meeting?’
Akitada glared. ‘I am not here to buy an hour with a prostitute,’ he snapped. ‘A member of my household has disappeared. The woman Hanae may know his whereabouts.’
‘I doubt that one of our ladies is responsible, but if it is indeed an urgent matter, I could search the records.’ The warden glanced at his half-eaten food. ‘It might take a while,’ he added pointedly.
Akitada did not like the man and cared nothing about spoiling his meal. He sat down and stared around the room, while the warden pulled down document boxes and ledgers from shelves. This warden’s office looked more like a gentleman’s study than a place where the law was enforced. Cushions awaited guests; a brazier and wine flask stood ready. Whatever tools of trade the warden used must be neatly tucked away in wooden trunks so as not to frighten away good clients. Akitada scowled. An immoral business corrupted even the authorities.
‘How do you keep order in a place like this?’ he asked irritably.
‘Oh, I have my system, sir,’ chuckled the warden, patting his fat ledger affectionately.
‘I was referring to keeping order in the quarter. There must be a good deal of drunkenness and violence.’
‘Heavens,’ the warden cried with a hearty laugh, ‘you make the Willow Quarter sound positively dangerous. It’s nothing of the sort. Our clients, after all, come for a pleasant evening. I keep my eye on things personally. Should someone have a bit too much wine, we see him home safely’
Akitada did not believe a word of this. ‘You? In person?’
Another laugh escaped the warden. ‘Oh, no. One of my constables. No, trouble is the last thing we want here. This is a place to enjoy music and good food and wine, to spend time with beautiful women, skilled in song, poetry, and dance. Here one relaxes and forgets his troubles.’ He rubbed his hands and smiled like a personification of the god of good fortune.
Akitada looked back coldly. ‘I see. So what about this girl Hanae?’
‘No courtesan by that name works in the quarter at the present time, sir. She may, of course, be an irregular. If so, she works here illegally. But that isn’t very likely. My men are very vigilant, and so are the regulars. The ladies don’t tolerate competition.’
It occurred to Akitada that Tora might have insisted his lover stop working. Most likely he had. ‘What about a woman who has recently left the, er, trade?’
The warden bent over his ledger again. After a few moments, he said, ‘No, not in the past year. But I do recall now that we have a professional dancer by that name. She’s not a courtesan at all. Not yet, anyway. The dancers perform for large parties and are not supposed to spend the night with clients. Might the young woman be an entertainer?’
Akitada frowned. ‘Possibly. Tell me how to find this dancer.’
The warden opened another ledger and ran his pudgy finger down the page. ‘She lives in the southern ward. Between Shinano and Karasumaro Street. I hear she’s been doing well for herself.’
Akitada was disappointed. A first-class entertainer would hardly waste her time with Tora. But he had the warden write down directions to the house and the name of her dancing master. Then, on the point of departing, he asked, ‘By any chance, do you recall a former courtesan by the name of Peony? She is said to have been quite famous and worked here about five or six years ago.’
‘Of course. The beautiful Peony left very suddenly. Ah, there were many broken hearts.’ The warden folded his hands and cast up his eyes. ‘We’ll never see her likes again. They say one of the great nobles wanted to make her his wife, but she turned him down.’ He sighed sentimentally.
‘How strange. I was told she left huge debts behind.’
The warden laughed. ‘Peony? Hardly. She was a very rich woman by then.’
So much for that. Whoever the Otsu Peony had been, she had been dependent on Masuda support. Akitada thanked the warden and left.
Outside, he stood undecided. Should he follow up on the dancer or scour the quarter for Tora? He decided to take his chances in the quarter, distasteful though it was.
The willows swayed in a slight breeze from the river, doves cooed on the roofs, and the colored lanterns looked bright in the sun, but Akitada saw peeling paint and dingy whitewashed walls. Garbage still lay piled in odd corners. A mangy dog sniffed at some vomit in an alleyway and passed on to lift a leg against a tall stack of earthen wine jars at the back door of a restaurant. Akitada knew there were much worse looking wards in the capital, places where people lived and slept under a few leaning boards covered with brushwood. There men killed for food, women lay down in the fields to let strangers have their way for a copper or two, and children died faster than the rats or flies that were better nourished than they.
When Akitada saw a wine house open for business, he went in. Although it was still early in the day, two women sat in a corner, drinking wine and chattering loudly with the owner of the place. Akitada called for some chilled wine and looked at the women disapprovingly. One was middle-aged and dressed in black silk, the other a girl in pink. The older woman dominated the conversation with an irritatingly shrill voice. Akitada decided that she was the young prostitute’s bawd. He rose and walked over to them.
‘I’m looking for one of my retainers,’ he said curtly. ‘His name is Tora. Perhaps one of you may know him?’
Both women shook their heads, but his host said, ‘I think I remember him, sir. Haven’t seen him for weeks. A handsome and cheerful fellow with a small mustache? The girls liked him a lot.’
Akitada nodded sourly. The description fit.
‘We’ll keep our eyes and ears open, if you like,’ offered the man.
Akitada left his name and directions and returned to his wine. He had barely sat down and raised his cup when the young woman in pink approached with the sinuous gliding motion of the trained courtesan. Stopping before him, she bowed deeply and asked, ‘Would the gentleman care for some company?’
Akitada eyed her painted face and judged her to be quite young and pretty. He wanted to send her away, but then wondered if she knew Tora and had not wanted to say so in front of the other woman. Tora never paid for the services of his paramours. ‘You’re very kind,’ he said. ‘May I offer you a cup of wine?’
She clapped her hand for the proprietor to bring another cup and sat down gracefully beside him. ‘Thank you, My Lord. I’m called Little Wave.’
Akitada reached for the flask to pour some wine for her, but she was quicker. ‘Allow me,’ she murmured and managed to touch his hand so lightly that it seemed like a caress. Then she moved closer on her knees, ostensibly to serve the wine. She refilled his cup first and offered it with both hands and a smile. When he took the cup, their hands touched again, and this time hers lingered. ‘Oh,’ she breathed, her eyes on his lips.
She was very good, and her intentions were obvious. Akitada knew this, but his heart started to beat a little faster anyway. ‘I wondered, Little Wave,’ he said, as she poured her own wine, ‘if you had remembered Tora. He would not pass up a charming girl like you.’
She sipped daintily, fluttering her lashes at him over the rim of the cup. ‘If he’s half as handsome as you, sir, I wouldn’t forget him. Some men turn a girl’s head in an instant and she’s quite lost.’ She gave him a melting glance.
The expected rejoinder, ‘Surely a gentleman would make every effort to find her again,’ was on Akitada’s tongue, but he blushed and said instead, ‘You are a flatterer. Actually, he doesn’t look much like me. He’s much better-looking and has a very big smile.’
If she was disappointed at his refusal to flirt, she did not show it. Touching his arm lightly with her fan, she said, ‘However handsome he is, he cannot be like you. And I prefer clean-shaven gentlemen.’ She bent a little closer to let her fingertips brush his upper lip and then trace his mouth. ‘But you are very sad.’
Akitada became aware of her scent. It was strangely seductive. Sandalwood and something else, perhaps orange blossom. Tamako used orange blossom. He remembered their embrace earlier: the pleasant familiarity of her scent, the way her body fit against his. He took a deep breath and reached for his wine cup.
The wine had heated his body, and it was a long time since he had made love. He looked at the girl. In spite of the wine, his mouth suddenly felt dry. It would be so easy. She was young and charming and willing to give herself for a bit of silver. Such a thing was good for both of them and hurt no one. He looked into her smiling eyes and then down to where her breasts swelled above a small waist.
She smiled knowingly and leaned forward. Her scent was very pleasant and her gown gaped just a little, revealing a glimpse of rosy flesh. His fingers itched to reach inside her gown, to feel that soft roundness in his palm.
