite close; he could smell her scent but was afraid to look at her.

The view was lovely, much more beautiful than in the daytime, he thought. The colors were softer. All those greens and blues and browns of land, mountains, and city had a silvery sheen-mist perhaps?-and the sky, a much brighter, iridescent silver, was reflected by the lake’s surface as if in a mirror. A thin line of gold had appeared along the ridge of the eastern mountains.

There would not be much time. In a little while, the sun would appear, and they would part. He finally turned his head to look at her.

She had come directly from her bed. A blue silk gown was loosely draped around her. It had caught her long hair, still slightly disordered from sleep, underneath, and one heavy strand half covered her cheek. She held the blue silk together with her hands at the waist, and he guessed that she only wore her thin undergown beneath. She was totally desirable, but only a husband should be allowed to see her like this. The blood pounded behind his temples, and he clenched his hands to keep them from touching her.

In his agitation, he burst out, “I hear you are to marry the chancellor’s son.”

She stared at him. “Did my father tell you?”

“No. Is it a secret?”

“It was meant to be. Who told you?”

“Lord Nakahara. I assumed it was common knowledge in the capital.”

She covered her face with her hands, and the blue gown fell open. He had been right. She was in her bedclothes. A part of him reminded him of the impropriety of his being there, but he could not leave.

“Is it not true, then?” he asked, half hopefully.

She lowered her hands. “He is my cousin. We grew up together. Our parents talked about how well suited we were for each other. I think the idea has been raised again. My father has asked me about it.”

“And will you marry him?”

She turned her face away. “I suppose so.”

Neither had noticed the sun come up, but at that moment, Yukiko was bathed in gold: a golden daughter promised to the heir of the most powerful man in the land.

He found nothing to say. Wishes of good fortune and happiness would have been a lie. After a painfully long silence, he said, rather hoarsely, “You are very beautiful, Yukiko. I shall always remember you this way.”

Then he bowed and left.