The Masuda Affair (30 page)

Akitada thought of Tamako. She really would enjoy this scroll.

Apparently, Inabe had loved the common sparrows better than any other bird. Several sheets were filled with their sketches and tales. He searched for and found the story he remembered from his own childhood. He had told it to Yori. It was about the sparrow with the broken wing who rewarded the poor woman who healed him with an unceasing supply of food until her jealous neighbor caught the little bird. But remembering his son brought tears to his eyes, and the characters swam crazily on the paper.

Akitada blinked and unrolled the scroll a little more to read the rest of the story, but the text changed suddenly. There were no more drawings. The writing was dense and professional and hard to decipher. It was the same writing as in Inabe’s medical notebooks. His heart beating faster, he unrolled a large section. There were four sheets of medical notes altogether before the bird pictures continued. The story of the wounded sparrow had no ending because the medical notes had been glued over it.

What was more, these were the four sheets missing from the notebook. Inabe had hidden the pages by removing them carefully, and then he had sacrificed four sections of his treasured bird drawings to make sure they were hidden. Why? And from whom?

He read and learned that the ten-year-old girl had recovered. But it was the next patient who mattered: a thirty-year-old male who had complained of acute cramping in
his belly, along with vomiting, and burning in his mouth and throat.

It had to be young Masuda.

There was no mention of
warabi mochi.
The doctor had merely poked and questioned the patient. He had noted spasms and tightness in the lower belly, especially on the right side, and had prescribed a dose of powdered
daiou
and
moutan.
The next day he had been called back and found the patient improved. But then, the day after, young Masuda had become much worse. He was now suffering from severe dysentery. Palpitation of the belly had produced fluid sounds. Inabe had again prescribed
daiou
and added
persica.
On this occasion he had noted a
yang
pulse and a yellow, dry coating of the tongue, and had identified them as the symptoms of an intestinal inflammation.

An inflammation? What had been wrong with the patient? There were two more visits, the comments increasingly shorter and more ominous: shallow breathing, cold sweats, and severe pain on the first of these, and on the last Inabe had noted that the patient was unresponsive and suffered from seizures. The outcome was, of course, death.

And that was all. Except that Inabe had scribbled some obscure comments in the margin of the last sheet. Akitada turned the scroll sideways and squinted at it. ‘For love-sickness there is no medicine.’ Love sickness? The other was a bit of Chinese which looked like ‘Yue-sun’s gruel’. He took it for the name of an obscure medicine.

More puzzled than ever, Akitada looked up, dazzled from close reading, and squinted at the sun. It was midday already, and that made Tora very late indeed. He decided not to wait any longer.

W
hen Akitada got home, he went directly to Tamako’s room. Since he had become a stranger there after their son’s death, he announced himself outside the door and asked for permission to enter. She answered in her familiar, cool voice, and he went in.

She sat near the open door to the overgrown garden. He was struck by how very attractive she looked in the dark-grey gown that mourning still dictated and was glad that she was alone. But his heart fell when he saw that she was bent over two lacquer trunks he recognized. They had belonged to their son Yori and held his summer and autumn clothing. That she was taking out and handling his small garments depressed him immeasurably.

He expected grief, but she was calm. ‘Was your journey successful?’ she asked, giving him a searching look.

He came a little closer, wondering if he should sit down. ‘In some ways,’ he said cautiously, hoping for an invitation.

Her face lit up. ‘You brought the child with you?’ Her hands made a small, fluttering gesture at the clothes boxes.

He understood, and his heart fell further. ‘No, but he’s safe for the time being. I meant that there is more information about the Masuda case. And perhaps about the boy’s paternity. But there are still many unanswered questions.’

She was silent for a little. ‘Then you will leave again,’ she said finally.

He was taken aback. He had just arrived. Was she so eager to have him gone? ‘No. I … I must return to my duties at the ministry.’

She nodded, closed the trunks, and rose. ‘I had better tell cook to get more provisions.’

He did not step out of her way. For a moment they stood
face to face, and he knew she was going to brush past him. In an awkward effort to keep her, he pulled the bird scroll from his sleeve and held it out. ‘I thought you might like this.’

She took it warily. ‘For me?’ She held the scroll as if it were either precious or deadly.

‘I found it among the victim’s papers,’ he said nervously. ‘He loved birds and made a study of them. The scroll has his drawings and little legends and tales about birds. When I saw it, I thought of you. I bought it from his heir.’

She blushed. ‘Oh, Akitada,’ she murmured and undid the ribbon.

He saw the delicate color rise on her pale skin and thought how much more beautiful it was than the white paste worn by many women. ‘The nephew was not a very nice man and had no love for birds or for his uncle, I think. You won’t mind that it belonged to a dead man?’ he asked anxiously. ‘His murder is what kept me in Otsu.’

She looked up. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Poor man. I shall treasure this. Thank you, Akitada.’ She unrolled the scroll and exclaimed at the drawings.

Akitada felt pleased with himself so far and said on an impulse, ‘It also contains an important clue. See here.’ He showed her the pasted pages. ‘I’d be glad of your advice on the doctor’s prescriptions for a very sick young man. You know much more about medicines than I do.’

She clutched the scroll to her chest, her eyes shining. ‘Oh, Akitada.’

He smiled uncertainly. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Oh, no. I’m deeply honored by your confidence. I promise I shall study this very carefully.’ She paused and her face fell a little. ‘But I’m not an expert. Please don’t expect too much. May I consult with Seimei?’

He heaved a sigh of relief. ‘By all means. Excellent idea.’ For a moment they stood smiling at each other, and then Akitada, suddenly afraid to spoil so good a beginning, fled.

In his room, he changed into his second-best silk robe and court hat, gathered his long overdue report on the Hikone affair, and set out for the ministry. He was almost
light-hearted. Perhaps he might yet make his peace with Tamako. And the convoluted Masuda case had reached the interesting phase where it must begin to unravel, if only he could lay his finger on the right thread.

His desire to adopt the mute boy had faded to a more distant benevolence. This fact, however, he had no wish to examine more closely because it would bring back the old grief and loneliness.

At the ministry, he met startled glances from junior clerks and was immediately ushered into the minister’s office.

His exalted superior was a Fujiwara noble: not the worst of them, and certainly far better than his predecessor, who had made Akitada’s life a misery until his death in the recent smallpox epidemic. The current incumbent was younger than Akitada and had no legal training – such things were irrelevant for senior appointments – but at least he made a show of taking an interest. Their relationship had been cordial from the beginning.

At least until now.

As soon as Akitada entered the minister’s room, he became aware of a distinctly chilly reception. There was no smile on the minister’s normally cheerful face. He looked like someone embarked on an unpleasant task.

He did not invite Akitada to sit and said crisply, ‘We expected you earlier.’

Akitada searched his mind. Had he sent a message that the Hikone affair was taking longer than expected? The past ten days had preoccupied his mind to the exclusion of everything else. He said cautiously, ‘Well, it has taken a while, but the report is finally done.’ He held up the papers. ‘It turned out to be a fairly clear-cut case after all. The local authorities—’

‘I was not referring to the Hikone matter,’ the minister interrupted. ‘Rumor has reached the government that you were arrested in Otsu.’

Akitada’s heart skipped a beat. He should have been prepared. Of course the Otsu affair would leak out. He knew that the judge had requested information about him, and the only way that could have been done was by turning to
the central council and giving a reason. How could he have been so stupid? The truth was, he had been obsessed with the boy, and for his sake he had cheerfully risked his career and fortune. Buggery, if engaged in discreetly, would only raise an amused eyebrow, but the abduction and rape of a child was another matter.

He pulled himself together with an effort. ‘A foolish mistake by the Otsu authorities,’ he said, keeping his voice as clipped as the minister’s. ‘I have a good mind to lay charges against everyone involved.’

The minister relaxed a little. ‘I thought there must be an explanation,’ he said in a more conciliatory tone. ‘Perhaps you’d better explain. The allegations have raised questions in, er, higher quarters, and I am to report.’

Worse and worse. It meant the chancellor had taken notice and given orders to the Censors’ Office. The censors, in turn, had started proceedings by instructing the minister to conduct a full-scale investigation into the incident. That he could not have expected, and it struck him as so extraordinary that he asked, ‘Do you mean this unfortunate, but essentially trivial mistake has become a matter of official concern?’

The minister nodded grimly. ‘Afraid so. In our position, criminal charges are a serious matter.’ His expression softened a little. ‘Sit down and take your time. Just an unofficial version to start with. Then we’ll have a scribe take down your story for the final report.’

Akitada felt sick. He began with meeting the child in the forest. Diffidence made him give only the rough facts, and he watched with chilling foreboding as the minister’s face lengthened more and more and doubt began to creep into his eyes. When Akitada was done, an uncomfortable silence fell. Akitada shifted, wondering what else he could say to convince the man of his innocence.

The minister forestalled him. ‘I know you lost a son during the recent epidemic, but even so … Don’t you consider your behavior in this matter highly … unusual?’

It had not seemed so at the time. Stung by the suggestion that he might be mentally unstable, Akitada defended
himself. ‘I only took pity on a lost child. I would have thought that a good thing. I cannot help it if ignorant and malicious people choose to interpret my motives in a salacious manner.’

The minister flushed and compressed his lips. ‘I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘you’re not helping me. Because I have only a short acquaintance with you, I must rely on what you say in your defense.’

This smacked more and more of the notion that he was on trial here. Akitada tried to control his anger. He also knew little about the minister’s background. He had simply assumed that a high-ranking noble would not involve himself unduly in the work of the ministry and leave matters to him.

And so it had been. Yori’s death had filled Akitada’s thoughts day and night, and he had attempted to banish the memories with work. His new superior had not hindered Akitada’s frenzied activity. Now, for the first time, it occurred to him to wonder about the man. He must be in his late twenties and had probably had the usual university training and private tutors. Unlike many of the court nobles, he looked like an active young man, healthy and without the softness that marked the more self-indulgent members of his family. But that did not tell him how he would deal with the present case.

Akitada felt a moment’s foolish resentment and said coldly, ‘Since I don’t seem to be able to make a convincing defense to you, I must rely on my good name to speak for my character.’

The minister sighed. He reached for a sheaf of documents and passed them across the desk. Akitada bit his lip. They were the annual evaluations of his performance under the previous minister, probably complete and going back to the year when he had started as a very junior clerk. Most accused him of neglecting his duties to meddle in outside affairs in direct disobedience to orders and had haunted him before.

He said bitterly, ‘These mean nothing. Your predecessor took every opportunity to attack me. His Excellency, the
chancellor, and other high-ranking officials know of my service. I have received several high commendations and promotions for my work.’

‘But in this case …’ began the minister.

Akitada, very angry by now, rose. ‘I absolutely deny those ridiculous charges. Perhaps you will consult further about my moral character with those who can speak to it. It will be best if I await your decision at home.’ He bowed and walked out.

He stormed home and rushed into the courtyard at such a pace that the dozing Trouble thought it a new game and joined him, bouncing up and down and around him with a noisy welcome. Akitada cursed and pushed the dog away roughly, but Trouble simply increased his efforts and responded by taking small nips of Akitada’s good robe.

‘Tora!’ shouted Akitada.

Tora and Genba appeared simultaneously and flung themselves into the fray.

The dog yipped with joy. A free-for-all! A chase! Three humans against one splendid dog.

Akitada withdrew from the contest and stood glowering on the steps until Tura collared his dog. Then he said, ‘Get rid of him!’ and stalked into the house.

He had been going to see Tamako to tell her of his dilemma, but decided to take off his torn and dirty robe first. Perhaps he would never have need for his formal clothes again. Slipping on his house robe, he tied its sash and went to give his wife the bad news.