Eventually, order was restored, and the ox driver backed the carriage to where it had stood before. The workmen and porters gathered up their mules and scattered goods and left, and Lord Sadanori and Ishikawa walked around the carriage. After some more words with Ishikawa, Sadanori got into it.
There was a chance, a small chance, that the bastard had hidden Hanae elsewhere, but had spent the night in his own residence. And now he was reporting for duty at the palace. Tora knew very well what full court attire looked like.
The carriage turned and headed out the gate, the front runner shouting, ‘Make way,’ the red silk tassels on the black ox bobbing, the green-and-gold carriage swaying between its two huge black-lacquered wheels, and a retinue of servants in white jackets and short, full-legged pants trotting along on both sides.
And then the gate closed after them.
Tora sat behind the wood stack and thought about what he had just witnessed. Hanae was not likely to be in Lord Sadanori’s women’s quarters, playing nursemaid to his children and discussing her future duties with the pregnant wife. There was no pregnant wife, according to Sadanori’s mother. And Ishikawa had dashed back here to report Tora’s visit. All of this suggested that Sadanori had indeed abducted Hanae and that she was hidden elsewhere. Had Sadanori given Ishikawa instructions about her?
Tora peered around the wood pile. Ishikawa was walking towards the inner gateway. Tora could see the tops of trees beyond. From the distance came the sound of hammering. Ishikawa had probably gone to check on the arrival of the pack train at the other gate. Wherever Hanae was, Sadanori must think her well-hidden.
‘Yoi!’ a voice shouted practically into his ear. A bearded man was looking down at him over the top of the wood pile. ‘What do you think you’re doing there, you lazy turd? Sleeping in the middle of the day? Move your sorry arse and go to work.’
Tora shot up. The man was the senior servant who had tried to stop the pack train. ‘Er,’ Tora stammered, trying to think of some explanation for what he was doing there.
‘You thought you could just hide back here and then show up tonight with the rest of them to collect your wages,’ the servant said, waving an accusing finger. He eyed Tora’s blue robe, no longer neat or particularly clean after his excursions, but still better than the average laborer’s shirt and loin cloth, and frowned. ‘Who are you anyway? You with the supervisor’s staff?’
‘Yes,’ Tora lied. The building project, whatever it was, needed professional supervision, and Sadanori’s servants must be used to strangers roaming about. He yawned hugely. ‘Sorry,’ he said with a grin. ‘Been up all night writing changes and checking orders. I was just grabbing a little shut-eye until they get unloaded.’
The servant looked at Tora’s red-rimmed eyes and tired face. Oh. Sorry I woke you, friend. Go back to sleep.’
‘Thanks, but now I’m awake, I’ll stroll over and see what’s happening.’
‘Keep to the far side of the lake. The ladies don’t like strange men walking about near the house.’
Tora gave the man a wave and set off towards the inner gate. He tried not to limp too noticeably. All this talk about sleep had made him realize how tired he was. But now that he was in the badger’s den, he was not about to leave without seeing everything there was to see and perhaps learning a few things in the process.
The smaller gate led on to a wide inner courtyard that stretched between the main house and its two wings all the way to an artificial lake. Tora considered ignoring the servant’s warning, but if he got caught near the women’s quarters, all hell would break loose. So he followed the path around the lake to the sounds of sawing and hammering.
A separate hall was nearing completion. The framework was up, and so was the roof. Beyond the construction site was the east gate, where the pack train had arrived and was unloading supplies. Sadanori did not spare money on his projects. At least twenty carpenters with their assistants were at work on the building. They were raising more columns, sawing boards for floors and verandas, and carving banisters, railings, brackets, and ornaments for the eaves.
Ishikawa stood in front of the building. He was talking to a short, corpulent man in a plain gray silk robe. The man held a roll of papers in one hand and gesticulated with these from the goods to various groups of craftsmen. Tora guessed that he was the building supervisor. It all looked harmless and normal enough.
He crept a little closer. At the gate they were still unloading and stacking boards. The supervisor interrupted his conversation with Ishikawa and turned to one of the carpenters. Ishikawa scanned the area. Tora busied himself picking up remnants of wood and other building debris, hoping Ishikawa would not pay attention to a mere worker.
When he heard a shout, he jumped and risked a glance, but the supervisor’s anger was directed at a carpenter, who rose from his labors and stood, shaking his head. Evidently, he was in trouble. Ishikawa joined them. The supervisor pointed to the gate. The carpenter pleaded. Ishikawa became impatient. He said something to the supervisor, turned, and stalked off in the direction of the main house.
Tora considered following Ishikawa, but the supervisor cut off the carpenter’s pleading and went to talk to another group of workers. The carpenter, an elderly man, gathered his tools and walked out of the east gate, his hanging head and slumping shoulders showing his dejection. Tora followed.
The gate opened on Karasuma Street. The carpenter turned south. Tora caught up with him at Sanjo Avenue. ‘Hey,’ he called out. The carpenter did not turn; he appeared sunk in despair. When Tora touched his shoulder, he stopped and looked up. On closer inspection, the man did not look very promising. Tora took in his emaciated frame, the rheumy eyes, the toothless mouth, and wondered if he had darkened his thin hair to appear younger. He bit his lip, no longer sure what to do.
‘Sorry to rush after you, uncle,’ he said, ‘but I heard what just happened. You got fired, didn’t you?’
The old man nodded. He ran the back of his hand across moist eyes. ‘I’m a good carpenter,’ he said sadly. ‘The best. And I work fast. But my back’s bad, and I can’t lift heavy beams. So I’m no good anymore.’ He looked sorrowfully at his wooden toolbox and sighed. ‘I’ll have to sell my tools for a few coppers.’
‘Don’t do that. I know where there’s some work.’
The carpenter looked up, hope in his eyes. ‘Where?’ he asked. ‘I’ll do anything. May the Buddha reward you! We’ve almost no food left at home.’
‘I’ll tell you, if you’ll tell me about Sadanori and Ishikawa.’
The old man blinked. ‘The great live above the clouds. I’m only a simple man.’
Tora had never been troubled by his own lowly status and had little respect for men who behaved like Sadanori – or Ishikawa. ‘If you keep your eyes and ears open, you learn things,’ he pointed out. ‘What did Ishikawa and your supervisor talk about before you got fired?’
‘The hall. Mr Ishikawa complained about the money and how long it was taking. As if the great lord didn’t have all the money in the world!’
‘What’s the hall for?’
‘They say it was meant for a favorite, but was never finished. Now he wants to live in it himself. Calls it the Lake Hermitage.’
Nothing in that. Nobles were always pretending that the world wearied them and they only wanted a simple life. ‘Did Ishikawa say where he was off to in such a hurry?’
‘He’s riding to Otsu.’
‘Otsu? Why?’
The carpenter did not know. Tora decided that Ishikawa had gone to visit his mother. ‘You hear any talk about Sadanori’s affairs?’ The carpenter looked blank. ‘I mean with women. Courtesans, entertainers?’