Akitada thanked him, and thought of his own little daughter. He had given her the traditional dagger without much thought that it was meant to end her life if she should suffer dishonor. Of course, he treasured her and wanted to protect her so that nothing so awful should ever befall her. He would have asked more questions about the amulet, but the servants began to serve the food and he tucked it away again.
Since the governor outranked Akitada by two degrees, the seating arrangement was problematic. Nakahara solved it by placing his guests in a circle with Oga on his right and Akitada on his left. As it turned out, it prevented Akitada from conversing with Oga, and that was a relief. It was Watamaro who sat on Akitada’s other side.
Akitada glanced around the room. The furnishings were modest, but good. Thick mats covered the dark wood floor where they were seated, and a painted screen of rugged cliffs with wind-tossed pines and foaming ocean waves protected them from drafts. In the tokonoma niche, a single large ink painting of a detailed landscape hung behind a copper bowl of white chrysanthemums. He would have liked a better look at the painting because it was unlike anything he had ever seen, but dinner began and comments about the wine and various dishes passed back and forth. Nakahara evidently had a talented cook and was himself very knowledgeable about local delicacies. Akitada, who paid little attention to food as a rule, found things edible, if a little salty, and gave polite praise. He drank liberally because he was thirsty and the wine was particularly refreshing, having been chilled rather than heated.
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
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.