The Old Men of Omi Page 2

  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.

  He also looked forward to seeing Kosehira again. It had been years now; they had both been sent to opposite ends of the country. Kosehira had regained the favor of the court after a punitive assignment for having supported an imperial prince suspected of treason.

  “Look, there’s the lake!” cried Tora. “It’s beautiful. Oh, sir, you’ll see we shall have a wonderful time. Very little work and no tangling with murderous villains this time. We’ll go hunting, fishing, riding, and visit famous spots, and in between there’ll be delicious food and a good rest.”

  The lake was beautiful. It glistened like a polished silver mirror between the hills up ahead, but Akitada could not hide the irritation that Tora’s cosseting caused. He hated being treated like an invalid, especially when he felt like one.

  ∞

  Kosehira and two of his sons were waiting outside Otsu. Akitada dismounted, somewhat painfully, and embraced his friend as the two young men and Akitada’s retinue looked on. Akitada was nearly moved to tears to see his closest friend again. He released Kosehira, blinked, and looked with astonishment at the two young men. Kosehira introduced them as Arihito and Arikuno. Akitada remembered them as small boys. They bowed with smiling faces while he marveled that so much time could have passed in the blinking of an eye.

  Kosehira studied Akitada’s face with a worried frown. “You look ill,” he said. “Are you? Is something wrong?”

  Akitada grimaced. “No, no. I’m well enough. I’m not used to traveling long distances on horseback anymore.”

  This did not reassure Kosehira. He said, “We must get you home right away. A hot bath and a good meal, and then it’s bed for you.”

  “Thank you, honored Mother.” Akitada smiled at him fondly.

  They chuckled, but Kosehira simply overruled Akitada when he tried to protest the arrangements. The officials and some of the servants and porters would proceed to Otsu and the tribunal, where quarters were waiting for them. Akitada and Tora, however, would turn off to ride with Kosehira to his private villa in the foothills overlooking the town and the lake.

  The villa was a sizable property with gardens and outbuildings, but Akitada saw little of it. After the promised bath and a fine meal that Akitada did little justice to, Kosehira said, “If I recall correctly, you already know Otsu.”

  Akitada nodded. “Yes. I thought I might look up a few acquaintances. The Masuda affair, though it’s been ten years, is still fresh in my mind. I wonder if Warden Takechi is still here. I really liked the man.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. Takechi is indeed still here, and a most reliable man indeed. He’s police chief now.”

  Akitada was pleased and searched his mind for other names, but he was getting very sleepy. Kosehira noticed.

  “More time for talk tomorrow.” he said. “I look forward to introducing the rest of my family, and then we’ll make some plans for your entertainment.” He rubbed his hands, glowing with pleasure. “I have such plans! You’ll see. I’ve dreamed of seeing you again for such a long time.”

  Akitada grew speechless at this and embraced his friend again before seeking his room.

  ∞

  He slept well and for a long time, waking to bright sunshine and feeling quite refreshed. A small amount of soreness remained, but the hot bath had done much to deal with the effects of the long journey. Perhaps, he thought, I haven’t quite become an old man yet. He resolved to do more riding while he was here and also to practice swordsmanship with Tora to get himself back into shape.

  But first things first: he was to meet Kosehira’s family and see more of the villa and then accompany his friend to provincial headquarters in town. He planned to talk to the team that was to work on the temple documents and witness statements.

  As he made his way to the reception rooms, he could see that Kosehira had made his family comfortable. There were several wings facing a large garden and ample service buildings. From the galleries that linked the pavilions, one could catch enchanting glimpses of the lake and the city below while surrounded by trees and fields of rice and other crops.

  He discovered that he shared the eastern wing with the male members of Kosehira’s family when he nearly collided with two small boys chasing each other. The first one merely ducked aside and kept going, but his brother stopped and bowed, flushing with embarrassment.

  “Your pardon, sir. We were in a hurry because my brother forgot to wear his good robe this morning.”

  “Quite all right, son,” Akitada said, smiling and wondering if some special occasion was taking place. “Where would I find your father?” he asked, as the boy started inching past him.

  “Oh, he’s in the North Pavilion.”

  That was awkward. The northernmost wing of a mansion was usually reserved for the owner’s wives. Akitada resolved to explore the gardens until Kosehira emerged from the company of his ladies, but the boy added over his shoulder. “He’s waiting for you. We’re to have a grand meal today.”

  Akitada looked after him and shook his head. Puzzled, he left the gallery for the garden and wandered along moss covered stones in a generally northern direction. He passed a pretty pond with budding water lilies and lotus and saw trees and shrubs blossoming here and there between the pale green leaves. The greenery opened suddenly, and he stopped below a veranda with red lacquered railings and pretty lanterns suspended from the rafters. Children could be heard inside and the softer tones of women’s voices. Akitada turned away, unwilling to offend by entering his friend’s women’s quarters.

  But then one of them, a very young and pretty one, looked out and saw him. “Here he is, Father,” she cried, and came out on the veranda, giving him a brilliant smile.

  No blackened teeth, Akitada noted with approval, but also regrettably no shyness around strange men. He resolved to have a talk with his own daughter about proper manners for young ladies.

  Kosehira joined her, also smiling brightly and waving. “There you are at last. Good morning, Elder Brother,” he shouted. “I was about to go and get you. Come up and meet my ladies and my worthless children. And then we’ll have a proper feast in your honor.”

  Akitada’s heart warmed at this invitation. He was being treated like a member of the family while he was here. He went up the steps to the veranda, embraced Kosehira and then walked eagerly into a large room which was filled with women, children, and maids, and where many places were being set with pillows and food trays. When he arrived among them, they all stopped what they were doing and fell silent.

  “Hatsuko, Ayako, and Chiyo, come meet Akitada,” Kosehira said. “This is the man I’ve been telling you about all these years.”

  Akitada blushed and bowed to three ladies in pretty silks, the oldest his own age, but with a pleasant motherly face, the next perhaps five years younger and plump, and the third a bit younger again and elegantly thin.

  Lady Hatsuko, Kosehira’s first lady, wished him welcome, apologizing for the large, noisy family. The other two bowed and smiled.

  Then came the introductions of the children, starting with the handsome young men he had met the day before. “Arihito and Arikuni you remember. Arikuni is now at the university. This little one is Arihira, a very good boy, and the baby is Arimitsu.” The “baby”, somewhat out of breath and with his silk robe untied, made a face. He was at least ten and insulted.

  Kosehira had not noticed. His face softened as he said, “And these are my little ladies.” He waved five young girls of assorted ages forward. “They are Kazuko, Masako, Motoko, Yoshiko, and Yukiko. No need to mark their names. You’ll see plenty of all my children while you’re here.”

  Akitada was still amazed that Kosehira should have grown children. The oldest of his daughters was the one who had announced him, and she looked marriageable. He did remember her
name. She was Yukiko and, given her pretty face and sparkling eyes, Akitada guessed that Kosehira would soon see her married off. Or perhaps she already was married. In many of the great families, sons-in-law moved in after marriage. But if she had a husband, he was not here this morning.

  Unlike her sisters, who had bowed prettily and silently, Yukiko said, “I’m honored, sir. Our father has told us many stories about your adventures. You have become a hero to all of us.”

  Akitada blushed, more furiously than earlier, and gave Kosehira a look. He said, “Thank you, Lady Yukiko, but you mustn’t believe everything you hear. I’m really a very dull fellow.”

  And so he was, in truth. But so friendly was Kosehira’s family, and so lively was the children’s chatter, that he soon overcame his awkwardness and joined in the conversation as the maids, assisted by two of the younger girls, brought in a delightful meal of rice gruel with fish and vegetables, a number of elegant side dishes, as well as mochi, nuts, fruit, and chilled juices.

  Akitada tried to remember the children’s names and talked to them about his own two and about the games they enjoyed.

  Kosehira and his wives smiled as they listened. “You know, Akitada,” Kosehira said, “you should send for them later this month. The great Sanno-Sai Shrine Festival will take place then. There will be a fair, and processions, and a boat race. They’ll love it and can watch with my brood.”

  His first lady joined him in urging Akitada to let his children come.

  It was a kind invitation and one that Akitada accepted with heartfelt thanks. Yasuko and Yoshi should get along well with Kosehira’s younger children. They had had little joy in their young lives.

  It was only later, as he and Kosehira were riding into Otsu to the provincial headquarters, that the conversation turned to matters of provincial security.

  “We met a large number of armed monks on our way here,” Akitada said. “I didn’t like their looks. Are they causing problems for you?”

  Kosehira rolled his eyes. “Are they! The monks of Enryaku-ji have invited every feckless lout and deserter to join them. Their recruits call themselves lay monks, but they’re just hired thugs. You can’t imagine what they get up to when they spend an evening in town.”

  Akitada could. He foresaw awkward meetings with the representatives of the temple. Not that he had much greater respect for Onjo-ji. The whole war had started many years ago when the two religious communities competed for the title of most important Buddhist center in the country. They had busily acquired land and whole villages, all of it tax free, and now had money, power, and influence even beyond those of the prime minister and perhaps the emperor himself. He felt ill-equipped to deal with their current squabble.

  But ultimately, he reassured himself, it was just a matter of interpreting the legal documents they would furnish and double-checking the archives. Somewhat cheered he turned his mind to putting the men who had travelled out with him to work. After that, Kunyoshi would be in charge, and he would be free to enjoy his visit with Kosehira and his family.

  Chapter Three

  Old Man Juro and the Gorge

  They almost arrested old man Juro the next day. That was after they found Wakiya dead in the woods. He had been battered so viciously that he had died in a pool of blood. Animals had gathered to lap up this blood, and crows were waiting in the trees, ready to swoop down for their meal.

  But he was found early by his daughter-in-law who had expected him to be lying drunk in a ditch. She had carried the broom with her, intending to make him pay for the inconvenience. Instead, she found his corpse.

  The local headman had arrived with his assistant to study the corpse and listen to the daughter-in-law’s complaints about the drunkard’s lack of consideration for his family. She wanted to know who would pay for the funeral and was there perhaps a chance to collect some blood money?

  The headman grunted and sent her for a ladder. They put the corpse on this and carried it back into the village. By then, they knew most of the story of Wakiya’s celebration and paid a visit to Juro.

  Juro was thunderstruck. “He was going straight home,” he said. “He was fine.” Then he frowned. “But he was really afraid of that daughter-in-law of his. He said she’d beat him. Did she do this? ”

  The headman considered. “Don’t think so. She was shocked. She thinks you had a fight and you killed him.”

  Juro was lucky. His old lady had woken when the two friends had staggered homeward, singing at the top of their voices. She had watched Wakiya weaving off toward his own house after Juro had come in to face her wrath.

  The headman and his people left, none the wiser about Wakiya’s killer. This did not trouble them unduly, however. After a decent wait of a day and a night in case someone volunteered information or the killer decided to confess, they let Wakiya’s daughter-in-law arrange for his funeral.

  It was a poor enough affair, even after she had made the rounds asking for donations from his friends. Juro had sacrificed his drinking money for the week. After all, poor old Wakiya had been his best pal for onward of twenty years or more. They had both worked for the same landowner, doing much of the heavy work like cutting trees, plowing, and digging irrigation ditches. It had paid off in the end; they could both stop working and farm their own plot of land.

  Juro would miss Wakiya.

  But he wasn’t one to refuse a cup of wine after the funeral, especially not when he had donated his drinking funds to the pathetic affair the two monks had provided. And so it was only days after his drinking bout with his dead friend that Juro found himself tipsy again.

  Halfway home, the thought crossed his fuzzy mind that there was a killer loose and that it was night again, and that he was walking the same road again. He came to halt and considered. The sky was moonless, being clouded over. He was still on the outskirts of the village and looked anxiously about him. All seemed quiet and peaceful. Here and there lights glimmered from a house, but no one was out and about.

  Still, better safe than sorry, reasoned Juro. He would take another path home, one that he rarely used because it skirted a rocky gorge. In rainy months it was treacherous, because the water could wash away parts of it. But it was spring and had been dry. Besides he would be careful.

  Whistling softly to give himself courage, he turned off the road and followed the path. When he got close to the gorge, he could hear the stream gurgling below. He stopped whistling and slowed down. The ground beneath his feet was rock and loose stones, and he walked close to the hillside.

  Somewhere along the way, he thought he heard some stones fall. He stopped and listened. There was not a sound, except the rushing water below. Perhaps an animal had crossed the path, he thought, and started up again, moving a little faster, anxious to get home now.

  Just before the blow fell, he heard another sound behind him, but by then it was already too late. A blinding pain exploded in his head, and he tumbled forward.

  Chapter Four

  Monks and Old Friends

  Akitada woke with a heavy head and a sour taste in his mouth. The pain in his head came a moment later. He grimaced. Sitting up late with Kosehira and drinking too many cups of his good wine had been a mistake.

  Well, the wine anyway.

  Kosehira had been a pleasure as always. No one else had his cheerful disposition and kindness. No wonder his family was such a happy one. The next thought, however, was an unfortunate comparison. Perhaps his own family life had once been as happy, or at least harmonious, but it was so no longer. Tamako was gone, and the children could not fill that void. Akitada was deeply lonely, perhaps more acutely lonely than he had been after her death, when grief had blotted out all other emotions. He found himself wishing for such a family as Kosehira’s. He too wanted laughter and the cheerful noise of women and children around him.

  He sat up and held his aching head. Well, it was not to be, and he might as well enjoy such pleasures vicariously while spending time with Kosehira and his brood.

&
nbsp; But unlike the day before, Kosehira was all business this morning. A servant had brought Akitada his bowl of rice gruel and some fruit juice, announcing that his Excellency would be leaving for the tribunal as soon as Akitada was ready.

  A governor of Kosehira’s stature traveled with a large retinue between his home and the tribunal. Akitada compared this to his recent post in Chikuzen province in Kyushu where they had found an empty tribunal with neither staff nor horses. Of course, Kosehira was a very wealthy man and closely related to the ruling Fujiwaras. It made it all the more surprising and endearing that he was a man without the slightest touch of arrogance, a simple, cheerful, friendly soul, and a very loyal friend.

  The Omi provincial headquarters, unlike those in Chikuzen, once again impressed by their size and the large number of soldiers , officials, and clerks who occupied them. Greeted by salutes and fine displays of cavalry and infantry, they rode to the main hall and dismounted.

  To Akitada’s surprise, Tora was already there and waiting for him.

  “Did you see the guard, sir?” he asked Akitada, after having saluted Kosehira in the military fashion his new rank inspired. “That’s what I call a guard. It made me wish we’d had more time in Chikuzen. I could have whipped that ragtaggle bunch of peasants into great shape.”

  Akitada said drily, “If you may recall, we barely made it out alive. I doubt if they would have taken kindly to your methods.”

  Tora grinned. “Only a matter of time and the right methods. I’d like to look around here, if you don’t need me.”

  Akitada glanced at Kosehira. “What are the plans?”

  “I’m told Enryaku-ji is sending a delegation to bid you welcome. Meanwhile you may want to see if your people have everything they need. Let me know if I can send you some of my staff.”

  Akitada controlled his irritation with Enryaku-ji. “Thank you, brother. Tora, you may look around, as you call it.”