“I see. Well, I suppose I’ll have to settle for what you told me. Thank you, Masaie. Now I’d better have a talk with Hiromasa before I go back to Otsu.”

The headman took him to Hiromasa’s house. They found a whitebeard feeding his chickens. He turned out to be hard of hearing and spoke the local dialect so strongly that Masaie had to translate.

“This is Lord Sugawara,” Masaie shouted in the old man’s ear. Hiromasa turned his head and nodded to Akitada. Masaie shouted, “He’s come about Wakiya and Juro. Wants to know all about them.”

The old man grinned toothlessly, and said quite clearly, “They’re dead.”

Akitada nodded. “Do you know who would kill them?”

Masaie had to repeat this, and the old man started to speak at length and unintelligibly. Masaie kept nodding, interjecting questions from time to time: “What happened then?” “Why?” “Are you sure?”

Akitada waited impatiently.

In the end, Masaie nodded and turned to Akitada. “Interesting story, sir. He says they were lazy good-for-nothings but their karma was good. One day old Lord Sukenori gave them both some land and dismissed them from his service. It was a great good fortune for them. Wakiya was from a poor family and Juro had no home at all. Both started farming but, being lazy, they were always in trouble at tax time. Lord Sukenori forgave them their debts, but people disliked them for it.” Masaie paused. “But I don’t see anybody killing them now after twenty years.”

“No, that’s true enough. Ask him if he suspects anyone.”

Masaie shouted “Who would kill them?”

The old man made a face and spread his hands in the universal gesture of not knowing the answer. Then he said something and cackled.

Masaie translated. “He says the Taira will be glad to get their land back.”

Akitada sighed inwardly. Sukemichi might have got two parcels of rice land back, but he owned so much that this would hardly constitute a motive for killing two old peasants.

Chapter Twenty-One

Taira Sukemichi

The problem with the four deaths was that they made no sense. All the men had in common were their gender and age. Could the killer simply be mad and kill old men randomly? It was unlikely, but try as he might, Akitada came up with no answer, and the memory of Yukiko intruded again.

The news that she would marry the chancellor’s son cast him into an insufferable gloom. He should have expected it. Kosehira’s cousins were men of power and influence, and such men arranged marriages amongst each other. He knew little of this particular scion of the ruling family but pictured him as a spoiled and haughty brat who was probably involved in affairs with court ladies. They all thought of themselves as Prince Genji.

Even if Yukiko would become this young man’s senior wife—something that was by no means certain when there were princesses of the blood available—Akitada thought she would be made profoundly unhappy in such a marriage. Her spirit and intelligence would be crushed as one among many wives and concubines of a powerful man.

But perhaps her fate would not be much better elsewhere.

He thought of his own marriage. While he had not kept other wives or mistresses, he had not always been an attentive husband. Well, in truth, he had rarely been attentive to Tamako, though it was usually work that had kept him away. But he and Tamako had shared their lives, had talked about their worries, had grieved together the deaths of loved ones, and in between they had found time to laugh. Tamako had always been the most important person in his life. Yukiko deserved as much.

But he could not marry her. Nothing had changed. He was still too old, too poor, too stodgy, and too dull. And now, knowing of Kosehira’s plans, he certainly could not ask his friend for her. Kosehira would turn him down, and that would end their friendship. And if he felt constrained to agree to the match, Akitada would forever live with the knowledge.

The ghosts of his past haunted him as he returned to the Taira manor. Most disturbing were certain memories he had of himself as a husband and father. He did not much like that other Akitada and pitied Tamako. He also pitied his children, and to a lesser degree the loyal men and women who served him.

Kosehira met him like this upon his return. Seeing his face, he asked, “What’s wrong? What has happened now?”

Akitada looked at his friend sadly. “Why do you like me, Kosehira? I don’t deserve it. I’ve been thinking about my marriage. I’ve not been a good husband and father.”

“Nonsense. You’re the best husband I know, which is why I— ” Kosehira broke off. “What brought this on?”

And suddenly Akitada could not help himself. He burst out, “This talk about Yukiko’s marriage to the chancellor’s son. Kosehira, surely she deserves better. He’ll ignore her for his mistresses.”

Kosehira gaped at him, then said, “Nothing is firm. The matter has merely been mentioned. Why do you care so much?”

Akitada flushed. “No reason. It just occurred to me how hard a woman’s life is. She has no choice in the matter of a husband.”

“You don’t know my daughter very well. And you don’t know me very well, either. Yukiko has been consulted. She will not be forced into a marriage against her will.”

“Oh!” Akitada sighed. “Sorry. I still struggle sometimes with my memories. Please forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. We are friends. It pleases me that you care for my child.” Kosehira smiled. “If you’re done with your investigation, perhaps we should head home?”

“I’ve done as much as I could. The heavens know what is going on. I certainly don’t.”

∞

After they took their leave of their hosts and started the journey homeward, Akitada’s mood lifted somewhat. He even took some interest in another fair in the next town they passed through. This one was at a fox shrine and honored the kami of rice growing. Here, too, the small Jizos were for sale. Their sight sent shivers down Akitada’s back in spite of the general merry-making.

They reached Kosehira’s villa after sunset, tired and hungry. After a bath, they ate, though neither paid a great deal of attention to the food, and then parted to seek their beds.

Akitada was up early the next day. He dressed quickly and walked into the garden, his heart beating fast in anticipation. But there was no one at the koi pond. He stood for a little while, watching as the fish rose to the surface in hope of food. They shared his disappointment, then sank once more to the bottom and Akitada left.

He had no idea what he would have said to her. He had merely hoped to see her. A fool at forty is a true fool. He shook his head and wished Tora were here and they could practice with their swords.

Later at the tribunal, he tried to distract himself with work. The excursion to the pheasant reserve meant that stacks of documents had piled up at his desk. He worked till midday, then left to see Chief Takechi.

Takechi greeted him eagerly. “Ready for some more noodle soup, sir?”

“I had hoped you’d remember your offer.”

At the noodle restaurant, Takechi asked, “Well? Did you find out anything useful?

Akitada shared the information about Wakiya and Juro.

Takechi said, “I still don’t see a connection. Do you?”

Akitada said, “No, but I’m convinced there is something. If only I could grasp it. I had hoped you would.”

Takechi looked pleased by this. Their soup arrived and they ate for a while in silence. When they had finished, Takechi sat back and smacked is lips. “Good food is a great blessing. I hope I never lose the taste for it.”

Akitada laughed and gestured to the waiter for refills. “I suppose,” he said, “it is something that will still be left to us in old age.”