an audible undertone, “I thought I saw the Holy Yakushi nod his head. No, I’m sure of it. I take it to mean that he has heard my prayer.”
The priest cleared his throat. “Blessed be Amida. A sign! Thank you, young man. You must have a very pure mind to break through the barrier and receive an answer. I have only once been blessed in that manner. What was your name again?”
Akitada stuttered his name.
The priest nodded. “A good omen. A Sugawara praying for His Majesty. A very good omen.”
Akitada quickly performed the closing obeisances. He and Kosehira left after bowing to the priest, who graciously bowed back.
Outside in the temple garden, Kosehira doubled over in laughter. “You liar,” he gasped. “I know you too well. Do you know who that was?”
Akitada glanced back nervously. “No. I just assumed he was someone important. That fine robe…”
“It was the late Emperor Sanjo’s brother, the present emperor’s uncle.”
“Dear Heaven. No wonder he looked outraged.”
“You made a good recovery. He was impressed by your spirituality.” Kosehira burst into more giggles. “And by the fact that the great Michizane’s descendant is praying for the emperor. If he remembers, chances are excellent that he will put your name up for promotion.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” It was true, his ancestor was routinely blamed for every catastrophe. The notion that he had broken the curse made Akitada laugh also, and they passed out into the street in a lighter mood. Akitada asked, “Kosehira, do you know any Yasugis? This one seems to own vast estates somewhere but spends part of his time in his mansion here in the capital.”
“Yasugi? Fat old fellow who looks apoplectic?”
Akitada was pleased with this description. “I’ve never met him, but I, er, ran into one of his wives. The youngest. Apparently he left town without her.”
Kosehira’s eyebrows almost met his hairline. “You ran into one of his wives? After her husband left her behind? Come, there’s a story there. If it’s the man I’m thinking of, she’s said to be a beauty.” Before Akitada could deflect his curiosity, he clapped his hands in delight. “So that’s what’s been on your mind. Would that explain the smile? Pure thoughts indeed!” He roared. “You philanderer! Better watch out, though. Yasugi controls some very influential people and maintains a small army on his estate in Tsuzuki.”
“Nonsense.” Akitada flushed and, aware of it, made matters worse. “We only met once and she had a maid with her, an ill-tempered, hateful woman loyal to the husband.”
Kosehira grinned. “Ingenuity gets rid of troublesome servants.”
“Please be serious, Kosehira. Tsuzuki is just south of here, isn’t it?” Akitada calculated, with some dismay, that Yasugi could already have fetched his wife home.
“About thirty miles from here. Come to think of it, someone mentioned his going home. Afraid of the disease like everyone else. Strange he would leave one of his wives behind.” Kosehira regarded Akitada thoughtfully. “Will you be… meeting her again?”
Akitada snapped, “This is no romance. I’m investigating the murder of a blind woman, her sister’s, as it turns out.”
“A murder? You don’t say.” Kosehira seized Akitada’s arm. “I can’t wait to hear. Will you come to my house tonight? We can have a quiet dinner with some good wine, and you’ll tell me all about it. It will be like old times.”
Akitada regretted thoroughly having mentioned the Yasugi name. “I’m sorry, Kosehira. I can’t. The case is urgent, and I am tied up at the ministry every day. Besides, Seimei is ill-no, not the smallpox-and Tamako is afraid to stay in the capital with Yori. I will come as soon as I can.”
Kosehira looked disappointed. “I could help,” he offered hopefully.
Akitada hesitated. “Well, do you know the Murata family? The parents of the two women?”
“Murata? Bureau of Divination?” Kosehira shook his head. “Not really. Yasugi’s third wife was said to come from humble circumstances. Some scandal, I think. I can ask around.”
Akitada looked at his friend gratefully. “Would you? And I promise to tell you all as soon as I can.”
They parted then, and Akitada turned toward home. He had not gone far when a voice hailed him. Kunyoshi, the archivist, was running down the street, his skirts flapping around his skinny calves. He seemed in an almighty hurry to catch up. Akitada wondered what he could want now.
Kunyoshi trotted up, puffing. “Sorry,” he gasped, “didn’t want to miss you.”
He took a few rattling breaths while Akitada patted his back and said loudly, “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
Kunyoshi gestured at Akitada’s court robe and said humbly, “You are very kind, my lord. It was rude to shout and run after you, but I’m afraid this foolish old person has made a mistake.” He paused to catch his breath again, peering up at Akitada from rheumy eyes. “I thought, how dreadful if Lord Sugawara should set out on such a long journey and then find out that it was all a silly mistake made by a senile old fool. I was quite desperate to find you when I happened to see you just now outside the temple. It was as if the Buddha himself had answered my prayers.”
“Surely you exaggerate. What mistake?”
Kunyoshi wrung his hands. “Do you recall asking about the Utsunomiyas?”
“Yes.” How remote that seemed now. Tora had been charged with murder, a smallpox epidemic was raging, and his family was in turmoil.
But Kunyoshi knew none of this. He stood there, trembling with anxiety. And now tears were beginning to course down the sunken cheeks. People cast curious glances at them.
“Kunyoshi,” said Akitada, taking the old man’s arm and leading him aside, “I was not going anywhere, so no harm is done. What exactly did you remember?”
“I told you that the land was in Hoki Province. Do you remember?”
Akitada frowned. “Izumo, I thought. Something about the shrine being involved in the land dispute. I could not have gone there in any case. It’s much too far.”
“I am glad you did not go, but I was afraid you would. I could see it meant a great deal to you. And people say that you always solve a mystery.”
Akitada was getting a little impatient. “So, if the land is not in Hoki or Izumo, where is it?”
Kunyoshi was wringing his hands again. “That is what I cannot remember. I know it was to do with a shrine. A very important shrine. Only it was not Ise or Izumo.” He wiped away tears. “I’m getting worse. My mind remembers nothing. I’ll have to resign.” He heaved a ragged sigh, bowed to Akitada, muttering, “So very sorry,” and stumbled away.
Akitada looked after him. Poor old man. Everything conspired to bury Haseo’s past and there was nothing he could do about it, at least not now. He must go home and deal with more urgent problems.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Scarecrow pushed Tora into the training hall. They arrived in the middle of some sort of celebration. Tora relaxed a little; surely they would not be quite this happy discussing methods of killing him.
Kata waved and shouted, “There’s a general amnesty.”
The Scarecrow gave a whoop and pulled Tora into the gathering. “That’ll mean three, four more men, and times are good. Lots of empty houses.”
“I make it six,” said Kata. “Denzo and Kiheiji sent word they’re coming to us.”
Tora tried to look cheerful. If the emperor had called for an amnesty-and because of the epidemic it was all too likely-the jails would be emptied immediately. The gang had reason to celebrate, but heaven help the decent citizens in the weeks and months to come. As for hoping to have the police arrest Kata and his men for their crimes, the thought was ludicrous. His masquerade was not only dangerous, it had also just become pointless.
