I. Parker - Death on an Autumn River

“No, of course, not. I’ll change into some rags, but I’ll take my sword. It’s short, and an old jacket swill cover it. I may be gone for a couple of days. Will you be all right?”

“Yes. It’s you who is going into the tiger’s lair. Be careful.”

The next morning, Akitada walked to the district prefecture, ruminating about the return of the Korean amulet.

Why had the ugly man returned it? If he had taken it in the first place, what had made him change his mind? If he had not taken it, how had he found it? Hiding it inside the bamboo pipe made more sense. He had clearly taken the measure of the fat man. But the rest of his impressive feats still bordered on the unreal.

Before setting out, Akitada had looked at the amulet again. Otomo was right. It was too finely made to have belonged to a mere courtesan. If he had the time, he would return to Eguchi with the amulet and get to the bottom of this mystery.

Having got this far, Akitada saw the prefecture looming ahead and forced his mind back to the piracy case. What, for example, should he make of the close ties between Governor Oga, a court noble assigned to the province for the customary four years, and Prefect Munata, a local landowner?

Professor Otomo also claimed acquaintance with the governor. He had taught his son, but was that a sufficient reason for Nakahara to have invited him to his party? He was a poor academic, quite clearly a different species from the others. The governor and the prefect, two powerful men, had not treated him precisely as an equal, but they had accepted his presence. Yes, Otomo’s role in all this was another puzzle.

He was received politely at the prefecture, but Munata’s assistant told him that the prefect was still at his residence outside the city and not expected until later that day.

Impatient at the delay, Akitada demanded a horse and a guide, and set out for Munata’s home.

Munata clearly owned a substantial property. The compound extended over several acres and had an impressive roofed double gate. This gate stood open, so that Akitada rode all the way across the wide entrance court to the steps of the main house where he dismounted. Servants came running to take his horse. More servants ran down the stairs to receive him. Near a secondary gate, leading perhaps to stables and retainers’ quarters, a group of men with bows had gathered near their horses. They were apparently preparing to hunt, but Akitada thought of the armed retainers who had attacked his home.

Self-interest governed allegiance, and Munata would not willingly take actions that conflicted with Oga’s interests, but had he gone so far as to dispatch two of his men in order to frighten Akitada into leaving Naniwa?

His arrival had caused initial consternation, but after some running back and forth of agitated servants, Munata himself appeared to welcome Akitada into his reception hall.

He was dressed more elegantly than last time. No plain black robe on this occasion. He wore a red hunting coat of figured brocade and blue silk trousers. Perhaps he had only worn the black robe because he had come from work in the prefecture, or because he had not wanted to upstage the governor. Clearly, here he was the master and overlord of his domain.

His reception hall also revealed wealth and hereditary status. A large silk banner with his family crest hung over the dais, and the beams and columns were carved and colored.

Munata invited Akitada to sit and then seated himself with a rustle of his stiff red coat. “We had thought you had left us for good, Lord Sugawara,” he said with a smile.

“No such luck. I returned from court with instructions for the governor and thought to find him here.”

“Ah, yes.” Munata folded his hands. “He does stay here frequently. But he has the affairs of the province to deal with. Hearing court cases and settling land disputes, you know. He’s a most conscientious official.”

Akitada said coldly. “I know quite well what a governor does, having served in that capacity myself.”

Munata lost some of his composure. He bowed. “My apologies. How may I be of service?”

“You will oblige me by sending for him.”

“Sending for him? Surely you jest. I cannot send for the governor.”

Akitada raised his brows. “I would hope that you do so, for example, in cases of district emergencies. But if you don’t feel empowered to ask him to return, I will. Call in a clerk, and I’ll dictate a letter.”

Munata flushed and obeyed. An elderly man appeared, carrying a small desk and writing tools. He bowed to Akitada, sat, and immediately began to rub ink and ready his brush.

Akitada dictated, “To Governor Oga Maro: You are hereby requested to return to the Naniwa prefecture immediately to receive the instructions of His Most Honored Excellency, Fujiwara Sanesuke, Grand Minister of the Right. Signed, Sugawara Akitada, Imperial Investigator.”

The title of “imperial investigator” was one that Sanesuke (or his senior secretary, since the great man did not necessarily dictate letters) had used in Akitada’s own instructions. It proved to be useful on this occasion, since imperial investigators could subsume powers not necessarily available to a mere senior secretary in the Ministry of Justice. When the clerk was done, Akitada read the letter, corrected one character, and then impressed his seal to it. “Very well,” he said to Munata, who had been sitting speechless, nervously twisting his hands. “Have a messenger deliver this immediately. I expect the governor tomorrow.”

Munata took the letter and dismissed the clerk. “I shall see to it, sir . . . er . . . if that’s all?”

Akitada glowered at him. “No. I have some business with you.”

The prefect paled. With a muttered apology, he rose and rushed from the room, bearing the letter with him. Akitada heard him speak to someone outside, then he returned. He slipped back to his seat and said, “I regret extremely that our last meeting was unpleasant. I hope you will believe, sir, that I had to follow the governor’s wishes.”

So the little weasel was trying to blame his disobedience on Oga. Akitada looked at him with disgust. He disliked this man more than any of the others who had been present at Nakahara’s that night. There was, in truth, something very weasellike and predatory about his smallness, his sharp features, and his quick movements.

“His Majesty’s laws pertain to all men equally,” he pointed out coldly. “I asked for the assistance you had been told to give, and you refused it.”

Munata bowed several times. “My apologies if I have offended. It was never my intention . . . and I carried out your instructions if you’ll recall.”

“Not quite. You informed Oga, and then you and he met with Nakahara to plan your strategy. When I returned to the trade office, the three of you refused me any further assistance. The governor-speaking for all of you, I take it-told me to leave Naniwa.”

The prefect squirmed. “The governor makes his own decisions. It isn’t up to me, or Nakahara, to correct a man of his standing.”

There was no point in arguing about it. Akitada snapped, “What has been done to find my clerk?”

“If he’s on Watamaro’s ship, he’s out of our jurisdiction. Messages could be sent to all the provinces and harbors where the ship calls. I take it that Watamaro has done so.”

“In other words, you have done nothing to investigate what happened. Have you made any progress in finding out who is passing information about shipments to the pirates?”

Munata swallowed and glanced around the room as if the answer lurked somewhere in a corner. “Umm, we had nothing to go on. I, umm, believe with the governor that the informant must be in Kyushu.”