Death on an Autumn River sa-9 Page 20

  And where would they make love? Here among the trees, or in the river pavilion, or perhaps in that little boat he had seen tied to it? On cushions in the darkness under low branches overhanging the river while the boat rocked gently . . .” His hands explored her body through the layers of silk.

  “Come,” said she, slipping from his arms and leaving him bereft. Below the applause died away and the asobi left the stage. For a moment, he thought that her mind was also on making love, but she said, “It is time to eat.”

  Time to eat?

  How unromantic an ending to romance!

  How banal a response to his lust.

  Ashamed of his passion, he followed her down the hillside. When she slipped once, he caught her arm. She laughed softly and leaned against him for a moment. Thoroughly aroused by now, he was glad that he did not have to walk far.

  People were taking their seats as servants moved among them to pour wine and offer bowls of fragrant delicacies. His companion knelt close to him, directing the servants to bring him this and that. He looked at her lips and wished he knew her name. Refusing food, he drank thirstily of the wine. She made conversation, and he answered somehow. He was still too much aware of her body near his to know what they said. All the while, he hoped that she would tell him when it was time.

  Only once he forced his eyes away from her and looked around. The serving women were pretty enough, and he saw some virile and handsome young men. Tora’s tale came to his mind, but why, he wondered, had his hostess invited him when she had so many more appealing males in her service? And why had she provided him with this exquisite companion?

  He drank in her beauty and grace. She leaned forward to pour more wine for him. Then, looking into his eyes, she took a sip from his cup and turned it so his lips would touch where hers had been.

  A promise.

  “Where is our hostess?” he asked nervously, his eyes on the bead of moisture on her lower lip.

  “Oh, she may appear later.” She let the tip of her tongue catch the trace of wine. “She’s probably watching us.”

  Startled, Akitada looked toward the buildings, but the brightness of torches and lanterns made it impossible to see into rooms and galleries. Perhaps the lady of the River Mansion was like some men who enjoyed to watch others copulate? The thought cooled his ardor, and he gave the cup a slight turn before he drank.

  “Did you ever meet a young woman called Akogi here?” he asked when he put down the cup. “I’m told she was still in training.”

  She stiffened and her eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask about other women? Am I not good enough? Have I offended?” Her lower lip trembled. “You hurt me deeply with your coldness. A little while ago, I thought you liked me. I was happy because I like you very much.” To his dismay, her eyes filled with tears, and she gave a small sob.

  He was contrite. “Forgive me. I do like you very much. It would be wonderful if you would . . . if we could . . .”

  A man’s voice cut into this awkward declaration. “Forgive me, but I don’t think we’ve met. We didn’t travel down together, did we?”

  He turned, flushing with embarrassment. A middle-aged guest, seated near him in a deep red brocade robe over moss-colored trousers, peered at them curiously. He, too, had a very pretty woman beside him. The man was someone he had seen before, in the capital, but he could not place him. He bowed awkwardly. “No, sir. I have come from the town. My name is Sugawara. Her ladyship kindly invited me.”

  “Ah, our princess,” laughed the other. “She’s always had an eye for interesting men. You must be the Sugawara who solves murders for our police.”

  Akitada did not work for the police, but rather with them on occasion, but he did not correct his neighbor. “I had no idea that my occasional activities in that line should make me an attractive guest at a party. I’m sorry, sir. I think we have met, but it must have been at one of the many official functions.”

  The man grinned. “No doubt. I’m Yorisuke, of the chancellor’s clan. Are you enjoying yourself? I see you’ve won the beauteous Nakagimi as your companion. Lucky man.”

  So her name was Nakagimi. And she was considered a prize. He had a lot to learn. He gave her a smile-which was received coldly-and said, “I’m the most fortunate of men and hardly able to understand such good fortune yet.” He thought her expression softened a little and wished his neighbor would lose interest in him.

  He did. After a few remarks about the earlier entertainment, he turned his attention to his companion.

  Akitada, who had noticed similar familiar behavior between the guests and their companions, reached for Nakagimi’s hand. “I have offended,” he said humbly. “Forgive me. I told you that I’m a mere novice at this and hardly know what to say to someone as enchanting as you.”

  She gave a little laugh and squeezed his fingers. He was forgiven. On an impulse, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. She gave a little gasp and, becoming bolder, he moved his lips to her wrist and from there to her inner forearm.

  “That servant is staring at us,” she murmured, withdrawing her arm.

  He looked up. One of the male servers had come to a halt a few yards away and positively goggled at them. Akitada’s eyes focused.

  No, it could not be!

  Jumping up, he cried, “Sadenari?”

  A broad smile split the young man’s face. He pushed the tray he was carrying at another servant and came quickly across. “Why, sir, here you are in person. I’ve been wondering when I’d finally hear from you. Frankly, I was getting worried. How very fortunate to find you.” He glanced at Akitada’s companion and said, “And with Nakagimi. My compliments, sir.”

  “Find me?” said Akitada, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. “What are you doing, playing the servant here?”

  Sadenari had the grace to blush. “Shhh, sir. Not so loud.”

  They had become the focus of interest. The Fujiwara lord and his companion were frankly fascinated. And Nakagimi? She was rising to her feet, gracefully but with every sign of being deeply affronted, and walking away.

  Akitada felt a murderous rage.

  The Fujiwara lord chuckled. “Now you’ve done it, Sugawara. She won’t come back, you know.”

  Realizing that he must give some explanation, Akitada said, “I beg your pardon, sir, for the disturbance, but this young man, for whom I bear a responsibility, has been the object of a desperate search for the past two weeks. I did not expect to find him here.”

  This caused more merriment.

  “Ah, these youngsters!” his lordship said. “They cannot resist pretty women. Just a few days ago, Oga, the local governor, stormed in here, looking for his son. Ha, ha, ha. Well, go easy on him. It’s part of a man’s education after all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Island

  The sun rose brilliantly after the storm, and all around them islands floated on a shimmering sea, some larger and some very small.

  The one they approached was pitifully small, apparently consisting of no more than a large picturesque rock formation with a few pines clinging to it and a narrow strip of sandy beach. Tora saw neither buildings nor people.

  Under the clearing morning skies, the pirates had got busy setting as much sail as was left. They steered the ship along the small island’s coast. Eventually, a promontory blocked the way. They took the vessel close to the land. Tora saw no reason why they would want to land here. The place was desolate and inhospitable. For that matter, the rocks loomed dangerously close. It looked almost as if they planned to ram the ship into them.

  When they were almost exactly under the tallest cliff, a shout rang out from it, and the sailors answered with cheers and laughter. A lookout had seen and welcomed them. They were among friends.

  They reefed the remaining sail and put men on the oars and the rudders. The ship slowed and made a turn around the promontory, and there was an inlet, a narrow opening between two sheer walls of rock. With the ease of experience, the sh
ip entered and passed the narrows to come to rest in a small bay. Here the land fell more gently toward the water, a few shacks stood on the beach, and fishing boats were drawn up on the sand.

  A new worry seized Tora. The secret entrance into this hidden cove, where the pirate ship could lie at anchor without being seen from the open sea, made it the perfect hideaway. If a pirate ship found itself pursued, it could disappear with an almost supernatural suddenness, and the pursuers would be none the wiser. He had witnessed this maneuver, found their hideaway, and could recognize the landmarks. They would not let him leave to reveal their secret to the world.

  As they anchored, men and women appeared on the shore to greet them. Tora counted more people than could comfortably live in the few shacks, so there must be a settlement somewhere. He had no time to reflect on this, because the pirates lowered the boat and came for him.

  No bonds this time, but neither were they gentle with him. They grunted commands to get in the boat and watched impatiently as he tried to climb down, holding on to a rope. The rope chafed his already raw hands, and he fell the last few feet, getting a kick for his clumsiness. After that, he sat, cradling his sore palms, while they rowed ashore.

  There he suffered the curious scrutiny of the women, children, and old men. From their excited babble in a strong dialect, he deduced that he was being introduced as a “spy” and their prisoner. He looked around for a male who might be the chief mentioned by Dragon Tattoo but saw no one who fit his idea of a pirate chief.

  A number of the returned sailors, with Dragon Tattoo in the lead, marched him inland.

  The dirt path was well-travelled and showed wheel tracks but no hoof marks. Apparently goods were moved by manpower. Rocky mountain sides, thinly covered with pines and brambles enclosed the track. After about half a mile of steady climbing, Tora saw cave openings, several of them, and it occurred to him that these men lived in caves. Then he smelled smoke. And food cooking. If his mouth had not been so dry, it would have watered. He realized his hunger and thirst were much greater than his fear. Would they feed him before they killed him? He decided he would refuse to speak until he got some food and water.

  The path took a few more turns before they reached a plateau. This was surrounded by sheer rock walls pierced by many openings. In front of a large cave entrance was an open fire with a large pot suspended over it. A woman stirred it with a wooden ladle. A short distance from her sat a middle-aged man on a campaign stool of the kind used by generals during a campaign. He had a thick black beard and bushy brows, wore half armor and boots, and had a sword lying beside him. He raised a hand in greeting to Dragon Tattoo before his eyes fell on Tora.

  This, then, must be the chief, the man who held his life in his hands. Tora returned the look with equal curiosity.

  “Bring him!” The chief’s voice boomed and echoed from the mountainside. Tora thought it appropriate for a commander of an army.

  Dragon Tattoo grasped Tora’s arm, thrusting him forward so that he stumbled and fell to one knee. Catching himself, Tora shook a fist at Dragon Tattoo and then walked the few steps to the pirate chief.

  “Hah!” said the chief. “You think you can threaten one of my men?”

  “He’s a coward and a bastard who likes to hurt people.”

  Dragon Tattoo ran up with a snarl, his own fist raised.

  “No,” said the chief. “He’s right. You are a coward and I’ve seen you torturing prisoners. Tell me why you decided to bring a stranger here.”

  Dragon Tattoo shot Tora a furious glance, but he lowered his fist. “He’s a spy, chief. He was asking questions about us.”

  The chief glowered. “And you thought it was a good idea to show him our island? What am I to do with him?”

  Dragon Tattoo’s face fell for a moment. Then he said, “You can find out who he works for before I kill him. No harm done.” He chortled.

  “You’re not only a coward, you’re an idiot!” the chief roared, getting to his feet so violently that his stool fell over.

  Tora saw that the others gathered around the fire where the woman was dishing out helpings of whatever was in the large pot. He was ravenous. “If you don’t mind, chief,” he said, breaking into the ominous silence before the storm, “I’d very much like something to eat and drink before you go on with this. Your men haven’t been exactly hospitable.”

  The chief’s jaw dropped. He looked at Tora speechlessly for a moment, then burst into a laugh. “You’re a cool bastard. What if I let Tojo kill you? He wants to badly enough, don’t you, Tojo?”

  Tojo cringed but nodded his head. “I’ll do it, chief. Right here and now. Just say the word.”

  Tora gave him a pitying look. “He can’t do it. Not unless you have me tied up again.”

  Dragon Tattoo exploded into another attack, fists flying. Tora skipped aside, stuck out a leg to trip him and, when he was down, sat on him. “You see?” he said to the chief with a grin.

  The chief grinned back. “Let him go and get something to eat. We’ll talk later.”

  Tora got up. “Thanks, chief. And by the way, the name’s Tora.”

  The food was good and plentiful, fish cooked with rice. The rice was of the best quality, very white and with a rich flavor. It was what the wealthy ate. No doubt, it came from those bales he could see stacked inside the cave. Life was good to pirates.

  The chief was now deep in conversation with the man who had been at the rudder of the ship, its captain or master. A small but heavy bag changed hands. The chief peered into it, then shoved it inside his shirt. He said something, and both men turned their heads to look at Tora. Tora quickly raised his bowl to his face. He was nearly done and still hungry. Holding the empty bowl out to the woman who was stirring the pot, he gave her a pleading look. She spat and turned her back on him.

  “Fill his bowl!” roared the chief.

  She glared at Tora but gave him another helping. He bowed to the chief and thanked her, adding a compliment on her cooking. In vain. She turned away.

  Tora sighed. A spy’s life was hard.

  And dangerous.

  Dragon Tattoo came for his own meal and gave Tora a look of such sheer hatred that he choked on his next bite. The chief might be a man of some humanity, but the same did not apply to his people. There was little doubt that Dragon Tattoo would kill him at his first opportunity.

  Tora finished his food and felt better. There was nothing to do but to await developments. The fact that no one made a move to unload the ship meant that they had made a delivery in Kawajiri and been paid off. That was why the master had passed a bag of money to the chief. Perhaps he could find out who had bought the pirated goods.

  He glanced around and saw nothing but hardened faces. The chances of getting information were not good. He had better think about getting away and let the government take care of the pirate hideout.

  Chances were that on its next departure the ship would resume the hunt for prey. He could not escape that way. And even if he could convince the chief that he was a promising recruit, Tora shuddered at what he would be expected to do. Pirates were ruthless about slaughtering ships’ crews.

  Was there some other way?

  The plateau around the great cave was high above the sea but enclosed by rocky ridges and forest. Only toward the west, he could catch a glimpse of the water. He saw two other islands, fairly close, and knew there were many more. But even so, he could not hope to swim that far.

  “You! Tora! Come here.”

  Tora spun around. The chief was gesturing. He got up, dusted himself off, and strolled over.

  “They say you’re a spy,” the chief growled.

  Tora chose a rock and sat down across from the chief. “They’re idiots,” he said, grinning.

  The chief narrowed his eyes. “What were you doing in the hostel?”

  “I needed a place to sleep. What else?”

  “You’d been asking questions all over town. Don’t lie to me.”

  “I always ask q
uestions. I like to know what’s going on and who people are.”

  “You asked questions about us.”

  “No. I didn’t know anything about you. I asked about pirates.”

  “Why?”

  Tora looked up at the sky. After the storm it was a clear blue again. High above him circled several birds of prey. Below he could hear the cries of gulls. “I was thinking of becoming one,” he said, “but now I’m not so sure. Are you going to split that money with your men?”

  “What?”

  Tora brought his eyes back to the chief’s bulging shirt and grinned. “The master of your ship brought you a bag of coins. It looked heavy. Maybe it was gold. Anyway, I guess being a pirate is a dangerous and bloody business. I’d like to think there’s quite a lot of gold to be earned. The food was good, but I don’t work for food alone.”

  “You’re a cocky bastard all right,” said the chief. “Cocky bastards are trouble. Best make short work of them.”

  “Cocky bastards are what you need more of. Not idiots like Dragon Tattoo. And by the way, he stole my sword. I want it back.”

  The chief snorted. “He took it off you; you take it back. I’d like to see you try.”

  “Very well.” Tora got to his feet. “It’s been a pleasure, chief,” he said, made a slight bow, and walked away.

  He did not really feel very cocky, but by now and with a full stomach he was very angry. Part of the anger was directed at himself for having been careless. Part was directed at Dragon Tattoo, the man he held responsible for his capture. It had become clear that the bastard had acted out of personal spite rather than because he really thought Tora was a spy and a danger to their enterprise. Sometimes a fool is more dangerous than the slyest villain.

  Since they made no effort to restrict his movements, he wandered around, trying to get an idea how to get away. They watched him though, and he knew better than to go off by himself. Instead, he stayed with groups of the pirates, watching their work, asking questions from time to time that received no answers, and surveying as much of the island as he could.