Death on an Autumn River (27 page)

Akitada should have been glad to have some word of the tiresome youth, but he was not reassured.  He was angry.  “You may be right,” he said, then asked, “He seemed quite well?”

“Oh, yes.” 

A brief silence fell,
then
Akitada suppressed his anger and returned to his main concern.  “Perhaps I can learn something about the poor young girl’s fate at the River Mansion tonight.”

The abbot expressed disapproval. “It is best to let such things go.”

Akitada looked at the old man.  His shaven skull gleamed slightly in the flickering candle light that also threw deep shadows across his face.  Many religious men practiced detachment from human desires and
fears
all their lives.  Another death would mean little to them, perhaps all the less for having been the death of a girl who was a courtesan.  He, on the other hand, was deeply shaken by death.  Yori’s death had nearly destroyed him.  And now he had also suffered the loss of Seimei.  Little wonder that he was so deeply moved by the death of the beautiful child.  And there was danger.  “If she was murdered, the murderer may kill again,” he pointed out.

The abbot sighed.  “The noble lady is related to the former chancellor Fujiwara Michinaga.  She came here about three years ago.  I have a chronicle somewhere.”  He got up and rummaged among his books.  Selecting one, he brought it back to the light, unrolled it, and ran a finger along the entries. 
“Shrine virgins.
 
Hmm. Yes.
  Fujiwara Kazuko, daughter of Fujiwara Tametaka.”

Akitada searched his memory.  Tametaka was Michinaga’s brother’s son and was definitely of a rank that made it unwise, if not disastrous, to insult or threaten the mistress of the River Mansion.  “Thank you,” he said.  “It’s always good to know what one is up against.”

The abbot smiled a little sadly.  “You need not go,” he said.

*

Akitada visited the local bathhouse and had
himself
shaved and his hair arranged.  More he could not do because he had brought no clothes.  Getting back on his rented horse, he returned to the River Mansion.

It was dusk by then.  The air was still and quite warm and humid, but clouds had moved in.  Fireflies gleamed now and then among the foliage.  At the place where the trees thinned to reveal the broad river, he stopped.  A large pleasure boat was anchored in the cove.  Lanterns gleamed on board, and the boatmen and servants sat around at their leisure.  They had delivered Lady Kazuko’s guests. 

And now Akitada could hear faint music in the distance.  The atmosphere was romantic but seemed also vaguely disturbing.  Had someone killed the girl during just such a night of revels?

He assumed the boat had come from the capital, bringing high-ranking nobles for a night of pleasure at the home of a close friend and relative. This made Akitada even more uncomfortable.  There would be every opportunity for him to offend men who were not likely to overlook it and had the power to punish him. 

The gates, lit by many torches, stood hospitably open, but servants were there to receive or reject arrivals.  As before, he rode into the courtyard and gave his name. As before, a servant took away his horse.  On this occasion, however, the
betto
himself received him.  He wore a splendid robe of green brocade over full trousers of pale blue silk and made Akitada feel utterly shabby in his hunting robe.

Kakuan was courteous, bowed very deeply, and led him past the main building to
  a
roofed gallery from which he could see into the gardens.

They had changed magically.  Everywhere, lights were suspended from tree branches.  More lights cast colored hues from paper lanterns that hung along the galleries. Torches surrounded a wooden stage draped with colored cloth.  An elaborately costumed figure in a large gilded mask gyrated there to the accompaniment of six seated musicians.  They played a zither, two lutes, a small drum, and two flutes.  Around the stage, guests in fine robes, some twenty of them, both men and women, stood watching.  Nearby, cushions were laid out in front of trays, and servants waited to serve food as soon as the entertainment was over.

What struck Akitada most was a sense of unreality.  He remembered what the boat’s master had said about a scene from paradise.  It must have seemed that way to an ordinary working man, but he knew that this also resembled parties he had attended at court or at the homes of wealthy noblemen.  Still, there was a subtle difference here.  He saw not only the beautiful buildings and the large, well-lit garden, but there was a larger, more mysterious world of forests and river beyond.  A sense of being far from the bustle of the ordinary world made this gathering appear celestial rather than human.

Kakuan’s voice woke him from his reverie. “Allow me to introduce you to this lady, sir.”

Akitada turned, and there stood a lovely woman.  She was small and finely
made,
her costume exquisite, and her bow very graceful.  Sparkling eyes peered at him over a painted fan. 

Kakuan smiled at his surprise.  “Please enjoy yourself tonight, my Lord.  I’m sure this lady will see to your every comfort and pleasure.”

Kakuan left, perhaps to welcome other guests.  Akitada’s attention was on this exquisite creature in her rosy silks and flower-embroidered jacket.  Was she a lady of rank or a high-class courtesan?  Indeed, she could be either with her long, glossy hair, and her bright eyes smiling at him over the pretty fan.  Perhaps she was aware of his confusion and enjoyed it.

  He sketched a bow.  “You’re very kind.  I’m a stranger here.  And you?”  He hoped her answer would tell him if she was from the town and brought here to entertain the noble guests, or if she had arrived on the boat and was some nobleman’s relative. 

It was, of course, very improper for a noblewoman to be here among strange men.  No, surely she was a courtesan, and they had done him proud.  She was young and very beautiful.

She smiled behind her fan.  “I’ve come here before.  The lady of the River Mansion gives the most charming entertainments.  Are you fond of music, my Lord?”

He glanced at the stage, where two dancers now twirled and jumped.  Some battle between ancient gods, perhaps?  Yes, he thought one of them was the god of the sea.  The music had taken on a more dramatic and martial sound.  “I am very fond of it,” he said.  “And the dancers are excellent.”

“Come.”  She touched his arm with her fan and allowed him a glimpse of a softly rounded face and full lips, “I know a place where you can see
better
.”

He followed her, the bemusement back because the situation was so odd.  He found it easier to go along with it than to object.  They skirted the stage and took a path up a tree-covered hillside.  She walked very gracefully.  From his viewpoint slightly below
,  he
could not help guessing at the youthful body underneath the gown.  The jacket fit closely to her back and waist.  She was slender but had rounded hips and long, shapely legs under the rose-colored silk of her gown.

The wind had died down, and the night seemed uncomfortably humid.  He ran a finger along his collar and looked back over his shoulder.  What must people think? The other guests, men with one or two young women beside them, were entranced by the dancers on the platform.  None of the women compared to his companion, he thought, though they were pretty enough.  He recognized one or two of the men.  They outranked him, and his only contact had been mutual attendance at some mandatory court gathering.  He hoped they had not noticed him.

She stopped on a small knoll above the garden and gestured at the scene below.  “You see?  They will soon bring on the
asobi.
  Have you seen an
asobi
performance before?”

He knew that they were specially trained entertainers among courtesans, but that was all.  “No,” he said.  “I’m sadly at a loss on occasions like this.” 

She laughed softly.  “You have missed much, my Lord.”

Perhaps he had.  She was lovely in the half light.  The torches below did not reach this far, but they cast a golden glow on her graceful head and that glossy hair.  It occurred to him that they were not only alone together, but that the brightly lit scene below them meant that they were hidden from the eyes of others.  A man might dare anything.  He reached out to brush a wing of her hair aside to see her face better.  “Yes,” he said with a sigh, “I have missed much, and you are very beautiful.”  It was neither elegant nor poetic, and he cringed inwardly.  A woman like this, experienced in the language of seduction and desire, must think him as awkward as a schoolboy.

But she turned to him and lowered her fan.  Her eyes shone, and a smile parted her lips.  Her teeth were blackened.  He had never liked the custom, but now the darkness beyond those soft, red lips increased his desire powerfully.  Mysteries were to be explored.  He took a step toward her.

Sudden applause from below distracted him.  The music had stopped and the stage was empty.  A woman in brilliant red and white stood on it.  She wore a man’s hat, but her long hair flowed behind her like a mantle, covering the red hunting jacket and the full white silk trousers.  A sword was pushed through her sash, and she held a pair of small drums.  He had heard of that style and thought it ridiculous and highly improper for a woman to dress in man’s clothing, but here the strangeness of her appearance, that unexpected twist on commonly held perceptions of the differences between men and
women,
was fascinating and part of the magic of this night.  The woman below began a slow dance, beating the rhythm on her drums.  The musicians joined in, softly and tentatively.

“The
shirabyoshi
Koro,” his companion whispered in his ear.  She was very close to him; he could feel her breath on his cheek. “She is wonderful and much admired.”  Her sleeve brushed his and he breathed in her scent.

“She will never be a charming as you,” he said gallantly and smiled into her eyes.  A part of him wondered what he was about.  It was not like him to pursue a courtesan, but on this warm and scented night, with the river plashing softly below them, this extraordinary and licentious gathering had worked a change in him.  He suddenly felt that he had become a staid and joyless official long before his time.  He was not an old man, but he had not really lived, had never tasted the pleasures that were available here.  How could he be fully human without knowing this part of a man’s life also?  Life was uncertain enough, and death waited at every turning of the road.

  “Listen!” she said, her eyes bright with promise.

The
shirabyoshi
 sang
.  She had a full, warm voice that carried on the sudden silence.  “No bower of roses for me,” she sang.  “I’ll never be a wife.”

He reached for the woman beside him and bent his head to kiss her.

“Oh, love in vain . . .”

Their lips touched.  She opened hers and reached up to caress his cheek.

 
“ .
. . naked breast pressed to naked breast.”

The blatant words of the song both shocked him and stirred his desire. Perversely, he was also moved by the sadness of the courtesan who made love to men who did not care about her.

Naked breast to naked breast.
 

His companion’s scent was in his nostrils, his tongue in her mouth, tasting sweetness.  He wanted her desperately.  “What are you?” he asked hoarsely into her hair.  “Are you . . .?”  How to ask this woman if she was available?  The difficulties were immense. 
And how to handle the transaction?
  The only time he had experienced something similar, the woman had been an ordinary prostitute who had offered herself, and a piece of silver was all she had expected.  He had no idea how much he should offer a woman like this one. 
Or if an offer would be insulting.
  Would she accept gold, or was he expected to give her gifts? 

And where would they make love?  Here among the trees, or in the river pavilion, or perhaps in that little boat he had seen tied to it?  On cushions in the darkness under low branches overhanging the river while the boat rocked gently . . .
”  His
hands explored her body through the layers of silk.

“Come,” said she, slipping from his arms and leaving him bereft.  Below the applause died away and the
asobi
left the stage.  For a moment, he thought that her mind was also on making love, but she said, “It is time to eat.”

Time to eat?
 

How unromantic an ending to romance!

How banal a response to his lust.

Ashamed of his passion, he followed her down the hillside.  When she slipped once, he caught her arm.  She laughed softly and leaned against him for a moment.  Thoroughly aroused by now, he was glad that he did not have to walk far. 

People were taking their seats as servants moved among them to pour wine and offer bowls of fragrant delicacies.  His companion knelt close to him, directing the servants to bring him this and that.  He looked at her lips and wished he knew her name.  Refusing food, he drank thirstily of the wine.  She made conversation, and he answered somehow.  He was still too much aware of her body near his to know what they said.  All the while, he hoped that she would tell him when it was time.

Only once he forced his eyes away from her and looked around.  The serving women were pretty enough, and he saw some virile and handsome young men. Tora’s tale came to his mind, but why, he wondered, had his hostess invited him when she had so many more appealing males in her service?  And why had she provided him with this exquisite companion?