I. Parker - Death on an Autumn River

“I regret, sir, that the governor has departed to look for his son. I have no way of contacting him.”

Akitada just looked at the prefect.

Munata swallowed and added, “My clerks are gathering information about pirate activity and possible local connections, and I have informed the local police to give you every assistance. Besides, I can offer you my own men, in case you should meet with armed resistance. The prefectural guard numbers twenty-five trained men, and I have personal retainers who can raise another two-hundred soldiers. They are at your command.”

The offer was unexpected and extremely generous. Akitada was mollified. Two-hundred armed men was a small army. “Thank you. I shall avail myself of your offer if the need arises, but on the whole I’d like to avoid bloodshed. It always falls heaviest on the innocent.”

The prefect bowed.

“Send a clerk with the paperwork to the government hostel. I’m staying there.”

Munata bowed again.

Akitada had to be satisfied with partial success and decided to speak to the professor again. He was still puzzled by the man’s interest in the dead courtesan.

The professor’s wife, looking pale and worn and dispensing with any effort to hide behind a fan, told him that her husband was down by the river.

A breeze had sprung up, and as Akitada strode down toward the little inlet of the ducks, it seized a crimson maple and scattered its leaves before him like a shower of blood. He shuddered, and an irrational fear gripped him. Surely, his strange moods were due to his recent loss. Seimei gone, leaving a great void, and before him his small son Yori. And Tora was even now walking into the same danger that had swallowed the unfortunate youth Sadenari. Some days he felt that they were all being tossed about as helplessly as the leaves.

He found Otomo in an odd posture of despair. He sat on the ground, hunched over, his elbows propped on his knees and his face in his hands. When Akitada cleared his throat, he came upright and then rose awkwardly to his feet. “Your Excellency,” he said, his voice thick. “I didn’t know you had returned.”

There were tears on the old man’s face. Embarrassed, Akitada said, “I didn’t mean to intrude. We can talk later.”

The professor shook his head with a sad smile. “No, no. I’m glad you came. It’s too beautiful here to have sad thoughts. They say, you cannot stop the birds of sorrow, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair.” He chuckled weakly.

Akitada looked away from Otomo’s reddened eyes and at the river, gilded by the setting sun. The ducks bobbed on the water of the cove, and pines grew close and dipped their branches into the stream. On the opposite shore, the trees wore their autumn colors: shades of green and gold, copper and flame against the fading blue of the sky, more exquisite than the many-layered sleeves of court ladies at an imperial progress. He wondered what troubled Otomo but dared not probe his grief.

He said instead, “You’re to be envied for this place. It is indeed like a small corner of paradise. But since you don’t mind, I do have a question. When I called on the prefect, I met the governor’s son. I think you mentioned that he was your pupil at one time?”

Otomo nodded. “Toshiyo? Yes, I taught him. A very bright boy, and a nice one. I had no need to lie to his father. I hear he did very well at the university.”

“I’m sure he’s a credit to you, but Munata seems to think the young man is about to do harm to himself or to someone else. What do you think? Is he the type?”

Otomo stared at him. His lips worked, but he said nothing for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Oh, dear! That doesn’t sound at all like Toshiyo. What can have happened? He was always a happy boy when I knew him. Perhaps Munata exaggerates?”

“Perhaps. I hoped you could throw some light on it.”

Otomo turned away to look out over the water. His voice sounded strained. “I wish I could. I’m fond of him. It’s true that Yoshiyo was always a very sensitive child. Sometimes I think he has too soft a heart for someone of his birth. Young people are so easily hurt.” He sighed deeply, and murmured, “And we are helpless to protect them.”

“So you think the young man has committed some offense?”

Otomo’s head came up. “Oh, no, I don’t believe that. I was speaking in general terms only.”

His comments had lacked the detachment of someone speaking in general terms, and he seemed near tears again. Akitada decided to let it go and changed the subject. They chatted about the ducks and fishermen, about the tastiest fish found locally and how to prepare them, but the professor’s mind seemed to be on something else.

On an impulse, Akitada said, “I find I have a little time on my hands, and it occurs to me that I might spend it looking into your mystery of the Korean girls. If you like, we could go to Eguchi tomorrow and ask a few questions. I’ve been feeling guilty about that poor young girl with the amulet.”

Otomo gasped, then he shook his head violently. “Oh, no. No, that isn’t at all necessary. It was a mere whim of mine. I shouldn’t have troubled you. You were quite right. It was all my imagination. I would not dream of troubling you.”

“Nonsense,” said Akitada, astonished by this sudden about-face. “I may pick up some information about piracy while we’re there.”

Otomo became more agitated. Wringing his hands, he said, “Better not, sir. You never know what trouble may ensue. Please do not pursue this matter.”

“Why not? What has happened to change your mind?” Akitada was becoming irritated.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m just . . . this is all becoming too much . . . please excuse me.” He turned away, his shoulders shaking.

Akitada said nothing for a while. When Otomo did not seem to gain control again, he spoke more gently. “Well, never mind. We can talk about it tomorrow. I’m a little tired and will say ‘Good night’ for now.”

*

Back at the hostel, he lay awake for a long time wondering about the puzzling behavior of the people he had dealt with that day. The most perplexing had been the professor. Something must have happened to change his mind and upset him to such a degree. He had decided not to give him the amulet just yet.

And what had the governor’s son done to send the father after him in such a rush? Or was the son merely a pretext, and Oga was in the capital, busily causing trouble for Akitada?

He finally fell asleep and slept well.

When he returned to the Otomos the next morning, dressed for the trip to Eguchi, the professor’s wife received him. Her eyes were reddened and her hands shook as she apologized for Otomo’s absence, saying, “My husband is distressed that he cannot see you today. He became quite ill last night and keeps to his bed.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Akitada. “Is it serious? Should I go for a doctor? Please tell me how I can be useful.”

She bowed. “You’re very kind, sir, but it is merely some trouble with his belly. Something he ate, he says. He took a laxative.” She blushed. “I hope Your Excellency is not inconvenienced?”

Akitada looked at her. She seemed more upset than her words suggested. “Not at all. I trust your husband will soon be better. Please tell him that my business will take me out of town, but I should be back tonight or tomorrow.”

*

Akitada did not believe that the professor suffered from an upset stomach. Most likely, he wanted to avoid going to Eguchi with him. This sudden change of mind was extremely irritating, and Akitada thought he deserved a dose of laxatives.

He returned to the harbor and purchased passage on one of the regular boats between the river towns. The weather was still clear, but there was a new chill in the air, and the cries of flying geese overhead told of the coming cold season. Akitada was glad that the oppressive heat of the last weeks had gone. The cool air seemed to give him new energy.