The Emperor's Woman (6 page)

“I remember you.” The policeman looked sour, perhaps having less than pleasant memories of his run-in with Tora. “Your friend’s been recognized by a witness as having been here last night near the time of the murder. He was making threats against the victim. And just now he admitted it. He’s under arrest.”

Genba said, “But I didn’t see Tokuzo last night. I was just passing. Besides, if you ask around, most people in the quarter hated that bastard. He was not a good man, officer. He beat and raped the women who worked for him.”

“So?” The policeman looked unimpressed. “That’s true of about half the brothel owners in the quarter, the male ones anyway. Though the aunties have been known to enjoy their girls also.” He gave a hoot of laughter. “Who knows what goes on after the customers leave, eh? A girl has a contract, she works it out any way she can. And most of them cheat their aunties and uncles at a horrible rate. What would you do if you’re a businessman and your employee sells your goods on the side and pockets the money?”

Genba opened his mouth to argue, but Tora put his hand on his arm. “Look,” he said to the policeman, “we both belong to Lord Sugawara’s household. You’ve heard about him, I’m sure. Let Genba go in peace. He’s got the marketing to do, and you can always find him when you want him. As he says, this Tokuzo’s got enemies and you may be missing the real suspect if you don’t keep looking.”

There was a pause, during which the policeman glanced at Genba’s empty marketing basket and his round, friendly face. Then he relented. “All right. Since I know your names and where to find you, you can go, but make sure he’s available or you’ll be sorry.”

Tora and Genba departed speedily around the next corner and stopped.

“Where’s Saburo?” Tora asked, looking around. “Let’s wait to give him a chance to catch up.”

Genba was lost in thought. What about Ohiro? Would she be suspected? “What do you suppose happened to Tokuzo?” he asked. “The policeman said he was killed last night when I was there.”

“He was lying to scare you. Still, I wish we could have hung about to find out a little more.”

Saburo appeared so suddenly between them that they jumped apart. Tora said irritably, “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s spooky. If you have to walk silently, at least clear your throat.”

“Sorry.” Saburo took each of them by an elbow and pulled them away. “No sense in staying here. That policeman may regret letting you get away so easily. As for finding out more, Tokuzo’s had his throat slit. He’d gone to bed, because they found him in it this morning. The bedding was soaked in blood. No sign of the knife, but it must’ve been a sharp one. The doctor they called said it was a clean, deep cut. It isn’t easy cutting a throat. You need a very sharp blade.”

Genba shook his head in wonder. “Who could have done it? A woman, do you think?”

Saburo pursed his lips. “Not very likely. As I said, it isn’t easy. Not when it’s a deep cut. And he was lying down, remember? The killer must’ve been covered with blood.”

“How do you know so much about cutting throats?” Tora asked suspiciously.

Saburo gave him another of his quelling looks. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Tora.”

“Amida!” breathed Tora. “You must’ve led quite a life. Does the master know? I’m not sure we’re safe in our beds at night.”

Saburo stopped, his face working. “Tora,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion, “I’ve never killed an honest man or woman, and the master has a better opinion of me than you do. That’s because he’s a good man who still believes in the goodness of others.
You
, I don’t know about.”

Genba said quickly, “Tora didn’t mean it. He jokes sometimes. You’ve been with us long enough to know that.”

Saburo looked at Tora, clearly trying to decide if he should be offended. The struggle did not last.

Tora grinned. “You’ll learn in time.” He slapped the bony back of the ugly man. “Didn’t mean to offend you, Saburo. It’s just that your mysterious past makes me curious. You can understand that.”

Saburo nodded. “Maybe I’ll tell you things some day, but give me time. My memories are very bad, and I don’t like being reminded.”

Genba would have enjoyed his peace-making role—he was by nature a man who abhorred arguments and confrontations—but his mind was again on his own problem. “Do you think the police will tell the master about the murder?” he asked anxiously. “Do you think he’ll tell me to leave this time?”

Tora snorted. “You know better than that. After all these years, he’d never show so little faith in you. Besides, you didn’t kill the bastard. If things turn really bad, the master will step in and solve the crime. That’s what he’ll do.”

Genba sighed. There was still Ohiro to be considered. He was impatient to see her and to warn her about talking to the police. She needed to stay home and keep away from prying eyes. “Well, there’s no point in you tagging along with me. Why don’t you go back home. I can go to the market by myself.”

They nodded. There were chores waiting.

Genba walked on and quickly made his purchases at the market. Avoiding the lengthy contest with women bargaining shrilly for their purchases, he made no effort to find the freshest fish or the largest cabbages. He even ignored the mouth-watering smells of fried foods and the sounds of slurping and lip-smacking from the noodle soup vendor’s customers. Cook would complain about his purchases and call him a big ox, but she did so anyway. From the market, he went on to Ohiro’s tenement.

To his relief, she was still home and had heard the news.

“Oh, Genba,” she cried, flinging her arms around him. “I’ve been so worried. Shokichi’s been to the Sasaya. She said Tokuzo’s been murdered and the police think you did it.”

“They made a mistake, love. But it’s best that you stay away as long as your face looks like that. If someone asks, say you’re sick. And if someone sees you, tell them you fell in the dark.”

She nodded. “Will you come every day so I know you’re all right?”

He smiled at that. “I’ll try, love. I’m glad that animal is dead, and you don’t have to put up with him any longer. Maybe now we can wait until we’ve saved up the money.” He was not happy about it, but as long as they had no other way of raising the money, he would have to let other men touch her and make love to her.

Her face fell. She turned away. “Yes, Genba,” she said softly. “I’ll wait.”

His heart ached, but he did not know what to say. “I’ve got to go now. Cook’s waiting for this food.” He picked up the basket he had set down to embrace her. “I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with tears. “Good bye, Genba. Thank you.”

As he had expected, Cook was irate at his lateness and cursed him when she inspected his purchases. Tora was out, exercising one of the horses, and Saburo sat in the master’s study, catching up on the family accounts.

“The master’s out?” Genba asked unnecessarily. The room was empty of anyone but the ugly man, who had changed back into his blue robe.

Saburo raised his eyebrows. “He never comes home before sunset when the ministry does its monthly reports. You’ve talked to your girlfriend?”

Genba blushed. “How did you know I was going to see her?”

“You’re not a stupid person, Genba. You may look slow and move like a turtle, but you’ve got a good head. Of course, you went to see her. That’s why you wanted to get rid of us. What did she say?”

“She’d heard the news. I told her to stay home. Her face looks terrible.”

Saburo nodded. “Did she have any idea who might have killed her master?”

“No. I wish I could find out. I know our master could do it, but I really don’t want him to know about my troubles. Now that Tokuzo’s dead, we have a bit more time to save the money we need.”

“You told her that?” When Genba nodded, Saburo said dryly, “I bet that made her happy.”

Genba recalled the tears in Ohiro’s eyes and hung his head. “What else can I do?”

“Talk to the master. You can ask to borrow the money and let him take it out of your wages.”

“Saburo, she’s a prostitute. He won’t want her in his household.” Genba sat down abruptly and buried his face in his hands. “There’s no hope for us,” he mumbled indistinctly.

“Look at me!” snapped Saburo.

Genba did and saw the fierce look in Saburo’s good eye. “What?”

“Look at my face, you dolt. If there was hope for someone like me, what reason do you have to sit there whining about your hardships? Even a starving warrior will hold his toothpick high.”

Genba smiled at that. “Sorry, Saburo. You’re a good man. I’ll think about it.”

“Tell the master what’s happened. As for Tokuzo, I’ve got a good mind to do a little snooping there.”

“Thank you.” Genba hesitated, then said in a rush, “I’m glad you’re one of us,” and left quickly before he got maudlin.

Scattered Blossoms

P
rince Atsuhira resided with his family in the Tsuchimikado Palace, the property having been given to him by his father, the ex-emperor when there was still a hope that he would become crown prince and succeed to the throne. But the late chancellor Michinaga and his sons had other plans and shifted the succession to one of Michinaga’s grandsons instead.

Atsuhira had submitted with very good grace. To his credit, he only wished for a peaceful life and was not adept at court politics. Still, he had his supporters, men who liked him as a friend as well as men who hoped to advance themselves by throwing in their lot with him.

Of late, the prince had withdrawn from social life and even from appearances at court, much to the regret of many ladies. He had the sort of good looks and elegant manners that had caused them to call him “Shining Prince” after Genji, that famous romantic hero in Lady Murakami’s book.

When Akitada was finally admitted to his presence, there was little left of the brilliant aura that once surrounded him.

Their meeting was possible only after some planning. Akitada had prepared for it by going back to the ministry where he dispatched one of the junior clerks to the archives for documents relating to the prince’s property holdings. The young man dashed off eagerly and returned somewhat dusty, with a huge stack of bound maps and rolled scrolls.

Akitada selected a reasonable number of these and sent the rest back. The young man then accompanied Akitada, carrying the documents and a small writing box.

They arrived at the Tsuchimikado Palace with a proper air of importance and demanded to speak to the prince. A guard at the gate denied them access. The prince was apparently under house arrest.

“I’m here on official orders from the Ministry of Justice,” snapped Akitada. “Send for your superior this instant.”

After a short wait, a senior officer, wearing the uniform of the outer palace guard, appeared, a captain by his insignia, and a member of a family in power at court. He frowned and drawled, “What is all this? I have not been informed. You’re Sugawara, are you? What business does the Ministry of Justice have with His Highness?”

Akitada made the man a slight bow—received with a mere nod—and said stiffly, “It has been thought proper at this time to confirm the extent of His Highness’s holdings, since they are likely to play a part in the legal proceedings.”

The captain’s face cleared. In fact, he looked positively eager. “Ah! Is that the case? My apologies. They must be moving more quickly than we thought. Still, rules are rules. May I check the documents?”

Akitada waved the clerk forward, and the captain investigated each scroll and volume before nodding.

“Yes. Quite correct,” he said cheerfully. “Well, I have no objection, of course, but I don’t think he’ll see you. He won’t talk to anyone. A bit mad, if you ask me. There have been outbursts. Even his ladies are afraid to go near him.”

“I see. Please tell him that I must see him urgently. Umm, perhaps you should say it is in his best interest.”

The captain smirked at this and showed them to a very elegant reception room. Akitada paced nervously. Much depended on his seeing the prince, and seeing him alone. He became aware of soft sounds—silken rustlings and whispers. Behind the dais a series of screens with painted scenes of mountain landscapes hid an adjoining room. No doubt, eyes were glued to the narrow gaps between the panels. The prince’s household was curious about his purpose here. He could not blame them. Their own lives and fates were tied to those of their husband and master.

To his relief, it was not the captain who returned, but an elderly man in a sober brown silk robe. He introduced himself as the prince’s majordomo and led the way to an inner apartment past several courtyards where cherry trees bloomed. True to their poetic meaning of impermanence, they had scattered their petals like snow across the gravel.

Happiness had indeed been short-lived for Prince Atsuhira.

There were no guards at the door to the prince’s room. This, too, made things easier. Apparently, the prince was allowed a certain amount of privacy out of respect for his person.

“Wait here,” Akitada said to the young clerk, taking the documents but leaving the writing utensils with him. “I’ll call when I need you.”

The majordomo opened the door, announced, “Lord Sugawara,” let Akitada walk in, and then closed the door behind him.

The room was dim. The green reed shades to the outside had been lowered, and the bright sunlight outside left only faint golden patterns on the polished wood floor. The prince sat hunched over a scattering of books and papers. Akitada was shocked to see how much he had changed from the cheerful young man he used to know. They were nearly the same age, but Atsuhira’s sagging figure had nothing in common with the athletic young man who had liked riding, sports, and hunting in the mountains.

Atsuhira’s face was pale and drawn. He raised listless eyes to Akitada.

“I remember you,” he said in a flat voice. “You used to be at Kosehira’s parties.”

“Yes, Highness.” Akitada looked around the room and back at the solid door. They seemed to be alone, and the apartment was self-contained, without those screens and temporary walls that could be erected in large spaces to divide them into many smaller rooms. Still, he lowered his voice when he said, “Kosehira has told me of your difficulties.”