I. Parker - Death on an Autumn River

Watamaro was cheerful and reassuring. “My men know the area well. We should reach Azukishima by midday, and then we’ll simply call at every island in the vicinity until we find them. We may find them sooner, if the storm has damaged the ship.”

“Thank you.” Akitada frowned. Watamaro seemed very sure. But then the man must be thoroughly familiar with the Inland Sea. “How is it,” he asked, “that you have not been able to stop these pirates? A man with your means and knowledge of the sea routes surely is in the best position to do so?”

Watamaro chuckled. “Nobody has asked me to do so, and a man in my business cannot afford to act on his own. People would never forgive me.”

Astonished, Akitada asked, “Your people would not forgive you? I don’t understand. These pirates are men of no mercy who kill and steal at will. Surely, by capturing them you would win praise and gratitude.”

“Ah, but the pirates are our people, my Lord. They are the fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons of people living around the Inland Sea. Most were poor fishermen who turned to piracy when they couldn’t earn a living catching fish.”

Akitada shook his head. “Thieves are thieves. The ones in the capital may be said to be of the people also, and most are poorer than your fishermen. Our country has been blessed with rivers, lakes, and oceans that provide our food in great abundance. There is no excuse for not reaping the harvest when others starve.”

Watamaro nodded. “You’re quite right, of course. I was simply explaining the bonds that exist and make it difficult to arrest pirates. They are protected by local people. And on the whole, they do little enough damage. The days when pirates worked for great lords who raised their arms against our divine emperor are over.”

“Perhaps, and perhaps not.”

Watamaro fidgeted and changed the subject, talking instead of famous places and telling stories about local gods and goddesses. Akitada was reminded of the tale the Fujiwara lady had mentioned. He asked, “Have you heard anything about the lady in the River Mansion outside Eguchi?”

Watamaro threw back his head and laughed. “The daughter of the Dragon King?” He stopped laughing. “Oh, forgive me. That was very rude of me. I don’t know her, but I’ve heard the stories.” His eyes twinkled again but he suppressed more mirth. “Why do you ask?”

Akitada made a face. “Apparently she entertains a good deal, inviting friends from the capital to sample what the Eguchi brothels have to offer.”

Watamaro cocked his head. “You don’t approve?”

“No. Not when children become part of the entertainment.”

“Ah. This happens?”

“Yes. One of them died in the river below the mansion. It isn’t clear whether she committed suicide or . . .” Akitada let his voice trail off.

Watamaro was no longer laughing. He sounded angry. “A child? The young girl you mentioned at Nakahara’s dinner?”

“Yes. She looked no more than fourteen. The brothel was grooming her for a ‘presentation’.”

Watamaro clenched his fists. “For one of the nobles from the capital, I take it. Our masters take whatever they please, and we must bear it. The lady of the River Mansion is a member of the ruling family. She has very powerful friends and protectors.” He shot Akitada a glance. “Sorry, but these things are very upsetting to a man like myself.”

“Not at all. I agree with you.”

Akitada pondered the similarities between the crimes of the wealthy and those of the poor. Neither could be brought to justice, apparently. Watamaro was a wealthy man, but he was also a commoner. His sympathies were with his people.

Toward noon, they stepped outside, Watamaro to talk to his sailors, and Akitada to check their progress. It seemed to him that they were barely moving. The huge sails flapped weakly.But he saw with pleasure the blueness of the water and the deeper blue of land in the distance. Seagulls circled and shrieked overhead, and the air was brisk and pure.

Saburo appeared beside him. “I’m uneasy, sir,” he said in a low voice. “Something doesn’t seem right. We are barely moving. The wind is against us. I’ve spent the morning watching the sailors. They act as if they were on a pleasure cruise. You’d think they’d try to speed up this ship.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you trust Watamaro?”

Akitada gave him a sharp look. He said, “Of course. He has generously offered to help.”

“Hmm.” Saburo looked around. “I could swear we’re on a wild goose chase and everybody but us knows it.”

“They can’t do anything about the wind. It may be your imagination.”

“Maybe. But there’s something else. Considering we’re going to tangle with pirates, you’d expect soldiers and weapons on board, wouldn’t you?”

Akitada considered this. “Watamaro knows a lot about pirates and fishermen. From the way he talked to me, he may plan to make a deal with them, perhaps offer them payment to release Tora.” The thought appalled him because he would be honor-bound to repay Watamaro. “If there’s no bloodshed, all the better,” he added.

Saburo nodded. “It’s possible.” But he looked dissatisfied.

Akitada studied the coastline and looked at the sun. The islands should be to the west. This coastline lay to the north. He suddenly had a hollow feeling in his belly. If Saburo was right and Watamaro could not be trusted, they not only would not rescue Tora but would end up in deep trouble themselves. And he had no one to blame but himself.

An hour later, one of the sailors sighted a ship. It was on the opposite course and, with the wind in its sails, approached quickly.

Akitada joined Watamaro. “What ship is it?”

“A merchant. Probably bound for Kawajiri. There. They’re hailing us. They may want to sell something or ask for news.”

As the ships drew closer, Akitada could make out the faces of the sailors on the larger ship. They shouted from one ship to the other in a local dialect Akitada did not understand. Watamaro apparently spoke the language and looked excited.

“They say they have two castaways on board,” he told Akitada. “One of them says his name is Tora and he is from Naniwa.”

Akitada’s heart started pounding. “Can you take me across?”

“No. We’ll bring them over here. The ship is bound for Kawajiri, and they’re glad to get rid of them.” He left to give orders.

A short time later, Akitada was leaning over the side to peer down into the boat as it returned. Two men lay on its floor between the legs of the rowers.

Saburo pointed. “That one looks like your man, sir.”

“Yes. Yes, I think it’s Tora. Are they unconscious? I hope Tora isn’t badly hurt. Is that blood on him?”

When they hoisted the two limp figures aboard, Tora was so filthy and ragged, his clothes covered with dried blood, his hair and beard tangled and his face red and swollen that he was hardly recognizable. His companion was not in much better shape.

But Tora’s eyes were open, and he managed a weak smile. “Thank God, it’s you, sir,” he mumbled.

Akitada felt limp with a mixture relief and concern. He turned to Watamaro. “It’s Tora. He must have escaped.” He knelt beside Tora. “You’re covered with blood. Where are you wounded?”

A weak chuckle. “Not mine. Had to kill a man who wouldn’t give up my sword. But my head hurts like blazes.” He sighed and closed his eyes.

Akitada felt Tora’s scalp and found a large swelling. Getting to his feet, he told Watamaro, “He has a head injury. Tora is very dear to me.” He looked down at the exhausted men. “I think it will be best if we make all speed back to Naniwa. He’ll need medical care.”