The Old Men of Omi (23 page)

Tora’s eyes were wide. “What did you do?”

“Nothing to do. They had me, and they wanted to know who sent me.” Saburo grimaced again.

“You didn’t tell them?”

“Not right away. I had some foolish notion of protecting Onjo-ji, my temple by then. After a while, I didn’t care about Onjo-ji, but I was afraid that they would kill me as soon as they knew, and I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction too quickly.”

“That was very brave of you!”

“No, it was stupid. I talked in the end. I talked plenty. I made up stories. I was the biggest coward you ever saw. Pain will do that to a man.”

“I still think you were brave. But they didn’t carve me up. I think they were afraid. Somehow they knew I was connected to the tribunal. Someone came in and told them not to mark me up. That’s when they tried other things.”

“What things?”

Tora turned away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh.” Saburo said nothing for a while, then, “Yes, they did that to me, too.”

Tora turned his head, “You didn’t mind?”

“Not like the knives, but I did mind, yes.”

Tora sat silently, digesting this. After a while he said, “I think I could’ve taken the knives. They made me feel like I was nothing, like I could be used and thrown away. They tied me down over a rice bale, and one of them straddled my neck.” Tora clenched his fists. “I fought. Oh, how I fought!” He held out his lacerated wrists for Saburo to see. “It was no good. They pulled down my pants and I kicked them, but they laughed and made jokes. That’s when their general heard the noise and came in. They left me alone after that. But I’d lost my honor by then.”

Saburo sighed. “Well, they haven’t changed. I was pretty sure they were the same bastards. What do you want to do about it?”

“What can I do? They are gone by now. All I’ve done was to let a tiger loose in the market place. I’ve failed my master, I’ve failed poor Kinzaburo and his wife, and I’ve failed Hanae. I’m no good to anyone anymore.”

“The people who love you know better. You have a family that depends on you. Me, I’m alone. Nobody cares what happens to me. But you’ve got a wife. Don’t let those bastards win.”

Tora jumped up, white-faced. “I shouldn’t have told you.” He went inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

Saburo sat a little longer. When he heard raised voices inside, he got up and left.

Later that day, Tora came to him, looking very uneasy. “Forgive me, brother,” he said quite humbly. “I didn’t mean to speak to you that way.”

Saburo smiled and nodded. “I understand. Don’t worry about it.”

He expected Tora to turn away again, but he did not. Instead he stood there, looking around and up at the sky while clenching and unclenching his big hands.

“I have to go into town to pay off some merchants,” Saburo said after a while. “How about walking with me? The cherry trees are blooming along the canals.”

Tora nodded. “Why not?”

At first neither said very much beyond a comment or two on the weather and on the cherry trees. The scene along the canal was a happy one. Children played on the banks and a few young women washed clothes. The trees were covered with blossoms, white turning to pink, but the first petals were already falling. They paused on one of the arched bridges and leaned on the wooden railing to watch the scene below.

Saburo said, “Cherry blossoms always make me sad these days. I courted Shokichi under the cherry trees. It seems like an age ago.” He heaved a sigh.

“So?” asked Tora.

“It’s hard, being alone.”

“There are plenty of women.”

“It’s not the same.”

They fell silent again. Then Tora said, “You noticed we’re having troubles, Hanae and me.”

“I heard.”

“It’s my fault. I’m no good to her anymore. I try, but I can’t.”

Saburo pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, brother. I expect it’ll pass.”

“No!” Tora grasped his arm and shook it. “ I’m no good to anyone. I’m useless. I couldn’t even give the master his exercise in Otsu. He sent me home because he has no more use for me. But I’m no use to anyone here either.”

It was on Saburo’s tongue to point out that Tora had fixed the leaking roof once again and also patched the outer wall, that he had played with the children, and carried wood for the cook. Instead he detached his arm and said quietly, “You are still the same man. They could not change that.”

Tora shook his head. “How could you go on living after what they did to you? A man cannot live with himself after that. The shame, it’s unbearable.”

“Oh,” said Saburo, keeping his voice matter-of-fact. “They were cruel bastards all right, but I’d been a monk for years. I got used to sex between men in a monastery. It’s nothing.”

Tora thought about this, then said, “It wasn’t that they tried that. It was being helpless. And I’m still helpless. I’ve never wanted to kill anyone as much as I want to kill those bastards. Never! I think sometimes that I’ll go mad if I don’t kill them.”

“I see,” said Saburo heavily. “Yes, I dream of that almost every day and most nights.”

Tora was not listening. “The worst bastard got away. Kojo! I’ll never find him again.”

“Perhaps we will,” Saburo said. “We could try at least.”

Tora looked at him. “Did you say ‘we’?”

Saburo nodded. “Yes. It may be time for both of us to lay the ghosts and kill some devils.”

“He could be anywhere by now.”

“He’s on the mountain.”

“You think he went back? But the monks wouldn’t take him back. They said so.”

Saburo gave Tora a pitying look. “Mount Hiei is large. There are many temples there. Kojo had friends.”

“Would you come with me?”

“Would you disobey the master again?”

Another, longer, silence fell. Then Tora nodded.

The morning after a long and futile day trying to get information from Sukemichi’s servants, the prefect’s constables arrested a vagrant not far from the manor. Before either Akitada or Kosehira could interfere, they had a confession. The man, who was very poor and not in his right mind, admitted readily that he had climbed the wall of the Taira manor and killed its owner.

The prefect was elated to have closed the case so quickly and conveniently. Sukemichi’s widow was pleased and momentarily forgot her grief-stricken demeanor. The young lord shared the general relief.

“I don’t like it,” Akitada told Kosehira as they prepared to return to Otsu.

“Well, he may have done it. He looked strong enough.”

“There is no proof.”

Kosehira finished putting on his boots and said, “There is a confession. A confession outweighs proof.”

“He did not seem a very sensible sort of person to me,” Akitada persisted. “It sounded as though he was actually proud of what he confessed to.”

“Ordinary people can be quite simple, Akitada,” Kosehira pointed out. “Not everyone has studied law at the university and is aware of legal matters. He enjoyed the attention. I expect he’ll change his attitude.”

“Perhaps, but I still don’t like it. And I’m troubled by the Jizo. I don’t think that was a coincidence.”

“Yes, that was a little strange. But you said yourself that Sukemichi wasn’t like the others. He was a ranking nobleman and much younger.”

Akitada nodded unhappily. “It’s none of my business, but you might tell the prefect not to rush the case to trial.”

Kosehira said, “I cannot ask the man to do that. He deals with matters in his district.”

“Yes, only the man they arrested—I didn’t believe him. I think he’s just a foolish creature who will agree to anything you tell him.”

At this point there was an interruption. A servant came to announce that the Okuni headman was outside and wished to speak to Akitada. Hoping against hope for something to support his conviction that all five murders had been committed by the same man and that Sukemichi had not been killed by a demented vagrant, Akitada rushed out into the courtyard.

The sturdy figure of Masaie stood waiting. He was looking about him with a lively interest. When he saw Akitada coming down the steps toward him, a broad smile lit his face.

“A very good morning to you, my lord,” he said with a deep bow. “They tell me you’re leaving us?”

“Yes. The governor and I both have work waiting in Otsu. We’ll leave matters in the prefect’s hands. What brings you?”

“Two things, sir. You’ll be pleased to hear that one of our people went down into the gorge to look for another Jizo. And you were right, sir. It was there all the time.”

“Excellent work, Masaie.” Akitada found a piece of silver in his sash and passed it over. “With my thanks to the brave young man who climbed down.”

The grin was back. “Thank you, sir. He’ll be glad of it. His wife’s expecting.”

“What was the other matter?”

“Well, I’m asking for advice, sir. There’s a young woman who walked into the village yesterday, crying her eyes out. It seems Lord Sukemichi’s first lady had her thrown out. The girl swears she’s done nothing wrong. Sir, she was born in this house and has no family left. A young woman like that isn’t safe on the roads. All sorts of people pass through looking to make money at the fairs. Thieves and highwaymen, most of them.”

So the maid had been dismissed after all. Akitada’s heart hardened toward Sukemichi’s widow. Whatever the relationship between her husband and this maid had been, she owed their servants more consideration, especially when they had grown up in the household. Her action had been unnecessarily cruel. He said regretfully, “Masaie, I cannot help you or her. This is a family matter and none of my business.”

The headman nodded. “I understand, sir.” He bowed and left.

They had nearly reached the highway to Otsu, when Akitada stopped Kosehira.

“Forgive me, brother,” he said. “I want to go back to Okuni. Something bothers me about that dismissed maid. You go ahead. I’ll try to catch up, or else get there a little later.”

Kosehira was disappointed. “I meant to show you the water channels of Azuchi. It’s on our way and quite famous as a hiding place for wanted criminals. Why the interest in the maid anyway? So Sukemichi slept with one of his servants. There’s nothing remarkable about that.”

Akitada agreed it was not remarkable in most noble houses, though neither he nor Kosehira (he hoped) engaged in such behavior. “It’s not that but the fact that she has been dismissed so suddenly. There is a reason, I suspect, and I’d like to know it. The family already has too many secrets for my taste.”

Kosehira looked astonished. “You think the girl murdered him? Or that his lady suspects her?”

“Probably not. Jealousy alone doesn’t quite explain it.”

“Hmm. Well, go back then. Be sure you let me know what you learn.”

Akitada sought out Masaie in Okuni and asked to speak to the dismissed maid.

“She’s staying with a farmer up the road,” he said. “Working for her food and lodging.” He shook his head. “It’s the best we could do. Mostly women like her end up selling themselves to passing travelers. That would be a pity, I think. I hope you can help her, sir.”

Akitada said, “I’m very sorry about what happened to her, but I cannot promise that Lady Taira will allow her to return. I only want to find out what happened in case it has some significance for Lord Taira’s murder.”

Masaie, apparently also intrigued by the mystery of the girl’s dismissal, accompanied Akitada to a small farm in a grove of pines. All around, the fields had been cleared and crisscrossed by small ditches. The ditches carried water to the rice fields, already mostly planted.

They found the farmer gone to mend one of his ditches, but the farmer’s wife, a hard-faced, middle-aged woman, was home. She looked from Masaie to Akitada and knelt, bowing her head.

“Kohime, is Mineko around?” Masaie asked. “His lordship here wants to ask her some questions about the murder at the big house.”

The woman’s eyes grew round and she covered her mouth in astonishment as she stood up. “Did she kill her master?” she asked. “If she killed him, take her away and lock her up. You shouldn’t have brought her. She might slit our throats while we sleep.”

Akitada said quickly, “She did not kill Lord Sukemichi. I want to speak to her because she may know something.”

The woman relaxed. “Oh,” she said, somewhat sullenly. “The girl’s in the back, washing clothes. She’s not a very good worker. Spoiled with her fine clothes and smooth hands.” She looked at Masaie accusingly.

“Be patient. She’ll learn,” he said with a grimace. “She’s only eighteen.”

They walked around the house and found the girl on her knees in the dirt, scrubbing some wet garments on a stone. A big wooden tub stood beside her. Gone was her silk gown. She wore an old gray striped shirt and the sort of pants peasant women wore in the fields. Her hair was cut shorter and tied back with a rag, and she was barefoot, wet, and dirty. But when she turned and looked up at them, Akitada saw that she was still very pretty in spite of the red, swollen eyes.

She dropped the shirt she had been scrubbing and jumped up. “Have you come to take me back?” she asked Masaie eagerly. “Oh, please say I may go back.”

Masaie shook his head. “No. I’m very sorry, Mineko. This is Lord Sugawara who was helping to find Lord Sukemichi’s murderer. He has some questions to ask you.”

Tears of disappointment welled up again. Looking down at the ground, she said listlessly, “I’ll answer.”

She was young, a year younger than Yukiko. Akitada felt quite sorry for her and felt again a strong dislike to Sukemichi’s wife. He spoke gently. “I’m very sorry that you had to leave. May I ask why you were dismissed?”

She rubbed her wet hands against her pants and sniffled. “I don’t know why. It was sudden. They wouldn’t tell me.” She raised watery eyes to his. “I have done nothing. I was at my lessons when the majordomo came and took me away and pushed me out into the street, saying I was never to come back on orders of her ladyship.”

From this startling account, Akitada picked one word. “You were at your lessons? What lessons?”

“Lord Sukemichi had me taught by his children’s tutor. I’m studying the classics and practicing poetry. I mean, I was.” She wiped away more tears.