The Dragon Scroll (35 page)

The door slid open with a soft swish, and Seimei tiptoed in, carrying a teakettle.

“Where is everybody?” Akitada asked, his voice thin and hoarse to his ears.

Seimei almost dropped the kettle. His lined face broke into a wide smile. “You are awake,” he crowed. “We have been so worried. Oh, you must be hungry. Just let me start this tea and I’ll run and make you some good rice gruel. The governor will be so pleased, and Tora, too. Tora’s beside himself, what with your illness and Hidesato’s trouble, and the governor has done nothing but wring his hands. A very good-hearted person in spite of what you thought of him...”

“Seimei, calm down, please!”

Seimei put the kettle on the brazier. Next to it rested a curiously shaped incense burner, the likely source of the faint fragrance in the room. It was a bronze orb with a pierced design of interlocking circles, leaf shapes, and flower petals.

“Where did that come from?” Akitada asked.

Seimei followed Akitada’s glance. “The incense burner? The governor brought it from his own library when he saw that you had none. The air was so bad from your illness.”

“That was kind. What is this about Tora and Hidesato?”

Seimei sat down. “Ah! That was the worst day of my life,” he said with feeling. “First that bucktoothed female at the inn made the most embarrassing scene, then we found your nasty peddler and his wife living in a hut of rags and filth, then the murder—oh, that was frightful!—and we had to rush to hide Hidesato at Higekuro’s. And as if that weren’t enough, we were kept waiting in the prefecture until all hours. When we finally got back, we found you lying on the floor at death’s door.”

“Slowly, Seimei. One thing at a time. There was a murder?” Akitada listened, astonished and appalled, to Seimei’s highly colored account of Jasmin’s murder and the lesser events of that fateful day. He frowned. “I don’t understand. All this happened yesterday?”

“Yesterday? Oh, no. It happened four days ago. You have been very ill.”

Akitada rubbed his head. “Four days?” Dismayed, he thought of Ayako. How she must have worried! He felt a surge of tenderness and gratitude for her. “I’m glad Hidesato is there. He will protect them from those monks.” He hesitated, then smiled. “Let’s hope it won’t cause trouble for Tora. Otomi is a very pretty girl.”

“Oh, Hidesato cares nothing for
Otomi,”
said Seimei, and closed his mouth abruptly, busying himself with the teapot and some cups.

Sitting up gingerly, Akitada accepted a steaming cup of tea and sipped and thought about poor Jasmin. “About that murder,” he said, cradling the warm cup in his hands. “Was there really so very much blood about?”

“I saw the curtain myself. It was as big as that door over there, and it was soaked. Tora said the killer must have taken it down to sop up the blood and then hung it back up. Imagine!”

Akitada nodded. “Yes, very strange. Where
is
Tora?”

“He went to check on Hidesato but should be back soon. Shall I go get you some rice gruel now?”

Akitada nodded and Seimei bustled out. Feeling a little light-headed, Akitada lay back down and stared up at the ceiling. He considered the possibility that the blue flower fragment was somehow connected to Jasmin’s death but could not imagine any connection between a cheap Kazusa prostitute and that delicate piece of jewelry.

Feeling thirsty again, he got to his feet and took a few wobbly steps to fill his cup. He was amazingly weak and rested for a moment near the desk. The incense burner had no stand. When he touched it with his finger, it rolled about, though a hinged center tray for the incense remained horizontal. Clever craftsmanship! Taking a sip of his tea, he played with the orb. The pattern seemed strangely familiar. He sat down and took the burner into both hands, turning it this way and that. Bronze circles, flowers, and leaves shaped the orb. The cutout spaces of the pattern allowed the incense to escape into the air. As he looked at the openings, another pattern stood out, one that he had seen in the temple storehouse, a fish shape jumping for a ball. His heart began to beat faster.

“Heavens! What are you doing out of bed?” cried Motosuke, bustling in. “Quick, quick! Lie back down before Seimei catches you.”

Akitada chuckled, put down the orb, and went to sit under his quilts. “I am glad to see you,” he said.

Motosuke hitched up his gown and knelt next to him. His round face puckered with sympathy. “Thank heaven you are recovered. You can have no idea how worried we all have been.” Then he threw his arms around Akitada.

Touched, Akitada returned the embrace warmly. “Thank you for your care, brother,” he said. “I trust your preparations for the temple festival are progressing satisfactorily?”

“Very nicely” Motosuke rubbed his hands. “And now you will be able to attend after all.” He studied Akitada’s face anxiously. “You
do
think you might be well enough by day after tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Day after tomorrow?”

“Have you forgotten the date? While you were lying here these past three days, Akinobu, Yukinari, and I have been slaving like mules to get all the arrangements worked out.” He smiled. “If I do say it myself, I’m a brilliant organizer. I cannot wait for you to hear the details.”

“I am very sorry. I had forgotten all about that.”

“No wonder. You were hallucinating most of the time. We took turns watching and wiping your brow.”

“I am very grateful.”

Motosuke’s face became serious. “Did Seimei tell you that the Tachibana woman and her nurse are both dead?”

“What?”

Motosuke nodded. “Double suicide in jail.”

“I don’t believe it,” cried Akitada. “Ikeda must have killed them...and it’s my fault.”

“No. Ikeda’s gone, and from what we could make out, he left before they died.”

Akitada’s head spun. He realized now the grave mistake he had made when he had allowed Ikeda to take the women to his jail. The fact that he had already felt ill at the time was no excuse for such carelessness. The image of the butterfly caught in the snow flashed again through his mind. It had been prophetic. He grimaced. “Do you know any details?”

“I have all the details because I sent Akinobu over to investigate. It happened two nights ago. Apparently, Ikeda left the night before, not long after you had the women arrested. There was a message on his desk that he had been called away to a case out of town. So far he has not returned, and I have arranged for Akinobu to take over his duties temporarily. Anyway, Lady Tachibana demanded to speak to Ikeda, and when the head clerk informed her that Ikeda had left town, she became frantic and sent for Joto.”

“Naturally,” groaned Akitada, clenching his fists. “What a fool I have been.”

Motosuke gave him a questioning look. When Akitada did not explain, he continued, “Well, the head clerk assumed that she wanted spiritual comfort in view of the charges against her and he allowed the visit. Joto did not come himself, but he sent his deacon Kukai and two other monks the same evening. According to the guards, they prayed with her and then left. She settled down quietly for the night. In the morning, the warden found her hanging from a beam. She had taken off one of her silk gowns, twisted it, and used it for a rope. When they checked on the nurse in the next cell, the older woman had done the same, using her sash.”

“They killed them,” Akitada said. “The women knew too much.”

Motosuke shook his head. “I don’t think so. But whatever happened, it saves us unpleasantness.”

It sounded callous, but Akitada knew that women who committed adultery and then killed their husbands could not hope for mercy. They were made to suffer harsh and public torture, as did servants who raised their hands against a master. Public morality demanded it. But this case involved Lady Tachibana. Stripping this beautiful child in open court and flaying the skin off her back to assure a speedy confession would shock even the most callous and prurient crowd. From Motosuke’s point of view, Lady Tachibana and her nurse in court presented a problem. Being dead, they satisfied the demands of justice. And chances were that they had themselves sought an easier end. Yet Akitada did not share Motosuke’s relief.

“This is my fault,” he said again. “When she insisted on sending for him, I should have suspected that it was Ikeda who was her lover.”

“Ikeda? Are you sure?” Motosuke looked shocked.

“It fits. When I charged her with her husband’s murder, Ikeda surprised me by taking my side, even though she had accused me of trying to rape her. He ordered both women arrested, and she meekly allowed herself to be taken away to the prefectural jail. She would not have done so if she had not expected Ikeda to get her out.” Looking at Motosuke, Akitada said, “And now everything points to both of them having been Joto’s accomplices. That is why she sent for the abbot when Ikeda decided to flee. I should have listened to Tora.”

As if on cue, Tora strolled in. Unabashed by the presence of the governor, he seated himself and, recalling his manners belatedly, bowed to Motosuke, saying, “Hope to see you well, sir.” To Akitada he said, “Thank the gods, you’re better! Did Seimei tell you about Jasmin?”

“Yes, but there is no need for concern,” Akitada said. “I know who killed Hidesato’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah. That bastard Scarface. He’s beaten the poor thing all along. This time he just decided to butcher her.”

Akitada shook his head. Seeing Tora’s expression, he said, “Come on, Tora, surely you can work it out. Think of all the blood! It was you who told us about the bloodthirsty cretin with the knife.”

Tora’s eyes widened. “Yushi!” he breathed.

“Yushi. Though Scarface may well have had something to do with it.” Akitada looked at the governor. “It seems a gang of three—a scarred man everyone calls Scarface, a giant by the name of Yushi, and a third man ...”

“Jubei,” Tora supplied.

“... and Jubei—has been taking protection money from small merchants in the market and from prostitutes. Tora had them arrested, but Ikeda let them go. I suppose Akinobu will have to be told. Perhaps this time we can put the whole gang away for good.”

Motosuke rose, shaking his head. “Such shocking news all around. Horrible,” he said. “You must tell me all about it some other time. I had better go talk to Akinobu about the murder. You need a little more rest, elder brother. I’ll return later to discuss the festival.”

When Motosuke had left, Akitada turned on his side and propped himself on an elbow. He smiled at Tora. “My compliments. It seems you were absolutely right about Ikeda and Joto being accomplices.”

Tora tried to look modest and failed.

“And how is Hidesato getting along with Higekuro and the girls?”

Tora’s face lengthened. He looked away. “Fine.”

“Did you tell them about my illness?”

“Yes. They sent best wishes for your recovery.”

Taken aback by such indifference, Akitada tried again. “What did Ayako say?”

Tora poked at the incense burner, rolling it about on the desk. “Oh, the same,” he said, scowling. “They are all very busy, what with a houseguest and everything.”

Akitada thought he knew the cause of his depression. “Otomi is a very pretty girl,” he said gently. “It’s only natural that Hidesato should think so, too.”

Tora swung his head around to stare at him. “Otomi? Hidesato’s not looking at Otomi. It’s Ayako he’s after, curse him!”

“Ayako?” Akitada blinked, then laughed. “Heavens,” he said. “I forgot. They are both masters at stick fighting. No doubt they found much to talk about. Relax, Tora. I’m glad Hidesato is staying there. Otomi is in real danger now that Joto has seen the dragon scroll. I’m convinced he sent his people to cause the death of Lady Tachibana and her nurse, and there is nothing to prevent him from doing the same with Otomi. With Hidesato there, at least they will think twice before attacking her.”