Authors: I. J. Parker
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical, #Historical Detective, #Ancient Japan
Tora intercepted him in the hall. He looked upset. ‘Sir, about the dog—’
‘Not now,’ Akitada snapped and brushed past him.
Tamako and Seimei were bent over the bird scroll. They looked up.
‘Is something wrong?’ Tamako asked. ‘We heard Trouble.’
The dog’s name seemed ominously appropriate. ‘Tora should never have brought that miserable cur here,’ Akitada said angrily. ‘And yes, there is something wrong, though it has nothing to do with the dog. It seems I am under official investigation for the Otsu incident.’
Seimei sucked in his breath, but Tamako merely said coolly, ‘Surely that was always a possibility?’
He glowered and sat down. ‘I rather thought my credit was good enough to speak for my character.’
She sighed. ‘Yes, I know. It’s very disappointing. I don’t blame you for being angry. It’s really too bad that it had to happen just now.’
‘Why?’ he asked, surprised.
She blushed. ‘I just meant … You were so calm and … content earlier. So eager to take up your responsibilities again.’ She bit her lip, and lowered her eyes.
Akitada stared at her. His wife was positively glowing with embarrassment.
Seimei got up. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, My Lady, but I was about to go and check on the poison.’ He hurried from the room.
Akitada frowned after him. ‘What poison?’
‘Monkshood. It’s a very poisonous plant,’ Tamako explained. ‘We wondered what could have made the young man so sick.’
‘Oh.’ Having come back down to earth so painfully in the minister’s office, Akitada had trouble refocusing for a moment. But really, if he was no longer wanted in his official function, nothing prevented him from using his free time as he wished. He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, of course. I suspected
warabi
dumplings. According to one of his wives, they were a favorite of his.’
‘Fern fiddle heads?’ Tamako shook her head. ‘They can make you sick, but surely not deathly ill. People eat them all the time. You yourself have found them tasty. What we need is something much more deadly. Seimei thought monkshood would fit what the doctor observed.’
Akitada frowned. ‘If he had been given such a well-known poison, surely Inabe would have known.’
‘Perhaps not, if the young man was already ill from something else and being treated. His symptoms from the treatment might have been indistinguishable from the poison.’
Akitada looked at his wife with admiration. ‘How clever
you are,’ he said. ‘What is
daiou
root prescribed for, and what happens after a few doses of the stuff?’
‘Rhubarb root,’ Tamako said with a smile. ‘It cures constipation. You may imagine the effect for yourself.’
‘Ah.’ Akitada brightened more. ‘The warden said young Masuda died from the flux.’
Tamako unrolled the scroll and reread the pasted pages. ‘The doctor should have suspected something. But there is nothing. Unless—’
Akitada moved closer so that he could look at the scroll with her. ‘Unless what?’
‘Unless this note about Yue-Sun’s gruel means something.’
‘Some Chinese medicine?’
‘I don’t think so, and neither does Seimei.’
‘It may just be a scribble. Like the one about love-sickness. Inabe liked to jot down stories. Whatever he saw reminded him of something else. The bird scroll is full of bird tales.’
‘Yes. I noticed that too.’ Tamako gave him a sidelong glance. ‘I suppose there was opportunity for lovesickness in the Masuda household. Two wives and a mistress? And the mistress had been deserted at one point?’
‘True. What about this Yue-Sun?’
‘She’s a character in a Chinese tale. Yue-Sun poisoned someone with a bowl of gruel. I forgot the details, but the victim died.’
‘What? Old Lord Masuda believes that Peony killed his son. Who was the victim in the story?’
‘Some very important person, and she was a servant or his handmaiden.’
‘Hah!’ Akitada jumped up and started to pace. ‘So it
was
murder. Young Masuda was poisoned. By a woman. But Peony had no motive. He had returned to her, and she and her son depended on him. No, someone else killed him. I think a woman brought a certain food to the patient, and Inabe remembered that later when he became suspicious.’
‘Very likely. Did Masuda’s wives visit him at Peony’s house?’
‘Hardly. But Mrs Ishikawa admitted going there. She could have been sent by them.’ Akitada sat down again. ‘But there’s no proof, and I’m afraid it doesn’t explain what happened later.’
They were sitting close to each other, and he became aware of his wife’s scent. Feeling suddenly awkward, he stole a glance at Tamako’s profile, a shell-like ear, and graceful neck. He wanted to trace that elegant hairline with his finger, to bury his face in the hollow between that soft and fragrant neck and her shoulder. He wanted to make love to his wife.
Caught between fear and daring, he was struck by the ridiculousness of his hesitation. They were alone. They were married. He had every right to caress her.
His hand was half raised when Tamako turned her head. Their eyes met, and her lips parted. Tender, moist, and welcoming lips. Eyes that became soft and warm. His hand found the warmth of her skin just above her collar, smooth as silk, strange and yet familiar. He felt an intense pleasure at her response, at the way she leaned into his hand and raised her face to him. Murmuring her name, he was about to reach for her with his other hand when the door opened and Seimei returned.
The old man stopped. ‘Oh,’ he said and started to back out again.
The spell broke. They moved apart and were again Akitada and Tamako, husband and wife with years of marital familiarity and distance between them. Tamako sighed softly.
Suppressing his frustration, Akitada said, ‘Come in, come in. Did you find anything?’
If the old man’s skin had not been so bloodless, Akitada could have sworn he blushed. ‘Yes, indeed, sir. Her Ladyship was quite right. The powdered root of
torikabuto
is recommended for a belly ache, also for colic and pain. But it is very powerful and must be given in extremely small doses.’
‘Or it will kill?’ asked Akitada.
‘Oh, yes. Quickly. It is said that it takes the breath away and chills the blood, and the patient dies in great pain.’
Akitada looked at Inabe’s scroll. ‘It fits. But surely the poison was not administered as a medicine.’
Tamako leaned closer and extended a slender hand to point. ‘Look. The symptoms did not occur until the doctor’s third visit.’
Akitada was distracted by her perfume and nearness. He moved a little and for a moment their bodies touched warmly before she moved away.
Seimei cleared his throat. ‘Tora was very anxious to speak to you.’
Akitada sighed. ‘It’s about his miserable cur. Come to think of it, I never had a chance to ask him why he did not meet me in Otsu.’
Seimei was startled. ‘You don’t know, sir? He found a murdered woman early this morning and was kept by the police.’
‘What?’ Akitada was on his feet. ‘Why didn’t anybody tell me?’
‘I’m sure he tried to, sir.’ There was a note of reproof in Seimei’s voice.
Akitada grunted and dashed from the room.
It was getting dark outside. Genba was drawing water at the well. From the corner of the house came the sound of coughing. The ancient carpenter was shuffling off to his evening rice.
‘Where is Tora?’ Akitada called out to Genba.
Genba put down the wooden bucket. ‘He left, sir.’
‘Left? To do what?’
‘You told him to get rid of Trouble.’ Seeing Akitada’s frown, Genba explained. ‘He’s trying to find a home for him. It won’t be easy. Trouble’s not a handsome animal. And letting him loose will just mean he’ll be killed. Tora’s very fond of that dog.’
Akitada had not intended this. Shaking his head at the misunderstanding, he sat down abruptly on one of the steps. It creaked alarmingly, and when he looked, he saw that a large crack had opened up. This reminded him of the condition of his home. ‘I’m afraid the next earthquake will bring the roof down around our ears,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve been neglectful of my responsibilities.’
Genba tried to cheer him up. ‘The house is very solid,
sir. The carpenter comes every day, and with three of us working together, we’ll have all the problems fixed in no time.’
But Akitada knew better. For one thing there was no money. He had no idea how long he could pay the ancient carpenter. For another, his neglect extended to his family as well as his home. It was a miracle Tora had stayed with him all these years – that any of them had stayed. He looked at Genba, a huge man, a former wrestler gone to seed. His short, bristly hair was grizzled, and the massive body had turned soft and flabby. When he and Hitomaro had first joined Akitada’s family, they had both been strong young men. Hitomaro had given his life for him, and Genba, in his own way, was still doing so. Genba had never married and had served him quietly, never making demands, never complaining about his lost chances in the ring. Akitada had begun to treat him as a fixture, almost with the same disrespect that Yori used to show him. Genba had been there to be made use of. They had taken his devotion for granted, and Akitada had even begrudged him the food that was Genba’s only weakness.
‘I’m sorry, Genba,’ Akitada said now. ‘I’m truly sorry about many things. I haven’t been myself lately. Tora need not have given the dog away, just confined him somewhere.’
Genba’s anxious face brightened. ‘I’ll tell him. He’ll be very happy, sir.’
Akitada sighed. ‘Are you happy here, Genba?’
Panic appeared in Genba’s face. ‘Why do you ask, sir? Have I done something wrong?’
‘No.’ Akitada rose to put a hand on Genba’s shoulder. ‘No, my old friend. Not you. The fault is mine. I beg your forgiveness. You must tell me next time I’m unreasonable or … cruel.’
‘Oh, I could never do that … I mean you never … You could never be cruel, sir. As for being a bit distracted, well, we know you don’t mean it.’ He broke off helplessly.
Akitada embraced him. ‘Thank you,’ he said, very moved. ‘And thank you for watching over all of us while I … was busy elsewhere and Tora had his own problems. I don’t
know what I would have done if it hadn’t been for you and Seimei.’
Genba blinked rapidly and muttered, ‘It was nothing, sir.’
‘Did Tora by any chance tell you about a murder he discovered this morning?’
‘No. He’d just got back from talking to the police and was depressed and very anxious to see you.’
‘I was in a hurry and thought it was about the dog. Tell Tora to bring the dog back and then come to report to me.’
But Akitada waited in vain for Tora to return. Eventually, he spread his bedding in his room and went to sleep there.
In the morning, he got up and looked immediately for Tora. He found him sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, his shoulders slumped and his head in his hands. There was no sign of the dog.
‘Where’s Trouble?’ Akitada asked. ‘Didn’t Genba tell you to bring him back?’
Tora rose and turned. It was obvious that he had not slept. ‘I tried, sir,’ he said. ‘I went back last night, but he’s gone. They took him away. I shouldn’t have left him there. I could tell they’d mistreat him. But they had children, and I thought Trouble would like that. Someone to play with. He’s just never had that before. I think that’s what made him the way he was. There wasn’t a bad bone in that dog’s body. He was bored.’
Tora sounded near to tears, and Akitada felt very guilty. ‘I’m sorry, Tora. I suppose Genba mentioned that I didn’t mean it. Do you know where these people took the dog?’
Tora shook his head. ‘I didn’t ask. They’re travelers. Vagrants. The whole family works at temple fairs. The kids tumble and beg a few coppers from the pilgrims. The husband and wife are jugglers and musicians. The husband thought he could train Trouble to do tricks.’
‘Dear Heaven.’ Akitada pictured that clumsy, big, unattractive animal trying to dance on a ball or jump through flying hoops. ‘What gave him that idea?’
Tora looked shamefaced. ‘Me. I was getting pretty desperate by then, so I talked him up a bit. Funny thing was, as I was talking, Trouble had that intelligent expression he
gets sometimes. But you’re right. He’ll never learn any tricks. They’ll beat him first, and then maybe they’ll kill him. He gave me such a look when I walked away’
Akitada remembered how it had felt walking away from the boy in Otsu and did not know what to say. Tora had a beaten manner about him that he did not like. When they had fallen out over Hanae, he had been angry and defiant. Now he just looked hopeless.
As they stood together in front of the house, neither knew what to say. Genba watched them from the stable door, and the old carpenter shuffled past, carrying some boards and making them a creaking bow. Akitada almost suggested getting another dog, but bit it off in time.
Tora said, ‘Trouble was a lot like me. Couldn’t do anything right, but he was loyal.’
More guilt.
Akitada muttered, ‘Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault. All of it was my fault.’ He paused. ‘What happened with that maid?’
‘That’s another thing I couldn’t do right. The bastard murdered Little Abbess before I could talk to her. Beat her head in just like the doctor’s.’
‘Who is Little Abbess?’
‘Peony’s maid. She sells old clothes now. Sold, I mean.’ He sighed.
Akitada frowned. ‘So you got no information?’
‘I talked to her a little the day before. She told me some things, but she was very close-mouthed about others. That’s why I went back before reporting to you in Otsu. Only by then that bastard Ishikawa or the monk had got to her. She might still be alive if I hadn’t gone chasing after Ishikawa.’
‘What monk? You had better tell me the whole story from the beginning.’ Akitada sat down on the steps.
Tora told him.
Akitada asked, ‘What did the maid say about the child’s father?’
‘She wouldn’t say if it was Sadanori or young Masuda. A customer came in, and I left to look for Ishikawa.’
Akitada had Tora repeat the conversation between
Sadanori and Ishikawa twice. It puzzled him also. ‘Sadanori’s anger must be due to Ishikawa’s blackmail,’ he said, ‘but it isn’t clear if Sadanori ordered the murders or Ishikawa acted on his own and afterwards held the crimes over Sadanori’s head. What is the monk’s part in all this?’