The Old Men of Omi (32 page)

Akitada said, “Let’s have a word with that very observant neighbor of the jailer. If she saw him, she may remember another detail. And if the people in the Echi district also report seeing a puppet man near the murder scenes, you will have enough for an arrest.”

Takechi nodded. “We’ll have to be careful, or he’ll smell what’s afoot.”

Tokuno’s neighbor welcomed them eagerly. “Any news?” she asked. “Have you got him yet? Everybody’s afraid around here. Some people barricade their doors and won’t come out.”

She was evidently made of stronger stuff because a mere knock brought her to the door. Takechi asked his question, and she said immediately, “The puppet man? You mean he’s the one that killed Tokuno and that merchant? And the judge?” She put a hand to her head. “Amida! He might’ve killed me. I talked to him.” She swayed a little, and Takechi caught her arm.

“He wanted Tokuno, not you,” he told her. “And you can tell people they are perfectly safe. Now tell us about him.”

She told, eagerly and with great detail. He had walked down the street, looking at the houses on either side while she had been outside sweeping the path to her door. He had stopped and asked her where the jailer Tokuno lived. “Of course, Tokuno wasn’t a jailer anymore. I told him so. He was just a sweeper now. He seemed pleased by this. I pointed out Tokuno’s house.” She raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh, merciful Kannon! I sent the murderer to Tokuno.”

“He would have found the house without you,” Akitada said. “Can you describe him?”

“Oh, he was a tall man. Gray hair. It was long and he tied it in back. And he was really sun burnt, like he’d been traveling. I asked him what he had in his box, but he wouldn’t tell me and walked away.”

“Was he limping?”

“Yes. I guessed it was from all that walking they do. And I knew very well he was a puppeteer even if he wouldn’t say.”

And that was that.

Akitada and Takechi parted, Takechi to organize his search, and Akitada to return to the tribunal to report and to await news from Echi.

Word from Echi district arrived late that night. The news was mixed. No puppet man had been seen near the Taira manor at any time, but the fair attended by Wakiya and Juro had indeed had a puppet player on both days of the fair.

“It doesn’t matter about Sukemichi’s death,” Akitada said to Kosehira. “I myself passed a sizable fair within walking distance from the manor. Hatta was there, I’d swear on it.”

They had taken to referring to the puppet man as Hatta, assuming he was Hatta Takashi, the son of the Taira
betto
Hatta Hiroshi, who had confessed to killing the rice merchant Fumi Takahiro and had died in exile. The son had attacked Sukemichi’s father and had also been sent to work in the mines in the north. They had no proof that he had escaped and become a puppeteer to avenge his father’s death and his family’s ruin, but no other explanation would account for all victims. They hoped that, once arrested, the puppet man would confirm their assumptions.

But in spite of the most thorough searches of every hostelry in Otsu and the surrounding countryside, the puppet man had not been found.

Kosehira grumbled, “It may all have been in vain. He could have left right after killing Fumi Tokiari. His work was done and he went home, wherever home may be. We’ll never solve the murders, and the people will call us inept.”

Akitada, who was also worried, pointed out that the Grand Shrine Festival was the next day, and that Hatta would not miss such an excellent chance to earn enough money for his journey back.

Kosehira grimaced. “Can you imagine what will happen when the constables try to arrest him in the middle of the event?”

Akitada could imagine it, but he preferred to remain hopeful. “The fair grounds are not part of the procession route, and you can position constables in ordinary clothes there to keep a look-out for him.”

Kosehira brightened. “Hmm. Yes. That may work.”

Toward evening, Tora arrived with Akitada’s children and his son Yuki. Akitada greeted them nervously, having no idea how they had reacted to the news of his remarriage. He should have gone home to tell them himself, but that could not be helped now. The children had come on their own horses, smaller versions of Tora’s mount. It gave Akitada considerable pride to see that they could ride so well.

When Yoshi saw him, he cried “Father! Father!” and slid unaided from the back of his little horse to run to him. Akitada swept him up and swung him around, laughing out loud. “Welcome, my son! What a very fine horseman you’ve become!”

“I came all the way on my horse,” Yoshi informed him. “Tora said I was doing very well!”

Akitada put Yoshi down and went to help Yasuko. His little lady also sat her horse well but evidently felt it was appropriate that she should be assisted. She was smiling. Akitada muttered a prayer of thanks to the gods. The children were not angry with him for taking a wife.

Yasuko let him lift her down, arranged her gown, and straightened her straw hat.

“Welcome, my daughter,” he said with a smile. “How very ladylike you look!”

“Thank you.” She peered up at him. “Where is your new lady, Father? I want to see her. Tora says she’s
very
beautiful.”

He glanced across at Tora and Yuki, who grinned back. “Yuki,” said Akitada, “I’m very glad to see you, too. Come join us while your father takes the horses away.”

Yuki obeyed and came shyly, handing Akitada a letter. Tora gathered the reins of the children’s horses and took them to the stables.

The letter was from Akiko. Akitada tucked it away for later. “Come,” he said to the children. “You shall see my wife. Her name is Yukiko, and she is indeed very beautiful.”

A little later, he gave another prayer of thanks, because Yukiko and the children seemed to like each other. He waited on her veranda while she introduced them to her brothers and sisters.

Tonight would be their third night together, the night that sealed the marriage contract. Of course, he had never had an option in the matter, but neither had he wanted to escape. He put aside any quibbling doubts about this match and reminded himself that he was a man in love. Now, if they could only find the killer, he would be a completely happy man.

Then he opened Akiko’s letter.

It was worse than he had expected. “You sly fox, you,” she wrote. “Here I was worried about finding you another wife, and you engage yourself to the daughter of a high-ranking Fujiwara! I’m making all the preparations here. You need not worry about anything. Oh, what a time we’ll have, your little bride and I. And you are set on a great career. Well done, Brother!”

The morning after the third night broke with the noise of festive preparations all around them. Akitada had been awake for a while, watching the sun gradually make its way through the slats of their closed shutters. Yukiko beside him slept in a tangle of quilts and disordered undergown that revealed a smooth thigh and leg. He caressed this limb with his eyes and debated whether to wake her. Her long hair partially covered her face. It struck him that she slept as deeply as a child, and once again he felt that terrible tenderness for his young wife.

He had lost Tamako to childbirth, and for all he knew his new bride, this lovely young creature beside him, was already embarked on that same final journey.

In the corridor outside Yukiko’s room there was a rustling sound followed by whispers and a giggle. Yukiko stirred, stretched like a kitten, yawned, and then turned to smile up at him.

“Good morning, wife,” he said.

“Good morning, husband.” She covered herself, then stretched out a hand to touch his face. “You need a shave,” she said.

He kissed her anyway, feeling the surge of desire returning, but suppressed it. They would be embarrassingly late for the congratulations if he delayed.

He got up and found the traditional wedding offering left outside the door. A tray with elegantly arranged rice buns waited there. When he returned with it, Yukiko was sitting up, twisting her hair into a knot. She seemed to him the most exquisitely lovely woman he had ever seen, and she was his. He knelt to offer her the tray.

She smiled, took the top bun, and offered it to him. Looking at each other, they ate the sweet, honey- flavored treats.

“May the gods smile on this day,” he said formally.

Yukiko blinked. “Oh. I almost forgot. It’s the shrine festival today. And the sun is up already. We must hurry, Akitada.” Already she was up, looking for her robe that he had carelessly tossed aside last night to make love to her.

A little disappointed, he said, “I meant it is the day of our marriage.”

She paused, looking stricken. “I’m sorry, Akitada.” And then, “I know I shall make many mistakes.”

He got to his feet to find the robe, placed it around her shoulders, and held her. Burying his face in her scented hair, he murmured, “In my eyes, you can do no wrong. And you’re quite right. We must hurry.”

The preparations for the Grand Shrine Festival took most of the awkwardness from their first appearance together as man and wife. Everybody was far too busy to stare or tease or burden them with best wishes and good advice.

In the courtyard, two ox-drawn carriages stood ready to carry the women and children down to the lake shore. The men would ride. Kosehira, as the governor and a guest of honor, had an escort. Akitada, Kosehira’s sons, and Tora trailed behind. Tora wore his half armor and a sword.

When they reached the lake, they separated. Kosehira was greeted by Abbot Gyomey on behalf of the sponsoring temple, Enryaku-ji, and by the shrine priest of the Hiyoshi-Taisha shrine. Seven
mikoshi
, the portable shrines containing the
kami
of the sacred shrines of the mountain, had gathered at Hiyoshi-Taisha in preparation for their boat journey on the lake between Sakamoto and Karasaki. Shrine ceremonies preceded this departure.

Akitada and Kosehira’s sons supervised the arrival of the women and children—who took their places behind screens—and then found their own seats on the grandstands nearby. Tora departed to search the crowds for the puppet man. Takechi and his men were also about.

After the shrine service, the ornate mikoshi began to make their journey to the lake. The procession was solemn and colorful. Shrine priests in red, white, and black attire carried large paper lanterns , shrine maidens,
miko
, in their traditional red and white jackets and trousers, tossed paper flowers, little boys in court dress performed small dances as they walked, and the
mikoshi
, very handsome in red lacquer and gilt, each carried by twenty strong, bare-chested young men, passed one by one. The Buddhist priests walked in their black robes, accompanying the image of Monkey, the messenger of the Mountain King and guardian of Mount Hiei.

Akitada had seen the festival before, years ago. It was a strange mix of Buddhist and Shinto observances and divine beings. Today his eyes searched for a killer. Tora reappeared briefly at his side to report that Takechi’s men had found no puppet man in the city. They were now stationed among the crowd here and in the area where the fair was taking place. There had been no sign of him there either. Chances were good that he had indeed left Omi to return to whatever northern province he had found a home in. In was extremely unsatisfactory.

Fortunately, Akitada had other, more pleasant, things to occupy his mind. As soon as the procession had passed, Kosehira and his sons joined it on horseback. The crowd of onlookers dispersed to follow. Akitada remained to look after the women and children.

He found that Kosehira’s wives wanted to return home, and Akitada saw them safely into one of the carriages. Yukiko and the children were to stay with him and return later in the other carriage.

He left his horse with the servants, and they walked the rest of the way to the lake shore. The children, both Kosehira’s and his own and Yuki, skipped ahead excitedly. He and Yukiko followed.

His wife looked very fetching in a pink gown with a white embroidered Chinese jacket. She was dressed for the outing and her long hair was gathered and tied with a white silk bow in back. He thought her enchanting and told her she resembled the cherry blossoms on the trees that lined the road. She thanked him and blushed.

The ceremony of carrying the
mikoshi
on board a barge festooned with straw ropes and colorful bunting was nearly complete by the time they reached the lake. Crowds had converged here, and they had to slip in between people to find a place where the children could see.

What with all the pushing of the crowd, Akitada was afraid of losing one of the children, though Yukiko had told them to hold hands with each other so they would not get separated. Then he almost lost Yukiko as a fat man pushed past him, followed by an equally large family. He looked about frantically and finally found her. After this incident, he kept his arm around her for the rest of the ceremony.

By the time, the barge had been rowed out into the lake, the crowd was headed back toward the fair. They were still all together, for which Akitada gave silent thanks, but he now worried about the fair; It was much larger than the last one where they had temporarily misplaced young Arimitsu. And now they had three additional children to watch.

The fair presented a cheerful picture with its many-colored awnings of fabric stretched between bamboo poles. Kites flew overhead, causing the boys to point and plead. Paper lanterns swung in the breeze, and music came from all sides. Delicious food smells hung in the air, and everywhere vendors shouted their wares.

They were very busy for the next hour and blessedly lost not a single child. Coppers passed from the children to vendors of sweets, more coppers from Akitada to the children. There was a puppet show, but its master had a regular stand for his stage, and he did not limp. A story teller enthralled the children for a while, until they discovered dancers in elaborate lion and dragon costumes dancing on a stage. Akitada took every opportunity to draw Yukiko close, or at least hold her hand. They laughed a good deal, and he was as deeply happy as he had been in many years.