I Parker - The Fires of the Gods

He bowed. ‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘I did prepare these documents in my defense, but expected that I would present the facts in person.’

‘Then you were wrong and should have informed yourself better,’ snapped the young nobleman.

Akitada looked at them dumbly. There was nothing else for him to say. What were they waiting for?

The silence stretched.

It was again Akimoto who cleared his throat apologetically. He made a small bow towards his younger colleague and said, ‘The senior censor is, of course, quite right, but perhaps in this instance we might make an exception. I’m somewhat familiar with Lord Sugawara’s history and think we would all benefit from having a look at his version of the facts before we make our decision. A mistake made in haste would be embarrassing.’

The senior censor started to bluster, but there were murmurs of consent from some of the others. His face stiffened, and he said coldly, ‘Since Lord Akimoto expresses concern, far be it from me to urge a speedy resolution. By all means, let us take our time. The chancellor will appreciate our thoroughness… if not our dilatory handling of the case.’ He waved his baton, and the secretary approached to collect Akitada’s notes. Akitada was told to return the following day.

He had no illusions that the intercession by Akimoto meant the case against him would be dismissed. If anything, it had rankled the senior secretary and would make him even more determined to find Akitada guilty – if only to make a point. What Akitada had gained was half a day’s freedom, perhaps his last. The fee paid by Lady Kiyowara would have to be returned. He doubted that there was enough gold left in his money box. He must earn the Abbot’s fee somehow.

The skies still hid behind clouds. It was warm, but there was the smell of rain in the air. He walked home to change his clothes. Seimei met him with an expression that was anxious and hopeful at the same time.

‘Is it over, sir?’

‘No. I’m to report again tomorrow. It doesn’t look very good. For the moment, though, I need to get into old clothes. How’s Tora?’

‘The same.’ Seimei’s expression was bleak. ‘I don’t like this fever. We have tried everything. Where are you going?’

‘To find out what it was that Tora stirred up and perhaps to earn my fee from the abbot. We’ll have to return the Kiyowara gold.’

Seimei gasped and put a hand to his mouth.

‘Don’t worry.’ Akitada felt guilty for having been so blunt. ‘We’ll weather this, as we have worse things. Just make sure that Tora gets what he needs.’

Seimei nodded. He tried a smile. ‘At least Her Ladyship and the little one are thriving.’

Akitada patted Seimei’s frail shoulder. ‘There, you see? We mustn’t despair. Now, can you help me find some rags suitable for associating with crooks?’

Seimei balked. ‘You aren’t thinking of looking for those young monsters who attacked Tora? They tortured some poor creature for days! You must not risk your life at this time. We shall cope.’

Akitada smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I shall be very careful.’

‘Please, sir.’ The old man’s voice rose a little. ‘Think of your wife and child if you won’t think of yourself.’

They had a right to worry and that made it doubly hard, but Akitada had no choice. Guilt made him peremptory. ‘Enough! This is no different from any other work I have ever done and certainly less dangerous than exile on Sado Island.’

That reminder made Seimei suck in his breath and turn away to look for old clothes for him. They were not precisely rags, but a dingy pair of trousers and a long jacket: comfortable, and indistinguishable from clothes worn by any poor man who had some business to attend to.

Since a sword would attract attention, Akitada pushed a knife in his sash under the jacket. If Akitada had not spoken harshly a moment ago, Seimei would no doubt have said that his master was jumping into a deep pool with a heavy stone in his arms.

The distance to the Western Market seemed longer than Akitada remembered, but then he rarely had occasion to do much walking these days. At least the cloudy skies made the summer heat more bearable.

It was market day, an occasion that alternated once a week between the two markets on either side of the capital. After a lean and troubled year, Akitada had looked in amazement at the bustle of the eastern market. There, stands were selling sedge and bamboo blinds, paper fans, cotton or ramie cloth, religious objects and household vessels. Food sellers offered dumplings, cakes, noodles, soups, and stews. And entertainers were everywhere: a puppet master carried his stage on a tray tied around his neck; three musicians fluted and strummed and drummed; a young woman danced and sang; a storyteller entertained young and old; a fortune-teller sold his amulets; and acrobats performed their tricks among the shoppers. Here, the picture looked much bleaker. The goods were poor stuff, and most of the stands sold vegetables.

He found Hoshina’s wine shop easily, but there his luck ended. Tora’s description had suggested a flirtatious female, but he found a big, full-breasted woman, bustling back and forth among poorly-dressed customers.

She was in her thirties with a slightly pock-marked face and protruding front teeth. Her customers, though, seemed fond of her. They tried to pinch her bottom or lift her skirt as she passed and laughed uproariously when she slapped their hands away.

Eventually, Hoshina noticed him and stopped for his order.

‘Wine.’ He was hungry, but dared not try the food.

She appraised him for a moment, then said, ‘You want the good stuff.’

He nodded. ‘And I’d like to talk to you when you have a moment.’

She was surprised. ‘That could be a while,’ she said, eyeing him more closely.

‘I’m in a hurry. It concerns Tora.’

Her face closed. She took a step away and scanned the crowded room. ‘I’m busy. It’s market day.’ Her voice was tight and she left.

Akitada saw only ordinary working men snatching a quick bite or drink before returning to work. None of them were boys, but Tora’s mention of the three deaf mutes probably meant that any of these older males could be members of a gang. Tora had pointed out that the deaf mutes and the girl had protected the boys from the police. Hoshina was probably afraid to talk to him.

He wondered what to do next when Hoshina was back with a flask and a cup. She held out her hand. ‘Twenty coppers.’

It was dear, but Akitada gave her the money, saying in a low voice, ‘Tora is very ill. That’s why I came. It’s urgent.’

Her eyes widened briefly, then flew around the room again. She leaned down to pour the wine and murmured, ‘Later. After the market closes.’

That would not be until well after dark. Akitada asked in a low voice, ‘How is Jirokichi? Can’t you at least tell me where he is?’

She straightened, saying, ‘How should I know? The bastard’s left me. All men are bastards.’ She flounced away, swinging her hips to a chorus of raucous shouts.

Had that been the truth? He looked after her and knew that he could trust no one in this matter. Something was afoot that was far more important than the disappearance of Shokan’s protegee, and Jirokichi was at the center of it.

He tasted the wine. It had the strong flavor and murky consistency much loved by the common people. Leaving the rest, he walked out.

The clouds still hung low over the city. His mood had changed, and it seemed now that they cast a dull, depressing light on the city. He wished for rain because that would close the market early. He had not eaten all day, having been too tense about the hearing this morning. He looked at the foods offered by the few market vendors and settled for a bowl of noodles that he bought from a middle-aged woman who looked clean and was doing a good business.