Текст книги "Death on an Autumn River "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Eleven

Ducks

Akitada dressed, tucked his remaining money into his sash, and wrote a letter home.  He asked that Tora come to join him, added greetings to the rest of his family, and a poem for his wife Tamako:  “Hardly parted, I long to see you again, like the white waves making for the shore.”  Pleased with himself, he walked to the post station where he paid for a mounted courier to take his letter to the capital.  Tora should reach Naniwa late that night or by morning.

After that, he stopped at the nearest bath house where he bathed and had himself shaved.  A modest breakfast of a bowl of noodles, purchased at a stand followed, and he returned to Kawajiri to check with the harbor authorities for news of Sadenari.  To his shock, they informed him that a body had been fished out of the river and that the dead man’s appearance tallied with Akitada’s description of his clerk.

Afraid of what he would find, Akitada trudged to the small building they used as a morgue.  The corpse was covered with a reed mat.  When the custodian turned this back, Akitada saw a stranger who had died from a knife wound in the chest.  He heaved a sigh of relief.  There was still hope.  The custodian waited, and Akitada shook his head.  A mild curiosity made him ask, “Do the police have any idea who murdered this man?”

“I doubt it,” said the man, dropping the mat back into place. “This happens all the time. A fight in a wine shop or someone is tossed overboard from one of the ships.”

“But doesn’t anyone investigate?”

“When it gets bad and the bodies pile up, the prefect orders a sweep of the wine shops and whore houses.”

“What about currents?  Can they tell where the body entered the water?”

The man looked blank.  “Here?  Where there’s tides and river currents and ship traffic?  Impossible.  Besides, nobody cares.”

It was a lawless environment.  And yet both the governor and Prefect Munata had seemed reasonably responsible administrators—even if they objected to Akitada sticking his nose into their business when it came to piracy.  He thanked the man and returned to Naniwa.  Until he got word from Watamaro, he could do little.  For that matter, he was beginning to doubt that man’s probity again.  Watamaro was too perfectly placed for deals with pirates or for engaging in piracy himself.  He decided to spend the rest of the day writing his report for the office of the Minister of the Right.

Back in his cheerless room, he opened the doors to the small courtyard—someone had put away his bedding and closed the doors in his absence—and carried his small writing box outside.  The narrow strip of veranda had dried in the sunshine, and the air was still pleasant after the rain.  He spread out a sheet of paper, got a little water from the pitcher inside, and rubbed ink.  After a while, the cricket started its song again.

Perhaps an hour later he was done with the report.  He still hoped he would not have to send it.  Blaming his difficulties on Oga, Munata, and Nakahara made him look incompetent.  He started on his letter to his own superior.  Sadenari’s parents would have to be informed of their son’s disappearance.  This letter was even harder to write.

He was staring at the fence across the way, pondering the next phrase, when someone called from the corridor outside his room.  He got up and let in Professor Otomo.

The professor wore a sober black robe that had the effect of making his white hair and eyebrows contrast sharply in the dim corridor.  He bowed, murmuring an apology and a greeting.  When he took in his surroundings, his jaw sagged.  “Umm,” he said, flushed, and went on quickly, “They sent me here from the trade office.”  His eyes went to the veranda and the writing utensils.  “But I see you’re working.  I can come another time, or . . .?”  He looked nervously at Akitada, who smiled and shook his head.

“I moved here because I thought it best to separate my work from that of the trade office.  It’s only for the short time I’ll be staying in Naniwa.  And I’m almost done with a letter.  What gives me the pleasure of your visit?”  Otomo looked about him again and shuffled his feet.  There was no place to sit.  Akitada gestured toward the veranda.  “If you don’t mind sitting outside, I’ll put away my papers and ink.”

“I don’t mind,” said Otomo, “but please don’t let me interrupt.  Perhaps I could come back in a little while?”

“Very well, if you’re sure.”

Otomo fled, and Akitada went back to his letter, shaking his head a little.  The room must look pretty bad if not even a poorly paid academic found it tolerable.  He added a few more sentences to his letter, dated, and signed it, and impressed his seal.  Then, he put everything back into his writing case, and went in search of Otomo.

He found him outside the hostelry, playing rock, scissors, paper with the thin little girl.  His heart warmed to the elderly man when he heard a gurgling laugh escape from the sad little child.  He went to join them.

“I see this little lady had the courtesy to entertain my guest,” he said, smiling at her as he fished out a penny.  She took it, bowed, and dashed away.  “Can she speak?” he asked Otomo.

The professor nodded.  “Oh, yes.  But she has little enough to say about her world, poor little flower.  Her parents, or whoever has her care, mistreat her.  There are always new bruises on the child.  And she doesn’t get enough to eat.”

“I see you know her.  I suspected as much.  It’s hard to know what to do.”

Otomo sighed and glanced at the hostelry.  “Young girls are vulnerable.”

It was clear what dangers the professor foresaw for the little girl.  Soon she would be old enough to sell her body to travelers passing through.  Akitada thought of his own little girl and shuddered. The professor was probably thinking of the Korean girls who had died in Eguchi.  If what Otomo suspected was true, they were not much older than this child.  It was very wrong that children should become the playthings of spoiled older men who took their pleasure in initiating them into the world of the clouds and the rain, a poetic term that had little in common with the realities of a life of prostitution.  He felt guilty that he could not offer Otomo his help.

Perhaps reading his mind, Otomo said, “I came to see you about the young girl in Eguchi.  And I’d like to put my very humble home at your disposal.  Whatever its shortcomings, it’s surely more comfortable than your current quarters.  I hope you will forgive me for making such an offer.”

Akitada hesitated.  It was a kind gesture, but he did not like to move again.  He said, “You are very generous, but my stay will not be long.  I hope my clerk turns up today.  If he doesn’t, I shall have to return to the capital.”  It occurred to him that Otomo must wonder about the real reason for his move.  Perhaps he had been given a highly colored account by Nakahara when he had called there.

The professor cleared his throat.  “Since I’m here, forgive me for troubling you again in the other matter.  Perhaps we could talk at my house?”  He smiled a little nervously.  “You could see it that way.  It might be to your taste after all.”

Akitada weakened.  “I have a little spare time just now.  But I’m not at all particular about my lodging.”

The weather had warmed again, but the sun was getting low.  Their walk turned out to be pleasant.  Otomo explained the sights as he led the way from the center of town.  They crossed several canals and passed through some quiet streets with many trees. The land rose gently, and eventually they reached a longer bridge crossing a sizable river.

“My house is just on the other side.” Otomo pointed to a roof rising among pines and other trees.  It was a small building surrounded by a charming wilderness and high on the bank of the river.

“Where are we?” Akitada asked.  “This is surely not the Yodo River?”

“It’s a smaller branch.  The Yodo has many arms reaching for the sea.  My father liked the quiet here, and so do I.”

The troubled world of violent men and scheming officials did seem far removed.  Through the trees, Akitada could see some fishermen casting nets.  He gazed with pleasure.  “How pleasant this is!  You are a fortunate man.”  The memory of that elegant pavilion overhanging the Yodo River came back to him.  He decided that this was much better for a simple life.

“Oh, it’s very modest,” said the professor, “and the land is mostly wild.  I’m afraid neither my father nor I have any garden-making talents.  I had some trees removed so I could see the river from the house, but that’s about all.  Come, let me show you the ducks.”

As they walked down toward the shimmering water, Akitada realized that Sadenari need not have been taken away on one of the big ships.  Boat journeys in this huge river delta could begin and end anywhere.

Somewhere a monkey chattered in the trees, and from the river came the busy quacking of ducks.  In a small cove, the ducks, some twenty of them, swam about chittering softly.  One of them set up loud warning cries, and a violent flapping of wings and splashing ensued.

Otomo made clucking sounds, and after a moment they calmed down and swam back.  “I feed them,” he said to Akitada, adding, slightly embarrassed. “They are such trusting and gentle creatures.  There is much to be said for the Buddha’s prohibition against taking the lives of helpless creatures.  I’m afraid my neighbors hunt them down for food, and so they have become shy.”

Akitada really liked the man.  He needed a friend, and his heart warmed to Otomo.

Back at the house, they encountered a startled white-haired lady.  She was slender and soberly dressed in dark green silk, her long white hair twisted into a knot at her neck.

Otomo smiled at her and said simply, “My wife.  My dear, this is Lord Sugawara from the capital.”

She must have been very pretty once, Akitada thought, with even features and large luminous eyes.  At the moment, she was flustered, greeting an unexpected nobleman, and without her fan.  She bowed and withdrew quickly, murmuring something about refreshments.

“There are just the two of us now,” said Otomo.  “My wife’s maid is also our cook, and I hire occasional help for the heavy work.  “Only one of our daughters lives.  She is married to an official in Kyushu.  We don’t see them often.”  He sighed.

“Children and grandchildren are a great blessing.”  It was a conventional retort, but these days Akitada felt its truth deeply.

 The professor showed Akitada into his study. “You see how we live,” he said.  “You really would honor us greatly if you would accept our hospitality.”

The house was just large enough for a guest or two, even if it had none of the outbuildings and pavilions customary in noble houses.  Several rooms had covered verandas overlooking the river.  It was very tempting to stay here for a few days, and Akitada liked the Otomos.

“I truly wish I could accept your generous offer,” he said, “but I doubt I’ll spend another night in Naniwa.  Watamaro has sent a ship or ships after the one Sadenari is supposed to be on.  If there’s no news today, I must return to the capital and report his disappearance.”

Otomo looked surprised.  “But you will return?”  He added, “You may come any time and you’ll be welcomed.”

“Thank you.”  Such generosity was almost embarrassing.  “What a fine library you have.” The room reminded Akitada of the one that had belonged to Tamako’s father, who had also been a professor.  There were just as many books here, some on stands, others stacked against the walls or used to support shelves which held more books and scrolls.

Otomo said, “I’ve deprived my family in order to buy books.  No doubt there is a special punishment in hell for such self-indulgence.  Perhaps I shall be struck with blindness among the rarest works known to men.”  He laughed nervously.

“Surely searching for knowledge is a good thing.”

An elderly maid brought wine, pickled plums, and nuts. They sat on cushions near doors that stood open to a view of the distant river.  Here, too, the crickets were chirping. The sadness of autumn seized Akitada again.  Perhaps it was his worry about Sadenari, or the memory of the poor young drowned girl, but thoughts of death seemed never far away lately.

Otomo poured wine and offered the nuts and plums.  “Knowledge lays obligations on a man,” he said.  “Your own ancestor wrote movingly about our duty.”  He quoted in Chinese: “‘Even if one turns away from harmony for just one night, suffering ensues.’  How very true that is.”  He sighed deeply.  “I’m afraid I have troubled you with my concerns.”

The Chinese quote came from one of Michizane’s poems.  He felt a little resentful that Otomo had used the words of that most moral of men and statesmen to remind him of a man’s obligations, but he swallowed his displeasure.  “I, too, must seek to reestablish harmony by returning a lost young man to his family.  I see you’re still troubled by the death of the young girl?”

Otomo looked down at his folded hands.  “Yes, it troubles me so much that I cannot sleep at night.  It is difficult to know what to do.  When one asks awkward questions of those in power, one is bound to cause more trouble.  And in this case . . .” He paused, searching for words.  “Perhaps I’d better tell you what I did.  I took a boat to Eguchi and walked from brothel to brothel, asking if they employed foreign girls and if any had committed suicide.  In the last house at the western edge of town, one of the young women said they had had a suicide recently.  I sent for the owner of the house.  She was very short with me when I told her why I had come.  I persisted.  Finally, she admitted that a girl had drowned herself and that the body of the girl had been taken away by her family.  She said they had not been foreigners.  When I tried to question her more closely, she became really angry.  She snapped at me that she had no foreign girls and that I should stop listening to gossip and learn to appreciate our local beauties.”  The professor blushed a little.

Akitada chuckled. “Awkward.  But it need not mean anything except patriotic pride in her own girls.”

“Possibly, except for what happened next.  I left, but I hadn’t walked very far when the girl I had spoken to called after me.  She was nervous, but she offered to sell me information.  It was dear, but I paid.  She told me the girl who died had been so unhappy that she couldn’t  bear her life any longer, and that there had been others.”

“Do you mean other foreigners or other suicides?”

Otomo admitted, “I didn’t ask.  She seemed a little resentful of the dead girl.”

Akitada’s interest was aroused by this.  Very wealthy men with certain sexual obsessions might make it worthwhile for the owner to provide them with a particular kind of female.  If the girls had been foreign and very young and pretty, the brothel keeper might have supplied a special demand.  “Did she say anything about who the clients were?”

“Oh, no. . . er . . . she didn’t know.”

“I really wish I had the time to look into this.  If your suspicions are correct, it sounds like a very unsavory situation. But there is nothing to say how the girl died, or that she wasn’t sold into the trade legitimately by her parents.”

“There was the amulet,” Otomo said sadly.  “A family who gives such a thing to their daughter doesn’t sell her.”

There was no answer to that.  Akitada emptied his cup and sighed.  “Forgive me.  I must seem very uncaring to you, but I have my own obligations.  Perhaps when my clerk is found and my assignment is finished, I can stop in Eguchi on my homeward journey and ask a few questions.”

Otomo did not persist.  “You’re very generous.  Even the fact that you have listened to me is a great encouragement.  Sometimes one feels so helpless.”

*

The feeling of helplessness Akitada could well relate to.  It was dark by the time he got back to the hostel. There was still no news of Sadenari, but he found a message from Watamaro that the Black Dragon was headed for Bizen province, and that he hoped to catch up with it there.  He did not say how long that would take.

  Akitada’s conviction that the youngster was dead increased, and he shuddered at the thought that he must tell his parents.  He had made arrangements with the fat manager to leave Sadenari’s bag there for him to pick up when or if he returned.  He let the man think that the young man’s absence was no more than a sightseeing trip.  The manager nodded, then said, “There was a fellow here, looking for you.  I said you’d gone to the harbor.”

Hoping it was Sadenari after all this time, Akitada asked, “What sort of fellow?”

The fat man made a face.  “Young and big.  A proper thug.  He threatened me.  Best watch out for that one, sir.”

Not Sadenari then.  Could one of the men who had attacked him be so foolhardy as to attack him again?  He decided it was not impossible, given the attitude of the local authorities.  After all he had been through, it even seemed possible that the governor, the prefect, or Nakahara, singly or in concert, had hired killers to get rid of him.

He thanked the man and went in search of his evening meal while keeping his eyes open against trouble.

He had not gone far when he heard a shout, “Sir, sir!” and turned.

“Tora?”  Surprise and pleasure gave way to puzzlement.  He could not have made the trip quite this quickly.  “Has anything happened?”

Stopping before him, Tora grinned. “All’s well.  I was here earlier but you were out.  Her ladyship sent me to check up on you.”  He chuckled.  “I didn’t object.  A trip to see the beauties of the river towns was just what I wanted.”

“I’m very glad to see you, but does Hanae know why you’re so eager to be here?”

“No, but don’t worry.  I’m a faithful husband these days.  Still, no harm in looking, right?”

Akitada gave up.  “As it happens, I did send for you this morning.  You must have missed my letter.  My clerk has disappeared, and I’ve run into trouble in Kawajiri.  I should have brought an armed escort, but you’ll do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

A Flea between a Dog’s Teeth

They had almost reached the restaurant where they planned to eat their evening rice, when someone hailed them.  Akitada’s heart sank.  It was Otomo again.  He glanced at Tora.  “It’s the professor I mentioned,” he said.

Tora’s eyes lit up.

No wonder, Akitada thought.  A case of a drowned courtesan in Eguchi was just what Tora would like to investigate.  Heaven forbid that Sadenari’s fascination with the drowned girl should be reborn in Tora.  He could not afford to have another assistant take off and possibly disappear. “Let’s hope he won’t detain us,” he added.

Otomo made his bow and Akitada made introductions.

Tora said immediately, “My master told me the story of the drowned girl, sir.  I think we should investigate, find out who she is, and who killed her.”

Otomo blinked at so much enthusiasm. “Your honored master thinks it was an ordinary suicide,” he said cautiously.  “I agree.  The brothel keeper is married to the local warden. That explains why they don’t want to talk about it.  It’s bad for business to have too many suicides.”

Tora said darkly, “I bet that female’s up to no good.  I can see it now.  Young girls are stolen and forced to work in brothels, and the law does nothing about it because the warden is in the business, too.  It’s the perfect set-up.  For all we know, there may be hundreds of young women like that in the other towns just like Eguchi.  And what happens if the girls don’t obey?  Most likely they’re killed.  There’s nobody to ask questions because their families don’t know what happened to them.”

Akitada cleared his throat.  “We don’t know that, Tora.  What we have is one drowning victim and rumors of two or three girls that may have come from Koryo.”

Otomo hung his head and said, “I cannot help feeling a sense of responsibility, but perhaps I have become too involved.  Please forget what I said before.”

Akitada could not allow anything to detract him from his assignment, but Tora’s theory had sounded reasonable.  He wished he could ask questions about the mansion on the river and about the drowned girl, but he must not encourage Tora and Otomo.  He said, “It does you credit that you care, Professor, but as you know, we’re here on duty.”

Otomo nodded.  “Yes, of course.  Tora’s interest somehow gave me the notion that you would be looking into the case after all.  Please don’t concern yourself.  I blush to think that you should feel the least obligation.  No, no.  We shall say no more about it.  May I look forward to sharing my evening rice with both of you?”

Akitada thanked him but claimed business.  He thought Otomo looked relieved.

Later, over a leisurely dinner at the restaurant, Akitada filled Tora in on all that had happened.  He proposed that they work separately to start with.

“While you’re still a stranger here, you can move about and ask your questions without making people suspicious.  And you’re more likely to get answers than I.”

Tora had a faraway look on his face.  “That goes for Eguchi, too. Someone there knows about those girls.  It’s the sort of investigation I’m good at.”

Akitada snapped, “Absolutely not.  I have an assignment, and finding Sadenari is more important than enjoying yourself among the harlots of Eguchi.  Besides, a drowning in Eguchi is none of our business.  I want you here or in Kawajiri.  Start at the post station.  Ask if they remember Sadenari.  He may have arranged to take a boat to Kawajiri.  Perhaps he wasn’t alone.  If you cannot follow up on that trail, go on to Kawajiri, to the Hostel of the Flying Cranes.  It’s the last place where Sadenari was seen and a likely hide-out for pirates.”

After their meal, they walked back to the government hostel to arrange for Tora’s lodging.  The fat man raised no objections.

Later, Tora asked Akitada, “Doesn’t that fat bastard feed his daughter? I’ve seen healthier kids among the beggars in the capital.”

“It worries me, too. He makes her work, carrying heavy bags for guests and then, I think, he collects her tips.  Poor child.”

“Hah!  I’ll see about that while I’m here.”

“No, Tora.  Get some sleep and then look into Sadenari’s whereabouts.  Besides, we cannot interfere between a parent and child.”

Tora nodded, but he had his familiar stubborn look that told Akitada that he would find ways to do both.

*

Early the following morning, Akitada went to speak to Nakahara again.  Apparently, apart from removing the confiscated goods from Nakahara’s office, business was conducted in the same casual manner.  No one stopped him, and he walked in unannounced.

Nakahara was dictating.  Typically, it was Tameaki who sat beside him, taking down the letter while Nariyuki lounged nearby, looking bored.

Nakahara started up like a frightened rabbit.  “You’re back,” he gasped, flinging out an arm that upset Tameaki’s ink stone and scattered papers.

Akitada eyed him suspiciously.  “Yes, I’m back.  Sorry to interrupt, but as you know, I’m under orders from the Minister of the Right.  I keep hoping you’ll take his Excellency’s instructions to heart.  Dismiss your clerks.”

Tameaki and Nariyuki left with bows to Akitada.  As Akitada sat down on a cushion, Nariyuki’s voice could be heard from the corridor, proposing a quick visit to the market for a bowl of noodles.

Nakahara’s hands were shaking.

Good, thought Akitada.  He deserves to tremble.  That is what happens to officials who shift their allegiance to local strong men and ignore the wishes of the court.  He looked into the other man’s face, saw the flush of shame, the tightening of the lips and said, “I have made my report to His Excellency.  He will be displeased that I met with obstruction from you and the local officials when I attempted to carry out my orders.”

Nakahara made a jerky gesture of entreaty.  “You must understand that I find myself in a difficult situation here.  The court is a good distance away.  Different rules apply.”

Akitada snapped, “For a loyal servant of His Majesty only His rules apply.  How dare you tell me that you work for another master?”

Nakahara cried, “You misunderstood.  I would never serve anyone but His Majesty.  I only meant that things work differently here.  This is not the capital, and I have no resources to fight crime or even to protect confiscated goods.  I have nothing.  So I must call on the prefect and the governor whenever there’s a need for assistance.  I have no choice but to work with them.”

“That is not at all the same thing as opposing an imperial investigator sent here specifically to check into irregularities because the investigation may prove uncomfortable for Oga and his lapdog Munata.  Both officials have gained nothing from their behavior but my suspicion that their hands are dirty.  And mind you, that was not what I expected when I first arrived.  At that time, I considered all of you innocent.  But I found that you, Nakahara, have either been following their orders by choice, or they are holding something over you that allows them to dictate your actions.”

“No, oh no!  Nothing of the sort.”  Near tears, Nakahara waved his hands again.  “You’re wrong about them, about me.  It’s just . . . a matter of friendship.  Of loyalty.  Nothing more.  We are congenial.  My son works in the provincial administration, and Governor Oga has been very kind to him.”  Nakahara paused, then confided, “His Honor has even mentioned that one of his daughters is coming of age, and that he might not be averse to a connection between the families.  That would indeed be a great honor and a blessing for a man of my lowly status.  I’m not what you would call a successful man.” He paused, then added, “And I’m a father.”  He heaved a sigh and added in an aggrieved tone,  “My poverty is proof enough that I haven’t enriched myself in my post.”

The situation was a common enough.  Provincial lords and court appointees tried to obligate local officials and wealthy landowners by offering favors and forming alliances through marriage.  It was a dangerous practice.  No one in the central government knew precisely who owed what to whom and what obligations would be called in when a local lord decided to rebel.  Nakahara’s situation smacked of conspiracy, but it did not constitute criminal behavior.

“What do you propose to do to clear yourself of the suspicion that has fallen on you?”

Nakahara looked at Akitada dumbly and shook his head.

They were wasting time.  Akitada rose.  “From what I have seen, the paperwork of your office has been careless.  Put your clerks to work—both of them—getting documents in order.  I shall examine them again before I return to the capital.  Now I’m going to call on the governor and the prefect to see what they have to say to the matter.  Where exactly is Munata’s residence?”

Nakahara looked relieved that nothing worse had happened.  “Munata has a manor outside the city.  It’s on one of the smaller arms of the river.  He has rice lands there and also works fields belonging to the governor’s family.  But the governor is not there any longer.  His Honor has returned to the provincial capital.”

Akitada muttered, “Inconvenient,”  and decided to call in at the prefecture.  As he rose, Nakahara said.  “Oh, this came for you during the night.”  He held out a letter.  “By special courier.”

Akitada recognized Tamako’s elegant, spidery hand..  He snatched it from Nakahara’s hand, muttered a “Thanks,” and rushed out.  At the door, he almost collided with Tameaki carrying a huge stack of documents.

He tore open the folded letter in the hallway.

It was trouble.