I. Parker: Death on an Autumn River

Akitada took it that Tameaki was the very serious young man who had shown him in. His opinion of Nakahara plummeted further. He took his papers and the documents from his sleeve and passed them across. “The Minister of the Right has asked me to deliver these letters and to assist you in any way I can. He has signed my credentials himself, as you will see.”

Nakahara stared at the batch. “Did he now? You must be important, then.” He flipped through them. “Where is it? Oh, never mind. I’ll read it all later.” He shuffled Akitada’s documents together, found a loose piece of silk cord and tied them up. “Now, what do you say? Shall we walk into town?” Not waiting for an answer, he hopped up and headed past Akitada to the door.

Being accustomed to the bone-chilling formality of the court, Akitada was stunned. Far from reading the minister’s missive after raising it reverently to his forehead, Nakahara had pushed it and the other papers under his piles of unfinished work. And now he was off, no doubt having crab rolls and sake on his mind. The man was not just eccentric; he must be demented. And what was more worrying, apparently any number of people had access to his documents. Even pirates might learn all about the richest shipments.

With a sigh, he got up again and followed Nakahara. Nakahara passed through the hall and out into the entrance courtyard, waving gaily to the guards and shouting that he would be gone for the rest of the afternoon.

Making things easy for spies, thought Akitada.

As they left his compound, Nakahara pointed to a building near the prefecture. “Look, over there is the government lodging house for couriers and those on official business. Of course, I hope you’ll be my guest while you’re here.”

The government quarters looked adequate, and Akitada could have stayed there. There was much to be said for maintaining a neutral distance, but in this case it seemed better to meet the people around Nakahara. He accepted the invitation.

They walked back down to the harbor. Nakahara talked about the river and canal silting up and making shipping difficult, but the fate of the Naniwa harbor was of little interest to Akitada. The theft of imperial goods had taken place on the high seas, not here.

Akitada put up with the chatter for a while, then interrupted. “All of this is very interesting, sir, but the attention at court is on the recent piracies on the Inland Sea.”

Nakahara stopped. “Do please call me Morito. Everybody does. It’s friendlier.”

“If you wish. I take it you’re aware of the increased pirate activity?”

“Mmm, Yes. There has been talk.” Nakahara avoided his eyes. “Are you certain that there is nothing else you would like to see? The old storehouses are this way, and we could have a look at Shitenno-ji. Everyone who comes here visits the temple.

Akitada declined the offer and returned to the issue of piracy. “It is the Dazaifu that dispatches the cargo from Kyushu to Naniwa. But apparently, that office has maintained the strictest secrecy. Besides, some tribute ships from the provinces have also been lost.”

“Coincidence probably, but someone in the capital always gets worried about conspiracies. And usually they think it must be happening here.”

Akitada suppressed a sarcastic comment. He was puzzled. According to his information, Nakahara was above reproach. Why, then, was he stalling? “Perhaps it would be best to keep the matter between ourselves for the time being. And make sure that your documents are safe from curious eyes.”

“You think I should?” Nakahara chewed his lower lip. “You may be right. The whole town seems to be in and out of my office lately.”

“What makes the court suspect this area in particular?”

“The pirates have been attacking certain shipments and only on the last leg of their journey. They must be local. A cargo from China was carrying medicines and Buddhist scriptures and religious treasures for the Nara temple. The monks discovered that some of their goods had been sold to rival temples and are furious. Then two tribute ships for high-ranking officials disappeared. In all of the cases, official lists from the Dazaifu were sent to us weeks earlier.” Seeing Akitada’s surprise, Nakahara explained, “When the ships dock in Kawajiri, we check the cargo against those lists before they are transferred to smaller vessels. It cuts down on captains helping themselves to things. I think someone may have got hold of those lists. I must say, it’s been somewhat embarrassing.”

That was an understatement. Either Nakahara was covering up his own activities or he was incredibly incompetent. It occurred to Akitada, not for the first time, that someone at court had a personal interest in the matter.

Nakahara chewed his lip. “You should talk to Watamaro. He’s a local merchant and ship owner. He knows all about shipping and is a very charitable man. I shall arrange a small dinner tonight so you can meet him and one or two other important men.” The thought of entertaining apparently reminded Nakahara of his stomach, because he stopped and pointed down a narrow street. “Look! Uzura’s is just a few steps from here.”

Before Akitada could answer, he heard shouting. “Sir, sir! Wait up. Please.”

The disheveled figure of Sadenari ran toward them, robe and trousers flapping, one hand holding onto his hat, the other waving frantically.

He had picked the perfect moment to show up. Akitada could hardly dress him down in front of their host. Seething,-Sadenari’s clothes were sadly wrinkled and stained, and his eyes were bloodshot-Akitada made the introductions. At least Sadenari managed a decent bow and a courteous greeting.

Nakahara was all smiles. “Delighted to meet you, young man. You’ll be right at home with my clerks. Young fellows know how to have a good time.” He winked at Akitada. “Except Tameaki, perhaps. Come, you’re just in time to join us. Best crab rolls you ever tasted.”

The crab rolls were very good, and Sadenari refrained from discussing his night of debauchery in Eguchi. Instead, they talked about the capital. It was amazing to see the relief with which Nakahara dropped the piracy topic.

Akitada was sorry that he had taken Sadenari into his confidence about the assignment. At least he had not shared the details. While they were here, he would put Sadenari to feeling out the young clerks. That should keep him reasonably distracted while Akitada saw the local officials. The depredations had been of such size and profitability that it was unlikely youngsters were behind them, but they might have observed some irregularities in the office.

*

Sadenari made his humble apology later that day and in private. They had been assigned rooms in Nakahara’s home, a comfortable residence in the compound of the foreign trade office.

His story was simple.

Unable to sleep, he had stepped outside. Curiosity had led him to stroll back into town to look around. That was where he had met again the young men from the boat, and they had taken him to a wine house.

“I meant to have just one cup with them,” Sadenari said miserably. “I thought I would ask them about the poor girl. They are very experienced and were closer to her body.” He gave Akitada a quick glance, perhaps to remind him that he had been ordered away from the dead girl. “They thought maybe she’d been drowned by a jealous wife or by a rival. I said, I didn’t think so. We argued, and they kept refilling my cup, and then, of course, it was my turn to pay for wine, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in a backroom. There were women there . . . but they were with the others.” This last was added in a murmur of shame.

Akitada almost felt sorry for him. All that frustrated desire, and in the end he had drunk too much to taste the pleasure. “Your behavior was reprehensible enough, but it seems to me you still had plenty of time to join me on the boat in the morning,” he pointed out.