Watamaro shared Nakahara’s appreciation for food, and talk went smoothly, but when the final delicacy had been consumed and discussed, it stalled.

Nakahara broke into the sudden silence with the words, “I heard from your clerk that your journey yesterday was marred by an unpleasantness, Sugawara.  What exactly happened?  A body bumped against your boat near Eguchi?”

Before Akitada could answer, Oga gasped and went quite white.  This caused a fuss, with Nakahara calling for more wine and Oga drinking deeply, choking, gasping for air.  The color returned to his face, and he made a dismissive remark that it had been nothing, a matter of swallowing awkwardly.  Taking a deep breath, he asked Akitada, “Did you find out who the dead man was?”

“It was a woman, or perhaps a child.  In any case, she was very young and very pretty,” said Akitada.  He was unusually thirsty after the salty food and drinking too much wine.  The servants kept refilling his cup, and he had lost track of how many he had had. “I’m told suicides are common among the courtesans,” he added.  It was not a windy day, but Nakahara’s scroll painting seemed to move in a breeze.  He blinked and found that he had been mistaken.

Oga heaved a breath and nodded.  “Yes, that’s very true.  A great pity when they are young and attractive.  I hope you were not too upset by the incident.”

Akitada did not like the remark but said only, “No. I’ve seen many dead bodies in my work.  This one was merely remarkable for her youth.”

The professor, who had remained quiet during the meal, now said, “If I may ask, are you certain it was a suicide?”

This touched a nerve.  Akitada was increasingly troubled about the manner of the young woman’s death and the hurried way the Eguchi warden had disposed of the body.  Otomo’s interest disconcerted him.  Having been so far a detached observer at this party, the professor looked at him intently, leaning forward and fixing Akitada with such a sharp gaze that he was taken aback.

“No,” he said honestly.  “I have no proof, though I saw no wounds on the body.  I suppose, it could have been an accident.”  He paused.  “I confess it weighs on my mind.  I should have insisted on a proper investigation.”

Nakahara teased, “Why the interest, Professor?  Have you broken someone’s heart in Eguchi?”

This broke the tension, but Otomo only smiled and shook his head.

Watamaro put his hand on the professor’s shoulder. “Come, there’s no shame in loving the beauties of Eguchi or in having some fun talking about them.”

Otomo quoted, “’Don’t go singing the song of the Willow Branches when there’s no one here with a heart for you to break.’ One of the great Chinese poets wrote that when he had reached my age and was being teased by a pretty girl of fifteen.  I’m well past my spring and summer, and even my autumn is nearly past.”

Watamaro chuckled and fell to quoting other lines of poetry.  The rest joined in, and the wine cups were kept full.  Akitada sank into a melancholy mood, pondering his own lost youth, and drank his host’s excellent wine.

*

When Akitada returned to their room, Sadenari was already there, wide awake and eager.

“Wait till you hear what I found out, sir,” he cried.

Akitada, his head muddled with wine and his eyes full of sand, said, “What?” as he took off his good silk robe.

“Our host is the very man we’re seeking!  How about that?”

Akitada frowned and draped the robe somewhat crookedly over the curtain stand.  “An’ how d’you know that?” he asked, staggering a little as he stepped out of his full trousers.  He tossed them toward the curtain stand and missed.  Swaying a little, he considered that he was setting a poor example for Sadenari—especially after the lecture he had read him earlier.

Sadahira chattered on.  “I introduced myself to Director Nakahara’s clerks.  They were helpful in finding a small room with a desk and writing materials for us.  I thought we should try to look as businesslike as possible so there won’t be any suspicions about our real assignment.  I hope I did right, sir?”

“Mmm, yes.”  Akitada flopped down on his bedding and pulled off his socks.  He was surprised and gratified that he managed this very well.

“Well, the one they call Yuki is a very nice fellow.  His family is in the capital, and he invited me to come for a visit when we get back.  They keep horses and go hunting.  It’s a family tradition since ancient days.  I’ve always wanted to hunt.”

Akitada lay down and pulled the quilt up to his nose.  Nakahara’s bedding was deliciously comfortable.  “Go on,” he murmured and closed his eyes.

“Yuki says that his boss is pretty easy-going, so they have lots of time for local outings.  I thought he could show me around and introduce me to the pirates.”

Akitada opened one eye and mumbled, “What?”  He hoped he had not heard correctly. Two irresponsible youths running around town asking questions about pirates?  But he was too tired and woozy, so he said only, “Better wait till morning,” and fell asleep.

Chapter Five

The Ugly Man

Akitada woke to a vicious headache and blurred vision.  He sat up, groaned, and then staggered to the veranda to vomit into the shrubbery.  His head pounding, he returned to his room and gulped water from the earthenware pitcher the maid had left.

To his relief, Sadenari was gone, but then the sun was already high.  Akitada sat back down and held his throbbing head.  He had no recall of the later part of the evening.  Had he drunk too much, or had there been something wrong with the wine or the food?  A vague memory surfaced of Sadenari telling him something last night, but he could not recall what it had been.

With more groans, he got up and dressed in his plain robe and trousers.  Last night’s finery looked badly creased and stained.  As he bent to pick up the silk trousers to hang them on the clothes stand, a blinding pain stabbed at his eyes from inside his skull.  He reeled and suppressed another bout of nausea.

He clapped his hands for one of the maids and asked for hot water.  When it came, he washed his face and hands, and retied his topknot.  The maid took his good clothes away to have them cleaned.

Feeling slightly better, he went in search of Sadenari.  Tea would have been welcome, but most people did not make it part of their diet, and he could not stomach more wine, or even gruel.  He headed for the main hall and Nakahara’s office.

Nakahara was not there yet, a fact that cheered Akitada a little.  His clerk Tameaki was arranging the mass of papers and documents into neat piles and writing small notes to place on top of them.

When he saw Akitada, he bowed.  “I regret that the director is not available yet, sir.  Can I be of assistance?”

“I wondered what had happened to my clerk.”

“He left early this morning with Nariyuki.  I assumed it was on your business.”

Akitada frowned.  What was it that Sadenari had babbled about last night?  He had been very tired—and very drunk, if he was honest—but surely in that condition he would not have sent the boy on an assignment.

Tameaki read the puzzlement in his face and smirked.  “I may well have jumped to conclusions, sir.  Nariyuki likes any excuse to visit the wine shops in the city.  I did hear the word “pirates.”  Does that suggest anything?”

It did, and most unpleasantly.  Akitada still had no idea what they had talked about, but he was nearly sure now that pirates had figured in it.  He sat down and held his aching head again.  What damage was the impossible youth doing now?

Ever solicitous, Tameaki asked, “Are you unwell, sir?  Can I send for someone or perhaps offer you some wine?”

Akitada shuddered.  “No, nothing.  Thank you.  There was most likely some misunderstanding.  Sadenari should return eventually.”  He glanced at the desk with its newly neat stacks of papers and added, “I’ve interrupted your work.  What are you doing?”