I. Parker - Death on an Autumn River

Akitada digested this with surprised dismay. “He wrote a few days ago?” It sounded as if Sadenari had written his father after he had disappeared. “Where exactly was he, er, making this great progress?”

“He didn’t say. Would you like to see the letter, sir?”

“I would indeed. I haven’t had a report from him myself.” And that thought brought back anger. Perhaps all his worry had been for nothing. The rascal was gallivanting about again without a thought to his duties. No telling what damage he had been doing. Or perhaps Akitada knew well enough: there had been the two soldiers and Seimei’s death.

Miyoshi returned with a much creased sheet of cheap paper. “Here it is. I could wish Sadenari would take more care with his brushwork, but he was clearly pressed for time, and the note was just to his old dad.” He chuckled.

Sadenari’s brushwork had given Akitada some concern in the past, and this sample was distinctly worse than what he produced at work.

“Honored Father,” Sadenari scrawled. “You’ll wonder how I’m doing here. Be assured that your son has finally gained his lordship’s complete confidence. He has given me an assignment of the greatest national importance. I’ve already made excellent progress, but the secrecy involved doesn’t allow me to write about it. Suffice it to say I’m on the trail of a villain who plots against our Divine Sovereign himself. I’m filled with an energy that could move mountains. Give my best love to my mother and to my brothers and sisters. Tell them to expect their big brother to return covered in triumph.”

Sadenari was not precisely modest, thought Akitada sourly. The letter was dated after his disappearance. Akitada turned the sheet over, looking for some clue to where it had been posted. There was nothing but the superscription and some grease stains that might have been put there by the grubby fingers of all the little brothers and sisters. He glanced toward the doorway and caught sight of two little girls and an older woman. She must be Sadenari’s mother. She was smiling proudly until she met his eyes and ducked away with a small cry. The two rosy-cheeked girls remained, wide-eyed at the visiting courtier who sat in their living room.

Akitada did not know what to think or tell this family. Sadenari might indeed be well, though Akitada doubted he would cover himself in glory or even uncover any clues to the identity of the traitor. Alternatively, he might have encountered trouble shortly after sending this letter and be dead even now.

He returned the letter with a heavy heart and cautioned, “There may be some danger. We must hope he’s being careful. He is very young.”

Miyoshi chuckled. “Oh, Sadenari is one lucky fellow. It’s always been that way with him. His karma is excellent. He’ll be fine, sir, don’t you worry. Nothing bad ever happens to Sadenari.”

A week after Akitada had arrived home, Fujiwara Sanesuke decided that Akitada should return to Naniwa and finish his assignment. An official arrived toward nightfall to meet with Akitada. The gentleman outranked Akitada and threw the household into consternation as his retinue waited in the courtyard and no one knew whether they should be shown inside and offered refreshments.

Akitada paid no attention to the nervous whispers in the corridor. He had bigger problems. His career might well hang in the balance.

Lord Takahashi was stiffly formal. He refused an offer of wine, indicating that he was there on business.

“His Excellency has taken note of the death of one of your retainers,” he said. “He regrets this. However, no mourning period can be involved since this man was not a close family member. His Excellency has decided that you will return to your duties immediately.”

This sounded a good deal like a reproof for neglect of duty, and Akitada bowed humbly, expressing his apologies and acceptance. When Lord Takahashi merely nodded, he dared a question. “May I ask if the assignment has changed in any way as it regards the local governor, or the prefect and the administrator of the foreign trade office?”

“No. His Excellency has addressed separate instructions to the governor and the man at the trade office. You are to deliver these and finish your investigation. Weekly reports are expected, but surely it will not take that long.”

More pressure: Finish this quickly or we will consider the delays another instance of dereliction of duty!

Akitada hated begging for protection. It made him sound like a coward. He murmured, “I must urge the danger faced by any official who ventures into this hornet’s nest of piracy and profiteering.”

Lord Takahashi gave him a cold look. “You surprise me. I had heard that you faced much greater odds on that convict island. Surely you can handle a simple information leak without requiring body guards?”

Akitada mentioned humbly that on Sado Island he had carried secret orders that had gained him the support of the local governor. On this occasion, the local authorities not only did not offer protection but seemed aligned against him.

“Enough!” Lord Takahashi drew a rolled up sheaf of papers from the voluminous sleeve of his black court robe. “Here are your instructions and official letters to the governor and the others. It will be up to you to decide whom to trust. You may collect funds and travel tokens at your ministry and are expected to start out early tomorrow.”

*

And so Akitada and Tora departed after a night that had allowed them little rest. Akitada’s visit to his ministry to pick up travel funds had been time-consuming as it involved a lengthy and convivial visit with Fujiwara Kaneie, who congratulated him on the trust the Minister of the Right placed in him and proceeded immediately to a discussion of his own problems. A number of questions of a legal nature had cropped up during Akitada’s absence, and besides two pending cases might prove tricky. He desired input from his senior secretary. Their working session was accompanied by many cups of wine, and Akitada did not get home until nearly dawn. He still had to pack, and issue funds to Tamako and instructions to Genba.

The loss of Seimei weighed more heavily than ever on him. The old man had been the heart of the household, making sure all ran smoothly. Eventually, Akitada said farewell to Tamako and peeked in on his little daughter Yasuko, still fast asleep with a doll clutched to her chest.

Except for the fact that he was with Tora instead of Sadenari, the trip resembled the previous one. They went by boat down the Yodo River, the time of day was the same, and the passengers were again pilgrims and men on business. The boat master was different, but he, too, was accompanied by two helpers.

Autumn had progressed in even the short span of time since the last journey. Here and there, brighter splashes of gold and crimson showed among the sober green of the wooded banks of the river. The thought of autumn had made Akitada think of old age and death and had proved sadly premonitory. The loss of Seimei would pain him for a long time to come.

The river carried him toward the unknown. He leaned over the side of the boat and peered into the water. Dark shadows moved below the surface. Already they were close to Eguchi. He found himself watching for the place where they had found the dead girl.

The charming pavilion overhanging the river hove into view first, and he recalled his longing for such a retreat, or for something like the professor’s house, a modest place where he could wander down to the water and feed his ducks.

Oh, to be free of the obligations and fears his work placed upon him!

The finely wrought railings, brilliantly red in the sunlight, were nearly level with their boat when a thought struck him. He called out to the boatman, “Can you take us closer to shore, to that pavilion there?”