I. Parker - The Emperor's woman

Bashan abruptly sat down on the platform. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “there’s no point in going on with this game. I was getting heartily tired of it anyway, but it’s a way to earn some money. What do you want?”

Tora made introductions.

Bashan stared at Genba. “Are you the one they arrested?”

“Yes,” snapped Tora. “You let them arrest an innocent man and woman. They tried to beat confessions out of both of them.”

Bashan grimaced. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It wasn’t my doing. Fate put you in the way of the ignorant police. How is it that you’re free?”

Genba said, “They let us go. No proof.”

“No proof?” Bashan smiled. “Yes. There was none in your case, and there won’t be any in mine either.”

Tora glared at him. “We can’t leave things the way they are. There’s been a murder. What if the police arrest someone else?”

Bashan said, “It isn’t likely, is it? Or are they even stupider than I thought?”

Saburo straightened up. “Why are you still here? If your only purpose was to avenge your sister’s death, then you should have left for the north days ago.”

“You think it was just revenge? That would merely have been a selfish act.”

“What else could it be?” Tora growled. “You’re Miyagi’s brother, aren’t you? You see, we know who you are and what made you do it.”

Bashan suddenly looked tired and pale. “Yes, I’m Nariko’s brother. I left them to seek my fortune with the army. They starved until Nariko was sold to that animal. I didn’t know any of it, but I should have looked after them. All those years, Nariko never once asked for help, until her last letter. I’m not making excuses, but that is what happened. By the time I got back, she had died and so had our grandparents.” He raised his head and looked at each of them in turn. “Do you understand now? All of it was my fault. I hoped to make up for my sin.”

Genba, always softhearted, said, “I think I understand. You decided to do something to help others like your sister, and so you killed Tokuzo for abusing the women who worked for him.”

Bashan nodded. “I had learned the use of needles and moxa from some monks in the north, and massage is easy enough. It turned out to be a useful skill in the army. When I needed a disguise, I added blindness and became a masseur.”

Tora snorted. “Saburo said you’re a hired killer. I don’t buy your story.”

Bashan drew himself up. “I’m a soldier. The needle I dropped was meant for Tokuzo. If I hadn’t lost it, nobody would have known it was murder. My colliding with Genba was fate.” He pointed to Saburo. “And fate brought him to the brothel that night.”

Genba said, “I picked up the needle and gave it to Saburo. He did say it was an assassin’s needle because he knows about such things. I don’t mind admitting that shook me up a bit.”

Bashan studied Saburo and nodded. “I see. It all hangs together now. What will you do?”

They looked at each other. Tora said, “The master won’t like this.”

Genba shook his head. “The master’s a good man but he serves the emperor. We cannot just let you go.”

“You’ve trained as a shinobi, I think,” Saburo said. “Do you plan to stay and work here?”

Bashan looked shocked. “No. I told you, I only did what I did to help those poor women.”

“It was you who returned the contracts to them?”

“Yes. It’s why I went back after I killed him. I was upset that night. It was a botched job.”

Tora said dryly, “It may interest you to know that almost all the women sold themselves again. Some went back to work for Tokuzo’s mother.”

“At least the old one doesn’t treat them badly. I’ve stayed to keep an eye on her.”

Someone pounded on the door of their room. “Hey, Bashan? What’s taking so long? You’ve got a customer waiting.”

Saburo straightened up. “Nothing will be solved tonight. I suggest we all go and think about what is best to be done. We’ll meet again tomorrow. Where, Bashan?”

Bashan did not answer right away. He looked at Saburo, then at Tora and Genba. “Yes,” he finally said softly. “That will be best. Let’s meet after sundown at the beggars’ temple. It may be that the priest Kenko has a solution.”

The others nodded and left one by one, Tora abandoning the staff and Saburo returning the case to Bashan. The attendant met them outside to collect three fees for their massages.

When they were back outside in the street, Tora said, “He’ll run.”

Saburo nodded. “Oh, yes.”

Genba pondered for a moment. “I don’t think his running solves our problem.”

The other two looked at each other and sighed.

“Let’s go get that carpenter,” Tora said.

A kitada slept deeply after his bath and woke refreshed and quite clear-headed. He lay, watching the shafts of sunlight that entered through his shutters. Tiny sparks danced in them, dust particles so small they floated. He pondered the nature of light and of knowledge. They made visible what darkness and confusion had obscured.

Darkness was the time when human trickery was most active. Saburo could testify to that.

The murder of Lady Masako had probably happened in darkness, or at least at dusk. If the prince had not been so late that night he might have prevented what happened.

Or died himself.

Since the attack on him, Akitada had suspected that the killer haunted the place. Was his conscience troubled, or were there other forces at work? There had been Lady Hiroko’s dream. Even in the telling, it had seemed strangely vivid with a sense of the cold and snow and night that were part of Lady Masako’s final moments.

Night fell early in winter, and it must have been overcast that day. New snow had fallen and obscured the murderer’s tracks. Riding or even walking those mountain paths at night must have been difficult. Still, the prince had chosen to make the journey, perhaps not realizing snow would soon make things even more difficult. Surely it was proof he cared for Masako and his unborn child.

Akitada sat up abruptly. The old woman had seen and recognized the prince. How was this possible if he had arrived long after dark? Surely by then, both old people had gone to bed. And how could she have seen him clearly enough to recognize him?

It must have been his horse she had recognized, a familiar horse with a white blaze on its forehead. Something was not right about this.

He got up quickly, threw on his old robe, and walked across the courtyard to Tora’s place. Trouble came limping from the stable, wagging his tail and pressing his cold nose into his hand. Akitada patted him absent-mindedly. A pile of boards and timbers lay outside the stables. Soon he would welcome another member into his family. Would Ohiro fit in? Whatever the situation, he would make the best of it. He owed it to Genba.

On Tora’s veranda, he whistled softly. All was quiet inside. They must have worked late to get Genba settled.

Tora appeared in his shirt, yawning and scratching his head. “Morning, sir. Is something wrong?”

“No. Can you get dressed and come to the house? I’d like your opinion on an idea I just had.”

Tora nodded and disappeared inside. Akitada strolled back, followed by Trouble. Someone was knocking at the gate, causing Trouble to bark and start into a lopsided run. The stable boy shot out of the stable, chewing a rice cake. He unlatched the small side gate and admitted a very old man who tottered in, weighed down by a large satchel he handed to the boy.

Akitada recognized the old carpenter. Tora had hired him outside Lord Sadanori’s residence, and he had later repaired the earthquake damage to the Sugawara house. He was surprised the old man was still alive, though perhaps only barely so.