I. Parker - Death on an Autumn River

Akitada knew the signs. Death was near. He sank down on his knees beside the old man and whispered, “Seimei?”

Seimei’s lids flicked open. “S-sir?” It was no more than a breath. Then, with an effort, “I t-tried to stop them.”

“I know, old friend. Don’t exert yourself. Tora and I came as soon as we heard. How are you feeling?”

The lips quirked into a smile. “You’re home,” he whispered. And after a pause for a breath, “In time.” Then he sighed and fainted.

Tora plopped down on Seimei’s other side. “Seimei,” he cried, “Seimei, it’s me, Tora. Speak to me? Don’t die, old man. Not yet. Not without a word to me.”

“Sssh.” Akitada put his finger to the old man’s neck. “He isn’t gone yet, Tora,” he said softly and got to his feet. “He’s just resting, I think.” He glanced at Tamako. “How bad is it?”

“He took a blow to the back of the head and lost a lot of blood. At his age . . .” Her voice trailed away, and she wrung her hands. “I’m afraid, Akitada.”

“Yes,” Akitada said heavily. He looked down at the frail body, the waxen face with its sharp hollows, already like those on a lifeless skull, the hands with fingers that were bones held barely in place by transparent skin. “Yes,” he said again. “Let’s go to my study. Tora, will you stay and call us if he wakes?”

In his study, he took Tamako into his arms again. “I’m so glad you and my daughter were not hurt,” he said. “That thought was too terrible to contemplate.”

She clung to him for a moment. “It was you I was worried about.”

He released her reluctantly. They went to sit on the veranda, and looked at the dark garden where fireflies danced above the moss and over the koi pond. “What exactly happened?” he asked.

“They came just before midday. Two armed men wearing half armor. Genba had left for the market because cook wanted a sea bream. Seimei opened the gate to their pounding. He thought they’d lost their way and greeted them politely, but they stormed in, flinging him aside. Trouble rushed out, barking, and snapped at their legs. One of them struck him with his halberd and nearly killed him. He’s lame and still very weak. Seimei ran after them and tried to bar their way into the house. That’s when they swung the halberd at his head. A glancing blow, but . . .” She bit her lip. “Cook and Hanae came out of the kitchen and saw it all. When they started screaming, the villains drove them into the kitchen building and locked them in. Then they came to find me.” Tamako gulped and took a deep breath.

Akitada reached for her hand. She squeezed it and went on. “Yuki and Yasuku were with me in my room. They came in with their weapons ready, and Yuki attacked the first one. I screamed. I was so afraid they’d kill the child, kill us all. But they pushed Yuki at me and only delivered a message. ‘Tell your husband to come home and look after his own, or we’ll be back and you will die.’ Then they walked out quite calmly.”

Akitada felt a deep anger. “Did they say who they worked for? Who sent the message?”

“No. I think it has something to do with your work in Naniwa.”

“Yes. Probably.” Akitada was no closer to knowing what was going on, while the person behind the pirate attacks had evidently felt he was getting much too close. “Come,” he said, “Let me take a peek at Yasuko. Then I’ll go back to Seimei.”

Yasuko woke.He held the little girl tightly, so tightly that she squirmed while she told him about the bad men and what they did to Seimei and poor Trouble.

“What’s the matter with Trouble?” Akitada asked his wife.

“He’s lame. And he doesn’t bark and rarely goes into the courtyard anymore.”

“Not much of a guard dog, then,” said Akitada, putting his daughter down.

“Don’t say that. He nearly died defending us.”

Akitada nodded. “You’re right. It’s only . . . I wish Seimei had been spared.”

In Seimei’s room he found Tora weeping like a baby and went to touch Seimei’s hands, half afraid he was too late. The hands were cold as ice, but at his touch the old man’s eyelids twitched. He said quite distinctly, “I’m a little cold.” Akitada found another quilt, put it over Seimei, and then sat down to warm his hands between his own. Seimei opened his eyes. “Is it snowing?”

“No. It’s a beautiful autumn night.”

“Autumn chill turns to winter cold. I’m a little cold, but isn’t snow beautiful?”

Akitada shuddered, and Tora sniffed audibly, then shuffled closer. “Seimei? Can you hear me? It’s Tora.”

“Tora? You must try harder with your brush. Then your father will be pleased. Your father loves you.”

They exchanged a glance across the old man’s figure. “He has us confused,” Akitada said softly.

Seimei smiled suddenly. “The gods have been good to me. Two such sons! What more could a man want?” His eyes looked from Tora to Akitada, and he grasped a hand of each. Then the smile faded, a distant look passed over his face, and he lost consciousness again. After a while, his breath resumed its horrible rattling.

They sent for the doctor, but stayed at the old man’s bedside. Seimei did not wake again. The doctor arrived in time to pronounce death.

*

Early the next morning, Superintendent Kobe arrived. He was startled and dismayed to find the Sugawara household in mourning. After paying his respects to the dead Seimei, he met with Akitada in his study.

“I’m very sorry,” he said simply. “I liked him and envied you such loyalty.”

Akitada, who had sat up all night with the body, nodded wearily and tried to gather his thoughts. “Thank you for coming. The two men who killed him need to be found and arrested. My wife tells me that she has reported their descriptions.”

“Yes, to the warden. The matter just reached me this morning. Apparently, these men were no ordinary criminals. Robbers in our capital do not carry swords and halberds. They use cheap knives that can be concealed easily. Neither do they wear half armor over figured silk. From their clothes and particularly their weapons, I would say they’re trained warriors attached to some nobleman’s household. That makes the situation serious and difficult.”

“They may belong to someone in Naniwa. I think they didn’t intend to kill anyone, but rather to warn me away from my assignment in Naniwa. More than likely they are attached to either Governor Oga or his prefect, Munata.”

Kobe frowned. “Then I doubt I can be of use. Perhaps you’d better report to His Excellency, the minister, and let him handle it.”

Akitada sighed. “I will, but first I must take care of Seimei’s funeral.”

Kobe left some of his men to guard Akitada’s residence and departed.

Akitada returned to the reception hall where Seimei’s body, wrapped in white hemp, rested amidst tall candelabra. The candles cast weird shadows of the seated monks on the walls, and the draft from the open door stirred the shadows into a ghostly dance, as if the spirits of the underworld had also gathered to welcome Seimei’s soul.

He closed the door and went to kneel beside the old man. Death had not been kind. The flesh seemed to have shrunken from his face, leaving only yellowed skin stretched taut over the skull. Already, he was a stranger. Akitada suppressed a shudder and reached for Seimei’s hand. Bowing his head, he let his thoughts go back to his childhood. Seimei, who could not have reached fifty yet, had seemed old even then. Akitada recalled kindness rather than embraces. Seimei’s hand on his head or shoulder, or holding his own small hand as they walked through the garden, were the most vivid memories of their closeness.

Seimei’s hand had guided him into young adulthood. On the day the young Akitada had rebelled against his father’s harshness and left his home, there had been tears in Seimei’s eyes, and his hands had clutched Akitada’s shoulders almost desperately.