I. Parker - The Emperor's woman

“I see. Well, if you have no new instructions for me, I shall get to work.”

The long break enjoyed by officials meant the first day of the week was busy as everyone tried to catch up. Akitada got home well after dark. He had time only to pour himself some wine and step out on his veranda to look up at a starry sky and smell the fragrance of some flowering shrub before Tora joined him.

“You’re late, sir,” he said. “I’ve been waiting. Lord Masaie and his son are both at their residence.”

“Yes. The minister told me the son lost his post in the guard. I thought you’d be meeting with Bashan.”

“Saburo went. Their lordships will be in a foul mood.”

“I don’t feel very good about this myself.”

“It’s a terrible thing if he did it. A terrible thing!”

“Yes.”

They were silent for a span, then Akitada sighed. “Well, we might as well go.”

They walked together through the streets. Tora kept one step behind. It was easy to converse this way, but they both remained quiet.

The Minamoto residence was lit up, and the gates stood partly open. They were admitted and followed a servant into a reception room in the main house. Both of them felt tense. Tora paced, while Akitada weighed once again what he must tell Maseie.

They knew Masaie had a bad temper, but neither of them wore a sword. Weapons were frowned upon when making calls on the nobility.

Masaie came quickly, and Akitada was shocked to see the change in him. The big man seemed to have shrunk in the week since he had last seen him. His shoulders slumped, and his face was an unhealthy gray color.

“What is it now?” he demanded in a tone that was at least reminiscent of past belligerence.

“It is still about your daughter’s death,” Akitada said. “It is time you accepted that she was murdered.”

Masaie stared at him, then gestured at Tora. “I won’t speak to you with your servant present.”

Tora opened his mouth to protest, but Akitada said, “Wait for me outside. It’s all right.”

Tora left reluctantly, and they sat down. Masaie ran a hand over his face. “Why do you trouble me again? What is her death to you?” he asked. “Do you think I care about your friend Kosehira? Or about the swine who seduced my child?”

So Maseie had begun to grieve for his daughter after all. Akitada said more gently, “I think you care about her memory.”

Masaie stiffened. “Her memory? Do you know what they called her? They called her the emperor’s woman! As if she’d been some harlot brought in from the streets or the brothels to amuse the Son of Heaven. My daughter! Masako is descended from emperors. Her bloodline is better than that of the Fujiwara hussy who is to become empress. The insult to my house is not to be borne.”

For a moment, he was the old Masaie, Lord of Sagami, undisputed ruler over his lands and his clan.

Akitada sighed. “I came to speak to the father, not to the clan chief. I was told you loved her.”

Masaie turned his head away. “I loved her like my life. No, more than my life.”

“When I was here last, you said she was dead to you already. Perhaps pushing her off a cliff wouldn’t have mattered much to you.”

Masaie looked up. “You think I would do this?”

“No. I thought so once, but I know better now.”

Masaie paled, but he said nothing.

After a moment, Akitada continued, “She was very lonely at court. Nobody liked her, His Majesty least of all.”

Masaie remained silent.

“She tried to obey you. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t find acceptance, but you turned your back on her in her misery. Her whole family turned against her. Is it any wonder she looked to Prince Atsuhira for support?”

Masaie turned a ravaged face to Akitada. “How dare you? I can have my guards cut you down like a dog.”

Ignoring this, Akitada continued, “Your daughter did not jump. Let me tell you what happened the night Masako died. She arrived at the villa in the afternoon of that winter day, expecting to meet the prince and accept his protection.” Masaie made a sudden move, but Akitada raised a hand. “No, let me finish. Your daughter was with child. Atsuhira’s child. He intended to make her his wife, but he was detained that night, though perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered. Someone else followed her up that mountain road, someone who had quarreled bitterly with her earlier that day. I’m not sure if he intended to kill her or the prince, but it doesn’t matter. Her killer was riding a dark horse with a white blaze on its forehead. The caretaker mistook his horse for the prince’s. I don’t know what happened in the villa, but there must have been another quarrel. I found signs of violence, a few blood stains, some long hairs, and a few blue silk threads from the gown she wore. I think the killer struck her with one of the wooden staffs kept in the room. Perhaps he thought he had killed her and panicked. In any case, he carried her to the promontory, where he pushed her over the edge, hoping people would believe she had committed suicide. That is what happened.”

Masaie had listened with his head lowered. He sat very still.

In the silence, the opening of the door sounded like a thunderclap. Both men started.

Masanaga closed the door behind him and walked toward them. His face was flushed, hi eyes bloodshot, and beads of perspiration glistened on his face. He wore his sword, and his right hand gripped it. His eyes fixed on Akitada. In a shaking voice, he said, “It’s a story you’ve made up. Another lie.” His voice broke, then rose. “It’s nothing but lies. I warned you!” The hand on the sword shook convulsively.

Akitada said calmly, “It’s no lie. Yes, you tried to warn me away and then attempted to kill me when I got too close to the truth.”

In the silence, only Masanaga’s heavy breathing could be heard.

Then Masaie staggered to his feet and took a step toward his son. “We’ll speak later. Get out now,” he said, his voice hard and final.

Masanaga hesitated a moment, then turned and left.

Akitada also got up, gritting his teeth. His body still resented sudden moves. He said, “I brought your daughter’s diary so you should read what your ambition caused.” Taking the journal from his sleeve, he extended it to Masaie.

For a moment, he thought the big man would dash it from his fingers, but then Masaie took it with a trembling hand. He opened it, and tears began to well up in his eyes.

“I’ll leave you now, my Lord,” said Akitada.

There was no answer, and he walked out.

He was half afraid that Masanaga would lie in wait for him, but the anteroom was empty, and Tora waited at the outer door.

When they were back on the street, Tora said, “What happened? I saw the son go in and almost followed.”

“Not much. I returned Lady Masako’s journal to her father.”

“Weren’t you supposed to give it to her companion?”

“A grieving father has a greater right.”

“Even if he killed her?”

“He didn’t kill her, Tora. I brought him more terrible news.”

“What? I don’t understand anything. I thought you meant to accuse Lord Masaie of murdering his daughter.”

“I did think at one time he was guilty, but there was someone else who had a stronger motive and fit the image of a killer much better.”

Tora kicked at a rock on the street. “I’m a fool. I’ll never learn this business.”

“You’re not a fool.”

They walked in silence, Tora kicking more rocks from time to time. Suddenly he stopped. Akitada turned and saw a curious expression cross his face. “The cook,” Tora said. “She as much as told me.” He hit his forehead with his palm. “She didn’t like him either. She said he was bad.”