Текст книги "Death on an Autumn River "

The Author

I.J. Parker was born and educated in Europe and turned to mystery writing after an academic career in the U.S.  She has published her Akitada stories in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, winning the Shamus award in 2000.  Several stories have also appeared in collections, such as Fifty Years of Crime and Suspense and the recent Shaken. The award-winning “Akitada’s First Case” is available as a podcast. Many of the stories have been collected in Akitada and the Way of Justice.

The Akitada series of crime novels features the same protagonist, an eleventh century Japanese nobleman/detective.  It now consists of nine titles.Death on an Autumn River is the latest. Most of the books are available in audio format and have been translated into twelve languages.

Acknowledgments

I’m grateful to my readers, Jacqueline Falkenhan and John Rosenman, and to my agent, Jean Naggar.  Without them the series would not exist.

Pronunciation of Japanese Words

Unlike English, Japanese is pronounced phonetically.  Therefore vowel sounds are approximately as follows:

“a”  as in “father”

“e” as in “let”

“i” as in “kin”

“o” as in “more”

“u” as in “would.”

Double consonants (“ai” or “ei”) are pronounced separately, and M or k are doubled or lengthened.

As for the consonants: 

“g” as in “game”

“j” as in “join”

“ch” as in “chat”.

Death on an Autumn River

In the Yodo’s waters

The young Ayu fish

Cries out.

Pierced by the Cormorant’s beak,

It writhes.

How pitiful!

(From the Ryojin hisho, a collection of the songs of courtesans by Emperor Go-Shirakawa)

CHARACTERS

Sugawara Akitada  –  midlevel official in the Ministry of Justice

Sadenari  –  his clerk

Tamako  –  his wife

Yasuko  -  his little daughter

Seimei  –  his elderly secretary

Tora and Genba  -  faithful retainers

Kobe  –  chief of the capital police

Characters in Eguchi:

Fujiwara Takeko  –  the lady of the River Mansion

Fukuda and Harima  -  two poor, elderly people

Mrs. Wada  –  owner of the Hananoya brothel

Warden Wada  -  her husband

Nakagimi  –  the reigning queen of courtesans

Akogi  –  a young trainee in the Hananoya

Characters in Naniwa and Kawajiri:

Oga Sadazane  - governor of Settsu

Oga Yoshiyo  –  his son

Munata  –  the local prefect; a wealthy landowner

Nakahara  –  chief of the trade office

Nariyuki and Tameaki  –  his clerks

Otomo  –  a retired professor of Chinese

Watamaro  –  a local ship owner and merchant

Saburo  –  a severely disfigured former spy

Kunimitsu  –  owner of a sailors’ hostel

Chapter One

The River

Akitada watched the passing scenery through half-closed eyes.  The river was as deep green as the wooded shoreline and flowed heavily toward the sea.  Fish swam dimly in the glaucous depths of the water, shadows of silver in the shifting shades of green.  On shore, the green curtain of the forest was broken here and there by a shimmer of gold or a touch of red.  It was autumn, the “leaf-turning month.”

Something he had read somewhere came to his mind:  “Ceaselessly flows the river to the sea, never pausing, always changing, losing itself in eddies and rice paddies, gaining new life from streams and tributaries.  Even so is man.”

He had reached the middle of his life after almost losing himself on several occasions.  His life’s waters moved more calmly now, both in his official life and at home.

The boat rode low in the water, poled along by three half-naked men and guided by their master at the rudder.  Under its reed covered midsection, the passengers drowsed in the late afternoon warmth. They huddled close together at a respectful distance.  The motion of the boat had made them sleepy and their chatter desultory.  Only the youngsters in front still chattered, bursting into laughter or song from time to time.

Akitada’s clerk, Sadenari, was with them.  The boy was nineteen and made him nervous with his awkward efforts to impress his superior.  The young man was the son of a low-ranking official and had proved neither very capable nor useful.  Being the newest member of the ministry, he was assigned to Akitada because he could be spared most easily.

As senior secretary in the Ministry of Justice, Akitada traveled on official business to the city of Naniwa on the Inland Sea.  More elegant travel arrangements could have been made – he was entitled to them by rank and position – but he wanted to arrive with as little fanfare as possible.  His true assignment, the delicate matter of finding out the truth about recent pirate attacks, must remain a secret.  Ostensibly, he carried legal documents and instructions to the Naniwa office that handled matters of shipping goods from foreign countries and the western provinces to the capital.

Like most of the passengers, he was in a pleasant and soporific mood.  Now and then a fish jumped in the distance, egrets made brilliant splashes of white against the dark green shoreline, and for a while seagulls had been circling overhead.  Their boat would soon reach the coast.  Soon enough he would have to deal with matters he knew little about. Anyone on this boat probably knew more about shipping and piracy than he did.  The problem was that he could not ask questions and must learn from observation.

Pushing up a sleeve, he dipped his hand into the river.  The water was cool on his wrist, and he instantly felt refreshed.  They were turning into a bend of the river and the shore was coming closer. The curved roof of an elegant pavilion appeared among the trees.

There was a good deal of river traffic, coming and going between Naniwa and the inland towns and temples, but Akitada had not seen any villages or farms for a while.  The pavilion had slender red-lacquered columns and a blue-tiled roof, and its veranda was suspended above the water.  It was beautiful, almost other-worldly in its perfection.  He watched it slowly gliding past, a dwelling fit for the heavenly beings in the western paradise.

Perhaps someday, he would build himself a small house on a river: a simple building of plain wood with a roof of pine bark so that squirrels and monkeys could play on it without sliding off.  He would take his family there during the hottest weeks of summer.  His little daughter Yasuko would like watching the animals.  He would teach her how to fish, and they would sit side-by-side in their watery pavilion, letting their lines drift with the current until one of the bamboo rods would suddenly bend sharply, and Yasuko would cry, “I’ve caught one, father!  I’ve caught one!”

And much later, when he was an old man and Yasuko had long since gone to be with her own family, he and his wife Tamako would live there and be at peace.

A shout from the front of the boat shattered the dream.  The boatmen jumped about trying to stop the boat and turn it against the current.  Some of the passengers asked questions but got no answers.  Most got to their feet and craned their necks to see what was happening.

Akitada was as curious but restrained himself.  Not so the young men in front. All five peered into the water over the shoulders of the boatmen.  When the passengers went to join them, the boat began to list dangerously.  The boat’s master cursed them back to their places.  Order restored, he and his men leaned over the side and dragged something sodden and heavy into the boat.  A gasp went around, and excited babble broke out.

A drowned woman.

One of the passengers near him, a fat shopkeeper returning from a pilgrimage to Iwashimizu’s Hachiman shrine, tsked and shook his head. “Happens all the time here,” he announced.  “The girls from the brothels are always killing themselves in the river.”

A suicide?

“What brothels?” Akitada asked.  “How did she get here?”

The boat’s master explained, “We’re almost in Eguchi.”

Eguchi, along with Kamusaki and Kaya, adjoined the ancient capital Naniwa and the port city Kawajiri.  The three smaller towns specialized in providing sailors and merchants with prostitutes.

Akitada protested, “But that’s downriver.”

“The currents and the river traffic can move bodies about quite a lot, sir,” said the boat’s master.

Perhaps.  But still.

Akitada rose and went forward.  He saw now that the river up ahead widened and another joined it.  At their confluence, on the very tip of what appeared like a large island in a wide stream, lay a town.

He looked down at the body in the bottom of the boat.  Curled on her side, she looked slight.  Long black hair covered her face and much of her back.  Her body was almost obscenely exposed under the wet silk of an undergown.

It was a beautiful body, not yet bloated from being in the river but shapely and flawless.  Perhaps the river had washed away the trappings of her trade.

Someone was breathing heavily beside him. Sadenari was goggling at the dead woman, his face flushed and his mouth agape.  When he caught Akitada’s eyes, he swallowed hard.

Akitada snapped, “Sit down!” and then bent to examine the body more closely.  The silk was very good quality, and the long hair, now tangled and full of small bits of vegetation and algae, had been cared for.  He glanced at her small hands and feet and found them soft and the nails carefully trimmed.

“Let’s turn her over to see if she has any wounds,” he said to the boat’s master.

They handled her with great gentleness for such rough men.

The body showed no wounds, but it astonished Akitada nevertheless.  When he saw more of her face, she seemed far younger than he had assumed from her well-developed figure.  Her face was slightly puffy on one side, perhaps from being in the water, and the eyes stared sightlessly, but even so she still had an extraordinary and childlike beauty.  Some traces of make-up remained on the lips and around her eyes, but she had not needed it to improve her looks.

Given the innocence that her youth suggested, the other revelation shocked him more.  The thin silk clinging to her pale skin left nothing to the imagination, and her body was perfectly hairless except for her head.  She had shaved her pubic hair, a practice common among some prostitutes.

Akitada rose.  “Cover her with something,” he said to the boat’s master, feeling some shame on behalf of the dead girl, though the boatmen were old enough to be fathers.  “What is your normal procedure when you find drowning victims?”

“We take them to the warden in Eguchi.”

Akitada nodded and returned to his seat.  He was joined there by Sadenari, who was eager to make his apologies.

“It’s just,” he explained, blushing (the very young could still blush at such things), “that I’d never seen a dead woman.  I know you must think it very unseemly of me, but we’ve been given eyes to look at the world, haven’t we?”

He was an earnest youth, and Akitada relented.  “True, but even the dead have some right to privacy.”

Sadenari flushed more deeply.  “Surely they don’t care.  And if the girl was a prostitute, many men must have seen her like that when she was alive.”  Akitada looked at him, and Sadenari positively flamed.  He gulped.  “At least . . . I think that must be what happens.”

“Have you never visited a pleasure house?” Akitada asked, surprised.

Sadenari shook his head.  “The others were talking about Eguchi.  They’ve been there many times and say those places are full of beautiful women.  A man may have several in one night.”  He blurted, “Oh, how I wish I might do so just once!”

Akitada snorted.  “Nonsense.  Your father wouldn’t like it.  Wait till you have a wife.”  Sadenari came from a very proper family.  That probably accounted for the fact that at nineteen he was still a virgin.

“Yes, sir,” Sadenari murmured, looking dejected.

Akitada felt a twinge of pity.  The very young had their own worries, but having along a youth in the throes of lust could become a nuisance, perhaps even a danger, when one is tracking corrupt officials.  The fact that their work would be so near the brothel towns was likely to keep Sadenari in a state of painful mental arousal and might lead him into mischief.  Akitada toyed with the idea of letting him loose in Eguchi, but the youth probably did not have the money to purchase a woman.  His father kept him very short.  And advancing him the funds for a night of debauchery went against Akitada’s grain.

He turned away to watch the approach to the Eguchi wharf, where other boats like theirs were moored.  Already several small pleasure boats were coming toward them, their occupants holding large, brightly colored parasols.  Prostitutes eager to snatch the first customers.  He sighed and glanced at Sadenari.  The boy watched the women hungrily.  When the women in the first boat struck up a song, his face broke into a smile of delight.

“Oh,” he breathed.  “I had no idea they could be such artists.”

Akitada snorted.  Sadenari had a nice face, and he was young and a gentleman.  Even the most mercenary female in the water trade might relent in such a case.  Perhaps it was best to leave him to his own resources.

A lively exchange between passengers and boats sprang up as they maneuvered to the landing stage.  One of the young men climbed into the boat with the rose-colored parasol and embraced its occupant.

When they had tied up, Akitada and Sadenari left the boat, but stopped to watch the unloading of the dead woman.  Sadenari fidgeted.

The news of the drowned girl spread quickly, and a small crowd gathered to peer down at the reed mat covering the body.  Most were women, young and older, anxious or merely curious.

After a short, tense wait, the local warden, a burly man with a paunch and a bristling mustache, pushed his way past them.  He lifted the mat, looked, and shook his head.  He singled out two middle-aged women and waved them over.“Take a look.  Was she working here?”  They peered and shook their heads.  One said, “That one was a beauty, wasn’t she?”  The warden nodded and dropped the mat again.  “Not one of ours,” he called out to the onlookers, who dispersed.

Akitada, followed by Sadenari, approached the man and said,  “I was on the boat.  The boatmen found her upriver,  near that bend.”  He pointed.  “It seems too far for her to have come from Eguchi.  It may not be a simple suicide of another prostitute.  Besides, as the woman said, she was remarkably beautiful.”

The warden eyed him, taking in the silk robe, and became deferential. “Very kind of you to take an interest, sir, but I assure you that our ladies are very superior.  Our houses employ only the most talented and beautiful girls.  There are many better looking than this one.”  He gave the body on the ground a dismissive shove with a booted foot.  With a grin at Sadenari, he added, “I’m sure the gentlemen will enjoy checking out the truth of that while they’re here.”

Akitada was irritated.  “Thank you, but we travel on official business.  I noticed something tied around the girl’s neck.  Perhaps that will help you trace her.”  He bent to lift the mat again and pointed to a thin string of white silk braid that hid behind the long wet hair.  It looped around the slender neck and disappeared under the folds of the robe.

 The warden grasped it and pulled out a small brocade pouch.  “Just an amulet,” he said dismissively.  “Most of the girls have them.  We’ll send word to Kamusaki and Kaya.  She may have jumped into the water from one of the boats.  Still, the best thing is to let the monks have her for cremation.  She’s been in the water, and those bodies don’t keep long.”

“That’s all you’re going to do?  Aren’t you even going to look at the amulet?” asked Sadenari angrily.  “Lord Sugawara and I serve in the Ministry of Justice.  It strikes me that you’re very lax in your duties.”

The warden flushed.  He bent again and opened the little pouch, extracting a small gilded coin.  “How about that? A piece of silver.”  He weighed the metal in his hand.

“Let me see that,” Akitada demanded in a voice that allowed no argument.

The warden handed the coin over reluctantly.  It was curiously made and appeared to be mostly silver, but with some decorative gold overlay.  It had a square hole in the center, just like copper coinage.  The holes in coppers were for a string so they could be carried more conveniently.  But this was no copper coin.  Both silver and gold coins were oblong and had no holes.  Besides, this had an intricate design, so finely made that Akitada had to lift it closer to his eyes to make out the tiny Buddha figures and clouds.  Most likely, this was meant as an amulet, the hole serving to tie it around the wearer’s neck.  Why then had the girl hidden it in a separate pouch?

“It’s not a coin,” said Akitada.  “It’s a Buddhist amulet, but not made in this country, I think. See.”  He showed the ornamentation to the warden.

“Doesn’t matter,” said the man said.  “It’s worth something.  She got it from a customer, I expect. We get travelers from Korea and China.  Even their monks have stopped in Eguchi.”  He chortled and gave Akitada a sly look.  “You’d be surprised what monks can get up to, sir.”

Akitada would not, but he tried to look disapproving.  “I suppose it will go toward  the young woman’s funeral?”

“Right, sir.”  The warden held out his hand.

 Akitada gazed at the medal.  “Look here,” he said, “it’s a curious piece.  I’ve a friend who would like it.  What if I made a suitable donation, enough to cover the young woman’s funeral, in exchange for this.”

The warden frowned.  “I don’t know.  It’s evidence. How much did you have in mind, sir?”

Akitada reached into his sash and brought out a piece of gold.  “Gold for silver?”  He held both items up before the warden’s greedy eyes.  The gold piece was larger and shone in the setting sun.  The amulet, its silver darkened by time, looked dull by comparison.

The warden reached for the gold.  “Done, sir.  And the poor girl will thank you from the other world.”  He caught Akitada’s watchful eye as he stuffed the gold into his belt. “I’ll see it gets to the monks, sir.”

 Akitada nodded and started for the town.  Sadenari hung back, watching the warden and his men taking away the body of the drowned girl.  Then he hurried after Akitada.  “That was kind, sir,” he said, when he caught up, “but do you trust that warden?  He looked like a thief to me.”

“No doubt he is,” said Akitada dryly.  He glanced up and down the street of shops and eating places, all decorated with banners and paper lanterns.  “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.  How about sampling the local food?”

*

They ate in a small place where they were unlikely to be bothered by women soliciting their business.  Gauging Akitada’s status nicely, an elderly waiter had bowed them to a recess where a few cushions rested on a raised section.  They took off their shoes, sat down, and ordered food and wine.

The old waiter announced, “We have octopus balls,” awaiting their reaction with a twinkle in his eyes.

Akitada chuckled dutifully.  “By all means, bring us your balls, and whatever else you can recommend.”  The waiter wheezed with laughter and hobbled off.

  It had been a juvenile bit of humor, but to Akitada’s surprise, Sadenari had not even cracked a smile.  He was subdued and silent.  Akitada left him to his thoughts and looked around.  Not all the guests were soberly dressed and quiet men, traveling on business and not for pleasure.  There were also some of those who had clearly stopped in Eguchi for the courtesans and entertainers.

The wine arrived and was excellent.  The waiter’s hands trembled like Seimei’s as he poured, and Akitada felt a pang of guilt.  Seimei had become very frail.  Recently, he had expressed a wish to visit his home village and worship at the family shrine.  It seemed that his old friend was preparing to join his ancestors.  He could not rid himself of uneasiness.

Sadenari broke into his thoughts.  “You could have insisted on an investigation, sir,” he said, looking at him fixedly.  It sounded like a reproof.

“What?”

“That warden.  He’ll keep your gold and get rid of her body.”

Akitada was irritated.  “What is it to you?”

“I bet she was murdered.  It isn’t right.  And you with your reputation for looking out for poor people.”  Sadenari seemed clearly upset.  He gulped his wine – his second or third cup?

Before Akitada could respond, the waiter arrived with the food.  The dishes looked and smelled appetizing. The octopus balls turned out to be fried rice cakes stuffed with octopus meat.  Grilled eel and a stew of sea bream and vegetables made up the rest of the meal.

When they were alone again, Akitada said mildly, “What makes you think she was murdered?”

“She had a bruise, just here.”  Sadenari touched his hand to the left side of his face.  “I have good eyes.  Someone killed her and then threw her into the water.”

Akitada sighed.  “The bruise, if it was a bruise, was very recent.  Most likely it happened after she was in the river.”  He sampled one of the octopus balls.  “Or,” he said, “it was an accident.  She fell overboard and hit her head.  But you heard the boat’s master and the warden.  The women who work in these river towns often end their miserable lives in the river.  Now eat, before the food gets cold.”  Akitada served himself some of the sea bream.

“It may be as you say, but she didn’t look like a prostitute.  She looked . . .  innocent.”

Akitada laughed.  “Come on, Sadenari, not even you could have fallen in love with a drowned woman you’d never met.”

The young man jumped up, knocking over his flask of wine.  “Go ahead and have your little joke, sir. That girl was murdered, and nobody cares.”  To Akitada’s embarrassment, the youngster’s voice broke.  “I was so proud of serving under you, but you’re just like all the rest.  You can’t be bothered with a poor young woman’s death, and you think I’m a fool.”

It got quiet in the restaurant; eyes turned their way.  The old waiter hobbled over with a cloth to mop up the wine.

“Sit down, Sadenari,” said Akitada through clenched teeth.  “You’re making a scene.”  Louder, he added, “Come, let’s eat this excellent food and then get a good night’s rest.  Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

Sadenari looked around, flushed, and sat. The waiter cleaned up the wine and removed the empty flask.  The other guests returned to their meals.

Akitada said, “I apologize for what I said.  It was unkind and uncalled for.  I don’t think you a fool.  In fact, it was perceptive of you to notice the bruise and to question the warden’s verdict.  You may be right, but we can’t do anything about it.”

Sadenari raised his head.  There were tears of shame in his eyes, but his voice was steady again.  “I don’t understand.”

“I suppose I owe you an explanation.”  Akitada lowered his voice.  “You’ve been told that we’re taking documents from the ministry to the trade office in Naniwa.  What you don’t know is that I’m seeking information concerning pirate attacks on private ships traveling between the Dazaifu and the capital.  These ships carried priceless treasures in tribute gifts meant for the emperor.  It may be that someone either in Naniwa or at the Dazaifu has been working with the pirates.  Under the circumstances, we cannot get involved in local problems.  It would attract undesirable attention.”

Sadenari gaped.  “You mean an official is involved? But that’s a crime against the emperor.”  He brightened.  “Oh, but it is exciting, sir!  Thank you for bringing me along.  I swear I’ll be the soul of discretion.  Just call on me for anything.  I don’t care how dangerous it is.  I’d really like to get my hands on that traitor.  And on those pirates, too.”  He flexed his hands.

“Thank you,” Akitada said dryly.  “I know I can count on you, but you mustn’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not.  And I can see now our assignment is vastly more important than a case of drowning.  I’ll be more circumspect in the future.”

“Good.  Now let’s eat.”

Sadenari obeyed and Akitada had almost regained his good humor, when Sadenari remarked, “I really think I can be useful, sir.  Please allow me to carry out the more dangerous parts of the investigation.  I’ve had some training in wrestling and I’m very strong.”

Akitada nearly choked on his last octopus ball.  Clearly Sadenari thought him well past his prime.  He swallowed, managed a “Thank you.  I’ll keep it in mind,” and was preserved from further humiliations by a squabble breaking out in another part of the room.

Two middle-aged men in the dark robes and hats of officials were on their feet.  Both shouted and one of them, with a spreading stain on the front of his robe, had the old waiter by the throat.

The owner of the restaurant rushed from the kitchen and tried to calm the officials while delivering kicks at the quailing waiter.  Akitada felt sorry for the poor old man and instinctively disliked the officials.  But the matter was settled quickly, and the owner bowed the irate guests out.  The old waiter limped back to the kitchen, weeping.

“I wish they hadn’t been so cruel,” said Sadenari, and Akitada forgave him his earlier remark.

*

For that night, they stayed in a small monastery on the outskirts of Eguchi, away from the noise and the temptations of its brothels.  Akitada fell asleep immediately, dreaming of casting his line into the water from the veranda of his river pavilion and dragging out an enormous fish.  The fish changed into the shape of a dead young girl who had the features of his little daughter.

He came awake in a cold sweat and lay for a while looking up at the rafters.  It had only been a nightmare, perhaps because he had been forced to ignore the case of the drowned girl.  She had been so young, too young to end her life like that.

Something else nagged at him:  the incident in the restaurant.  Something had been wrong.  Those officials were not what they seemed to be.  Even at that distance, their robes had looked worn and the colored rank ribbons on their hats had been for the third and fourth rank respectively, far too high in the hierarchy for ordinary officials going about their business in a place like Eguchi.

He sat up and looked over to where Sadenari slept.  His bedding seemed strangely flat in the dim moonlight that came through the shutters.  Getting up, he went to check and found the quilts empty.  Sadenari was gone, and he had taken his clothes, shoes, and money pouch with him.