Текст книги "The Fires of the Gods"

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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JIROKICHI, THE THIEF

There were five of them. All were in their teens, but strong and fast. Five against one.

Despite his age, Jirokichi was agile, but they cornered him. Somehow, in his hurry to escape the first two, he took a wrong turn down an alley, which brought him to the abandoned temple, and then there were suddenly five, and he took another wrong turn into the temple grounds, hoping to double back towards a busier part of the city.

But they worked together and herded him into the farthest corner, where he ended up boxed in by walls too tall to scale – though he was agile enough – and now they were walking towards him, slowly, with grins on their faces.

Stray dogs closing in on a rat.

‘Hey, Rat,’ said the one in front, a stringy youth who was their leader, ‘why so unfriendly? We just want to chat. We heard business was good lately.’

Business had been good. He had found gold and a finely carved and gilded Buddha figurine he hoped to sell at a great profit to an abbot of his acquaintance, but these five could not know about that. They were guessing.

They closed in around him, their eyes bright with excitement.

‘What do you want?’ he squeaked. He was small, deceptively frail looking, and when nervous, his voice rose to a piercing squeal.

‘Whatever you got, Rat,’ said the leader, still grinning. He was an ugly kid with a broken nose and a knife scar running from one ear to the corner of his mouth. His teeth were broken, too, and then Jirokichi saw that the fists he clenched had scarred knuckles – from beating up other victims.

Jirokichi shrunk away a little more until his back was against the wall. The boy next to the leader eyed him with a hungry look. ‘Let’s take his clothes off and see what he’s got.’ He fingered the knife in his belt. ‘Maybe we’ll cut off his jewels.’ They laughed.

Jirokichi was close to wetting his pants. He stripped off his jacket and tossed it to them. ‘I’ve got nothing. See for yourselves. You got the wrong fellow.’ They searched the jacket and tossed it aside. He started to undo the rope that held up his pants, but the leader’s arm shot out and grabbed Jirokichi’s wrist. He jerked him forward, against himself, until they were nose to nose. Jirokichi was short, and the other had to lean down over him. Jirokichi felt hands on his body, checking to see if anything was hidden in his pants. One of them twisted his genitals so viciously that he screamed. The leader dropped him, and he fell sobbing and moaning into the dirt.

‘Wasted our time,’ said one of the youths and kicked Jirokichi in the kidneys.

‘Maybe not,’ said the leader. ‘He left it at home. Up, you turd,’ he told Jirokichi.

Jirokichi stayed on the ground, rolled up in a ball and trembling. One of the youths grabbed him by an arm and jerked him upright. Another slapped his face with both hands until tears, snot, and blood dribbled down on Jirokichi’s bony chest.

‘Where’s your place?’ demanded the leader.

‘B–by the f–fox shrine.’

The leader slapped him only once this time. ‘What fox shrine, turd?’

‘Umajiro koji.’

‘Well? Are you going to take us there or not?’ the leader asked. Jirokichi moaned and nodded. He tried to take a step, but crumpled.

‘Wipe his face and put his jacket back on,’ snapped the leader, ‘Walk him between you. Arms around his shoulders. Like friends walking home a drunk.’

They did, and Jirokichi hung between two of them, legs bent and head drooping.

The leader seized Jirokichi’s topknot and jerked his face upward to show him a knife. Jirokichi blinked. ‘If you try to call for help, you’re dead. Understand?’

Jirokichi drooled a little, but nodded again. He accepted that he would probably die anyway.

Tora wore old clothes that were slightly too small and ripped in places where his muscular arms and chest showed to best advantage. His loose hair was tied up in a twisted rag, and he strode through the city with the bearing of a man who could handle himself in any situation.

He felt almost well again. His breathing had returned to normal, and the blisters on his hands had scabbed over. He planned to find the gang of young thieves. The money the bastards had stolen from him had been a small fortune, and the fact that he had been attacked in such a brazen manner in a decent neighborhood rankled.

His destination was the warren of poor tenements that adjoined the Western Market and the deserted ruins and barren fields where the capital’s criminals lived like animals in their burrows. Not even the armed constables of the city’s police went there willingly. He did not really think he would find the culprit and get his winnings back, but at least he could get information about youth gangs for the police, and that might teach the young bastards a lesson.

When he reached the outskirts, where shacks and warehouses were interspersed with large open areas, he kept a sharp eye on the people he saw. They were poor laborers and their families and outcasts, scrabbling through the garbage of ordinary people to make a living. Not all were criminals, but frequently a father, brother, or son provided for the family with ill-gotten income and was caught, and so all of them hated the police and officials. That was the main reason Tora was dressed in rags. He hoped to be taken for a tough, a street fighter they wouldn’t dare jump in some dark alley.

Even so, he still met some hostile looks from the men. Outside one of the plank huts, a skinny girl with a small child tied to her back gave him a gap-toothed smile and sang out, ‘What’s your hurry, handsome? Why don’t you stay awhile?’ Tora quickly turned the corner and walked through a series of dingy alleys with ragged clothing drying on broken fences and hungry dogs barking at him. Where he emerged, a ruined temple, part of its roof collapsed, rose from a grove of trees. He turned that way and almost immediately encountered an oddly assorted group of people.

Five young men in flashy clothing accompanied an older man, who seemed to be having trouble walking. A drunk? Tora had little faith in the charitable nature of the young in this part of town. He had once been their age and poor and had had no regard for anyone else. The young are first of all survivors. Here, in the capital, they were frequently raptors. As he got closer, he saw that the man they supported had been beaten. There were bloodstains on his jacket, and his face was swollen. And they were not supporting him. They were forcibly taking him somewhere.

Their prey was middle-aged, short and frail, his clothes a grayish brown. He did not look strong enough to tackle even the smallest of the five louts.

Tora gauged their strength. Five of them, young and tough-looking. No doubt they carried knives. They were probably no better than the thieves that had taken his money.

He was unarmed. Bad odds, though he outweighed the biggest one and knew a good deal about fighting. Their victim would be no help. On a second glance, he looked like a crook himself. Perhaps the youths had merely repaid him for something he had done to them or their families.

But Tora did not like it when the young and strong abused the weak. He slowed and stepped in their path.

The tallest youth, walking behind, moved around the two who held the beaten man. ‘Get out of the way,’ he said in a threatening manner.

Tora grinned and raised both hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘Taking your old uncle home from the wine shop?’ he asked. ‘Got into a little trouble, did he?’

The tall one’s eyes shifted to the group. He relaxed a little. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘My auntie sent us for him. Got there just in time.’

Tora shook his head sadly. ‘Some people never learn. Can I give you a hand?’

‘No, thanks. We’re five of us.’ He sounded as if he was making a point.

‘Help me,’ croaked their victim and cried out as one of the youths twisted his wrist.

‘Hush, Uncle,’ said the tall boy. ‘We’ll get you home to Auntie, don’t you worry.’ He took a step towards Tora. ‘You’d better let us pass.’

Tora rocked back and forth on his feet, as if undecided, his eyes on the limp figure between the two young thugs. Then he studied his boots a moment before launching himself at the tall youth, swinging his right foot forward, aiming the heel at the youth’s groin. The kick was powerful and unexpected. The youth left the ground and flew a few steps back, landing on his back with an almighty scream.

Tora had already pivoted towards his companions, the two whose hands were free. He used his fist to strike the first one on the temple and send him crashing into the dirt. ‘You’re next,’ he growled to the other. But that one pulled his knife and rushed Tora.

Tora feinted, jumped back, caught the youth’s knife arm at the wrist, and twisted it back until it snapped. The knife fell to the ground, and the youth shrieked, cradling his broken arm.

Tora scooped up the knife and turned to the two, who gaped, still holding the limp figure between them. They dropped their burden and ran.

Tora surveyed the wounded trio that was left. The one he had hit with his fist sat on the ground, looking groggy. The tall one lay curled in a ball. He was cursing steadily. ‘What were you doing to the old guy?’ Tora asked. ‘And don’t lie to me.’

The one with the broken arm blustered, ‘He’s a thief. We caught him. We were gonna turn him in.’

Tora fingered the knife. ‘And I’m the Empress Jingo. Try again.’

The other backed away. ‘He’s got a lot of gold hidden.’ He glanced at his companions and offered, ‘We might share with you.’

Their victim raised his voice. ‘They’re lying.’

‘Hmm.’ Tora eyed the small man and decided that he did look like a thief, but a poor one. He turned back to the trio. ‘Let’s see. What should I do with you? I could call for the constables.’

They merely stared at that suggestion. For some reason, the victim was the one who cried, ‘No.’

Tora glowered at the youths. ‘Get out of here before I change my mind and cut you up a little.’

The one with the broken arm hesitated only a moment, then turned and ran. The tall one staggered to his feet, cursed Tora, and pulled his groggy friend up. They limped off, clutching each other for support.

After making sure they were gone, Tora checked the miserable heap still sitting on the ground. His shoulders were heaving, and he made a strange wheezing noise. Tora thought he was weeping, but when he bent down, he saw that the wheezing was laughter. The little fellow shook with it. A small claw-like hand shot out and pointed. Down the street, the tall youth Tora had kicked was bent over, vomiting.

‘Hehehe!’ wheezed the small fellow. ‘Hehehehehe. Son o’ a bitch knows how it feels to get kicked inna balls! Tha’ss worth a piece o’ gold, that.’

He had trouble speaking and stopped to feel his front teeth. One of them was loose and started bleeding again. ‘Damn bassards beat me,’ he said unnecessarily.

Tora reached out to help him to his feet. ‘Who are you? Are you really a thief?’

The other stood gingerly and groaned a bit. Then he looked up at Tora. ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I’m Jirokichi. And you, my hero?’

Tora stared. ‘You’re Jirokichi? Jirokichi, the thief?’ he asked, dumbfounded.

The other nodded. The little fellow was anywhere between thirty and fifty, for all Tora could tell. With his buck teeth, sharp features, and close-set eyes, he resembled a rodent, but Jirokichi, also known as the Rat, was a legendary and magical person, and this creature looked altogether insignificant in his plain and dirty brown cotton clothes. And his manner was ingratiating.

‘Well,’ said Tora, ‘whatever. I’m Tora, and you look like you could use a cup of wine. Come along. I’m buying.’

The little man gave a chuckle and followed obediently. Tora headed back towards the market. After a while, Jirokichi mumbled, ‘Don’t believe me, do you?’

Tora looked back, hesitated. The real Jirokichi could make himself invisible. Because of this, he could enter wealthy people’s homes while they slept to steal their gold. Among the poor, a kind of religion had developed that venerated the image of a rat, presenting gifts to it and praying that Jirokichi share his wealth with them. There were claims that such prayers had been heard, and that people had found gold in their empty rice bin or under a wooden bucket, or stuffed into their outdoor shoes.

‘Maybe your name is Jirokichi, and maybe you’re a thief,’ Tora said cautiously. ‘It doesn’t matter. We both need a drink.’

But the fellow tugged at Tora’s sleeve. ‘It matters to me.’ The broken tooth caused him to make whistling sounds when he talked.

‘OK, I believe you,’ said Tora, suppressing a grin.

At the market, Jirokichi pointed to a small wine shop with benches outside. This time of day it was nearly empty. Tora saw only a few other guests. Inside, a monk ate something from a bowl and two old men drank wine and played go. Outside, a shifty-eyed man sat and watched the crowd. He gave them a brief glance, then turned his attention back to the market.

Jirokichi lowered himself gingerly on to the bench and shouted, ‘Hoshina! Wine.’

A large young woman appeared from the back of the shop, crying, ‘Jiro, my little turtle, is that you?’ She glanced at Tora and then at Jirokichi. ‘Amida! What happened, lover?’

Jirokichi waved her away and looked at Tora with a blush. ‘She’s great in bed,’ he muttered.

Hoshina reappeared with wine and two cups in a basket. Tora marveled at her size. She was one of the biggest women he had ever seen. Jirokichi’s head would barely reach her ample bosom. She took a wet cloth from the bottom of the basket and knelt down beside the little man, touching his bruised face as lovingly as a mother. ‘You look terrible. Who did that to you, my love?’ She dabbed at the traces of blood.

Jirokichi winced, snatched the cloth away from her, and held it to his swollen lip. ‘Don’ask.’

Tora reached into his jacket to pay for the wine, but Jirokichi pushed his hand away. On me,’ he mumbled through the cloth.

‘I thought those hoodlums picked you clean?’

‘Hoodlums?’ cried Hoshina.

Jirokichi took the cloth away to say, ‘No, no. I had a fall. Now pour us some wine, precious.’

‘Precious’ leaned over him like a pine over a mushroom. ‘My poor darling. Whatever you say,’ she murmured. She poured. ‘Will I see you tonight?’

‘I’m not quite up to it.’

She pouted. ‘Liar. You’re always up to it.’

Jirokichi blushed again and shot Tora a glance.

She raised her chin. ‘Maybe I’ll ask your friend. He looks like he’s up to it.’

Jirokichi gasped, then shot Tora an anxious glance.

Tora laughed. ‘Thanks, but I’m a married man.’

‘Pity.’ She poured the wine, whispered something in Jirokichi’s ear, and left.

They drank deeply and sighed in unison. Jirokichi – or whoever he was – certainly looked like a thief. Ask a thief if you want to catch a thief. His color was better, and Tora liked that the little man had not complained about the loose tooth or the pain in his jewels.

‘About those louts that attacked you,’ Tora said. ‘You don’t look like a wealthy man.’

Jirokichi gave him a quick glance, then looked down at himself and brushed some dirt from his pants and jacket. ‘Whath wrong with my clothes? I’m a working man, and I was clean before those bastards got hold o’ me. Leth forget about it.’

Tora’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘After what they did to you?’

‘No’ so loud.’ Jirokichi looked around, then leaned closer. ‘See, where I come from, we don’t make trouble for people like us. We help each other.’

Tora snorted. ‘After what those cruel bastards did to you?’

Jirokichi frowned. ‘They’ll be taken care of.’

Tora changed the subject. ‘I take it you only steal from the rich to give to the poor?’

Jirokichi ignored the sarcasm. He poured more wine, drank, and felt his tooth again. ‘Rich people steal our rice and our labor. I’m taking back what belongs to us,’ he explained.

He seemed serious, but Tora did not believe him. ‘What if someone turns you in to the police?’

Jirokichi raised his shoulders. ‘Life is full of surprises,’ he said.

‘Then you live dangerously. Is it worth it?’

‘Yes. I’m a great man to my people. I’m an artist. I’m no different from a poet or a painter or an archer. I practice my art and polish my style. I watch and I listen. I pick my target. I plan my approach. I execute it perfectly. My body and my mind are trained like a master swordsman’s.’

The little man was full of himself. The only thing he had practiced was telling tall tales. And he had not wanted to talk about the youths that attacked him. There was little point in it, but Tora asked anyway, ‘Since you do all that watching and listening, do you know anything about that last fire in the Sixth Ward?’

Jirokichi stared at him. ‘What?’

‘Come on. You must know about the fires. I’m looking for some young hoodlums just like the ones that grabbed you today. They robbed me of a large amount of gold and silver not far from there. If you’re such a famous thief, surely you know others like you.’

Jirokichi glanced over his shoulder towards the shifty-eyed guest, then leaned closer. ‘I know nothing about any fires.’ He glanced at passers-by. ‘See that boy?’ he said, pointing.

Tora looked. A youngster dressed in blue and white figured silk walked past with the grace of a dancer. ‘He’s nothing like that devil’s spawn you were with or the gang that jumped me. He’s some rich kid or an actor,’ Tora said dismissively. ‘Or someone’s toy boy.’

Jirokichi shook his head. ‘Wrong. He’s also one of the lost boys. The city’s full of them. They have to live.’

‘You think he’s a thief?’ Tora narrowed his eyes as he looked after the youngster. ‘I don’t believe it. The guys I want were street fighters, not pampered boys.’

Jirokichi’s eyes widened. ‘You saw the boys near the fire?’

‘Not well,’ Tora admitted. ‘But they were together, and they may have a female working with them. She knocked me down and got most of my money.’

Jirokichi raised his brows. ‘A female knocked you down?’

Tora flushed. ‘I thought it was a woman. I was drunk and didn’t see her coming.’

‘Ah.’ Jirokichi grinned and nodded. ‘Careless. How much did they get?’

Tora told him in an aggrieved tone. ‘It was to pay off a little piece of land for my wife and son. I’ll never have that sort of luck again.’

Inside the wine shop, the monk was gathering his staff and leaving. The old men clicked their go pieces as before. ‘Plenty of gold around,’ Jirokichi muttered, frowning.

Tora grasped the small man’s wrist. ‘Come on, Jirokichi, you owe me.’

Jirokichi jerked his arm away. He looked both frightened and angry. ‘Leave it alone,’ he snapped. ‘You’ll get your gold back.’ He got up and hobbled away.

Tora left some coins on the bench and hurried after Jirokichi, but the little man had disappeared.

AKITADA PLAYS WITH FIRE

Akitada woke up to a furious anger.

For years he had struggled against hostilities from members in the administration. Though his family name linked him to the spectacular rise and unjust fall of his ancestor Michizane and he still bore the resentment and fear that that name aroused, he had never become disloyal to the emperor or to the ruling Fujiwara family. At no time had he refused to make sacrifices in his service – risking his life and limb and the lives of his family and people. And, invariably, his loyalty had been rewarded by new demands or punishments. And now someone was trying to pin a murder on him.

Enough was enough.

Notwithstanding Kobe’s gentle hint to stay away from the Kiyowara case, he could not wait for others to clear his name.

What Kobe had implied – without saying it in so many words – was that any effort Akitada made to clear himself of the suspicion would make things worse. If the chancellor himself was behind the demotion, Akitada might clear his name, but he would lose everything by interfering.

Perhaps he would have to take his family and seek modest employment in a provincial administration. His friend Kosehira would surely let him serve as his secretary or as a district prefect in his province.

He knew that no official had ever managed to return from such disciplinary dismissal to a career in the capital. He was taking an enormous risk, but if he did nothing, he would also be lost. Kobe would try to help him, but Akitada did not think he would succeed.

He got up and dressed – soberly, to fit his mood. Then he went to tell Tamako of his decision and its likely outcome.

It was early, but he found her awake. She looked drawn and tired – and still much too flushed. He almost changed his mind, but she had as much to lose as he, and they were both concerned for the unborn child’s future.

‘Forgive me for troubling you,’ he said humbly. ‘I’m afraid I’ve made up my mind to take a step that may affect us all. As I seem to be under suspicion for Kiyowara’s murder, I will try to clear my name, but this, as Kobe tells me, may cost me my position and rank. We would have to give up this house and move to one of the provinces.’

He saw her tense and fold her arms protectively around her belly. ‘Forever?’ she asked with a little gasp.

He regretted his abruptness, but it was too late now. ‘It may not happen, but if it does… I can barely maintain this house at the best of times, and we shall need the funds I can raise on the sale to make a new life.’

‘It is your ancestral home, Akitada,’ she protested, her voice breaking. ‘It has been in your family since Heian-kyo was founded. Oh, Akitada!’

He flushed with shame. ‘I know you’re disappointed in me – not perhaps on your account, but on behalf of our unborn son. I can only say how very sorry I am. I have tried, Tamako, but I cannot fight against the determination of those in power. The best I can do is to protect my family by removing them from danger and poverty.’ He put his face in his hands. ‘I’ve failed to protect you once before and lost my son. Even if I lose my position, I shall at least not fail to protect you again.’

She said nothing.

He lowered his hands. When their eyes met, he saw tears in hers.

‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but I wonder if you understood my concern. It isn’t for myself or our unborn children that I protest, but for you. It isn’t like you to give up so easily. This house is a symbol of Sugawara persistence. Don’t sell it. We shall find a way to keep it, even if we must go wherever fate takes us. Only, can it wait until this child is born?’

Of course. I never… You did not think we were to leave immediately?’

She chuckled weakly. ‘You came with such a fierce look on your face that I thought you wanted me to start packing at once.’

Relief washed over him. ‘But the rest… You would not mind my losing both position and rank? I doubt I shall ever be able to regain them after this.’

‘I’m your wife,’ she said firmly. ‘Have I ever given you cause to doubt my loyalty?’

‘No. Never.’ He had doubted her in the past, but he had been wrong. It had been he who had been disloyal to her. Ashamed, he took her hand and held it to his heart. ‘I shall try to be a better husband,’ he said, then left quickly.

He went to see Nakatoshi first. Nakatoshi had been his clerk when he had run the Ministry of Justice for the absent Soga. Meanwhile, the able Nakatoshi had been promoted and transferred. He was the only man he knew who would help him in this undertaking and be discreet about it.

He found the young man in an office in the Ministry of Ceremonial. He sat behind a very neat desk, dictating a letter to a scribe. His fortunes had changed quickly: he was now a junior-grade secretary in the Bureau of Ranks.

Dismissing the scribe, Nakatoshi rose and greeted Akitada with effusive pleasure.

‘I’m impressed,’ said Akitada, when seated, looking around the fine room. ‘You’ve done well for yourself. But no one deserves it more, and I expect you’ll rise quickly now.’

Nakatoshi made a face. ‘The fact is that I miss working in the Ministry of Justice. This is all pretty dull stuff. But one must consider the welfare of one’s family. I’m married now, and we’re looking forward to a child.’ He blushed a little with pride. ‘It’s wonderful that you stopped by and I could share my news with you.’

Akitada felt guilty that he had not looked in on Nakatoshi before, all the more so because he now wanted a favor. He said, ‘My heartiest congratulations. We also – my wife and I – are expecting. Any day, in fact.’

Nakatoshi’s face broke into a huge smile. ‘Oh, excellent news, sir. I’m so very glad. I’m sure you’re particularly looking forward to this child. After the tragedy of last year, you’ll finally enjoy the happiness of being a father again.’

Happiness? Akitada was acutely aware of not being happy. The impending birth had raised all his fears of death again – Tamako’s and the child’s this time. And if Tamako survived the birth, children were so frail. Most did not grow to adulthood. The joys of raising another small son like Yori were doubly cruel if that son was also taken away.

‘Is anything wrong, sir?’ Nakatoshi asked, eyeing him nervously.

Akitada did not want to speak of his private terror and plunged instead into the murder of Kiyowara Kane and of his having become a suspect in the case.

Nakatoshi barely let him finish. ‘But that’s absurd,’ he burst out. ‘Anyone who knows you, knows that. Besides, you had never met the man, had you?’

‘No, but I was very angry that he, a stranger, should speak against me. I’m still angry, only now I can see that I must not let my enemies use their tricks against me again. I’ve been warned away from the case by Superintendent Kobe, but I think doing nothing is worse. I’ve come to you for some information about Kiyowara’s family and his friends and associates. Someone must have had a strong motive for the murder.’

Nakatoshi nodded eagerly. ‘The accusation is ridiculous, but you see, already my life becomes exciting again.’ He had such a look of fervor on his face that Akitada felt uncomfortable. ‘Thank you for your trust, sir,’ he said. ‘I shall not disappoint you. Allow me to take a part in the investigation – however small.’

Akitada was dismayed. Any active participation was likely to ruin Nakatoshi’s promising career because he would be working against a powerful Fujiwara faction. Akitada’s enemies – and Akitada now counted the chancellor among them – would not think twice before destroying Nakatoshi, who, though talented and hard-working, did not have the advantage of Akitada’s old and noble name and would be much easier to remove.

‘Thank you for your friendship,’ Akitada said. ‘I shall not forget it, but at the moment all I need is some information. This being the Bureau of Ranks, I thought you might know something about the man.’

Nakatoshi clapped his hands. When his scribe rushed in, he requested the documents pertaining to Kiyowara Kane. The man bowed and disappeared. Nakatoshi said, ‘Kiyowara is – was provincial gentry. His family is said to be quite wealthy, with holdings in Bingo and Izumo provinces.’

‘Yes. He bought Soga’s villa and has spent a great deal of money on it,’ said Akitada.

Nakatoshi smiled. ‘I bet you hated going there.’

‘I did.’

The scribe returned with a box and left again. Nakatoshi started sifting through the papers inside. ‘His father served as governor of Izumo and made a number of very generous gifts to the emperors at the time. No doubt because of that, some of the women of the family were invited to serve at court.’ He held up a document and looked at Akitada. ‘That would explain Kiyowara’s marriage to a daughter of the Minamoto chieftain. His mother was lady-in-waiting at the time and arranged the match. It turned out to be a brilliant move. The following year her sister married Fujiwara Yorimichi, our current chancellor.’ He returned to the rest of the papers in the box. ‘Kiyowara quickly received appointments. The latest one made him a junior controller.’ Nakatoshi closed the box. ‘That is all we have. I’m afraid I know nothing of any enemies, but a man who rises so quickly may count on opposition.’

Akitada nodded. ‘True, but envy rarely leads to murder. I think there must have been greater provocation. What of his reputation?’

‘People say that he was a hard worker. Mind you, since this is the Ranks Office, there was some gossip about what honors he might be striving for next, but it was just gossip. Still, he seems to have been an ambitious man.’

‘Yes, I think we can take that for granted. What of his personal life?’

Nakatoshi frowned. ‘I seem to recall someone mentioning that he was too fond of women.’

Akitada smiled. This sort of gossip attached itself to many men, and some positively cultivated such rumors. ‘You think that perhaps his wife lost her temper?’

Nakatoshi looked doubtful. ‘Why didn’t she object earlier? I have a feeling that she enjoys being the wife of a man who is rising in the government. You know, of course, that Yorimichi will be making more appointments soon?’

‘There have been rumors.’

‘Yes. Since Michinaga finally retired to his new palace at Uji, there have been many changes in the government. Now four of his sons hold the highest offices, and Yorimichi, the eldest, is regent and chancellor. Michinaga rules from retirement.’

Akitada remembered the rumors about the fires. ‘The people are still very unhappy about his choice of Crown Prince. Do you think he will listen?’

Nakatoshi shook his head. ‘He’s never listened before. Last year they blamed the smallpox epidemic on this, and now it’s the fires. Still, he must be worried. The court astrologer has done a reading, and he says the gods are indeed angry.’

They were getting away from the murder case. ‘What about Kiyowara’s children?’

‘His son by his first lady is the heir, I believe. He’s the only one old enough.’

‘If he was a womanizer, it could mean jealous husbands or lovers.’

Nakatoshi spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘I can try to find out more.’

‘No, better not stir up suspicions. At least, not yet. Besides, there’s another suspect. Prince Atsunori went in to speak to Kiyowara before me. He may be the man who quarreled with him.’

Nakatoshi reacted much as Kobe had. ‘Atsunori? He’s an imperial and outranks Kiyowara. If they quarreled, Kiyowara would be the loser.’ He thought. ‘Could it have been suicide?’