The Dragon Scroll (18 page)

Akitada rose. She had flung herself down, a slender shape in colored silks and glossy hair, her narrow shoulders and back heaving with grief, and two small feet in white socks twisted about each other in distress. He pushed the stand aside, knelt, and gathered her against his chest as one might hold a weeping child. Stroking her back, he buried his face in the scented hair and murmured soothing words to her, and she held on to him with the desperation of a lost child.

“Ahem!” The harsh, rasping sound broke into Akitada’s efforts at comforting the widow. The nurse towered above them with a disapproving frown on her unpleasant face.

Akitada released the weeping girl and scrambled up. “Oh, good. There you are,” he said. “Your mistress needs you. She is very distressed and, er, cold. Get a brazier. And something hot to drink!” Aware that he was babbling, he stepped aside.

The nurse grunted and moved past him to replace the curtain stand. There was a whispered exchange between the women, then the nurse said harshly, “She needs rest. Come back tomorrow.”

Akitada turned to leave.

“No, wait,” cried the widow.

He waited. Afraid to look at her behind her inadequate screen, he stared across the room at a painted scroll of dancing cranes between a pair of tall, carved tables, one of which held a thin-necked jade-green vase of Chinese origin.

“My husband invited you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, Lady Tachibana. I was looking forward to becoming better acquainted with him.”

“Had he anything particular in mind? Perhaps he promised to show you something, tell you something?”

Akitada hesitated. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I only thought that, if I knew what it was, perhaps I could help you find it.”

Akitada thought of the document boxes in the studio. “Your husband spoke of the history he was working on. I was interested in that.”

“Then you must feel free to study his notes at your convenience. They are all in his studio.”

“Thank you, Lady Tachibana. That is most kind of you.” Still avoiding a glance at her, Akitada bowed and left the room.

The nurse followed him out, clearing her throat with another resounding “Ahem.”

Akitada looked at her questioningly. Really, the woman was very unpleasant in her manner as well as her appearance. “Yes?” he asked.

“She’s just a baby,” the woman said accusingly. “Needs taking care of, not upsetting.”

Akitada softened. “I have offered to help settle the estate,” he explained. “Is it true that there is no one to take care of such matters for her?”

“It’s true. And no wonder! Always with his nose in his books. Wouldn’t have company in his house. When he wasn’t in his studio, he was messing about with plants and rocks in the garden. Spent more time feeding his fish than talking with his lady. The poor child.”

“Yes, she is very young.” Akitada sighed. The woman deserved credit for her fondness of her young mistress, even though the criticism of her master was improper.

“Only just seventeen. For a while this past summer that young captain came to visit them. Oh, how my young lady used to laugh at his quips and stories. She was a different person then. But the master wouldn’t have it. Drove him away, he did.”

“Captain Yukinari?” asked Akitada.

“He’s the one. And now he won’t even talk to her,” she said.

That explained Yukinari’s reaction when Akitada had suggested a visit to the widow. Suddenly he got an image of the late Lord Tachibana as a besotted old man who kept this beautiful child in every luxury imaginable but drove away potential rivals in fits of irrational jealousy. This thought begot another.

“Did your master visit his wife’s room last night after the governor’s party?” he asked.

Something flickered in her small eyes, then the woman drew herself up stiffly. “I don’t speak of private things to strangers.”

Against his will, Akitada felt himself flush. “Don’t be ridiculous, woman,” he snapped. “The prefect will ask you the same question shortly. It is customary in cases of sudden death. I only wondered if Lord Tachibana mentioned my intended visit to his wife.”

She eyed him suspiciously, then said sullenly, “I don’t know. I was asleep.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “The master rarely visited his lady’s room. The age difference made him like a father to her, poor little flower. She has no one now but me. The servants in this house are all liars and thieves, but my lord always protected my young lady. Oh, what will become of us now?” She raised a sleeve to her face and snuffled.

“You will both be taken care of,” Akitada said quickly and walked away.

He passed through the hall, where the monks were still chanting, and stepped outside. The broad daylight caused him to blink, but the fresh cold air was a relief after the incense-laden atmosphere inside. Putting his wooden clogs back on, he stepped down into the courtyard and turned toward the studio. When he reached the intersection of paths, he found Junjiro in conversation with a middle-aged woman. They saw him, looked at each other, and bowed deeply.

“This woman,” said Junjiro, “is my mother. She works in the kitchen and has something to tell you.”

Akitada remembered the animosity of the servants toward their mistress. “Well?” he asked curtly.

“Junjiro said I must speak,” the woman said timidly. She had a plain, pleasant face and looked with adoring pride at her son. “It’s about the honorable captain, sir. I saw him pass the kitchen window this morning before sunrise. I remember, because I was thinking the mistress will want her rice gruel now.” She blushed crimson and added, “She always does right after the captain leaves.”

Akitada stood frozen, his thoughts in turmoil. “What do you mean?” he asked stupidly. “Are you saying the captain was visiting Lady Tachibana before I came?”

“It was still dark,” the woman said. She cringed before his angry, searching eyes.

Junjiro put an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Please don’t tell the mistress we told you, sir. Mother did not want to speak, but I figured we had to, now that the master is dead. Mother once mentioned the captain’s visits to old Kiku, and Kiku blabbed to the nurse. Next thing the constables came and took old Kiku away for stealing her ladyship’s jacket. They found it in her bedroll. We don’t think it was old Kiku who put it there, but the master believed her ladyship.”

It was a bad tale and getting worse. Akitada stared at the two suspiciously. Sometimes disgruntled servants accused their innocent masters of horrible offenses. “How could you recognize the captain if it was dark?” he asked the woman harshly.

She quailed at his tone. “The light from the kitchen shone on his helmet, sir, and he was running for the back gate. That’s the way he always used to come and go.”

Akitada raised his head and looked past them toward the rear wall, unaware that his hands were clenched so tightly that his nails were drawing blood. “Inform the prefect when he returns,” he said dully.

The light was fading. Akitada turned and walked back to the front gate. At the gatehouse he paused and knocked. Nothing. He repeated his peremptory pounding and finally a bleary-eyed Sato opened the door and fell to his knees. “Sorry, Excellency,” he cried, beating his old head against the dirt floor. “I must have dozed off. So much coming and going. All these monks. I haven’t closed an eye all day.”

“Never mind. I have some questions to ask you.” Akitada pushed the door wider and walked in. The small room contained only a ragged mat, a pallet, and a brazier.

“But this is no place for Your Excellency,” protested Sato. “Perhaps in the main house?”

“No. This will do.” Akitada seated himself on the pallet. Sato closed the door, knelt, and waited uneasily.

“Did the prefect and his people remove any papers from the studio?”

“Oh, no, Excellency. I watched carefully and locked up after they left.”

“When your master returned last night, what did he do?”

“Why, I think he must have gone to bed. He told me he did not need me, so I went to bed myself.”

“Did you see him this morning? Did you take him his morning rice or help him dress?”

“No, Your Excellency. His lordship was much stronger than I. He liked to rise before dawn and hated troubling me. He made his own tea in the morning, saying that food did not sit well in his stomach so early. His stomach has always been delicate since his troubles last year.”

“Then how did you know he would be in his studio when I arrived?” Akitada suddenly shouted at him.

Sato flinched. “But he always went there first thing every morning,” he cried.

“Were you aware that Captain Yukinari was in this house before I arrived?”

The old man paled and looked away. “No, Your Excellency.”

“You lie.” Akitada struck the floor with his fist. “It is an open secret among the servants that the captain was having an affair with your mistress under your master’s nose. This very morning he was seen leaving by the back gate. Shortly afterward I found your master dead. What do you know about the disgraceful state of affairs in this house?”

Sato cried out and beat his forehead on the dirt floor. “Forgive this worthless one, Excellency. There was some talk, but I paid no attention. Women’s gossip. I thought the captain came to visit the master. They both liked to garden.”

“Did you let him in last night or this morning?”

“Oh, no. He used to come and go on his own.” Sato remained crouched on the floor but began to shake. “I cannot be everywhere at once,” he wailed through chattering teeth, “and my memory is not what it used to be, but I try to do my work well. There is so much to be taken care of, to remember.”

“You failed your master when he needed you,” Akitada said in an icy voice. “Outsiders have ready access and egress by the rear gate while you lie here and sleep the day away. Your master would still be alive if you had done your duty.” He rose, dusted off his robe, and walked out.

Behind him Sato wailed, “But how was I to prevent the master from falling?”

♦

Akitada returned to his quarters in a ferocious mood. He kicked his clogs off on the veranda and, hearing voices, burst in, thinking that Tora had returned with information.

To his surprise he saw that Seimei was drinking tea with the governor.

“There you are, Sugawara,” exclaimed Motosuke, his round face lighting up. “I am getting some excellent pointers about herbal remedies for my back pains. Seimei is a treasure. You are to be envied. It is like traveling with your own physician.”

Seimei smirked.

“What brings you, Governor?” Akitada asked curtly.

“Why so glum, my dear fellow?” asked Motosuke. “Seimei tells me that you are finished with my dreary accounts. Now we shall finally have a chance for pleasant chats about the capital and some local entertainment. What sports do you play? Football? Horse racing? Do you like games? Play musical instruments? Paint? Or would you like to meet some delightfully pretty local girls? Their manners are a bit rough, but they make up for it with other skills.” He slapped his thighs and laughed.

“I have no time for such things,” Akitada snapped. “You may have forgotten the matter of the missing taxes. I could use your assistance with that.”

Motosuke’s face fell. “You are such a very serious fellow for your age,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “I shall have to call you ‘elder brother’ though you are not much older than my daughter. In fact, I’d like nothing better than to have you settle this nasty tax matter. It is something of a blot on my record. But it will be quite impossible, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean?”