The Dragon Scroll (4 page)

“It is said ‘Cold weather and cold rice may be endured, but not cold looks and words.’“ The old man hung his head. “I have been very unkind to that boy.”

“Nonsense!” Akitada repeated, somewhat absently. He peered down a dark alley. At its end torches flickered and he could hear excited voices. “Something is wrong down there.”

“If there are people, let’s go ask one more time.”

“Very well. But after that we get some rest.”

When they reached the torch-lit scene, they found that a crowd had gathered because of a crime in a dilapidated two-story house with the ill-written sign “Fragrant Bower of Beauty” dangling lopsidedly from a single nail. A red-coated police constable stood guard at the doorway, glaring impartially at a knot of poorly dressed people clustered before him.

Akitada pushed through the curious and demanded, “What happened here?” Just then the door opened and two more constables appeared, bearing a body on a stretcher. It was covered by a woman’s bloodstained gown.

The constable, seeing a tall, official-sounding stranger before him, puffed himself up. “A vagrant slashed a whore’s throat,” he barked. Then he grinned, baring crooked yellow teeth. “But he didn’t get very far, and there’s plenty of women left inside, so help yourself, sir.” He winked, stepped aside, and strode off after his colleagues.

Seimei stumbled after him. “Constable! Wait!” he croaked hoarsely through another bout of coughing. The constable did not hear him, and Seimei returned to seize Akitada’s sleeve, his face flushed and tense. “You must follow, sir. It’s a murder. You know all about murder, and I have a feeling it has something to do with Tora.”

“Nonsense. You are ill and exhausted, and I cannot get involved in a murder investigation here. I am on assignment to Kazusa.”

“Please, sir. At least we could ask about him at the police station. It would make me feel better.”

With a sigh, Akitada gave in. The police station was near the center of Fujisawa, its entrance marked by a large paper lantern bearing the characters “Police.” Inside they found a lieutenant and two clerks occupied with questioning a fat man in a greasy blue cotton robe.

“I admit I was wrong about the color of his jacket, Officer,” the obese man was saying, spreading small hands with fingers like fat slugs. “But you couldn’t miss the scar on his face. I swear it’s the same man. Poor Violet! She was just building a nice clientele, too. A big loss, that, Officer. And who will indemnify me? I paid six rolls of the best silk for that girl four years ago. I fed her, trained her, and was just realizing a small profit when . . . poof...” His hands flew into the air, encircling emptiness, when his eyes took in the weary, travel-worn figures of Akitada and Seimei. “It is really too bad how much riffraff is allowed to travel the great Eastern Road nowadays. An honest businessman is no longer safe in this town.”

The police lieutenant turned. “What do you want?” he asked peevishly. “Can’t you see I’m busy? If it’s about travel permits or directions, you’ll have to come back in the morning.”

Akitada was tired and frustrated. He knew Seimei was feeling worse, and he had no intention of wasting any more time. “Pass the man my papers, Seimei,” he snapped, and watched impatiently as the lieutenant unrolled them and paled as he read the imperial instructions to give the bearer all possible assistance. After raising the document reverently to his brow, he fell to his knees and apologized.

“Get up!” said Akitada wearily. “We sent our servant Tora ahead to arrange for lodging. He seems to have disappeared. I wish him found immediately.”

The lieutenant jumped up and asked for particulars. When Akitada gave a description of Tora, his face grew longer and longer. The fat man cried out in astonishment also, and the clerks sat watching with round eyes.

“We took such a person into custody a short while ago,” the lieutenant admitted. “For murdering a prostitute. He was arrested not far from the scene of a murder on the word of this eyewitness here.” He pointed to the fat man, who suddenly looked nervous.

“Well,” the fat man stammered, “it was getting dark, but I recognized the scar when I saw his face at the noodle stall. Perhaps these gentlemen are not aware of the violent character of their servant.”

“Can we see the prisoner?” Akitada asked the officer.

“Certainly. Right away, Your Excellency!” The lieutenant clapped his hands.

A few moments later Tora stood before them, chained, bloodied, bruised, and held firmly on either side by two brawny guards.

“Sir!” he cried, and took a step toward Akitada. The constables jerked him back by his chains.

Akitada said, “There has been some mistake. This is my servant. Set him free instantly.”

“But, Excellency,” protested the officer. “He has been positively identified by a respected citizen of this town. I’m afraid—”

Akitada glared. “I said, set him free.”

Tora was released and came to them, rubbing his wrists and muttering his thanks.

Akitada growled, “I hope you won’t make a habit of this, Tora. We’ve spent hours looking for you. If it hadn’t been for Seimei’s insistence, you might have rotted in this jail.” He saw Tora’s eyes moisten and relented. “What happened?”

“It serves me right, sir,” Tora said humbly. “I was hungry and cold and thought there was plenty of time, you being delayed at the post station. I stopped for some noodles in hot broth. I was just finishing them when all hell broke loose. The next thing I know, I’m on the ground with four constables beating and kicking me.”

Akitada turned to the lieutenant. “When did the crime take place?”

The fat man and the officer answered simultaneously, “Four hours ago.”

“How do you know?”

The lieutenant scowled at the witness who subsided into a dejected lump. “She was still a little warm when we got there, and that was almost two hours ago. Toyama here is her employer and he came straight to us after finding her dead.”

“But four hours ago it was not yet dark,” said Akitada, regarding the fat man suspiciously. In spite of his fatigue and against his best intentions, his interest was aroused. He wished he could see the body and question the dead woman’s friends. “When did this man see the murderer?”

The fat man spoke up nervously. “I saw him at the noodle stall on my way back with the constables. I knew right away he was the man. You see, the girls described Violet’s customer to me. The scar on his face, that’s what gave him away. The clothes ... as I said, we could be wrong about those. Anyway, when I saw him standing there, eating noodles as if he hadn’t a care in the world, I cried out and told the constables.”

“Ridiculous,” snapped Akitada. “If the murder happened four hours ago, my servant was still with me and my secretary several miles outside Fujisawa. I suggest you bring in your witnesses—and I don’t mean this man—and have them verify that this is not the man they saw. Then I expect my servant to be released with an apology. Tora, you will join us at our inn.”

“That will be the Phoenix Inn, sir. It is said to be the best,” Tora offered helpfully. But Akitada was reluctant to leave. He opened his mouth to offer advice to this obviously bumbling policeman, when Tora cried out and he heard a thud behind him. Turning, he saw Seimei’s frail body stretched out, unconscious, on the cold dirt floor.

* * * *

TWO

PEDDLERS, MONKS,

AND FUJIWARAS

or two days, Seimei was very ill with a feverish cold and a painful, tearing cough. Akitada sat by his bedside, filled with bitter self-recriminations for not having noticed his companion’s illness earlier, for having pushed the old man too hard on the journey, for having undertaken this assignment against the advice of his friends. He had frightening visions of losing Seimei here, in this strange town, far from the family the faithful soul had served so well all his life.

Tora undertook the nursing duties with patience and a gentleness no one would have expected from the rough tramp. At least in this respect, Akitada did not rue his impulse to save the young man from the brutality of the constables. Except for a reluctance to reveal his real identity, Tora spoke freely about his troubles. He was a farmer’s son who lost his family during the border wars and was pressed into military service. He deserted after beating up his lieutenant for raping a farm girl.

On the third day after his collapse, Seimei awoke from a deep sleep and asked for a drink. When Tora rushed up with a cup of wine, he pushed it aside and said peevishly, “You fool, don’t you know wine heats the blood? Are you trying to kill me? Tea. I need tea made from steeped juniper berries, mustard plant, and yarrow root. I suppose you expect me to get up and look for those things myself?”

“Sorry, old man,” Tora said meekly. “I’ll get your roots and berries if you tell me where to look for them.”

“Never mind, Tora.” Akitada put his hand on Seimei’s brow and found it dry and cool. “The local pharmacist will have all the ingredients. Take some money from my saddlebag and get what you need.” To Seimei he said, “I am very glad to see you better, old friend. We have been worried about you. Tora was tireless in caring for you, keeping you covered and putting cooling compresses on your head.”

Seimei looked a bit guilty. “Oh,” he mumbled. “How long have I been sick?”

“Two days and three nights.”

“Oh, no!” Seimei struggled to sit up. “Such a delay! We must go on immediately. I am certain I shall be able to get up after my herbal tea.”

Akitada pushed him back gently. “There is no hurry. I have need of your skills once we arrive, and you must be well rested and healthy. We shall stay here in this comfortable inn until you are completely well. Tora can look after you, and I shall use my time to find out what I can about the Kazusa matter and perhaps offer my help to the local police. They don’t seem at all competent to deal with that prostitute’s murder.”

They remained another two days in Fujisawa. Seimei improved greatly and took out his frustrations by nagging Tora. Akitada made several visits to the police station. To his regret he was given no information, nor were his questions about the murder answered. The lieutenant, scrupulously polite, assured him his servant had been cleared of all charges. The brothel keeper had quickly retracted his accusation when his girls denied ever laying eyes on Tora. His Excellency was free to travel on.

Thus, on the fifth morning, in balmy weather and with Seimei nearly well again, they took passage on a ship and crossed Sagami Bay to Kisarazu in Kazusa province. The trip by water, though dangerous in bad weather, saved them a week’s hard riding across country.

Instead of proceeding directly to the provincial tribunal, Akitada took lodgings in a modest inn next to the city market. He wanted a look at the city and its people before announcing his arrival to the governor.

Leaving Seimei there to rest, he and Tora set out to explore the town.

Kisarazu bustled with activity. Akitada guessed at a population of nearly ten thousand, but there seemed to be many visitors also. Their inn had been packed, and in the unseasonably warm sun the market was bustling with vendors, shoppers, and people out catching fresh air and sunshine. The large gated enclosure of the provincial administration looked substantial, even elegant. Kazusa province seemed a very good assignment, even for a Fujiwara governor. Had the present incumbent improved it by appropriating to himself three years’ worth of tax goods due to the emperor?