The Masuda Affair sa-7 Page 24

  She took it warily. ‘For me?’ She held the scroll as if it were either precious or deadly.

  ‘I found it among the victim’s papers,’ he said nervously. ‘He loved birds and made a study of them. The scroll has his drawings and little legends and tales about birds. When I saw it, I thought of you. I bought it from his heir.’

  She blushed. ‘Oh, Akitada,’ she murmured and undid the ribbon.

  He saw the delicate color rise on her pale skin and thought how much more beautiful it was than the white paste worn by many women. ‘The nephew was not a very nice man and had no love for birds or for his uncle, I think. You won’t mind that it belonged to a dead man?’ he asked anxiously. ‘His murder is what kept me in Otsu.’

  She looked up. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Poor man. I shall treasure this. Thank you, Akitada.’ She unrolled the scroll and exclaimed at the drawings.

  Akitada felt pleased with himself so far and said on an impulse, ‘It also contains an important clue. See here.’ He showed her the pasted pages. ‘I’d be glad of your advice on the doctor’s prescriptions for a very sick young man. You know much more about medicines than I do.’

  She clutched the scroll to her chest, her eyes shining. ‘Oh, Akitada.’

  He smiled uncertainly. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Oh, no. I’m deeply honored by your confidence. I promise I shall study this very carefully.’ She paused and her face fell a little. ‘But I’m not an expert. Please don’t expect too much. May I consult with Seimei?’

  He heaved a sigh of relief. ‘By all means. Excellent idea.’ For a moment they stood smiling at each other, and then Akitada, suddenly afraid to spoil so good a beginning, fled.

  In his room, he changed into his second-best silk robe and court hat, gathered his long overdue report on the Hikone affair, and set out for the ministry. He was almost light-hearted. Perhaps he might yet make his peace with Tamako. And the convoluted Masuda case had reached the interesting phase where it must begin to unravel, if only he could lay his finger on the right thread.

  His desire to adopt the mute boy had faded to a more distant benevolence. This fact, however, he had no wish to examine more closely because it would bring back the old grief and loneliness.

  At the ministry, he met startled glances from junior clerks and was immediately ushered into the minister’s office.

  His exalted superior was a Fujiwara noble: not the worst of them, and certainly far better than his predecessor, who had made Akitada’s life a misery until his death in the recent smallpox epidemic. The current incumbent was younger than Akitada and had no legal training – such things were irrelevant for senior appointments – but at least he made a show of taking an interest. Their relationship had been cordial from the beginning.

  At least until now.

  As soon as Akitada entered the minister’s room, he became aware of a distinctly chilly reception. There was no smile on the minister’s normally cheerful face. He looked like someone embarked on an unpleasant task.

  He did not invite Akitada to sit and said crisply, ‘We expected you earlier.’

  Akitada searched his mind. Had he sent a message that the Hikone affair was taking longer than expected? The past ten days had preoccupied his mind to the exclusion of everything else. He said cautiously, ‘Well, it has taken a while, but the report is finally done.’ He held up the papers. ‘It turned out to be a fairly clear-cut case after all. The local authorities-’

  ‘I was not referring to the Hikone matter,’ the minister interrupted. ‘Rumor has reached the government that you were arrested in Otsu.’

  Akitada’s heart skipped a beat. He should have been prepared. Of course the Otsu affair would leak out. He knew that the judge had requested information about him, and the only way that could have been done was by turning to the central council and giving a reason. How could he have been so stupid? The truth was, he had been obsessed with the boy, and for his sake he had cheerfully risked his career and fortune. Buggery, if engaged in discreetly, would only raise an amused eyebrow, but the abduction and rape of a child was another matter.

  He pulled himself together with an effort. ‘A foolish mistake by the Otsu authorities,’ he said, keeping his voice as clipped as the minister’s. ‘I have a good mind to lay charges against everyone involved.’

  The minister relaxed a little. ‘I thought there must be an explanation,’ he said in a more conciliatory tone. ‘Perhaps you’d better explain. The allegations have raised questions in, er, higher quarters, and I am to report.’

  Worse and worse. It meant the chancellor had taken notice and given orders to the Censors’ Office. The censors, in turn, had started proceedings by instructing the minister to conduct a full-scale investigation into the incident. That he could not have expected, and it struck him as so extraordinary that he asked, ‘Do you mean this unfortunate, but essentially trivial mistake has become a matter of official concern?’

  The minister nodded grimly. ‘Afraid so. In our position, criminal charges are a serious matter.’ His expression softened a little. ‘Sit down and take your time. Just an unofficial version to start with. Then we’ll have a scribe take down your story for the final report.’

  Akitada felt sick. He began with meeting the child in the forest. Diffidence made him give only the rough facts, and he watched with chilling foreboding as the minister’s face lengthened more and more and doubt began to creep into his eyes. When Akitada was done, an uncomfortable silence fell. Akitada shifted, wondering what else he could say to convince the man of his innocence.

  The minister forestalled him. ‘I know you lost a son during the recent epidemic, but even so… Don’t you consider your behavior in this matter highly… unusual?’

  It had not seemed so at the time. Stung by the suggestion that he might be mentally unstable, Akitada defended himself. ‘I only took pity on a lost child. I would have thought that a good thing. I cannot help it if ignorant and malicious people choose to interpret my motives in a salacious manner.’

  The minister flushed and compressed his lips. ‘I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘you’re not helping me. Because I have only a short acquaintance with you, I must rely on what you say in your defense.’

  This smacked more and more of the notion that he was on trial here. Akitada tried to control his anger. He also knew little about the minister’s background. He had simply assumed that a high-ranking noble would not involve himself unduly in the work of the ministry and leave matters to him.

  And so it had been. Yori’s death had filled Akitada’s thoughts day and night, and he had attempted to banish the memories with work. His new superior had not hindered Akitada’s frenzied activity. Now, for the first time, it occurred to him to wonder about the man. He must be in his late twenties and had probably had the usual university training and private tutors. Unlike many of the court nobles, he looked like an active young man, healthy and without the softness that marked the more self-indulgent members of his family. But that did not tell him how he would deal with the present case.

  Akitada felt a moment’s foolish resentment and said coldly, ‘Since I don’t seem to be able to make a convincing defense to you, I must rely on my good name to speak for my character.’

  The minister sighed. He reached for a sheaf of documents and passed them across the desk. Akitada bit his lip. They were the annual evaluations of his performance under the previous minister, probably complete and going back to the year when he had started as a very junior clerk. Most accused him of neglecting his duties to meddle in outside affairs in direct disobedience to orders and had haunted him before.

  He said bitterly, ‘These mean nothing. Your predecessor took every opportunity to attack me. His Excellency, the chancellor, and other high-ranking officials know of my service. I have received several high commendations and promotions for my work.’

  ‘But in this case…’ began the minister.

  Akitada, very angry by now, rose. ‘I absolutely deny those ridiculous cha
rges. Perhaps you will consult further about my moral character with those who can speak to it. It will be best if I await your decision at home.’ He bowed and walked out.

  He stormed home and rushed into the courtyard at such a pace that the dozing Trouble thought it a new game and joined him, bouncing up and down and around him with a noisy welcome. Akitada cursed and pushed the dog away roughly, but Trouble simply increased his efforts and responded by taking small nips of Akitada’s good robe.

  ‘Tora!’ shouted Akitada.

  Tora and Genba appeared simultaneously and flung themselves into the fray.

  The dog yipped with joy. A free-for-all! A chase! Three humans against one splendid dog.

  Akitada withdrew from the contest and stood glowering on the steps until Tura collared his dog. Then he said, ‘Get rid of him!’ and stalked into the house.

  He had been going to see Tamako to tell her of his dilemma, but decided to take off his torn and dirty robe first. Perhaps he would never have need for his formal clothes again. Slipping on his house robe, he tied its sash and went to give his wife the bad news.

  Tora intercepted him in the hall. He looked upset. ‘Sir, about the dog-’

  ‘Not now,’ Akitada snapped and brushed past him.

  Tamako and Seimei were bent over the bird scroll. They looked up.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Tamako asked. ‘We heard Trouble.’

  The dog’s name seemed ominously appropriate. ‘Tora should never have brought that miserable cur here,’ Akitada said angrily. ‘And yes, there is something wrong, though it has nothing to do with the dog. It seems I am under official investigation for the Otsu incident.’

  Seimei sucked in his breath, but Tamako merely said coolly, ‘Surely that was always a possibility?’

  He glowered and sat down. ‘I rather thought my credit was good enough to speak for my character.’

  She sighed. ‘Yes, I know. It’s very disappointing. I don’t blame you for being angry. It’s really too bad that it had to happen just now.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, surprised.

  She blushed. ‘I just meant… You were so calm and… content earlier. So eager to take up your responsibilities again.’ She bit her lip, and lowered her eyes.

  Akitada stared at her. His wife was positively glowing with embarrassment.

  Seimei got up. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, My Lady, but I was about to go and check on the poison.’ He hurried from the room.

  Akitada frowned after him. ‘What poison?’

  ‘Monkshood. It’s a very poisonous plant,’ Tamako explained. ‘We wondered what could have made the young man so sick.’

  ‘Oh.’ Having come back down to earth so painfully in the minister’s office, Akitada had trouble refocusing for a moment. But really, if he was no longer wanted in his official function, nothing prevented him from using his free time as he wished. He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, of course. I suspected warabi dumplings. According to one of his wives, they were a favorite of his.’

  ‘Fern fiddle heads?’ Tamako shook her head. ‘They can make you sick, but surely not deathly ill. People eat them all the time. You yourself have found them tasty. What we need is something much more deadly. Seimei thought monkshood would fit what the doctor observed.’

  Akitada frowned. ‘If he had been given such a well-known poison, surely Inabe would have known.’

  ‘Perhaps not, if the young man was already ill from something else and being treated. His symptoms from the treatment might have been indistinguishable from the poison.’

  Akitada looked at his wife with admiration. ‘How clever you are,’ he said. ‘What is daiou root prescribed for, and what happens after a few doses of the stuff?’

  ‘Rhubarb root,’ Tamako said with a smile. ‘It cures constipation. You may imagine the effect for yourself.’

  ‘Ah.’ Akitada brightened more. ‘The warden said young Masuda died from the flux.’

  Tamako unrolled the scroll and reread the pasted pages. ‘The doctor should have suspected something. But there is nothing. Unless-’

  Akitada moved closer so that he could look at the scroll with her. ‘Unless what?’

  ‘Unless this note about Yue-Sun’s gruel means something.’

  ‘Some Chinese medicine?’

  ‘I don’t think so, and neither does Seimei.’

  ‘It may just be a scribble. Like the one about love-sickness. Inabe liked to jot down stories. Whatever he saw reminded him of something else. The bird scroll is full of bird tales.’

  ‘Yes. I noticed that too.’ Tamako gave him a sidelong glance. ‘I suppose there was opportunity for lovesickness in the Masuda household. Two wives and a mistress? And the mistress had been deserted at one point?’

  ‘True. What about this Yue-Sun?’

  ‘She’s a character in a Chinese tale. Yue-Sun poisoned someone with a bowl of gruel. I forgot the details, but the victim died.’

  ‘What? Old Lord Masuda believes that Peony killed his son. Who was the victim in the story?’

  ‘Some very important person, and she was a servant or his handmaiden.’

  ‘Hah!’ Akitada jumped up and started to pace. ‘So it was murder. Young Masuda was poisoned. By a woman. But Peony had no motive. He had returned to her, and she and her son depended on him. No, someone else killed him. I think a woman brought a certain food to the patient, and Inabe remembered that later when he became suspicious.’

  ‘Very likely. Did Masuda’s wives visit him at Peony’s house?’

  ‘Hardly. But Mrs Ishikawa admitted going there. She could have been sent by them.’ Akitada sat down again. ‘But there’s no proof, and I’m afraid it doesn’t explain what happened later.’

  They were sitting close to each other, and he became aware of his wife’s scent. Feeling suddenly awkward, he stole a glance at Tamako’s profile, a shell-like ear, and graceful neck. He wanted to trace that elegant hairline with his finger, to bury his face in the hollow between that soft and fragrant neck and her shoulder. He wanted to make love to his wife.

  Caught between fear and daring, he was struck by the ridiculousness of his hesitation. They were alone. They were married. He had every right to caress her.

  His hand was half raised when Tamako turned her head. Their eyes met, and her lips parted. Tender, moist, and welcoming lips. Eyes that became soft and warm. His hand found the warmth of her skin just above her collar, smooth as silk, strange and yet familiar. He felt an intense pleasure at her response, at the way she leaned into his hand and raised her face to him. Murmuring her name, he was about to reach for her with his other hand when the door opened and Seimei returned.

  The old man stopped. ‘Oh,’ he said and started to back out again.

  The spell broke. They moved apart and were again Akitada and Tamako, husband and wife with years of marital familiarity and distance between them. Tamako sighed softly.

  Suppressing his frustration, Akitada said, ‘Come in, come in. Did you find anything?’

  If the old man’s skin had not been so bloodless, Akitada could have sworn he blushed. ‘Yes, indeed, sir. Her Ladyship was quite right. The powdered root of torikabuto is recommended for a belly ache, also for colic and pain. But it is very powerful and must be given in extremely small doses.’

  ‘Or it will kill?’ asked Akitada.

  ‘Oh, yes. Quickly. It is said that it takes the breath away and chills the blood, and the patient dies in great pain.’

  Akitada looked at Inabe’s scroll. ‘It fits. But surely the poison was not administered as a medicine.’

  Tamako leaned closer and extended a slender hand to point. ‘Look. The symptoms did not occur until the doctor’s third visit.’

  Akitada was distracted by her perfume and nearness. He moved a little and for a moment their bodies touched warmly before she moved away.

  Seimei cleared his throat. ‘Tora was very anxious to speak to you.’

  Akitada sighed. ‘It’s about his miserable cur. Come to think of it, I nev
er had a chance to ask him why he did not meet me in Otsu.’

  Seimei was startled. ‘You don’t know, sir? He found a murdered woman early this morning and was kept by the police.’

  ‘What?’ Akitada was on his feet. ‘Why didn’t anybody tell me?’

  ‘I’m sure he tried to, sir.’ There was a note of reproof in Seimei’s voice.

  Akitada grunted and dashed from the room.

  It was getting dark outside. Genba was drawing water at the well. From the corner of the house came the sound of coughing. The ancient carpenter was shuffling off to his evening rice.

  ‘Where is Tora?’ Akitada called out to Genba.

  Genba put down the wooden bucket. ‘He left, sir.’

  ‘Left? To do what?’

  ‘You told him to get rid of Trouble.’ Seeing Akitada’s frown, Genba explained. ‘He’s trying to find a home for him. It won’t be easy. Trouble’s not a handsome animal. And letting him loose will just mean he’ll be killed. Tora’s very fond of that dog.’

  Akitada had not intended this. Shaking his head at the misunderstanding, he sat down abruptly on one of the steps. It creaked alarmingly, and when he looked, he saw that a large crack had opened up. This reminded him of the condition of his home. ‘I’m afraid the next earthquake will bring the roof down around our ears,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve been neglectful of my responsibilities.’

  Genba tried to cheer him up. ‘The house is very solid, sir. The carpenter comes every day, and with three of us working together, we’ll have all the problems fixed in no time.’

  But Akitada knew better. For one thing there was no money. He had no idea how long he could pay the ancient carpenter. For another, his neglect extended to his family as well as his home. It was a miracle Tora had stayed with him all these years – that any of them had stayed. He looked at Genba, a huge man, a former wrestler gone to seed. His short, bristly hair was grizzled, and the massive body had turned soft and flabby. When he and Hitomaro had first joined Akitada’s family, they had both been strong young men. Hitomaro had given his life for him, and Genba, in his own way, was still doing so. Genba had never married and had served him quietly, never making demands, never complaining about his lost chances in the ring. Akitada had begun to treat him as a fixture, almost with the same disrespect that Yori used to show him. Genba had been there to be made use of. They had taken his devotion for granted, and Akitada had even begrudged him the food that was Genba’s only weakness.