Текст книги "The Dragon Scroll "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

FOUR

THE GOVERNOR’S GUESTS

H

ow dare the man offer me a bribe the minute I arrive?” Akitada was pacing about the room angrily.

Seimei knelt on the mat, looking glum. “Perhaps it was a misunderstanding,” he said without much conviction.

The door opened abruptly. “Here I am,” cried Tora, grinning from ear to ear. When he took in the scene, he came in. “What’s the trouble?”

Seimei glared. “Where have you been? The nerve of walking in here as if nothing happened! Putting one’s trust in you is like relying on the stars on a rainy night.”

Tora wrinkled his forehead in an effort to comprehend that remark.

Akitada stopped his pacing and said, “Seimei is very upset, Tora, and rightly so. Why did you run off without a word?”

“Oh, is that what’s bothering him? Just wait till you hear.” Tora sat down and looked around the room.

Seimei snapped, “Servants do not sit in their master’s presence. Get up instantly and kneel!”

“Oh.” Grinning at Seimei, Tora knelt. “You’ll both be proud of me. I saved a girl from being raped by two monks and picked up some very useful information.” He paused. “Is there anything to eat? Maybe some wine? It’s hard to talk on an empty stomach.”

“No,” snapped Seimei.

Akitada came over and sat down. “Just tell us what happened,” he said.

Tora told his tale plainly. When he was done, he added virtuously, “I slept in the guardhouse and ran over here before my morning rice to make my report. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll go get a bite in the tribunal kitchen.”

“You call that a report?” scoffed Seimei. “The whole thing is a tall tale! You were chasing females, I think.”

“Never mind, Seimei,” said Akitada. “Tora had some strange encounters and reported them well. Best of all, he has already become friendly with a local family.” He pulled his earlobe and thought. “The Buddhist presence is puzzling. I wonder what it means. These monks seem to be a strange breed.”

Tora grinned at Seimei’s sour face and asked, “Shall I go back to Higekuro’s and ask more questions? Given a bit of time, I may be able to pick up something useful, like who’s made off with the taxes.”

“More likely you’re going to pick up something else in that house,” said Seimei. “A wrestler with two young daughters and no older female in the home? It is a known fact that martial arts schools often maintain links with criminals and prostitutes. You’d do well to beware of that company. A man’s faults are measured by his associates.”

Tora lost his temper and shouted, “What do you know, you stupid old man? You haven’t even met them. They’re better than you. They’re working for their daily rice instead of living off the nobility. You’re no better than a tick on a dog.”

Seimei’s jaw dropped. Akitada, who barely kept a straight face at being compared to a dog, knew that Seimei had somehow touched a raw nerve. He said quickly, “That is unkind, Tora. Apologize. Seimei spoke rashly because he worries about you. Go back to Higekuro if you like, but be careful about what you say until we have a better understanding of what is going on in Kazusa.” He brightened. “But before you leave, let’s have a short bout with the staves. You will want to stay in practice if you are going to impress the warrior maiden.”

♦

During the next days, Tora spent more time in town than at the tribunal, but since he presented himself dutifully every morning for a stick-fighting lesson with Akitada, his master had no complaints.

In respect to the mystery of the taxes, Akitada made little progress and remained as much in the dark as on the day of their arrival. Although the box of gold bars seemed to prove the governor’s culpability, Akitada decided against a confrontation and sent back the gold without comment. What ensued was a period of uneasy cooperation with neither man referring to the attempted bribe while observing punctilious protocol at unavoidable official meetings.

Seimei and Akitada spent every day in the provincial archives checking the accounts covering Motosuke’s term of office. Akitada’s youth might have made him an unlikely inspector, but both his university training and his drudgery in the archives of the Ministry of Justice had thoroughly prepared him to search out, understand, and evaluate every financial transaction, from the collection of the smallest fine to the confiscation of land and property. Seimei wrote a very neat hand and kept notes indefatigably, and Akinobu, the governor’s secretary, proved a pleasant and very intelligent assistant.

But the day arrived when they closed the last box of files and Seimei made his last computation. No questionable documents had appeared and all accounts were in excellent order.

“What do we do now?” asked Seimei.

Akitada bit his lip. “Officially, my work is complete. You draw up the proper release papers, I sign and affix my seal, and Motosuke’s record is clear.”

“But what about finding out what happened to the taxes?”

“I shall have to report failure. Unless...” Akitada frowned. “Unless Motosuke’s private papers account for the sums that were lost.”

“Oh.”

“I know. Requesting his private accounts amounts to a serious insult.”

Silence fell. Seimei hunched his shoulders and sighed.

“Very well,” said Akitada. “Call Akinobu.”

When the governor’s secretary came in and bowed, Akitada told him brusquely, “We have finished with the provincial documents and are ready to begin work on the governor’s personal accounts. Please bring them to us here.”

Akinobu paled. He stared at Akitada, then at Seimei, gulped, and said in a choking voice, “I shall relay your wishes to the governor, Excellency.”

Akitada looked after Akinobu and said to Seimei, “That was probably the most embarrassing thing I have ever had to do. Did you see the man’s face? He was shocked to the core.”

Seimei looked unhappy. “Akinobu is a very loyal servant and a learned man. I cannot believe that he would willingly serve a dishonest master.”

Akitada said nothing.

The secretary returned quickly. Placing two large document boxes before Akitada with a bow, he said, “My master wishes to express his gratitude for your trouble.” He paused, then continued without looking at Akitada, “I also am deeply obliged that you take such care to protect the governor, and myself as his servant, from suspicion. Please tell me how I may be of assistance.”

“Thank you,” said Akitada. “We will call if we have questions.”

When Akinobu was gone, Seimei and his master looked at each other.

“That was very generous of the governor,” said Seimei.

Akitada sighed. “I am afraid that it means there is nothing to be found, Seimei.”

He was right. In spite of a most thorough analysis of the holdings, incomes, and expenditures of Motosuke and his immediate family, they found nothing. The accounts were blameless and in perfect order. Not only had Motosuke not spent provincial funds for private use, he had drawn heavily on his private purse to improve the provincial headquarters and the governor’s residence.

“Well,” said Seimei, “at least you can return to the capital without having arrested your friend Kosehira’s cousin for fraud and treason.”

Akitada clenched his fists. “I have the feeling Motosuke is laughing at us. He knew all along we would not find anything. Any other man in his position would have been outraged when I demanded his private papers. I think the goods and the gold are hidden somewhere, and there is an accomplice. I’m convinced of it. Motosuke is too good to be true.”

“Let it go, sir,” Seimei pleaded. “It is hopeless. You can only hurt yourself and you may hurt an innocent man.”

“Remember the bribe!”

“If a man is truly guilty, his actions will return to him.”

Akitada shook his head and gave Seimei a crooked smile.

“You have a saying for everything, but I still have to find the missing taxes.”

“What about the local gentry? Owners of large estates keep small private armies to protect their holdings. Sometimes they turn to highway robbery or piracy.”

Akitada nodded and sent the servant for Akinobu.

“We have finished with these also,” he informed the secretary, pointing to the document boxes. “Perhaps you may know of landowners with large estates. Are they at all likely to keep armed retainers?”

Akinobu did not have to think at all. “We have only five families of the sort you mean, Excellency,” he said. “They are all absolutely loyal. The governor visited them personally after the first tax convoy disappeared to assure himself of their innocence. Four of them had sent their retainers to Hitachi province to quell a rebellion, and on the fifth estate, smallpox had broken out. Many people died, and so did the lord and his only son. His widow became a nun, and the estate went to a cousin.”

Apparently everyone had a blameless reputation in Kazusa province. “Tell me,” Akitada demanded, “whatyou think. Someone here is hiding an enormous amount of gold and valuable goods. Or do you also blame it on anonymous robbers in another province?”

Akinobu flushed. “No, Excellency,” he said miserably. “I think we overlooked something. The governor is really very distraught and hopes that you will succeed where we have failed.” Seeing Akitada’s disbelief, he knelt and said in a choking voice, “It has been a great shame to me that anyone should distrust my master, for it is I who bear the blame for not getting to the bottom of this. I am aware of my worthlessness and culpability, and shall so inform the authorities. Of course, my poor property will not make up the great sum, but I have begun to sell off my land, and by the time Your Excellency formally closes the case, I shall place all I own into your hands.” Before the surprised Akitada could find his tongue, he bowed, rose, and left the room.

“After him, Seimei,” cried Akitada. “Tell him to stop selling his land. Tell him we’ll try to find the culprit. Tell him ... Well, you’ll think of something.”

♦

The week after he finished inspecting the provincial accounts, Akitada paid visits to the lesser officials in the city. He went first to Captain Yukinari, the new commandant of the garrison. The young officer impressed him favorably. Yukinari quickly produced pertinent military records proving that all three shipments had left the province at the usual time of year and under guard. Yukinari’s predecessor had committed suicide after the second incident, and Yukinari had been sent as his replacement during the past summer. This fact and his subsequent efforts to clear up the mystery eliminated him as a suspect.

Akitada’s next quarry was the county prefect Ikeda, an appointed official who reported directly to Motosuke but who controlled his own staff and the constabulary of the provincial capital. Ikeda was a middle-aged man of nervous disposition with a habit of quoting statutes and regulations to support his every action. He denied any knowledge of the tax matter vehemently: it was not within his sphere of authority. He also protested against any suggestion of criminal elements at work within the city or in the surrounding prefecture. When pressed for suggestions on how the shipments might have disappeared, he mentioned highway robbers in the neighboring province of Shimosa. Akitada formed an image of the typical bureaucrat, lacking both the courage and the imagination to plan and carry out a crime of such magnitude.

By week’s end, Akitada and Seimei glumly reviewed the facts.

“The convoys could have been attacked in Shimosa, sir,” Seimei offered when told of Ikeda’s views. “That would explain why there was no news of them all the way from the capital to Sagami province. It also would solve all our problems and clear the governor.”

“Which is what everyone wants,” growled Akitada. “The garrison commander, who is no fool, went himself to search the route through Shimosa without finding a trace of goods or robbers. Yukinari is young but efficient and thorough and, of all the local officials, the only one who could not have been involved. He has no motive to cover up anything and is stumped. Goods, horses, grooms, bearers, and military guard all disappeared from the face of the earth without leaving so much as a boot or horseshoe behind.” He shook his head. “Since this is patently unbelievable, we must assume there is a conspiracy, and here in this very city. Whoever is behind it is very clever, well informed about dates and details, and has a large organization at his disposal.”

“The governor,” muttered Seimei.

There was a polite cough at the door and Akinobu bowed his way in. He presented some letters to Akitada, explaining that another government courier had arrived from Heian Kyo, then bowed again and left.

Akitada scanned the two letters from home quickly but exclaimed in surprise at the third.

“What is it?” asked Seimei.

“A supper invitation from the governor for tonight. The abbot of that large Buddhist temple stopped in for a visit, and Motosuke wants to introduce me. He is also inviting the former governor.” Akitada checked the letter. “A Lord Tachibana. Nobody mentioned him to us. He seems to have stayed on here after his retirement. Curious, that. Yukinari and Prefect Ikeda will also attend.” Akitada jumped up. He waved the governor’s letter about excitedly. “This is fortuitous, indeed. Just think, Seimei, each of these men is in a unique position of control in local affairs. One of them may be our man, and I shall observe them all together. I am a good judge of people, I think.”

“I hope you won’t be disappointed,” Seimei remarked sourly. “It is said that he who hunts two hares leaves one and loses the other.”

“Thank you for your confidence,” snapped Akitada. “Now get my court robe out. Whatever your opinion may be, I shall eventually discover who is behind the crimes. Once we have an idea of the guilty person, all we have to do is find witnesses.”

Seimei looked dubious but helped Akitada dress. As he handed him his court hat, he asked, “Was there any news from home, sir?”

Akitada said, “Oh! Not much. Kosehira writes, hoping that I am making good progress. And there is also a letter from my younger sister. Everyone is well. The girls are full of the news that the emperor’s favorite consort has eloped with a lover. I remember there was gossip that Lady Asagao had disappeared. It seems Lord Nakamura left Heian Kyo at just about that time to return to his home province, and so suspicion has fallen on him.”

Seimei sighed and said, “You see? Even His August Majesty is not exempt from misfortune. Truly, when the moon is full, it begins to wane. Anything more from your lady mother?”

“No. Just more of the same: she expects me to remember my duty to the family.”

♦

The supper party took place in the governor’s private residence, in a small room decorated with elegant landscape paintings. Under carved and painted rafters a dais had been covered with thick mats trimmed in black and white silk and screened off from drafts by brocaded reed blinds on lacquered stands. Five men sat there in the light of tall candelabra, talking animatedly and sipping wine.

An abrupt silence fell when Akitada approached.

Motosuke, in a pale red brocade robe over underrobes in many shades from copper to peach, rose with a broad smile. He led Akitada to the seat of honor on his right and introduced his guests.

“This is His Excellency, the previous governor, Tachibana Masaie,” he said, indicating a gaunt old man. Tachibana, who was seated across from Akitada, had a thin white beard and tired eyes.

Akitada bowed and said, “I am deeply sorry that I was not aware of Your Excellency’s presence here or I would have paid my respects before now.”

The old gentleman returned the bow, smiled vaguely, but did not speak.

“This province is honored by His Excellency’s decision to remain after his term expired,” Motosuke said nervously. “He is a great scholar and engaged in writing the local history.”

“I shall look forward to being instructed by Your Excellency,” Akitada murmured, thinking what a fine cover such an existence would be for a remunerative criminal organization.

Tachibana smiled again without replying. His gnarled fingers absently traced the shell design on his deep blue robe.

“And this is His Reverence, Master Joto, the abbot of our great Temple of Fourfold Wisdom,” Motosuke continued, clearly uncomfortable at the ex-governor’s apparent lack of interest in the imperial inspector in their midst.

The abbot had been given the other seat of honor, to his host’s left. Joto was young for such an eminent position—somewhere in his late thirties. The idea that he might be a younger son of one of the great families crossed Akitada’s mind. Another Fujiwara, perhaps? More possibilities of conspiracies. Since the religious life required cutting family ties and bestowed new names on its members, it would be difficult to find out. Akitada did not like the Buddhist clergy at the best of times and noted cynically that this man, like his rowdy disciples in town, looked strong and well fed. No ascetic life for him! The shaven head and smooth face showed the purple shadow of heavy hair growth, and the full, almost feminine lips were red and moist. His clerical garb also was of the finest materials, a richly embroidered stole draped over a white silk robe with broad black borders. On one wrist he wore prayer beads of pink crystal.

Raising his eyes from the abbot’s finery to his face, Akitada met large, hooded eyes that regarded him fixedly. To cover his embarrassment, he said quickly, “Your Reverence’s learning has attracted an impressive following in Kazusa. I am indeed fortunate to make the acquaintance of such an inspired teacher of the Buddha’s word.”

“Worldly fame has no more substance than the mist that hangs in the mountains before sunrise.” Joto had a beautiful, resonant voice. It lent religious fervor to his words. They locked eyes, and Akitada knew he was being mocked. Then Joto lowered his lids.

“And you have already met the captain and Ikeda, I understand,” Motosuke said, waving at the remaining two guests and saving Akitada a reply. Akitada nodded to the handsome young officer, in plain civilian garb tonight, and to the prefect, who was wearing a modest dark blue silk gown. He thought Ikeda, who was said to be about forty, looked strained and older tonight.

The food, served by maidservants on red lacquer tray tables, was astonishing. Even in the capital Akitada had rarely been treated so well. Fish, shrimp, and abalone appeared, cooked in soups and stews, fried and raw. Fresh, salted, and pickled vegetables and fruits followed, and rice was presented in every conceivable form: hot and cold, dry and moist, ground or whole, boiled in gruels, baked in cakes or buns, and steamed in dumplings. Their cups were filled with a delicious warm rice wine.

Joto, obeying his religious vows, was served fruit juice and vegetarian dishes.

Akitada ate and drank sparingly. He watched and waited for wine and food to warm the blood of the others, then he entered the general conversation with a courteous question to Yukinari about his recent transfer to Kazusa.

“A good province and I am learning my way about, Excellency,” said Yukinari. “But I am sure we are all very anxious to hear what’s been happening in the capital.”

Akitada responded with news about promotions, re-assignments, contests, and marriages, adding the recent gossip about the disappearance of one of the imperial ladies for good measure.

Motosuke looked uncomfortable and said, “Of course, compared to the magnificence of the capital, Kisarazu is only a humble place, but perhaps our guest may not feel completely cheated when he visits the Temple of Fourfold Wisdom. I think it rivals even the great Pure Water Temple in the capital.”

“So I have heard,” Akitada said, turning to Joto. “And it is quite new. No doubt due to your brilliant leadership, Abbot?”

Joto raised a graceful hand. “Not at all. The temple was founded under our august Emperor Shomu as the guardian temple of the province, but it fell on evil times. Few subsequent emperors have been as devout as that holy man. Only recently, with the kind support of Governor Fujiwara here, has it been my privilege to revitalize the faith.”

Motosuke looked pleased and said, “Oh, my dear Joto, you are far too modest. Why, the crowds that come to your readings and sermons made the building of the great hall a necessity. And now that you are attracting so many young acolytes who wish to study under you, the monastery buildings will soon become inadequate also. You have made the temple a great attraction for pilgrims from near and far.”

Joto smiled.

Akitada noted the relationship between Joto and Motosuke and decided to look into the source of the funds for the temple expansion. “How many monks live in the monastery now?” he asked Joto.

The remarkable hooded eyes fixed themselves on him. “The number is about two hundred. Your Excellency takes an interest in our faith?”

“I am astonished at your great success such a distance from court,” Akitada said truthfully “And I hear that many of the monks are young, surely a comment on your persuasiveness as a teacher. Tell me, are you a follower of the Tendai or Shingon philosophy?”

A fleeting irritation passed across Joto’s handsome features. “There is too much dissension in the world,” he said severely. “Though the way to the Buddha is only a single way, yet all paths lead to him. I follow no way and yet I follow all ways.”

A reverent silence followed that pronouncement. Akitada considered it. Clever, he decided. If the man had rejected Shingon with its emphasis on aesthetics, he would have offended the imperial court. Yet Tendai was a far more spiritual practice.

“I shall give myself the pleasure of visiting the temple in the very near future,” he announced. “In fact, far from thinking Kisarazu a dull town, Governor, I find it very lively. The market is large and busy, and there were many people about. Surely all these visitors create security problems and increase crime?”

With a sharp glance in Ikeda’s direction, Yukinari said quickly, “The garrison stands ready to keep the peace and protect the people and local government even if—”

“I wonder what happened to that fellow who used to run the garrison,” Lord Tachibana broke in suddenly.

There was an embarrassed silence.

“I thought,” Akitada remarked blandly to Yukinari, “you told me the man committed suicide because he had lost the tax convoys.”

Yukinari flushed and glanced at Motosuke. “That is correct, Excellency,” he murmured.

Prefect Ikeda, on Akitada’s right, suddenly leaned closer and said quite loudly, “The memory’s gone, I’m afraid. Oh, don’t worry. He can’t hear me. Age, you know.” Seeing Akitada’s astonishment, he nodded and smirked. “Sometimes a man loses his life force.”

Akitada drew back in disgust, but Ikeda, flushed with wine, was not at all discouraged. Seizing Akitada’s arm in a familiar manner and breathing heavily into his ear, he whispered audibly, “In this case it’s a female. Tachibana has a young wife. Very young and very beautiful.” Ikeda licked his lips, winked, and touched his nose. “She was too much for him. He’s practically senile now. What a waste.”

Akitada detached himself from Ikeda’s grip. He strongly disapproved of the man’s words and the manner in which they had been delivered, but he welcomed the information. If Tachibana was indeed senile, he was no longer a suspect. He suppressed his disgust and searched for a reprimand that would not make it impossible to work with Ikeda in the future.

Yukinari, on the prefect’s other side, saved him the trouble. “I am certain, Ikeda,” he ground through clenched teeth, “that His Excellency recognized that offensive comment as typical of a certain type of low-bred individual.”

Ikeda turned white with fury. Joto cleared his throat and looked at them with reproachful eyes.

Motosuke rose and clapped his hands. “Allow me to make an announcement.” Everyone looked at him in surprise. Smiling at them, he said, “You are all aware that I am scheduled to depart from my post and return to the capital before the New Year.” There were polite murmurs of regret. “That is why we have the pleasure of Lord Sugawara’s company. He is to certify that I am leaving no debts behind. Ha ha.” His laughter sounded a little forced, and all eyes turned warily toward Akitada. “But,” cried Motosuke, “there is another, happier reason for my return to court.” The attention swiveled back to Motosuke. “I have been,” he said, trying to look modest, “immensely honored by His August Majesty. My only daughter, who spent the past four years in these rustic surroundings, will enter the imperial household. As soon as we reach the capital, I shall have the great joy of presenting her to His Majesty.”

There was a sudden crash. Yukinari stood up, staring dazedly at his toppled tray table and scattered dishes. Wine and sauces were seeping into the grass matting.

Servants appeared quickly to clean up, and everyone made an effort to gloss over the incident. The captain sat back down, looking stunned, while a beaming Motosuke received the awed congratulations of his guests.

In the midst of presenting his polite wishes to his host, Akitada was gripped by icy despair. He had lost his chance—no, he had never really had one—to prove his enemies wrong, to make a name for himself against the odds. Motosuke’s daughter was entering the imperial household because she had been selected as a new consort, perhaps to become empress someday. No law could touch her father now, regardless of his offense, and Akitada’s report must clear the emperor’s future father-in-law of all suspicion. He sat stonily through a lengthy prayer by Joto for the happiness of Motosuke’s daughter.

The party broke up soon after. It was during the confusion of farewells at the door that Lord Tachibana stumbled against Akitada and clutched his arm. As Akitada reached out to steady the old gentleman, he remembered his foolish suspicions. All of a sudden Tachibana whispered something. Then he detached himself quickly and hobbled out.

Akitada stared after him, not sure if he had heard correctly. What the retired governor seemed to have said with great urgency was “I must talk to you. Come tomorrow and tell no one.”

* * * *