Death on an Autumn River (A Sugawara Akitada Novel) Page 23

They sailed westwards. Akitada and Watamaro reclined on cushions in the cabin. Watamaro had poured wine and offered refreshments, but Akitada was too impatient and sick with worries to do more than take a sip or two.

  Watamaro was cheerful and reassuring. “My men know the area well. We should reach Azukishima by midday, and then we’ll simply call at every island in the vicinity until we find them. We may find them sooner, if the storm has damaged the ship.”

  “Thank you.” Akitada frowned. Watamaro seemed very sure. But then the man must be thoroughly familiar with the Inland Sea. “How is it,” he asked, “that you have not been able to stop these pirates? A man with your means and knowledge of the sea routes surely is in the best position to do so?”

  Watamaro chuckled. “Nobody has asked me to do so, and a man in my business cannot afford to act on his own. People would never forgive me.”

  Astonished, Akitada asked, “Your people would not forgive you? I don’t understand. These pirates are men of no mercy who kill and steal at will. Surely, by capturing them you would win praise and gratitude.”

  “Ah, but the pirates are our people, my Lord. They are the fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons of people living around the Inland Sea. Most were poor fishermen who turned to piracy when they couldn’t earn a living catching fish.”

  Akitada shook his head. “Thieves are thieves. The ones in the capital may be said to be of the people also, and most are poorer than your fishermen. Our country has been blessed with rivers, lakes, and oceans that provide our food in great abundance. There is no excuse for not reaping the harvest when others starve.”

  Watamaro nodded. “You’re quite right, of course. I was simply explaining the bonds that exist and make it difficult to arrest pirates. They are protected by local people. And on the whole, they do little enough damage. The days when pirates worked for great lords who raised their arms against our divine emperor are over.”

  “Perhaps, and perhaps not.”

  Watamaro fidgeted and changed the subject, talking instead of famous places and telling stories about local gods and goddesses. Akitada was reminded of the tale the Fujiwara lady had mentioned. He asked, “Have you heard anything about the lady in the River Mansion outside Eguchi?”

  Watamaro threw back his head and laughed. “The daughter of the Dragon King?” He stopped laughing. “Oh, forgive me. That was very rude of me. I don’t know her, but I’ve heard the stories.” His eyes twinkled again but he suppressed more mirth. “Why do you ask?”

  Akitada made a face. “Apparently she entertains a good deal, inviting friends from the capital to sample what the Eguchi brothels have to offer.”

  Watamaro cocked his head. “You don’t approve?”

  “No. Not when children become part of the entertainment.”

  “Ah. This happens?”

  “Yes. One of them died in the river below the mansion. It isn’t clear whether she committed suicide or . . .” Akitada let his voice trail off.

  Watamaro was no longer laughing. He sounded angry. “A child? The young girl you mentioned at Nakahara’s dinner?”

  “Yes. She looked no more than fourteen. The brothel was grooming her for a ‘presentation’.”

  Watamaro clenched his fists. “For one of the nobles from the capital, I take it. Our masters take whatever they please, and we must bear it. The lady of the River Mansion is a member of the ruling family. She has very powerful friends and protectors.” He shot Akitada a glance. “Sorry, but these things are very upsetting to a man like myself.”

  “Not at all. I agree with you.”

  Akitada pondered the similarities between the crimes of the wealthy and those of the poor. Neither could be brought to justice, apparently. Watamaro was a wealthy man, but he was also a commoner. His sympathies were with his people.

  Toward noon, they stepped outside, Watamaro to talk to his sailors, and Akitada to check their progress. It seemed to him that they were barely moving. The huge sails flapped weakly.But he saw with pleasure the blueness of the water and the deeper blue of land in the distance. Seagulls circled and shrieked overhead, and the air was brisk and pure.

  Saburo appeared beside him. “I’m uneasy, sir,” he said in a low voice. “Something doesn’t seem right. We are barely moving. The wind is against us. I’ve spent the morning watching the sailors. They act as if they were on a pleasure cruise. You’d think they’d try to speed up this ship.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Can you trust Watamaro?”

  Akitada gave him a sharp look. He said, “Of course. He has generously offered to help.”

  “Hmm.” Saburo looked around. “I could swear we’re on a wild goose chase and everybody but us knows it.”

  “They can’t do anything about the wind. It may be your imagination.”

  “Maybe. But there’s something else. Considering we’re going to tangle with pirates, you’d expect soldiers and weapons on board, wouldn’t you?”

  Akitada considered this. “Watamaro knows a lot about pirates and fishermen. From the way he talked to me, he may plan to make a deal with them, perhaps offer them payment to release Tora.” The thought appalled him because he would be honor-bound to repay Watamaro. “If there’s no bloodshed, all the better,” he added.

  Saburo nodded. “It’s possible.” But he looked dissatisfied.

  Akitada studied the coastline and looked at the sun. The islands should be to the west. This coastline lay to the north. He suddenly had a hollow feeling in his belly. If Saburo was right and Watamaro could not be trusted, they not only would not rescue Tora but would end up in deep trouble themselves. And he had no one to blame but himself.

  An hour later, one of the sailors sighted a ship. It was on the opposite course and, with the wind in its sails, approached quickly.

  Akitada joined Watamaro. “What ship is it?”

  “A merchant. Probably bound for Kawajiri. There. They’re hailing us. They may want to sell something or ask for news.”

  As the ships drew closer, Akitada could make out the faces of the sailors on the larger ship. They shouted from one ship to the other in a local dialect Akitada did not understand. Watamaro apparently spoke the language and looked excited.

  “They say they have two castaways on board,” he told Akitada. “One of them says his name is Tora and he is from Naniwa.”

  Akitada’s heart started pounding. “Can you take me across?”

  “No. We’ll bring them over here. The ship is bound for Kawajiri, and they’re glad to get rid of them.” He left to give orders.

  A short time later, Akitada was leaning over the side to peer down into the boat as it returned. Two men lay on its floor between the legs of the rowers.

  Saburo pointed. “That one looks like your man, sir.”

  “Yes. Yes, I think it’s Tora. Are they unconscious? I hope Tora isn’t badly hurt. Is that blood on him?”

  When they hoisted the two limp figures aboard, Tora was so filthy and ragged, his clothes covered with dried blood, his hair and beard tangled and his face red and swollen that he was hardly recognizable. His companion was not in much better shape.

  But Tora’s eyes were open, and he managed a weak smile. “Thank God, it’s you, sir,” he mumbled.

  Akitada felt limp with a mixture relief and concern. He turned to Watamaro. “It’s Tora. He must have escaped.” He knelt beside Tora. “You’re covered with blood. Where are you wounded?”

  A weak chuckle. “Not mine. Had to kill a man who wouldn’t give up my sword. But my head hurts like blazes.” He sighed and closed his eyes.

  Akitada felt Tora’s scalp and found a large swelling. Getting to his feet, he told Watamaro, “He has a head injury. Tora is very dear to me.” He looked down at the exhausted men. “I think it will be best if we make all speed back to Naniwa. He’ll need medical care.”

  Tora protested. Watamaro hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Fate had a hand in this,” he said, “and so, no doubt, did your friend’s resourcefulness.
We should be home by nightfall. There’s a very good physician who lives near my warehouse.”

  Akitada had hoped for better, but he accepted the offer. Tora looked very weak.

  Several of Watamaro’s sailors helped the two men into the cabin, where they were made comfortable on the floor. Tora opened his eyes again, and muttered, “He’s Masaji.” Akitada glanced at the other patient.

  “Masaji’s my disciple,” Tora said with a grin. “I’m trying to live up to his good opinion.”

  Akitada thought Masaji looked like a terrified rabbit and wondered for a moment if Tora was hallucinating. “He must be mad,” Akitada said, smiling.

  Tora chuckled. “You never had great faith in me. He’s a simple man and does.”

  Saburo came up and leaned over Akitada’s shoulder.

  “Aiiih!” Tora came upright, his eyes wide with terror. “The demon!”

  Akitada pushed him back gently. “No. This is Saburo. He’s had a very hard life, but he is a good man. He’s helped me find you.”

  Tora blinked, then asked Saburo, “Who the devil did that to you, man?”

  Saburo raised a hand to his face. “Human devils. But that’s in the past. It’s the present I’m worried about, sir.”

  “Why?” asked Akitada.

  “What if Watamaro is working with the pirates? Who is that man with you, Tora?”

  “Masaji. He’s one of the pirates, but you can trust him. He helped me escape.”

  “He knows. Look at him. If I’m right, they’ll kill him and all of us.”

  They all looked at the terrified Masaji, who looked back and nodded. Akitada blamed himself. He should have suspected Watamaro. Who, after all, was more likely to be involved in piracy? And the man’s sympathies clearly lay with the pirates.

  He glanced outside, where Watamaro was busy directing his sailors. Trying to stay calm, Akitada said, “You may be wrong, but it’s as well to be cautious.” He added to Tora, “I think you and Masaji, had better pretend ignorance.”

  Tora sighed and closed his eyes again.

  Akitada went to speak to Watamaro. The merchant was pacing the deck like a cat walking on hot coals. Akitada suppressed a surge of panic. All of them, including the renegade pirate Masaji, were in Watamaro’s power. On the high seas, they would not have a chance if Watamaro decided to do away with them. Their chances were minimally better back in Naniwa.

  He said, “I’m very concerned about Tora’s head injury. He rambles, claims he’s Bishamon and the other man is his disciple. He doesn’t seem to know what happened to him. Can we make more speed?”

  Watamaro was solicitous. They would do their utmost to get back to Naniwa. The wind was with them now and was freshening. In a couple of hours perhaps. Akitada thanked him.

  The heavens alone knew what awaited them on land.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A Sword in his Belly

  They reached Naniwa at dusk. Watamaro’s manner had changed. He was still moderately courteous but cool. As they walked to his warehouse, Tora leaning on Akitada while Saburo and Masaji tottered behind, Watamaro’s men surrounded them on all sides. Escape was impossible.

  They were prisoners.

  At the warehouse, Watamaro took them to his office and gave orders to his men to stand watch. Then he closed the door and turned. “Please sit down.” They all sat. Watamaro’s eyes rested thoughtfully on Tora and Masaji. “It seems we have a problem, my Lord.”

  For a moment, Akitada was tempted to continue the pretense of ignorance, but then he nodded. “You mean, you have a problem. Perhaps you’d better tell me about your relationship with the pirates.”

  “Ah, I see you guessed. Very clever of you to make me think Tora had lost his memory. The man with him works for me. He knows he’s a dead man.”

  Masaji prostrated himself with a wail. Tora glared at Watamaro. “He saved my life. I won’t let you touch him.”

  “Your words do you honor, Tora, but he belongs to me.” Watamaro turned back to Akitada. “I think two reasonable men can find a solution to this unfortunate situation. I’ve come to have the greatest regard for you, not because of your birth and rank, but because I found you care about common people. You will agree that’s a very rare commodity among the nobility. Your feelings for the poor young girl who died in Eguchi impressed me.”

  Akitada said coldly, “I hope my respect for life extends to all beings, both great and small. Pirates and their masters have little respect for lives or property.”

  Watamaro sighed. “There’s nothing to be gained by anger. I know this well enough because I’ve been angry most of my life. The young girl you found could have been my sister. We were poor, and she was very pretty. Alas, the pretty daughters of the poor are unlucky.”

  “Good or bad fortune may come to all people,” Akitada said. “I’m sorry about your sister, but that doesn’t excuse your present activities. You’ve become a very rich ship-owner through using both poor fishermen and the local authorities. When you got greedy and enriched yourself further by engaging in piracy in addition to ordinary shipping, you lost the right to take this moral tone.”

  Watamaro nodded. “Fair enough, though I’ve brought prosperity to many poor people. But let me make you a proposition. I’m far richer and more powerful than either Lord Oga or the prefect. You, on the other hand, have nothing but a house in the capital and a poorly paid position in the lower ranks of the administration. Oh, yes. I informed myself about you the moment I met you and realized why you had come. I found you to be a capable and decent man. I can use someone like you, and I’ll be far more generous than your current masters. If you agree to help me, you would continue your present life but receive monthly retainers from me. I would only contact you when I needed legal advice in righting an injustice. I would not expect you to do anything illegal. What do you say?”

  Akitada flushed with anger. “I’m not for sale. It was you who sent two armed men to my home, wasn’t it? They took the life of a man who had been like a father to me.”

  Watamaro raised his hands. “They didn’t intend harm. It was an unfortunate accident. I sent them, yes, but only to make you give up your investigation, nothing else.”

  Silence fell.

  Watamaro looked down at his folded hands. When he looked up again, his eyes went over all of them and came to rest on Masaji. “A pity,” he said heavily. He looked suddenly old and sad. “I hate shedding blood.”

  Masaji scooted forward on his knees to clutch Tora. Tora growled. “You’re not touching him.”

  Watamaro stood. “You’ve recovered very quickly, Tora. Perhaps it would be best if you gave me your sword.” He held out his hand.

  “The last man who took my sword is dead.”

  Watamaro turned to Akitada. “Tell him it’s hopeless.”

  Akitada rose also. “It’s hopeless for you, Watamaro. Your threats will make no difference. I’m an imperial official with special powers. If you lay a hand on me and my people, His Majesty will send an army to eradicate you and all your followers. Their blood will be on your hands. It will be much better for you to give yourself up now.”

  Watamaro snorted. “In the end, you spoiled aristocrats are all the same. You think no one can touch you. We’ll see about teaching you a lesson.” He walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. They heard the sound of a metal lock falling into place.

  Tora muttered, “Honey in his mouth, but a sword in his belly.” He got up, walked over to a bamboo stand, and swept the document boxes and papers from its shelves. With his sword, he cut the vines which held it together. The shelves clattered to the floor, and Tora hefted two of the bamboo supports in his hand. With a nod, he tossed one to Masaji. “They’re a bit short, but strong and heavy. Are you good at stick-fighting, Masaji?”

  Masaji grinned. “We fought with boat poles.”

  Tora passed his sword to Akitada. “You really ought to carry yours more, sir.”

  Akitada nodded. “I’m sorry I got you int
o this. I counted ten men who brought us here. There could be another ten already in the warehouse.”

  Tora nodded at the door. “We could break it down and rush them.”

  “Much the best way,” agreed Saburo. “I think I saw weapons among the goods stored outside.”

  They looked at Akitada. He nodded.

  Saburo produced a pair of metal wires from his sleeve. He inserted these into the locking mechanism, then looked over his shoulder at the others. “Ready?” When they joined him, he pushed and twisted. The lock clicked. Tora flung himself against the door. It sprang open, and they fell upon two startled guards outside.

  It had been a long time since Akitada had killed a man, and even then it had felt unnatural. He raised Tora’s sword, the guard froze, and Tora growled, “Kill him!”Akitada locked eyes with the man.

  The other guard, who tried to escape from Tora and Masaji with their bamboo staves, shouted, “They’re escaping.”

  They heard steps and the clatter of arms outside.

  Akitada’s guard lashed out with his own sword. Akitada parried and shoved his blade into the man’s belly. When he withdrew it, the man collapsed with a scream and rolled on the floor in agony. Bile rose to Akitada’s mouth, but there was no time to be sick or to think about what he had done.

  The large double doors to the outside flew open, and Watamaro’s men poured in. The other way, stacks and mountains of stored goods rose nearly to the rafters. Saburo was already climbing the nearest pile like a cat, shouting, “This way.” They scrambled after him over crates, bundles, sacks, stacks of lumber, boxes, and sake barrels, up high to the dim reaches under the roof. Loosely stacked goods shifted under their feet. Akitada sent an avalanche of rice bags rolling toward their pursuers, barely catching himself with a jump to a stack of lumber.

  The warehouse filled with armed men looking up at them. Watamaro came and shouted, “Come down. You’re trapped. You’ll never fight your way out of this.”

  They ignored him. Saburo had found a hoard of weapons, enough to outfit a small army, it seemed. He cut the ropes that tied them into bundles—the man seemed to have all sorts of tools on him—and tossed long swords to Akitada and Tora. Masaji exchanged his piece of bamboo for a halberd.