The Dragon Scroll (28 page)

“Merely unexpected,” said Motosuke dryly. He clapped his hands. When Akinobu looked in, he said, “The abbot is hungry. Have them send in some vegetarian dishes and”—he paused and looked at Joto—”fruit juice or tea, Abbot?”

“No food, just tea, Akinobu.” Turning to his host, Joto said, “I apologize for my small joke, Governor. It is too early for our only meal of the day, and besides, I have come on business.” He noticed the scroll paintings. “Are these new? A local artist?” he asked.

“I think you know her,” Akitada said, watching Joto’s face. “She is a young deaf-mute woman who specializes in Buddhist paintings.”

“Ah, Otomi.” Joto squinted again at the scrolls. “Poor girl. We have given her every assistance by allowing her to copy our originals and by introducing her to wealthy visitors.”

There was a scratching at the door, and a servant entered to serve tea. He departed, leaving the large teapot simmering on a brazier.

“You said you came on business?” Motosuke asked the moment the servant had gone, his brusqueness with Joto more noticeable. Akitada wondered if he just wished to be rid of him or whether there was another reason for his lack of courtesy.

Joto seemed not to notice. “I came to extend a humble invitation to you,” he said, bowing to Motosuke. “And to His Excellency also.” He bowed to Akitada. “We hope that you will both be our honored guests for the dedication ceremonies for our new hall. The presence of two representatives of our august emperor will lend special significance to our simple celebration and inspire the local people with due reverence. Dare I hope that you will say a few words?”

Motosuke put down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth with a sheet of soft mulberry paper he withdrew from one of his sleeves. “You may count on me,” he said graciously.

Akitada added his own acceptance, hoping he would be spared the speech.

To their surprise, Joto lingered after giving the particulars. “There is another, less pleasant matter I wished to bring to your attention, Governor,” he said. “It concerns a crime. Blasphemous thieves have become bold enough to rob the Buddha himself.”

Akitada knew what was coming.

“Really?” asked Motosuke, astonished. “I expect word of your treasures is getting out. What did they get away with?”

Joto placed the palms of his hands together and raised them to his lips. “Nothing, thanks be to Amida. Our people kept their eyes open and surprised them in the attempt. The villains fled, but we may not be so fortunate next time.”

“Shocking, if it is so,” said Akitada, shaking his head. “But didn’t you say that nothing was taken? Perhaps your monks simply surprised some curious pilgrims.”

Joto fixed him with a cold stare. “Impossible. We have learned to be careful of those who pretend devotion for evil purposes. Pilgrims are not admitted after dark, and those who spend the night in the monastery are locked into their rooms. Besides, my disciples got a good look at the three culprits as they scrambled over the wall. Their clothing and appearance marked them as professional robbers, the kind that roam our streets and highways with such impunity.”

Akitada raised his brows. “A very surprising thing for highwaymen to do, in my experience. There is another possibility, if I may make such a suggestion. Just as a criminal may hide under a pilgrim’s robe and straw hat, the same man may shave his head and put on the habit of a monk. Is Your Reverence certain that all the monks presently at the temple are, in fact, what they appear to be?”

Joto’s eyes glittered. “I cannot accept your theory,” he said. “It casts doubt on our community and undermines the good we have achieved in this province. Indeed, such rumors have been spread before, but only by our enemies.”

So hostilities had begun. Akitada put on a bland face. “Just a suggestion. It is equally possible that it was a prank by ghost-hunting youngsters. The temple is said to be haunted.”

“I cannot imagine where Your Excellency heard rumors of ghosts. We are trained to exorcise evil spirits, not to raise them.”

“Ah,” said Akitada, “this is very true. But the less enlightened souls among the local people often have a difficult time distinguishing between saints and demons. You must admit that in spiritual as well as worldly affairs things are not always as they appear to be.” He had the intense pleasure of seeing Joto at a loss for words.

Motosuke cleared his throat. “Have you reported the incident to Ikeda?” he asked. “He’s the man to talk to. I regret that I am already busy with travel plans. In fact, Lord Sugawara and I were in the middle of planning our route just now.”

Joto compressed his lips and rose. “In that case I regret my intrusion,” he said, bowing stiffly.

Akitada and Motosuke rose also. “Not at all,” the governor murmured, moving toward the door.

Joto managed to pass close to the scrolls. Before the painting of the storm dragon he seemed to miss a step for a moment, but then he walked rapidly to the door and left.

“Phew,” said Motosuke as they resumed their seats. “I thought the fellow would never leave. What a silly tale. Robbers in the temple. Now, what did you come to tell me?”

“That I was one of the robbers.”

Motosuke’s jaw dropped.

Akitada told him about their nighttime excursion and what they had found. Motosuke looked stunned, his eyes becoming rounder and rounder, and his initial amusement gradually giving way to horror.

“Holy heaven!” he cried when Akitada was done. “Do you mean to say that Joto has buried some of the monks alive? But why?”

“I suspect they refused to be converted to his teachings,” Akitada said dryly. “Does the name Gennin mean anything to you?”

“Of course. Gennin was abbot before Joto. He is supposed to have retired because of ill health. Are you saying he is down there?”

“I am afraid so. And Gennin is not alone. We heard voices chanting. How soon can we move in with constables and set them free?”

Motosuke shook his head. “I don’t see how... not with constables in any case. With that cache of
naginata
we need an army.” He twisted his hands in frustration.

“The man is a threat to the country’s security.” Akitada gestured to Otomi’s painting of the storm dragon. “That scroll is what made me suspicious of Joto and his temple in the first place. All the soldiers on that ship are armed with
naginata,
and a monk sits on the raised platform normally reserved for a captain or general.”

Motosuke got up and looked. “How very odd,” he said. “How did the deaf-mute girl come to paint this?”

“I think she witnessed the ambush of the tax convoy and painted the criminals. If I’m not mistaken, those soldiers are armed monks. Yukinari just reported an encounter with a small band of
naginata-
armed monks.” Akitada paused, frowning. “I’m afraid that Joto may have realized just now what the scroll means.”

“He’s nearsighted. Besides, it looks like just another dragon painting. You did not find
any
trace of the tax goods at the temple?”

“No. They must be elsewhere. I have a suspicion about one of the local merchants, but that will have to wait. Gennin and the others must be released first.”

Motosuke sighed and looked at Akitada helplessly. “I don’t think you quite understand the problem, my dear Akitada. We cannot storm the temple with constables or soldiers. The local people will not permit it. They will rise up against anyone who attacks their benefactors.”

Too true. Akitada realized it immediately. The frustration caused him to burst into angry speech. “Then they must be made to see that it is not saints but monsters they protect.”

“But how?” yelped Motosuke.

Akitada suddenly had a wild idea and seized Motosuke’s arm. “The ceremony! The one we are invited to attend. Don’t you see? There will be a huge crowd. What more perfect excuse to move in soldiers? And when we bring out our proof in the person of the liberated Gennin, the people will be convinced of Joto’s guilt.”

Motosuke stared. “Holy Buddha! You can’t mean it. Oh, my dear friend, think of the risks.”

Akitada released Motosuke. Suddenly, he saw the situation from the other man’s perspective. If the Buddhist faction at court found out, as they must, that Akitada and Motosuke had disrupted a religious ceremony with arms and caused, as was probable, bloodshed, both Motosuke’s career and his daughter’s elevation to empress were in jeopardy. Against this the fate of a few elderly monks in a subterranean prison must weigh very lightly, indeed.

But the governor surprised him. Motosuke straightened his small, fat body and squared his round shoulders. He said firmly, “It is a brilliant idea, elder brother. We shall do it. Leave the details to me. There is only one problem. We are going to need Yukinari’s cooperation.”

“Yukinari will support us. As I mentioned, his patrol ran into a group of Joto’s monks. There have been bad feelings on both sides for a long time.”

Motosuke frowned. “When did you find out?”

“Yesterday. Incidentally, Yukinari had a strange accident before I saw him. A heavy bronze bell came off its support and nearly killed him. Such an accident could have been arranged quite easily. The monks may have an accomplice in the garrison.”

“I expect you worry too much. But we still don’t know Tachibana’s murderer. You thought Tachibana was killed because he knew something about the robberies. Do you now suspect Joto of that crime also?”

Akitada hesitated. So much had happened. They had evidence that Joto and his martial monks were behind the theft of the tax shipments, but that did not mean they had murdered the ex-governor. The mysterious nighttime visitor still needed to be accounted for. There was also the Rat’s peculiar story about Jikoku-ten. Jikoku-ten was usually portrayed as wearing armor, and he had been seen coming through the back gate. Akitada did not believe in manifestations. The Rat had not encountered an incarnation of one of the four divine generals, but a murderer, and the murderer had knocked the old beggar down, perhaps intending to kill him.

Motosuke cleared his throat.

“Forgive me,” said Akitada. “I just remembered another detail.” He explained the Rat’s adventure and added, “Lady Tachibana may have a lover.”

Motosuke raised his brows. “I cannot say I’m at all surprised. It was one of those spring and winter marriages. Tachibana gave her a home when her father, his best friend, died. She was a mere child while he was old enough to be her grandfather. Frankly, I thought he was in his dotage to do such a thing. Her background did not promise well either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her mother was a courtesan in the capital. Her father became enamored of this female on a visit there, bought her out, and brought her back with him as his concubine. After she bore him a child, he lost interest. The woman returned to her old life, taking the girl and a small fortune in gold with her. When she died, the girl was shipped back to her natural father, who, after the initial shock, ended up spoiling her terribly. Nothing was too good for her. She is said to have ruined him, and she tried to ruin Tachibana with her expensive tastes.” Motosuke looked disgusted. “I never met her. Is she very handsome?”

“Oh, yes!” Akitada thought of his feelings for the lovely creature in her embroidered silks and felt a little foolish.

Motosuke eyed him shrewdly. “A beguiling flirt like her mother?”

“Perhaps.” Actually, he was certain of it now that he knew her story. And—he was honest enough to admit it—because he had found Ayako and was no longer vulnerable to childlike beauties with their appealing ways. He recognized the sudden faintness, the tears, the small hand creeping into his for what they had been: the wiles of a seductress.

“Could Yukinari be the lover?” Motosuke asked.

“He was. In fact, I suspected him of the murder. His refusal to see her struck me as very strange. Then one of the maids told me of the affair. She is the woman who thought she saw him leave the night of the murder. But Yukinari was out of town the entire night and swears he broke off the affair last summer.”