The Emperor's woman Page 20

  “I would call them fortunate accidents. They are common and easily treated, except in cases where the victims have an unreasonable dislike of even a small moment’s pain.”

  Akitada hated the man. How dare he speak to him this way? How dare he suggest that he could take no pain? How dare he insult him in this manner? He looked past the shaven head to Tamako, who stood by expectantly and with a smile on her face. Feeling resentful, his eyes returned to the smooth face of the monk. “A moment’s pain? A fortunate accident? Is nothing broken or torn?”

  “I don’t think there is any damage. And yes, it will hurt quite a lot for a moment, but after that you’ll feel much better, and soon you’ll not remember the pain at all.”

  “Must you pull my arm?”

  “Yes.”

  Akitada closed his eyes. “Do it then,” he said ungraciously and prepared himself to bear the procedure without making a sound. He’d show them.

  The masseur felt around the joint one more time, then reached for Akitada’s wrist and gave his arm a single powerful jerk and a twist.

  White-hot agony sliced through Akitada’s shoulder. The effort not to cry out caused him to become absolutely rigid from the soles of his feet to his head. He dimly heard his bones come together with an odd, slippery sound and felt an immediate relief.

  “There,” said the masseur. “That should do it. Keep your arm still for a day. I’m told your doctor left some medicine for pain. I’ll only rub on a little ointment. It won’t hurt.”

  Akitada opened his eyes slowly. The pain was almost gone, and the relief was overwhelming. The ointment felt pleasantly hot on his skin. He said, “Thank you. Please forgive me for doubting your skill.”

  A small smile twitched the masseur’s lips. “It was nothing. As I said, a fortunate accident. I’ll take my leave. Not all my patients are as easy to cure.”

  Feeling the implied reprimand, Akitada flushed. “I believe payment is in order,” he said to establish a more proper relationship.

  “A piece of silver will do.”

  He was not cheap. Akitada eyed the slender figure with the shaven head. The man belonged to the lower classes, perhaps even to the untouchables, but his speech was educated. Though his manner had hardly been proper, he had done his job well and must be paid. “Tamako, please get the money.”

  As Tamako paid the masseur, putting the money in his hand and adding her thanks, Tora came back in. He eyed the masseur with interest. “You must be the one who treated a friend of mine. He was attacked and got a bad head wound. You took care of him at the beggars’ temple. His name’s Saburo.”

  The masseur cocked his head in Tora’s direction. “It may be so. A friend of yours, you say?”

  Akitada said, “Saburo worked for me. If you have treated him, it’s only right that I should pay his debt also.”

  The masseur hesitated. “Thank you. But it was nothing. I treat the poor without taking pay.”

  “Then I’m sure you can use the money,” Tamako said. “It was a kindness, and we’re grateful.” Tamako pressed another piece of silver into Bashan’s hand.

  Bashan bowed, then felt around for his staff. Tora handed it to him, and led him out.

  “What an odd character,” muttered Akitada. “I think I’ll change now.” Assisted by Tamako, he struggled out of his wet, torn, and filthy clothes and put on dry ones. His left arm was still fairly useless and somewhat painful, but he found he could tuck it inside his robe where it was adequately supported. He was beginning to feel almost human again and decided to sit down behind his desk. Tamako watched him, smiling to see him so greatly improved.

  Suddenly he felt a rush of happiness and gratitude. He had almost died on the mountain. Certainly his attacker had intended him to die. Tears came to his eyes. He was ashamed that he had behaved like a spoiled child.

  “I’ve been foolish and careless, and I’ve given you a very hard time,” he told his wife. “Please forgive me.”

  Tamako laughed softly. “You were in great pain and protested. It’s what people do when they’re hurt. Oh, Akitada, I’m so happy you’re back.”

  The door opened and Tora was back. “Good man, that Bashan. I don’t think I could’ve done as well as you, sir. All that rough handling to pull you up the mountainside, and then the awful shaking on the litter.”

  “You saved my life, Tora. You might have fallen yourself.” Akitada paused, frowning. “I thought I heard you talking to me, but I must have been dreaming.”

  “It was me. Telling you not to move. You were lying on this very narrow ledge.”

  “Good heaven.” Akitada grimaced. In his carelessness, he had risked not only his own life, but also those of Tora and the brave constables. And he had gained little or nothing from his trip. He wondered if he should tell them about the attack and decided against it. No sense in frightening Tamako now that he was safe.

  He said, “I’m afraid I haven’t made any progress. There were a few scuffed footprints in one of the rooms, and a thread or two of blue silk and some drops of blood. I’m convinced she was struck with that bo and then dropped off the promontory.”

  Tora shuddered. “Who would do such a thing? What if she was still alive when he pushed her over?”

  Tamako had turned white. “Oh, how terrible!”

  “Yes,” Akitada said heavily. “The killer was very cruel.”

  Tamako shook her head, and he extended his good hand to her.

  Tora cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve some chores to do,” he muttered and left quickly.

  Akitada pulled Tamako down beside him, put his good arm around her, and kissed her hungrily. He was incredibly happy to be alive.

  But the door flew open again, and Akiko rushed in. “There you are, Brother. Thank heaven you’re all right.” She took in the scene. “You can do that later. I think I’ve solved your case. Just wait till you hear.”

  The Novice

  Akitada released his wife. He was touched. His sister had never shown much fondness for him in the past. “Thank you, Akiko. I’m quite well on the whole. Just a little bruised from the fall.”

  “There, you see, Tamako? He’s taken a tumble, that’s all.”

  Tamako shook her head. “He might have died,” she said. “Or been more badly injured. He fell quite far. They had to transport him on a litter.”

  Akiko stared at her brother. “You mean someone really tried to kill you?”

  “Nothing so dramatic. I slipped and fell, that’s all.”

  “Clumsy of you,” his sister remarked.

  Akitada smiled and nodded.

  Tamako made an impatient gesture. “Well, there was that warning. I really wish Akitada hadn’t got himself involved in Prince Atsuhira’s problems again. It’s dangerous and has already caused nothing but trouble.”

  “What warning?” Akitada asked.

  Tamako explained about the note tied to the rock. “And you hadn’t come home. You really must be more careful in the future.”

  Akiko would have none of it. “Oh, come on! You make it sound as if there were assassins lurking around every corner. As you see, Akitada’s quite capable of falling down mountains on his own. Anyway, I’ve found Lady Masako’s companion, Akitada. I sent her a note and got an answer. What do you think of that?”

  The news about the threat troubled Akitada, but now he brightened. “You did? Good work, sister. What does she say?”

  “She’s a Lady Hiroko, and she’ll meet me tomorrow. We must put our heads together to see what questions I should ask her.”

  Akitada smiled and shook his head. “Thanks, but I think I’d better handle that.”

  His sister stiffened and raised her chin. “Oh, no, you don’t. Not after all the work I did.”

  Akitada exchanged a glance with his wife. “Akiko,” he said reasonably, “It is my case. Besides, it isn’t at all suitable for such matters to be handled by women.”

  “What? And this from my own brother?” Akiko glowered and even Tamako looked at him
with raised brows.

  “Well, the subject of such a scandalous affair is hardly something that should be discussed by ladies.”

  They both burst out laughing.

  Akiko said, “You have very little notion of what women talk about, brother. And that means you’re not qualified to conduct your investigations in women’s pavilions.”

  “She is right, Akitada,” Tamako said. “Besides, it isn’t quite proper for you to speak to a lady you are not related to.”

  Akitada frowned. “I’ve done so before and will do so again. Lady Kishi received me, and she surely outranks this Hiroko.”

  Akiko said, “You were with her cousin. Besides Lady Kishi is a married woman and of such rank that no one questions her behavior.”

  Akitada’s head started throbbing again. “No,” he said. “I can’t risk it. Perhaps we can pay the visit together?”

  The women looked at each other. Akiko said, “Very well. But I want to know what will be discussed and I want to ask my own questions.” She got up. “Now I must run. Guests, remember?” And with a nod to Akitada and a touch to Tamako’s shoulder, she was gone.

  “You have created a monster,” Akitada said accusingly.

  “Not I. Your sister is a great deal like you. And now she has found a way to prove herself. You should really give her credit sometimes. She feels you don’t approve of her.”

  Akitada had the grace to flush. “Akiko irritates me with her selfish ways and her pursuit of rank and fortune.”

  “Yes, though that is a woman’s role once she is married and has children to care about. Her own aspirations no longer exist, and she becomes a mother.”

  Akitada thought about this for a moment, then changed the subject. “I could eat something.”

  After another dose of Doctor Kumada bitter medicine and a rather large meal-after all, he had not eaten for more than a day-he became so sleepy that he allowed Tamako to spread out his bedding again. There he fell into a deep sleep from which he did not awake until longer after dark.

  When he opened his eyes, they fell on Tora, who sat at his desk, frowning over a book by the light of a candle.

  “What’s the matter?” Akitada asked. “Don’t you like the story?”

  Tora’s smile flashed. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

  Akitada thought about it. “Quite well. Have I slept until night?” He sat up. “How are you? Did you have your evening rice?”

  “Yes. That and my midday rice also. Shall I go to the kitchen for something for you? The fires are still on, I think.”

  Akitada got to his feet and stretched those limbs that seemed well. He yawned. “Yes, go get us both a snack. Then we’ll discuss progress on the two cases.”

  “Yes, sir!” cried Tora enthusiastically and dashed off.

  Akitada resumed his place behind his desk. The scroll Tora had been reading was the Tale of Ise, an illustrated poetry collection. He had probably been attracted by the many scenes of a man and a woman meeting in romantic settings. The poet Narihira had been a famous lover. The text was elegantly written, but the brush style was beyond Tora’s skills. Akitada rolled up the scroll and tied the silk ribbons.

  Prince Atsuhira had been compared to this same poet. Perhaps he had eventually tried to live up to him. Or had he compared himself to Prince Genji, the fictional son of an emperor who had traded succession for the life of a rake? Akitada did not know the answer, and it struck him that the prince’s character was not the issue. It was far more important to understand Lady Masako. What had caused her to commit such a flagrantly scandalous, foolish, and disloyal act as to take a lover so openly while serving His Majesty?

  Akiko had been a great help by finding and contacting Masako’s companion. The two women had lived together in the imperial apartments, and this Lady Hiroko had probably been in her confidence. Even if Masako had not confided in her, a companion would have been in an excellent position to observe her. He grudgingly admitted to himself that Akiko had done very well. And he found that he actually looked forward to accompanying his sister on their visit to the lady.

  Tora returned, carrying a heavily laden tray. His face shone with satisfaction. “Cook has for once done right by you,” he announced. “I almost didn’t recognize the evil goblin. She was all smiles, gathering the finest morsels for her injured master.” He set down the tray. It held a large array of bowls and dishes, containing both hot and cold foods. “Some wine to wash it down with?”

  Akitada nodded. He was not particularly hungry, but the food smelled good and he had wanted a cup of wine for a long time.

  They drank and ate, reaching for whatever struck their fancy. Between bites, they talked, exchanging observations about the prince’s villa, the two caretakers, the doubtful evidence of the bo, the equally unreliable signs of a struggle in the villa.

  Then Tora made his report.

  He told Akitada about meeting Saburo and visiting Genba.

  This pleased Akitada. “Has he changed his mind about leaving?”

  “Who? Genba?” Tora glowered. “The big lout is as stubborn as an ox.”

  Akitada shook his head. “It’s my fault, I think. He must’ve taken amiss something I said. What about Saburo?”

  “Do you want him back?”

  “Yes. Especially now. You didn’t mention the note you found.”

  “Oh. Sorry. It slipped my mind. It was probably nothing.”

  Akitada knew better, but he did not mention the attack.

  “Saburo’s found a job and is managing quite well, but I think he misses the children.”

  This astonished Akitada. “The children? I would have thought he’d have no interest in children.”

  Tora grinned. “I’ve watched him. He’s shy around them, but I know he buys them sweets and toys, and they like him. It’s bribery, of course, but I guess he’s lonely. Now there’s a man who needs a family.”

  They both sighed and shook their heads.

  “What about Tokuzo’s murder?” Akitada asked.

  “I talked to Shokichi, I thought maybe she could be relied on to provide useful information to help her friend.”

  Akitada nodded.

  “Well, aside from the fact that nobody liked Tokuzo and that all the women hated him because he beat them, there were only two women who actually died. They were both young. Miyagi grew up in the capital. Her family has moved away, no one knows where. Tokuzo gave her something to get rid of a child, and she bled to death.”

  Akitada grimaced. “That’s barbaric. What about the warden? Did he investigate the death?”

  “In the quarter such things are common. The women often swallow the wrong medicine or do things to themselves because they know they can’t work when they’re with child.

  “What happened to the other one?” Akitada asked, shaking his head.

  “She was thrown from the balcony to the yard below and died. Shokichi says a drunken and irate customer did it.”

  “Not Tokuzo then?”

  “No, but the girls blamed him anyway. They said he should never have given Ozuru to a brute like that. She was small, frail, and shy.”

  “Was the man arrested?”

  “Yes, but he claimed she stole money from him and when he chased after her, she jumped. Shokichi says Ozuru would never steal money, and the customer was known to abuse the women.” I went to see her family. Her father is dead. The mother is very poor. They hold no grudge. In fact, they are grateful to that bastard Tokuzo and sold two more girls.”

  Akitada raised his brows. “To him?”

  “No, but it proves how they feel.”

  “Yes. What a thing to do to your child! You say both girls were young?”

  “Fourteen and fifteen.”

  Akitada thought of another case, that of the young girl who had been murdered in the brothel town of Eguchi not so long ago. Then, too, he had thought of his own daughter. Yasuko was not the child of poor peasants, but that did not necessarily protect a young woman. Lady Masako was
proof of that. He seemed to think frequently about the fate of young women these days. They faced as many dangers as young men who went to war.

  “I see.” Akitada sighed. “Inconclusive.”

  A silence fell.

  “Well,” said Akitada after a while, “talk to Saburo again and tell him what you just told me. Try to enlist his help in identifying the killer. And tell him to come back. We need him. If he cares about the children, he’ll come.”

  Tora nodded. “What about Lady Masako? Do you want me to talk to Lord Masaie’s cook again?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway. I hope to get the information from her companion.”

  The next day, Akitada and his sister set out for the Koryu-ji, a small but venerable temple outside the capital. They were on horseback. Akitada wore his brown hunting coat over blue trousers tucked into boots and his sword. To his relief, Akiko, who loved bright colors, had chosen a dark gray silk gown. She also wore the broad straw hat with a veil worn by upper-class women on journeys to holy places.

  As soon as they left the busy city streets behind, Akiko threw back the veil with a laugh.

  “Oh, how I love this, Akitada,” she cried. “What a delightful outing! And it’s spring, and the sun shines on us. I’m as free as any young peasant girl to enjoy the day.”

  Akitada was not having a delightful time. He had woken to aches and pains over his entire body. There were large bruises in places he had not noticed the day before. Of course, the agony of his shoulder might well have canceled out all other discomforts. His body now exhibited the signs of every impact and scrape of his unfortunate tumble. Sitting in the saddle and bumping along at a trot did nothing to soothe his misery.

  His irritation mounting, he said, “We have a serious purpose, Akiko. A young woman has died, a woman younger than you who also desired greater freedom. She, too, rode out from the confines of her life in the city, but she rode to her death.”

  Akiko’s face fell. “You always spoil everything.” She urged her horse on and galloped ahead.

  Akitada bit his lip against and caught up with her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no right to spoil your day. Please forgive me. I’m still hurting a little, and the story of Lady Masako has affected me more deeply than I thought.”