The Old Men of Omi: An Akitada Novel (Akitada Mysteries Book 13) Read online

  The Old Men of Omi

  An Akitada Novel

  I. J. Parker

  Copyright 2014 by I.J.Parker

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination

  This edition published 2014 by I.J.Parker 428 Cedar Lane, Virginia Beach VA 23452

  http://www.ijparker.com

  Cover design by I. J. Parker.

  Cover image by Toshikata Mizuno

  Formatting: Polgarus Studio

  Praise for I. J. Parker and the Akitada series

  “Elegant and entertaining … Parker has created a wonderful protagonist in Akitada… . She puts us at ease in a Japan of one thousand years ago.” The Boston Globe

  “You couldn’t ask for a more gracious introduction to the exotic world of Imperial Japan than the stately historical novels of I. J. Parker.” The New York Times

  “Akitada is as rich a character as Robert Van Gulik’s intriguing detective, Judge Dee” The Dallas Morning News

  “Readers will be enchanted by Akitada.” Publishers Weekly Starred Review

  “Terrifically imaginative” The Wall Street Journal

  “A brisk and well-plotted mystery with a cast of regulars who become more fully developed with every episode” Kirkus

  “More than just a mystery novel, (THE CONVICT’S SWORD) is a superb piece of literature set against the backdrop of 11th-cntury Kyoto.” The Japan Times

  “Parker’s research is extensive and she makes great use of the complex manners and relationships of feudal Japan.” Globe and Mail

  “The fast-moving, surprising plot and colorful writing will enthrall even those unfamiliar with the exotic setting.” Publishers Weekly, Starred Review

  “…the author possesses both intimate knowledge of the time period and a fertile imagination as well. Combine that with an intriguing mystery and a fast-moving plot, and you’ve got a historical crime novel that anyone can love.” Chicago Sun-Times

  “Parker’s series deserves a wide readership.” Historical Novel Society

  “The historical research is impressive, the prose crisp, and Parker’s ability to universalize the human condition makes for a satisfying tale.” Booklist

  “Parker masterfully blends action and detection while making the attitudes and customs of the period accessible.” Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Readers looking for historical mystery with a twist will find what they’re after in Parker’s latest Sugawara Akitada mystery … An intriguing glimpse into an ancient culture.” Booklist

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One Old Man Wakiya and the Spring Festival

  Chapter Two The Visit to Otsu

  Chapter Three Old Man Juro and the Gorge

  Chapter Four Monks and Old Friends

  Chapter Five Tora Meets the Sohei

  Chapter Six In a Spring Garden

  Chapter Seven Death of a Judge

  Chapter Eight Dead Men Don’t Speak

  Chapter Nine The Sohei Return

  Chapter Ten An Unwelcome Visitor

  Chapter Eleven The Shrine Fair

  Chapter Twelve Enryaku-ji

  Chapter Thirteen Searching for Tora

  Chapter Fourteen Death of a Sweeper

  Chapter Fifteen Abbot Gyomei

  Chapter Sixteen Spring Rain

  Chapter Seventeen Raid on the Tribunal

  Chapter Eighteen Poems

  Chapter Nineteen Falconry

  Chapter Twenty The Hunt

  Chapter Twenty-One Taira Sukemichi

  Chapter Twenty-Two Family Secrets

  Chapter Twenty-Three The Pact

  Chapter Twenty-Four More Secrets

  Chapter Twenty-Five The Old Man on the Mountain

  Chapter Twenty-Six The Betto Hatta

  Chapter Twenty-Seven The Wood Shed

  Chapter Twenty-Eight A Strange Case

  Chapter Twenty-Nine Another Murder

  Chapter Thirty Otsu Again

  Chapter Thirty-One The Wild Geese

  Chapter Thirty-Two The Puppet Man

  Chapter Thirty-Three The Grand Shrine Festival

  Chapter Thirty-Four The Little God’s Message

  Historical Note

  About the Author

  Characters

  (Japanese family names precede proper names)

  Characters in the Capital and in Otsu:

  Sugawara Akitada Senior official in the Ministry of Justice

  Yasuko & Yoshitada his children

  Tora his senior retainer

  Genba another retainer

  Saburo a third retainer, a former spy.

  Mrs. Kuruda his mother

  Fujiwara Kosehira Governor of Omi Province

  Yukiko his eldest daughter

  Takechi Police chief in Otsu city

  Persons connected with the case of the warring temples:

  Abbot Gyomei chief priest of Enryaku-ji

  Kanshin prior of the temple

  Kojo a warrior monk in the service of the temple

  a poor porter and his wife

  Master Cricket a hermit

  a wood gatherer and his family

  Persons connected with the Jizo murders:

  Wakiya & Juro two old men from Okuni village

  Masaie headman in Okuni

  Nakano retired judge in Otsu

  Tokuno a sweeper

  Fumi Tokiari a rice merchant in Otsu

  Taira Sukenori nobleman; deceased

  Taira Sukemichi his son

  Hatta Hiroshi Lord Sukenori’s betto, deceased

  Hatta Takashi his son

  Mineko a maid in the Taira family.

  Chapter One

  Old Man Wakiya and the Spring Festival

  They staggered from the neighbor’s farm followed by laughter and shouts: “Watch out or the kappa will jump out of a paddy and snatch ya.”

  The two old men, white-haired and white-bearded, were drunk out of their skulls and hooted with laughter.

  Juro raised a jug toward the moon. “Bring on yer kappa! We’ll fight’em.”

  His friend Wakiya snorted. “Me, I’d rather have a woman than a kappa. I’d even take a fox.”

  They bumped into each other, laughing and holding each other up.

  “Yer drunk!” Wakiya said. “Gimme the wine. Yer gonna drop it.”

  “Never! Come to poppa.” Juro kissed the jug. “Better’n a child any day. Children are a pain.”

  Wakya burped. “That bitch my son married. She’s waiting at home with a broom to beat me. Gimme that jug.”

  Juro passed the jug over and stood swaying as his friend raised it and drank, spilling wine all over himself. “Pah,” he spat. “Yer kid peed all over me.” He threw the jug back and giggled.

  Juro caught it by some miracle. “Watch out, ya almost killed him,” he grumbled.

  This struck both of them as hilarious, and they set off down the moonlit load, arms about each other’s shoulders, singing. They were singing different songs, which led to another argument about who had the correct words, and the jug changed hands again.

  By the time they reached Juro’s farm, the jug was empty. They embraced tearfully, and parted.

  Wakiya staggered onward, weaving this way and that, nearly falling into an irrigation ditch once or twice, and talking to himself.

  “What a day! I’m beat. Been dancing like a boy! Ha,ha. And the women! Rokuro’s wife’s got big titties. Got a feel, but she slapped me. Amida, I wanted to give her one! He, he. He’s not dead yet …”

  He
broke off when he saw the figure of a man sitting beside the narrow road. He squinted. The man looked familiar. But a cloud passed over, and he shook his head. “What’s he doing out here anyway?” he asked himself.

  The man waited patiently as Wakiya zigzagged toward him. When they were finally face to face, he asked, “Are you Wakiya?”

  Wakiya swayed and nodded. “Tha’s me. I know ya. What’s yer name?’

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Mmm. Maybe I do and maybe I don’t.” Wakiya took a stumbling step and halted again. “Got my own place th’other side of the woods. “ A thought occurred to him. Perhaps he could avoid his daughter-in-law’s ire. “Ya want to come? There might be a drop of wine?”

  The other man got to his feet. “Thanks. I’ll walk with you and give you a hand. It’s dark under the trees. You might take a fall.” He laughed.

  Wakiya chuckled. “Yer not a kappa, are ye?”

  “No. Come along,” the stranger said impatiently, taking his arm. “They must be waiting for you at home.”

  “Yeah, that bitch of a daughter-in law’s gonna beat me. An old man! There’s no respect for old people these days.” He hiccupped. “Yer not from here, are ya?”

  “Not anymore.”

  They were in the trees now. It was too dark to see the stranger’s face, but he was looking about him as if he were searching for something. Wakiya said, “See any foxes?” and giggled.

  That was when the stranger turned and took Wakiya by his scrawny neck. He shook the old man violently. Wakiya waved his arms and gurgled. He managed to knee the man in the groin. The stranger cursed under his breath and relaxed his grip a little.

  Even in his drunken stupor, Wakiya knew his danger. He shouted in his thin reedy voice.

  “Shut up!” snarled the stranger and squeezed again.

  Wakiya kicked and scratched and made hoarse sounds until the stranger pushed him away with another curse.

  The old man fell to his knees. He wailed and struggled into a stumbling run trying to get away.

  But the stranger was not drunk, and he was younger and faster, and he had a rock in his hand. The rock smashed into Wakiya’s skull before he had taken four steps. Wakiya arched back with a choking cry, then sank to his knees. “Wha … wha …” he mumbled, as the rock hit him again, and again.

  Wakiya, finally silent, fell forward on his face. His white hair now made a red patch on the dark road.

  Chapter Two

  The Visit to Otsu

  It was spring again.

  A blue sky hung over the mountains, birds of prey circled in the clear air, touches of pale green shone brightly from among the deeper green of pines and cryptomerias on the mountain side, and all along the broad highway, paddy fields had been flooded in readiness for the young rice plants.

  A time for high spirits and optimism.

  The small procession of officials from the capital rode along at a sedate pace behind a front rider with a white banner. The two riders who followed him wore fine clothing, one of them a green brocade hunting coat and white silk trousers tucked into his boots, the other a red coat over black trousers, plus blue trimmed half armor. Behind them followed six men in more sober black robes and hats, while a sedan chair, carried by four bare-legged porters, and a series of pack horses managed by servants, followed.

  They traveled sedately because of the sedan chair. The black robes belonged to government officials traveling on the emperor’s business, while the two men in front seemed to be on an outing.

  All but the man in green brocade enjoyed the fresh air, the green rice fields, the budding cherry trees.

  His companion had been watching him anxiously for a while and now said in a bracing tone, “You’ll have a grand time, sir. His lordship’s been looking forward to your visit. I’m sure he’ll do you proud.”

  Akitada started from his abstraction and looked across. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, Tora. I imagine so. It will be good to see Kosehira again. I’m very glad he got this appointment.”

  “He’s much closer to us now. You’ll both have many other chances for visits back and forth.”

  “Hmm.” Akitada looked about to gauge their progress. They were more than halfway between the capital and Otsu on the shores of Lake Biwa.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Tora asked. “We can rest if you like.”

  Akitada frowned. “I’m well enough, Tora. Don’t forget that I have ridden this distance and much more many times in my life.”

  “That was then, sir. You haven’t really been this far since you were wounded.”

  “That was eighteen months ago. I’m perfectly well.” He said it sharply to hide the fact that he was tired and that his back and backside both hurt from the unaccustomed time in the saddle. To prove that all was well, he leaned forward and patted his horse. The gray, beautiful though he still was, had also slackened in his energy. They were both past their prime.

  Tora glanced back at the straggling procession behind them. “I’ll try to get them to speed up a little,” he said, swinging his horse about. “We’ll be in Otsu by sunset.”

  Akitada glanced after him. Tora was still as agile and energetic as ever, yet he, too, had suffered serious wounds in his master’s service. Akitada had taken him on many years ago when they were both young men. Tora had been a deserter, a peasant who had been conscripted for the wars in the north and had ended up beating an officer. When they met, he had claimed the name “Tora” for “tiger,” and proved his right to it. But to Akitada’s amusement, he had lately taken to using his birth name and ennobled it by linking it with the village Sashima where he had been born. He was now Lieutenant Sashima Kamatari. Neither the double name nor the rank were strictly legitimate. They had become necessary in Kyushu where Akitada had struggled with the governorship of Chikuzen province. After years of disdain for the “good people,” Tora clearly enjoyed his new status these days.

  The highway between the capital and Otsu was always crowded. Akitada’s entourage shared the roadway with mounted messengers, farmers’ carts, pilgrims and other travelers, both on horseback and on foot, as well as contingents of soldiers and of heavily armed sohei, warrior monks belonging to one of the temples on Mount Hiei.

  They had been passed quite rudely by these soldier-monks a mile or so back. In spite of the fact that their flag marked their convoy as on imperial business, the sohei, their heads shrouded by white cloth, but their bodies wearing full armor, had forced their way past with shouts of “Make way! Make way!”

  Akitada had glowered at their leader, who had stared back impudently as he passed. His followers had laughed and added some rude shouts that “slow old men should stay home.”

  He could not be sure whose sohei these were but guessed they belonged to the mountain temple complex of Enryaku-ji.

  The government was becoming very nervous about the warlike preparations at Enryaku-ji. The temple now hired mercenaries and trained both lay monks and regular members of the monastery to fight. They claimed they had to do this for their own protection, but Enryaku-ji owned an enormous amount of land in the area and was turning its manors and villages into armed camps. His visit to Otsu was an effort to avert a war between the monks of Onjo-ji and those of Enryaku-ji by settling land disputes legally.

  Akitada sat his horse with slumping shoulders, bleakly taking in his surroundings. This journey added to his sense of futility by bringing back memories that were painful. Ten years ago, he had been here, mourning the death of his firstborn during the smallpox epidemic. In a way, he had also mourned losing his wife’s love. On that occasion and in his distraught state, he had thought to end his loneliness by raising a silent child he found wandering near the highway to Otsu. This had been in vain, but somehow he had found his wife’s love again. They had clung together more closely than ever before.

  But now he had lost her for good. It had happened in another spring two years before, and this time he had found no way to cope with this loss except through work.
To make things worse, he was in poor health, having suffered a knife attack some time later.

  His health was part of the reason for this excursion. It was thought he needed to get away for some pleasurable and relaxing days or weeks as the guest of his best friend Kosehira, currently governor of Omi province.

  The other reason was the assignment, but the real work was to be done by the men in his entourage with minimal supervision on his part. Much of it would be in the hands of the man riding in the sedan chair. Yoshida Kunyoshi was the imperial archivist. The other officials served in various offices and bureaus of the government, but they all had one thing in common: they were very familiar with the contentions of two immensely powerful Buddhist temples in Omi province: Enriyaku-ji and Onjo-ji.

  Kunyoshi was well over eighty and had occasional memory lapses, but no one else had his experience. Akitada knew him well and had frequently consulted him in the past. Their relationship went back to the very early years when Akitada had been a student at the university and sought information for papers assigned by his professors. But this had been a very long time ago. Nowadays, Kunyoshi suffered from all the aches and infirmities of old age and had become ill-tempered.

  Akitada, though only in his forty-third year, felt like an old man himself.

  Tora returned, muttering about city people being unable to ride horses. Akitada sympathized with them but said nothing. He looked forward to getting off his horse and relaxing his sore body in a hot bath.