Death on an Autumn River Read online

  He sketched a bow. “You’re very kind. I’m a stranger here. And you?” He hoped her answer would tell him if she was from the town and brought here to entertain the noble guests, or if she had arrived on the boat and was some nobleman’s relative.

  It was, of course, very improper for a noblewoman to be here among strange men. No, surely she was a courtesan, and they had done him proud. She was young and very beautiful.

  She smiled behind her fan. “I’ve come here before. The lady of the River Mansion gives the most charming entertainments. Are you fond of music, my Lord?”

  He glanced at the stage, where two dancers now twirled and jumped. Some battle between ancient gods, perhaps? Yes, he thought one of them was the god of the sea. The music had taken on a more dramatic and martial sound. “I am very fond of it,” he said. “And the dancers are excellent.”

  “Come.” She touched his arm with her fan and allowed him a glimpse of a softly rounded face and full lips, “I know a place where you can see better.”

  He followed her, the bemusement back because the situation was so odd. He found it easier to go along with it than to object. They skirted the stage and took a path up a tree-covered hillside. She walked very gracefully. From his viewpoint slightly below, he could not help guessing at the youthful body underneath the gown. The jacket fit closely to her back and waist. She was slender but had rounded hips and long, shapely legs under the rose-colored silk of her gown.

  The wind had died down, and the night seemed uncomfortably humid. He ran a finger along his collar and looked back over his shoulder. What must people think? The other guests, men with one or two young women beside them, were entranced by the dancers on the platform. None of the women compared to his companion, he thought, though they were pretty enough. He recognized one or two of the men. They outranked him, and his only contact had been mutual attendance at some mandatory court gathering. He hoped they had not noticed him.

  She stopped on a small knoll above the garden and gestured at the scene below. “You see? They will soon bring on the asobi. Have you seen an asobi performance before?”

  He knew that they were specially trained entertainers among courtesans, but that was all. “No,” he said. “I’m sadly at a loss on occasions like this.”

  She laughed softly. “You have missed much, my Lord.”

  Perhaps he had. She was lovely in the half light. The torches below did not reach this far, but they cast a golden glow on her graceful head and that glossy hair. It occurred to him that they were not only alone together, but that the brightly lit scene below them meant that they were hidden from the eyes of others. A man might dare anything. He reached out to brush a wing of her hair aside to see her face better. “Yes,” he said with a sigh, “I have missed much, and you are very beautiful.” It was neither elegant nor poetic, and he cringed inwardly. A woman like this, experienced in the language of seduction and desire, must think him as awkward as a schoolboy.

  But she turned to him and lowered her fan. Her eyes shone, and a smile parted her lips. Her teeth were blackened. He had never liked the custom, but now the darkness beyond those soft, red lips increased his desire powerfully. Mysteries were to be explored. He took a step toward her.

  Sudden applause from below distracted him. The music had stopped and the stage was empty. A woman in brilliant red and white stood on it. She wore a man’s hat, but her long hair flowed behind her like a mantle, covering the red hunting jacket and the full white silk trousers. A sword was pushed through her sash, and she held a pair of small drums. He had heard of that style and thought it ridiculous and highly improper for a woman to dress in man’s clothing, but here the strangeness of her appearance, that unexpected twist on commonly held perceptions of the differences between men and women, was fascinating and part of the magic of this night. The woman below began a slow dance, beating the rhythm on her drums. The musicians joined in, softly and tentatively.

  “The shirabyoshi Koro,” his companion whispered in his ear. She was very close to him; he could feel her breath on his cheek. “She is wonderful and much admired.” Her sleeve brushed his and he breathed in her scent.

  “She will never be a charming as you,” he said gallantly and smiled into her eyes. A part of him wondered what he was about. It was not like him to pursue a courtesan, but on this warm and scented night, with the river plashing softly below them, this extraordinary and licentious gathering had worked a change in him. He suddenly felt that he had become a staid and joyless official long before his time. He was not an old man, but he had not really lived, had never tasted the pleasures that were available here. How could he be fully human without knowing this part of a man’s life also? Life was uncertain enough, and death waited at every turning of the road.

  “Listen!” she said, her eyes bright with promise.

  The shirabyoshi sang. She had a full, warm voice that carried on the sudden silence. “No bower of roses for me,” she sang. “I’ll never be a wife.”

  He reached for the woman beside him and bent his head to kiss her.

  “Oh, love in vain . . .”

  Their lips touched. She opened hers and reached up to caress his cheek.

  “ . . . naked breast pressed to naked breast.”

  The blatant words of the song both shocked him and stirred his desire. Perversely, he was also moved by the sadness of the courtesan who made love to men who did not care about her.

  Naked breast to naked breast.

  His companion’s scent was in his nostrils, his tongue in her mouth, tasting sweetness. He wanted her desperately. “What are you?” he asked hoarsely into her hair. “Are you . . .?” How to ask this woman if she was available? The difficulties were immense. And how to handle the transaction? The only time he had experienced something similar, the woman had been an ordinary prostitute who had offered herself, and a piece of silver was all she had expected. He had no idea how much he should offer a woman like this one. Or if an offer would be insulting. Would she accept gold, or was he expected to give her gifts?

  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 ship 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.