The Dragon Scroll (29 page)

Motosuke scowled. “He met my daughter.”

“Yes. He is very distraught.”

“Infernal fool! And you think Lady Tachibana then took up with someone else?”

“Yes. Perhaps the man is another officer.”

Motosuke pursed his lips. “Women are vengeful creatures. Perhaps she killed Tachibana. Wouldn’t a soldier have used his sword?”

“It seems unlikely that an armed man would bludgeon his enemy to death. Tachibana was hit over the head with some heavy piece of glazed tile or ceramic utensil. I found a green shard in his topknot. That suggests an unpremeditated act by an unarmed man.”

Motosuke asked, “What will you do next?”

Akitada sighed. “I promised Lady Tachibana some help in settling her estate. It may serve as a pretext to snoop a little.”

“Excellent. I shall begin to make plans for the temple affair and let you know as soon as I have talked to Yukinari.”

Now that he had got his way, Akitada began to feel uneasy.

“Be careful,” he said. “The fewer people know, the better.”

♦

When he returned to his rooms, Seimei was watching Tora, who was pacing the floor impatiently.

“There you are,” Tora greeted Akitada. “I found a man who knows where Hidesato eats and sent him a message. Can we go right away? It’s getting late.”

Akitada raised his hands. “Slowly, Tora. I have just come from the governor. There may be more urgent work.”

“You’d better read this first.” Seimei took a curious object from Akitada’s desk and held it up: a bare branch with a slip of mulberry paper tied to it with crimson silk. “The boy who brought it is waiting for an answer.”

Akitada reached for the letter, then pulled back his hand as if bitten by a snake. He knew the sender. Unfortunately, he could not avoid it. Reluctantly, he untied the note, dropping silk and branch carelessly on the floor. The paper was expensive and heavily perfumed. He read: “How sad the barren branch, the blasted flower, when friendship cools, and deadly frost kills budding love.” It was a poor poetic effort, too stilted and lacking in subtlety, but she had reason to complain. He had not kept his promise because of Ayako. For a moment he stood undecided.

“What’s a fornicator?” asked Tora.

Akitada started. “What?”

Seimei, always the mentor, explained, but Tora shook his head. “You must be wrong, old man. There are no women there. Was the old monk crazy, sir?”

Understanding dawned belatedly. Tora and Seimei had discussed the incident at the temple while his own mind wandered along the twisted paths of love. “No, Tora,” he said with a grimace. “I expect the old monk spoke the truth. It is a practice among some monks to enjoy the love of boys.”

“Swine!” Tora shook his head, then asked, “Now will you come talk to Hidesato, sir?”

Akitada let Lady Tachibana’s note drop to the floor. “Yes, Tora. Lead the way.”

♦

The Inn of the Eight Immortals was a ramshackle two-storied building in the brothel quarter. From its upper story eight garish banners with the figures of the sages fluttered dispiritedly in the cold wind. Tora gave his master an uneasy look.

“Go on,” said Akitada, pointing at the narrow doorway covered with strips of dingy brown grass cloth. His peers in the capital would have shunned this place like a smallpox-infected house, and he wondered what Motosuke would think of his “elder brother” now.

The restaurant was large and instantly enveloped them in raucous noise and pungent smells. Four cooks, stripped to the waist and wearing checked towels around their heads, worked over the bamboo steamers, while some fifty customers were busy eating, drinking, and chattering.

Akitada’s eyes followed a tray of succulent shrimp, balanced precariously on the shoulder of a youngster who stepped nimbly between the seated parties to serve a group of men.

“There he is,” Tora cried. “Hidesato!”

Near the steaming cauldrons, a tall, bearded man rose, looking as if he wished he were elsewhere. He gave Tora a tight smile and bowed to Akitada.

Tora embraced him and slapped his back. “We’ve searched for you everywhere, Hito. Why did you run off like that?”

Hidesato’s eyes went to Akitada. “Later, brother.”

Akitada liked the sergeant’s open face and soldierly manner, even though the feeling was not mutual. Hidesato was openly hostile. Akitada’s heart sank, but for Tora’s sake he would try. “I’m hungry,” he said, sitting down. “Come, let’s order.”

Hidesato cleared his throat. “They serve only common fare here,” he said.

Akitada ignored this comment and ordered three large servings of shrimp and a pitcher of wine, then said, “Tora can tell you what we ate on our journey here. This is a feast.”

Hidesato muttered, “Oh.” His eyes kept wandering toward the entrance.

“Are you expecting someone?” Akitada asked.

“No. That is...sometimes a friend stops by.”

When the food and wine appeared, Akitada reached for his bowl, shelling his shrimp nimbly. Tora did the same and after a moment Hidesato joined them. Silence prevailed until the bowls were empty. Tora wiped his hands on his old robe, and Hidesato did likewise, then watched Akitada.

“Excellent,” Akitada said with a sigh of satisfaction and fished a paper tissue from his sleeve to clean his hands. “Now for some wine.” He filled their cups. Tora bit his lip and looked down at his clenched hands. Akitada urged, “Why don’t you give your friend the good news?”

Tora looked up. “Oh. Looks like you’ll be in the money again, Hito. The garrison’s been looking for you. They need another experienced sergeant.”

Hidesato’s face lit up. “Truly? I’d given up hope. I suppose I should have gone back after I lost my lodging.” His eyes went to the entrance again.

“Well,” said Akitada, waving to the waitress to bring more wine, “drink up! You have something to celebrate after all. By the way, I am obliged to you. Tora has been teaching me the art of stick fighting. He tells me you taught him.”

Hidesato stared at him, then at Tora, who said quickly, “He’s good, Hito. I’m at the end of my tricks. Bet you’d make a better teacher.”

Hidesato shot Akitada an angry glance and snapped, “You shouldn’t have done that, Tora. Your master’s not one of us. What need has a nobleman for the simple skills of poor people? Fighting sticks are for those who aren’t allowed to wear swords.”

There was a pregnant silence, then Akitada said, “Please don’t blame Tora. No man could ask for a more loyal friend than you have in him. As for myself, I cannot help my birth any more than you can yours. In fact, I’ve had little cause to consider myself more fortunate than other men. I wished to learn your skills because I might need them someday and because I believe a man should have many skills.”

Hidesato glowered silently.

“I am sorry you will not accept me,” Akitada said heavily after a moment. “Tora wanted to leave my service when he found out how you felt, but I would not let him go without talking to you first. He was honor-bound to an agreement we made when we met. I mention this so you will know that he deserves your friendship. But he is free now. I won’t stand between you.” He fished a string of coppers from his sash and rose. “It’s been a long day, and I am weary. Use the coppers to pay the bill, Tora.”

“I’m tired also,” Tora said, dropping the money on the mat and getting to his feet. “Let’s be on our way. Good luck, Hidesato.”

Akitada stopped, dismayed. He had not intended to force a choice on Tora. Before he could speak, Hidesato said, “Sit down, little brother. You, too, sir, if you wouldn’t mind. It’s hard to believe you find Tora at all satisfactory, but I’ll take your word for it.” He reached for the pitcher and filled their cups. “Now that I’m to be employed again, I look forward to returning your hospitality, sir.”

Akitada and Tora sat down dazedly. Hidesato smiled and nodded. “I’m not much for making speeches,” he said to Akitada, “but Tora’s judgment is good enough for me. I don’t hold with the nobility as a rule, but I’ll make an exception in your case if you don’t mind the company of a rough soldier.” He raised his cup to Akitada and drank.

It was not much, but Akitada was grateful. Raising his own cup, he said, “I’m glad and honored to know you.”

With the ice finally broken, they told Hidesato about their exploits, and after some questions about the monks and Higekuro and his daughters, he offered his help whenever his military duties permitted it. This pleasant state of affairs was interrupted when a waitress whispered something to Hidesato. He rose and looked toward the entrance.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “the friend I mentioned waits outside.”

Akitada felt companionable. “Invite your friend to join us,” he suggested.

Hidesato flushed crimson. “She’ll refuse,” he said.

“A lady? But I insist,” said Akitada, fascinated. Looking around the room, he added, “I see other women eating here.”

Hidesato said stiffly, “As you wish, sir.”

He returned with a young woman who was wrapped in a quilted jacket that partially covered a soiled and garish gown. Her face wore the heavy makeup of brothel women.

“This is Jasmin,” Hidesato said awkwardly.

The young woman nodded timidly.

“Come,” said Hidesato. “Sit down. You must be cold and hungry.” He helped her remove her jacket while Tora called for more food and wine.

Without the thick quilted jacket Jasmin looked pitifully thin. Akitada thought she was probably young and coarsely pretty under the layers of pasty white powder, but at the moment she looked merely unhealthy and pathetic. The wind had tangled her hair, and her hands were grimy and had bitten fingernails. Yet Hidesato fussed over her with a devotion only a son or lover could show such a woman. Akitada exchanged a glance with Tora.

“My,” the girl said in a throaty voice, looking about her, “a woman’s life’s a thousand times harder than a man’s. Here you sit with your friends, keeping warm and filling your stomach, while I’m earning a living freezing my toes on the dark streets. In this weather there’s hardly any custom. Only the poor are out—and they like it for free.” Unconcerned about their reaction, she went on, “They wouldn’t let me in till you came to get me. Oh, food!” She reached hungrily for the shrimp the waitress set before her and began to eat so greedily that the shrimp disappeared half-shelled between her small teeth. Hidesato watched her with a besotted smile and pushed the wine cup toward her. She nodded her thanks, and chattered between bites and gulps, and picked shells from her teeth. “Mmm, that’s good...It’s been a bad night... only one trick, an old tightwad ... carpenter from the slums. Pour me another, will you, Hito dear? The bastard gave me ten coppers ... can you believe it? And not even a room! Just an alley, standing up! Ten coppers! Roku had the rest out of my hide earlier.”

She looked tired and drawn all of a sudden. Absently she rubbed her left cheekbone with sticky fingers and dislodged enough caked powder to reveal an ugly bruise.

“That bastard beat you again,” Hidesato said hoarsely. “I told you to let me teach him a lesson. Listen, Jasmin, I got the job. At the garrison. I’ll be a sergeant again. The money’s good. You can give up this life and get away from that brute. Move in with me. I’ll look after you.”

Jasmin shook her head. “I can’t, Hito. You know why. And you mustn’t touch him. Promise? If you’re truly my friend?” She looked at him piteously.

Hidesato opened and shut his big hands in helpless misery. Then he pushed the wine cup toward her again. “Well, eat and drink. You still look half frozen. I’ve got some money and there’ll be more. So don’t worry, eh?” He fished in his sleeve and brought out a handful of coppers that he pressed into her hand.