I. Parker: Death on an Autumn River

Sadenari hung his head. “I had no money left, sir, so I walked.”

Well, it had been a salutary experience, and so Akitada said no more on the subject. “Go and take a bath and change out of those disgraceful clothes,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “As for our assignment here, keep your eyes and ears open but don’t talk about our real purpose.”

Sadenari thanked him fervently and dashed out. Looking after him, Akitada shook his head.

Akitada’s preference would have been to return immediately to the capital and report that Nakahara managed his office so carelessly that anyone could have consulted the lists of shipment and informed others. Nakahara would be replaced and the local authorities instructed to go after the pirates.

But he suspected that he was to produce a minor villain, a scapegoat if necessary, so that things could go on as they had. Someone was making big profits from piracy, and that someone had ties to the court.

His real problem was managing things in such a way that he would seem to have been following orders without actually stepping on the true culprit’s toes. It struck Akitada that living here in quiet luxury might be preferable to maintaining a household close to the emperor. Court intrigue was dangerous when so many competed for positions of power.

It was a distasteful business he was engaged on.

After an afternoon of wandering around town, he returned without any brilliant ideas but pleasantly tired. With the prospect of Nakahara’s dinner, he hurried to take a bath and change into his best robe, a dark blue figured silk, then presented himself in Nakahara’s reception room.

Nakahara’s residence sat on a small knoll that offered him views of the Inland Sea and the shoreline. The doors stood open to the veranda, and the sun was setting. The large room would soon be gloomy, even with the shutters still open, but Akitada saw a servant going around lighting candles and oil lamps. Outside, a blaze like burning embers marked the horizon between the silver sea and a sky the color of fading wisteria blossoms. Akitada could hardly take his eyes away. Sunsets over water always moved him deeply. He had seen them on his journey to Kazusa in his youth, and again later on Sado Island. Both times had marked close encounters with death.

There was no time to wonder about what might lie ahead this time. Other guests were waiting to meet him. Four men formed a casual group around Nakahara, and looked toward Akitada expectantly. He looked back no less curiously. The heavy-set, clean-shaven man in his fifties in the very costly gray robe was clearly someone of high rank, but a white-haired pole of a man in sober brown could be anyone. The jovially smiling giant with the trimmed beard and a rather dashing hunting coat looked like a local landowner, while the black-robed, short man with the mustache and goatee was clearly an official of sorts. Akitada guessed he might be the prefect.

His host’s deep voice boomed. “There you are, Sugawara. Come in, come in.” He skipped over to take Akitada’s arm and lead him toward the large man in gray, saying, “Excellency, meet Sugawara Akitada, the famous investigator of crimes. He’s fresh from the capital. We’ll have to watch ourselves, or he’ll discover all of our nasty little secrets.” His laugh was a little forced, and Akitada cringed as he bowed.

Nakahara continued, “Oga Sadazane is our governor. Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence that he should be here the very day you arrive?”

“A fortunate turn of events,” Akitada said, inclining his head. “I’m afraid our host exaggerates my abilities, governor. I’m a mere messenger on this occasion. Some documents needed signatures, and I decided to pay a visit to your beautiful province. Paperwork day in and day out can make for a dull life.”

Oga smiled and bowed, but his eyes were watchful.

Nakahara made the other introductions more quickly. The cheerful bearded man in the fine hunting robe was the ship owner Watamaro; the small, pale fellow in black was indeed the local prefect Munata; and the elderly gentleman with the white hair and beard turned out to be a Professor Otomo.

Akitada found himself beside the governor when they took their seats and wine was being passed around. The governor said, “This is indeed a beautiful province, though very little happens here. I’m afraid you may have a dull visit. Still, Nakahara can be a very entertaining fellow. No doubt, he’ll introduce you to the lovely ladies of our river towns. Their beauty and skills are equally legendary.”

The fleshpots on the Yodo River were famous in the capital, and Oga might well be one of those senior officials who led licentious lives and assumed everyone else did also. Akitada disapproved and said pointedly, “Well, my plan was to visit Shitenoji temple and see some other sights, but perhaps you can instruct me about these attractions. I’m not familiar with them myself.”

He knew he had made a mistake as soon as the words were out. Oga flushed and turned away. Akitada reminded himself that he might need this man in his investigations.

Nakahara on Akitada’s other side said with a laugh, “The ladies are pretty creatures, but sometimes taking care of one’s soul outweighs other temptations. What say you, Watamaro?”

The merchant was a commoner, but he certainly seemed to know his place. His voice was low and apologetic. “I, too, visit Shitenoji frequently to look westward toward the Buddha’s paradise. In my business, one becomes mindful of the closeness of the other world.”

Why? Was a merchant closer to death than a governor? No doubt, the man was nervous because he felt like a fish out of water here. Akitada had learned to admire men who had risen in the world without being nobly born. Trying to make up for his earlier gaffe with Oga, he engaged Watamaro in questions about places worth seeing in Naniwa. Though Watamaro would know much about pirates, Akitada avoided the subject.

The two other guests hung back and did not join the conversation. Akitada found an excuse to draw the prefect into the conversation, but Munata had little to say beyond the hope that Akitada would find his visit pleasant.

The talk next turned to the former regent Fujiwara Michinaga, who had just disowned his son Yorimichi, the chancellor. Michinaga had made this surprising gesture to show his displeasure with the laziness of court officials serving under Yorimichi. The topic was uncomfortable for Akitada, who was a court official, though of a much lower rank and position than those who had given offense. He saw that the professor had stepped out onto the veranda to admire the view and joined him.

The colors of the sunset were fading but still incredibly beautiful. Akitada said, “Such beauty is very moving, isn’t it?” and gestured at the rapidly darkening sky. “No wonder, our ancestors believed that the place where the sun sets is where we’ll find paradise.”

Otomo gave him a shrewd look and a smile. “Do I take it that you don’t believe in the Buddha, Lord Sugawara?”

Akitada did not, but Buddhism was the court-approved faith and he avoided an answer. “We must believe in something,” he said vaguely. “Otherwise death would be too hard to bear.”

The old man nodded. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t probe into your beliefs. The fact is that I was looking at the western horizon for a different reason. My people came from there, you see. From Koryo, as you call it.”

Since no foreign settlers from either Korea or China had been admitted to the nation for a century or more, Akitada was surprised. “Surely that must have been a long time ago.”

“Oh, yes. They were my great-grandparents. And even then, an exception was being made for them. My great-grandfather took a Japanese name and earned his living teaching Chinese literature. It was a skill that was considered useful then. As you see, I follow the example of my forebears.”