The Old Men of Omi Page 15

  Shaking off these unpleasant memories, he made an effort to chat with Kosehira and to take an interest in the sights on the way.

  Being on horseback again was pleasant for a change. The road was the Nakasendo, a wide and busy stretch of highway which passed along Lake Biwa and connected to the Tokaido, the great Eastern Highway. He caught broad views of the great lake, blue under sunny skies and dotted here and there with the sails of fishing boats. Now and then larger ships passed on their way to Otsu or back to Hikone. To his left stretched fields toward wooded hills, and up ahead the Suzuka Mountains were blue in the distance. There was a good deal of traffic, both by foot and on horseback. Occasional ox-drawn wagons caused brief slow-downs. But the people were entertaining and interesting and gradually Akitada’s depression lifted.

  Toward sunset, they arrived tired and dusty at their destination in the foothills of the Suzuka Mountains. The Taira manor was a large walled compound and, being near the highway, used to offering shelter to important travelers. In this case, they were expected, and servants rushed to take their horses and to announce them.

  Their host greeted them on the wide veranda of the main house. Taira Sukemichi was their age, in his early forties, a handsome man with a small mustache and a ready smile. Apparently he led an active life, for he was lean of body and brown from being out in the sun. He was also affable, greeting them with expressions of joy at seeing Kosehira again and at making the acquaintance of the “famous” Akitada.

  Akitada, who hated flattery and knew he was anything but famous, shrank into himself and was at a loss for words. No matter. Kosehira and Sukemichi carried on a lively conversation. Akitada deduced that Nakahara was expected shortly and a fine dinner awaited them. Beyond this, the talk was of hunting and events in Otsu. Akitada listened, putting in an answer now and then about the sohei affair.

  After a brief tour of the house, Sukemichi took them to a special room where he kept his birds. Akitada had expected these to stay in the stables, but apparently such creatures were highly prized and shared the main house with its owner.

  Two servants were specifically assigned to care for the ten falcons. The takajo, or master falconer, greeted them and took them around. Along one wall of the room elaborate bamboo perches held the hawks which were displayed somewhat in the manner of fine horses in some wealthy men’s stables, each bird occupying its own perch, tethered by silken cords with tassel in many colors. Noble birds indeed!

  Akitada eyed them askance. Not only did he dislike their fierce stares and the way they ruffled their feathers when he approached, but he thought displaying wild birds in this manner and at such expense (given their special room, their silk ropes, and their personal keepers) was wasteful; and frivolous.

  Sukemichi clearly did not share this view. He introduced each bird by name, giving its ancestry and value, and describing its performances enthusiastically. His father, he said, had also kept falcons and used them for hunting pheasants for the imperial table. He had frequently entertained important guests, though he had never been able to play host to an emperor.

  “My father almost managed it once,” Sukemichi said, “but then there was a murder here, and the investigation dragged on. In the end, the court canceled.”

  Akitada’s ears sharpened. “A murder?” he asked.

  Sukemichi looked a little embarrassed. “I wasn’t here at the time. I was still a student at the university.”

  Kosehira made polite noises and asked a few questions about falconry, but Akitada did not bother. They were handsome birds in spite of their dangerous manner, but he hoped he would not be expected to carry one of them to the hunt scheduled for the next day.

  Nakahara joined them soon after. He appeared to be in his sixties, was fat, pale-skinned, and had a mustache and goatee. After greeting Sukemichi and Kosehira effusively, he turned to Akitada. “What a great pleasure, Sugawara,” he said, smiling. “I have looked forward to this with great anticipation. Are you still solving murder cases? I recall the whole capital was abuzz when you unmasked that insane painter who had been carving up his victims.”

  Akitada did not like to be reminded of that case. He had nearly lost his life when he went after the man who had abducted his little son Yori. He shuddered in retrospect and said, “Thank you, but my involvement was personal. The praise should go to the police who ultimately saved countless lives.”

  They parted company to retreat to their rooms and prepare for the festive dinner planned for that evening. Akitada feared more conversation about his past and began to feel resentful toward Kosehira for involving him in this visit. Nevertheless, he dressed with care before making his appearance in the room designated for the dinner. The others were already there, wearing their fine robes and chatting about the next day’s hunt.

  “It’s late in the season,” explained Sukemichi. “Hunting with hawks is mostly done in winter, but I thought it might be a pleasant entertainment for my friends, and as it happens we need to send some pheasants to the palace.”

  They were served roasted pheasant for their dinner, along with excellent fish from Lake Biwa and fresh vegetables. Sukemichi’s wine was also superior, and Akitada mellowed considerably. Besides, the conversation concerned the pheasant reserve and Sukemichi’s passion for hawks.

  “My father taught me,” he said. “He was a superb falconer. He also hunted with bow and arrow out of falcon season. For both types of hunting we have men go through the scrub land with sticks to scare out the birds. After that, they can be hunted either with bow and arrow or with hawks.” He eyed his guests. “I have good horses. If you gentlemen would like to try your hand at hunting with bow and arrow, we can arrange this also.”

  Akitada said firmly, “Not on my account. I haven’t shot an arrow in many years.”

  Kosehira laughed. “We’ll settle for watching the falcons do the work. How do you train them?”

  “Oh, my takajo does that. Though I buy most of my birds already trained. A trained bird will take down its prey and return to its master’s hand where it is given a treat for good work. The dogs fetch the kill.”

  The pheasant meat was tasty, and Akitada thought the hunt might prove interesting after all. Not much seemed to be required of him besides his presence and praise. He asked, “So this practice has been going on here since long before your time?”

  Sukemichi glanced across at Nakahara. “My father was the first in our family. It was an imperial appointment. After his death, the office passed to me. At first, my father had some trouble establishing himself among the locals. There were factions that supported another man, and they tried everything to blacken my father’s character. Fortunately, he prevailed against his detractors.”

  The conversation turned to the proper preparation of pheasant. Akitada listened with half an ear. He thought the comment about Sukemichi’s father and his troubles interesting. Information about the local people might throw a light on the murders of the two old men. When there was a lull in the chatter, he said, “Perhaps you can tell me something about the village Okuni. It’s nearby, I think. What are the people like?”

  Sukemichi looked surprised. “Oh, it’s just a small place. Insignificant. Mostly rice farmers live there, and a few of our retainers and staff. It’s pleasant enough, but up in the hills. The terrain is too awkward for hunting, but people aren’t allowed to live on the reserve, so they built their houses there and carved out some rice paddies. The older people work the farms, while their children work for me or for the reserve. Why are you interested?”

  “I heard they had two unexplained deaths recently. The victims died within days of each other. Both were old men on their way home after drinking.”

  Sukemichi nodded. “Yes, it’s true. One was murdered. The other fell down the mountain because he was drunk. Drinking is a problem among some of the locals. But I’m surprised that you take an interest in peasants.” He paused and frowned. “Come to think of it, I believe both used to work for my father and were given land whe
n they left his service. The one who was murdered had also been drinking. Peasants tend to get carried away by festivals and cheap wine, and violence isn’t unheard of under those circumstances. I doubt that the deaths merit your attention.”

  Kosehira chuckled. “Akitada takes an interest in all kinds of cases. And I promise you, if he starts poking around, he finds out the most shocking things.”

  The two other men smiled politely, but it seemed clear that they thought Akitada an eccentric and expected little excitement from the death of two old peasants.

  The meal ended in the customary manner, with more wine consumed on the veranda where they had a fine view of the moonlit landscape stretching into the distance under a starry sky.

  Later, when Akitada and Kosehira walked to the room they shared in the guest pavilion, Kosehira said, “You know, that business about Sukemichi’s father having had some troubles after his appointment reminded me that someone accused him of having murdered a guest. It was just ill will. They caught the killer.”

  Akitada raised his brows. “You don’t say? What happened?”

  “I don’t recall. But it was all very unpleasant until the betto confessed. It seems the guest had become too familiar with his daughter. It was shocking behavior by the guest, of course.”

  Akitada winced. It was an ugly tale and nothing to do with him. He had quite properly avoided an entanglement with Kosehira’s daughter.

  But the image of Yukiko haunted him that night.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Hunt

  As they were dressing in their hunting clothes the following morning, Kosehira observed, “You know, this business about favors owed and commitments bringing about mutual advantages, reminds me that there are better bonds, such as friendship and ties by marriage. You and I, we shall always rely on each other, I hope.”

  Akitada looked up from tying his trousers. “Well said. I’m very fond of you, Kosehira. That will never change. You have always supported me, even when doing so was very unpopular. But more than that, your cheerfulness lifts my dark spirits amazingly. Thank you, brother.”

  Kosehira looked embarrassed. “Not at all, brother. And didn’t you come to my aid when I was accused of high treason?”

  Akitada laughed. “Let’s just say we try to look out for each other, which is as it should be.”

  “Yes,” said Kosehira and reached for his boots. “And that will always be true even without family ties.”

  Akitada pondered this exchange all day, returning to it again and again. There had been something about Kosehira’s remarks that had not been entirely casual. Why had Kosehira raised the subject of their friendship? They had never needed to mention it before.

  The hunt was a much smaller version of the elaborate imperial celebrations memorable in the past. The current emperor was not interested in falconry, but his predecessors had enjoyed it and often participated themselves.

  It was before dawn when the light was pale silver and wisps of fog lay over the dew-heavy fields of new grass. Sukemichi and his guests rode, Sukemichi with a bow slung over his shoulder. The falconers and dog handlers walked, carrying or leading their animals.

  The air was particularly fresh and fragrant with green, growing things at this time of day. The hazy mountains, themselves draped in layers of white mists, rose against a faintly pearlescent morning sky, their crests already ringed with the gold of the rising sun. The sun would clear away the mists, and they would have another fine spring day.

  Neither Akitada nor Kosehira had accepted the offer of a falcon. They said they preferred to watch. Sukemichi planned to use his favorite, a white hawk called “Snow Dragon,” while Nakahara had chosen a gray that was known for his aerial acrobatics and had the name “Storm Wing.” The takajo carried a third hawk that was a little smaller than the other two.

  “Ah,” said Sukemichi, “the beaters are in place.” He pointed across the plain of young grasses toward a belt of shrubs and small trees. Akitada saw nothing. They dismounted and Sukemichi and Nakahara each took one of the falcons.

  “Let’s start,” Nakahara said. A shrill whistle sounded. Akitada saw some movement among the distant trees. A moment later, a pheasant flew up and Nakahara cried, “Get him!” tossing his falcon into the air. The bird caught itself and darted away, rising on powerful wings to intercept the pheasant which had stayed close to the ground. In a moment it was over. The hawk went in for the kill and both birds disappeared in the grasses. The whistle sounded again, and the hawk reappeared, without its prey, to return obediently to Nakahara’s gloved hand, where he was fed a reward from a pouch Nakahara wore attached to his belt. One of the dogs, released, dashed off and returned a moment later with the dead pheasant

  Before anyone could comment, more pheasants flew up, and both Sukemichi and the takajo released their birds. The white falcon was a beautiful sight as it rose into a blue sky and the rising sun caught it in flight, turning its wings to gold.

  The hunt was a great success. They bagged sixteen pheasants and returned, accompanied by their attendants carrying the pheasants tied to poles. The beaters and falcon handlers sang, the dogs pranced, and their masters smiled contentedly.

  A formal ceremony followed. Ten of the pheasants, suitably decorated with crimson ribbons and green branches, were dispatched to the retired emperor. A handsome Taira retainer carried them, dangling from his shoulder as he sat astride his horse.

  Later a celebratory meal and plenty of sake awaited the hunters.

  It was during this meal, served on the wide rear veranda of Sukemichi’s house, that Nakahara turned to Kosehira and said, “Is it true what I hear, Governor? You are about to give your daughter in marriage to the eldest son of the chancellor?”

  Akitada’s eyes flew to Kosehira’s face. Kosehira caught his glance, flushed, and looked away. “You’re premature, Nakahara,” he said. “The possibility has been mentioned, but you know how those things go. The chancellor and I are both considering our options. It’s true that the young people know and like each other, being second cousins and spending time together as children, but no decision has been made. As for me, I confess I’m fond of Yukiko and shall not force her into a marriage she dislikes.”

  “Very wise,” said Sukemichi, “though young people rarely know what’s best for them. I recall being madly in love with our betto’s daughter when I was eighteen. My father wouldn’t have it, of course. Later, she came to serve in our house and I enjoyed her without the obligations of marriage. My father was a wise man.” He chuckled and raised his cup! “To our children’s happiness!”

  They drank.

  The wine, very fine sake, tasted like bitter medicine on Akitada’s tongue. The news was a painful cure for his foolish love. Yukiko, favorite daughter of Fujiwara Kosehira, was meant to be the wife of a future chancellor.

  He hardly knew how he got though the rest of the meal. He drank too much and, when called upon, recited some very bad poetry on hunting. It did not matter. Everyone else was also drunk.

  Somehow he and Kosehira got back to their room and fell asleep.

  Akitada awoke at sunrise to Kosehira’s snoring. His head felt like a hive full of angry bees. He staggered up and went outside, suppressing the urge to vomit and instead drank a lot of cold water from the well. A servant came to ask if he needed anything, but Akitada waved him off.

  When the memory of Yukiko’s marriage to the chancellor’s son surfaced from the muddle of his brain, he felt like getting drunk all over again. Instead he took a walk in Sukemichi’s garden, which was not nearly as beautiful as Kosehira’s and did not have a koi pond. It served to sober him, however, and in the end he went inside again to get dressed.

  ∞

  The headman in Okuni village was called Masaie. He turned out to be quite young for this position of trust. As is customary in small villages, he was also a tax collector and farmer, working his father’s land.

  He knelt and bowed deeply to Akitada.

  “Please get up, Mas
aie,” Akitada said. “My name is Sugawara Akitada. I’m a guest of Lord Taira and came to ask you a few questions.” He looked around the small room which held little beyond a stand for paperwork. “Where do you put the people you arrest?” he asked curiously.

  “There aren’t many arrests,” the headman said getting to his feet. “It’s drinking and fighting mostly, and we just take them home to their family. They pay a fine the next day.”

  “Well, I heard a strange story in Otsu recently. You’ve had two murders here.”

  The headman scratched his head. “One murder, your Honor. An old man. Wakiya. The other fell to his death. I really didn’t have anything to do with it. The prefect sent his own men down to investigate.”

  “Are you certain the second man fell?”

  “Certain? No, but he was at the bottom of the gorge. I suppose he could’ve been pushed. But who would push an old man down the mountain? He was drunk. It’s more likely he fell. May I ask why your Honor is asking these questions?”

  “In Otsu two other old men died. These two were knocked down and then suffocated.”

  Masaie frowned. “Old men die. Some are even killed. Otsu is nothing to do with us.”

  “That remains to be seen. I understand you found a small carving near the first victim?”

  “Yes, a small figure of Jizo. They’re selling them at all the fairs. Wakiya didn’t buy it, but the road is well traveled, and anybody coming back from the fair could’ve dropped it. The prefect’s office didn’t think it had anything to do with the murder, but we reported it when someone from the governor’s office asked.”

  “I see. Hmm. The same little figurines were also found with the Otsu victims.”

  The headman’s eyes widened. “The same? Are you sure, your Honor?” He flushed. “ Begging your pardon.”