Eikan turned to the right and they walked along the veranda until he stopped before one of the doors.

"This is the room which was given to Mrs. Nagaoka's brother-in-law," he told Akitada.

The door was not latched, and he merely pushed it open on an empty room. It literally held nothing, not so much as a clothes chest. The bare space was only ten feet deep and wide, perhaps to fit the monastic ideal of the ten-foot-square hermit's hut, and had a floor of plain boards. The rough wooden walls, decorated with the scribbles or drawings of generations of pilgrims, had only two openings, the door and one small window in the back wall. As accommodation it was hardly luxurious.

"Have they removed the furnishings?" asked Akitada, astonished.

"No. All the rooms are like this. Bedding and a lamp are provided if there are guests. On cold nights also a brazier of coals. And, of course, water and a simple vegetarian meal. All of those things, except for the brazier, were left for the gentleman." Eikan paused, clearing his throat meaningfully. "He did not make any use of them."

"Oh?" Akitada noted a coy expression on Eikan's face.

"It is one of those facts, my lord, which has filled the younger monks' minds with conjectures of a worldly nature and imposed the penitential meditations on them." Eikan winked with a straight face.

Akitada almost laughed aloud. He was beginning to like his companion. "You are suggesting that the lady's brother-in-law joined her in her quarters soon after their arrival. What about his luggage?"

"Oh, he left that behind, money and all."

Akitada's brows shot up. "All but his sword," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Ah," cried Eikan, rubbing his hands. "I follow your thinking, my lord. You believe that he had already made up his mind to murder the poor lady and proceeded immediately to her room, taking his sword along?"

"That is one explanation."

"But that means that he was not bent on seducing his brother's wife, as most of us have assumed. He did not kill her because she spurned his advances?"

"It would seem unlikely that he would take his sword on an errand of love."

"A brilliant deduction, my lord." Eikan eyed Akitada with admiration. "I am willing to wager that the police have not thought of that. They kept asking if anyone had noticed improper behavior between the two."

Not being in Kobe's confidence, Akitada could not pursue the subject. He asked instead, "Who discovered the crime?"

"One of the novices. His name is Ancho. The novices are assigned to cleaning duties in the guest quarters. Ancho and Sosei had the duty that week. I made a note of it and questioned Ancho after I discovered your identity, my lord, just in case you should return and ask me this question."

Akitada thanked him gravely.

"It is a pleasure to be of service. In any case, Ancho and Sosei started their duties after the morning lecture. That is well after the hour of the dragon, when most guests have risen and are at their devotions or have departed. Ancho knocked at the lady's door, and when there was no answer, he assumed the room was empty and used his special key. He was horrified to find the bloody corpse of a woman and the lifeless body of a man. Being young, he went screaming for help. Sosei came from another room and looked. He, too, ran, but he had the sense to get a senior monk from the monastery. Ancho, confused, stayed in the courtyard within sight of the room. He saw a few guests gathering to peer into the room until some of the senior monks arrived. It was only then that someone noticed the man was alive and merely in a drunken stupor. They tied him up, and the prior sent for the capital police."

"Did the man sleep through all this commotion?"

"It took the police several hours to get here. He woke up in the meantime and had to be restrained. The monks got more ropes and sat on him when he got violent. The police felt it proved his guilt."

Akitada had no trouble picturing the scene. Nagaoka's brother, Kojiro, woken up by a rude shaking, and, while still dazed with the aftereffects of drink, tied up by a group of monks, would have panicked. He nodded and said, "I think I should like to see that room next."

They walked along the veranda to the short wing of cells.

"This is where the women stay," Eikan said. "The male actors occupied rooms across from this wing. It seemed better to separate them. The mind is supposed to be pure when preparing for worship."

Akitada grunted somewhat disrespectfully. Eikan ignored it and threw open another door on a room identical to the last one. Akitada stepped in and looked around. The floorboards had been scrubbed, of course, and there would not have been much blood in any case. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he turned his attention to the door. There was a latch on the inside which could be lifted from the outside only by a special key inserted through a small hole. Akitada asked, "Who has keys for this lock?"

"There are only two. They are kept in the guest prefect's office. Only the novices assigned to cleaning duties carry them. They are issued keys on the morning of their duties by the work supervisor, and they return them to him when they are done. Empty rooms generally are not locked."

"I see. Do you suppose I could have a word with this Ancho?"

"Nothing easier. He's outside."

They stepped out onto the veranda, and looked toward a young monk who was raking the gravel at the end of the courtyard.

Eikan put his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Ancho." The young monk dropped his bamboo rake and came running.

"Ancho," said Eikan, "this is the great lord I mentioned to you. He has come to investigate the murder and has a few questions for you."

Ancho's rosy cheeks, flushed by the cold air or his labors, paled a little and he cast a fearful look toward the open door. "I don't know," he said nervously. "Master Genno has forbidden us to think about such things. It is very difficult, but I have endeavored to obey."

"Never mind," said Eikan. "This is a special situation. You know His Reverence has told us to cooperate fully with the authorities."

Seeing the young man's uneasiness, Akitada said soothingly, "I will be as quick as I can. I am sure you must find all this upsetting."

Ancho nodded gratefully. He looked like a bright youngster, not much more than eighteen, Akitada guessed.

"Well, then, Ancho, are you certain that the door to this room was locked when you came to clean the room?"

"Yes. When there was no answer to my knocking, I pushed against it. Usually the guests leave the door unlatched when they leave. I knocked again, and when there was again no answer, I inserted my key and tripped the latch."

"May I see the key, please?"

Ancho exchanged a glance with Eikan-who nodded firmly-and handed over a thin metal gadget he carried tied to the rope around his waist.

The key was peculiarly shaped, and Akitada saw immediately that it was made especially for this kind of latch. He inserted it into the hole and heard the small click as the latch moved. A slight twist released it again. Satisfied that only an expert thief, and one who had come prepared, would be able to unlock the door without this special key, Akitada returned it to the young monk.

"Now I must ask about some things which you may find upsetting," he said. "Please forgive me and do the best you can. First, tell me exactly what you saw when the door opened."

The young monk closed his eyes. He grew a bit paler, but spoke readily enough. "I saw the lady on the floor. Her feet were toward the door. I recognized the robe right away. Very pretty it was, with chrysanthemums and golden grasses embroidered on it. I thought she was asleep, but she was not on her bedding. She was on the bare floor and lying strangely. Then I thought she had become ill and fainted. I went in to help her." He shuddered and swallowed hard. "There was blood and her face... there was no face... it was all cut up. I knew she was dead then and I ran." He opened his eyes and looked at Akitada miserably.

"You are doing very well," said Akitada reassuringly. "Were you at all aware that there was someone else in the room?"

Ancho shook his head. "There wasn't much light, only what came from the open door, and I only looked at the lady, never thinking that a man might have joined her." He flushed painfully and averted his eyes.

"You said you recognized her robe. Had you seen her the night before?"

"Yes, my lord. When I brought her bedding and some food and water."

Eikan cried, "You had served her? You never told me."

Ancho said simply, "You never asked me."

For a moment Eikan looked irritated, then he brightened. "How about that? Only someone like you, my lord, would discover such a very important fact from a casual word. I have much to learn, it seems."

Akitada's mouth twitched. "Do you expect to need such skills in your way of life?"

"Certainly, my lord. You'd be surprised at the sorts of tricks our youngsters get up to, though not murder, of course. Also, with so many visitors, and low types like those actors ... though I believe the abbot plans to review the policy of permitting acting groups and women to stay here. It is written: All degeneration of the Law begins with women.' "

"I confess I was startled that the temple admits lay women free access to the monastery. I found some of the actors, men and a woman, in the bathhouse that night."

Eikan looked profoundly shocked. "A woman? Are you certain, my lord? That area is strictly forbidden to lay persons of either gender. What about the bath attendant?"

"He went to speak to them, but with little effect. I thought perhaps the rules had been lifted for the occasion of the festival."

"Not at all, my lord. The actors were supposed to remain in their rooms here." He shook his head. "No wonder the abbot is upset."

Akitada turned back to Ancho.

"Tell me about the evening before, when you saw the two people alive."

"They sent me to serve new guests, a gentleman and a lady. I stopped first in the kitchen. It was closed already, but I put cold rice cakes and two pitchers of water into a basket. These I took to the veranda before the lady's room. Then I fetched a roll of bedding from the storeroom and knocked. The lady opened the door. I tried not to look at her, but noticed the pretty gown. I took in the bedding first and put it under the window." He flushed. "We are not supposed to spread it out. As soon as I had done that, I went back for some of the rice cakes and a pitcher of water. I put those just inside the door and went to do the same for the gentleman."

"I see. You did not speak with either of the guests?"

"No, my lord. It is discouraged. The gentleman thanked me."

"Did you notice any luggage?"

"Yes, my lord. The gentleman had a saddlebag and his sword, and the lady had just a saddlebag."

"How did they seem? Cheerful, nervous, bored, or irritated?"

"It is hard to say. The gentleman gave me a smile and a nod. He looked tired, I think. The lady was walking about. Perhaps she was nervous. I don't know. She did not smile, and did not so much as look at me. I'm afraid that is all I can tell."

Somewhere a bell began to ring again, high and strident. Ancho glanced over his shoulder and began to inch away.

"The bell for our noon meal, my lord," said Eikan.

"Just a moment more," said Akitada. "As you were on duty that evening, did you have occasion to serve another visitor who would have arrived later? He would have been in his fifties, gray-haired and thin."

"Oh, no, sir. There were no other visitors later that night. And I don't recall seeing anyone like the man you describe."

So Nagaoka apparently had not followed his wife and brother. "One more thing: did any of the other guests express an interest in the lady who died?"

Ancho shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, sir."

"Thank you. That is all. It was very good of you to think back to something which must have troubled you a great deal."

Ancho bowed briefly and then ran. Eikan lingered behind, watching as Akitada pulled the door to the murder room shut behind him and found that it would not latch. "There is no need to lock it, my lord," he said.

Akitada stared at the door fixedly. Then he pulled it to again, harder this time. The latch jumped into place with a loud click and the door was locked.

"It locks from the outside," Akitada said with pleased surprise. "And that explains why Ancho and his fellow attendant have keys and why he opened the locked door with the key after knocking. He assumed it was empty and had slammed shut."

"Of course. People sometimes slam the doors so hard that they lock by themselves."

"But that makes all the difference," said Akitada. "While no one could enter a locked room without a key, it was quite simple to leave a room locked. Thanks to your help, we now know that someone other than Kojiro could have killed Mrs. Nagaoka."

Eikan looked blank. After a moment he said, "I am not sure I understand. May I ask if my lord suspects one of us?"

"Not necessarily. Someone who was in the temple or monastery the night of the murder. There were, by all accounts, many outsiders here that night. But you will miss your meal and I must continue my journey. I shall not forget your generous and invaluable assistance."

Eikan brightened slightly. "I have time. Someone brings my food to the gate. Will you come back, my lord?"

"Perhaps. But whatever happens, I shall let you know the outcome."

They parted company pleased with each other, and Akitada mounted his horse again and hurried back down the mountain road, anxious to make up for lost time.

Not completely lost, perhaps, for he had at least enough information now to speak again to Kobe. But there were so many uncertainties, not the least of which was the troubling person of Noami. The man seemed to be everywhere, a perpetual, ominous presence in the background.

He fell imperceptibly into glum discouragement again as he reviewed the past weeks. He was no closer to the solution of the murder of Nagaoka's wife, at home his unforgiving mother lay dying, one of his sisters was desperately unhappy and the other had married a man under suspicion of theft from the Imperial Treasury, he himself had yet to make his report to the palace, and he had so far failed to solve even one problem.

The mood persisted until he passed through a clearing and caught a glimpse of the valley and the highway below him. At the little shack where he had stopped earlier he saw a great bustle of carts, horses, and people. A group of travelers had paused on their journey to the capital.

His eyes sharpened, and he counted. Yes, two carts with oxen and a number of horses, at least fifteen. And there, just inside the shack, he saw the blue robe of a woman, and then a man stepped out, carrying a small child on his back. They had finally come!

Giving a shout of joy, Akitada slapped his horse into a neck-breaking gallop down the road to greet his family.

NINE.

Family Matters Their reception at the house was less than climactic. To be sure, Saburo grinned hugely when he saw his mistress again, and Yoshiko came running, brushing at her cotton gown and smoothing her hair back, but the other servants were strangers and merely peered curiously into the courtyard filled with horses, wagons, and strange men. But with the elder Lady Sugawara at death's door, and the chanting of the monks casting a pall over the return, there was no sense of celebration.

Tamako and Yori looked well after their long journey, healthy and tanned by the sun. Yoshiko's sickly pallor was all the more apparent by contrast.

Tamako knew about his mother's condition from Akitada, but now asked Yoshiko for the particulars. The two women, Yoshiko with Yori in her arms, walked toward the elder Lady Sugawara's room, while Akitada followed glumly behind. He had felt a strong urge to prevent this meeting, to protect them from the poison of his mother's disturbed mind, but Tamako had quickly informed him that it was her duty as daughter-in-law to pay her respects and present her son. So he hung back, stopping outside the door among the chanting monks, while the women disappeared inside.

He had a long wait, which he passed in morose thought, staring down at six shaven heads and thinking of the mountain temple; the murder; the painter Noami, once a monk himself; the hell screen; and finally of his gift for Tamako. The last thought cheered him, for presenting the scroll of boy and puppies reminded him that he would soon be alone with his wife. They would have a chance to talk, make plans for the future, touch hands, and then perhaps make love.

When Tamako emerged from his mother's room, her face drawn with distress, she was surprised to find her husband smiling at her happily, his hands extended eagerly.

"Finally," he cried. "Come, let us go to my room. I have missed you dreadfully."

One of the monks choked over a line, causing the chant to disintegrate and falter into silence. Six pairs of reproachful eyes were raised to Akitada. Then the oldest monk nearest the door cleared his throat and raised a hand. At his signal, they all picked up the chant again and continued.

Tamako took Akitada's extended hand and drew him away quickly. "She is dying," she murmured, partly in reproach and partly to express her own sadness. When they had put some distance between themselves and the monks, she added, "It cannot be long now. But she knew me, and she raised a hand to caress Yori. Only she was too weak even for that. Oh, Akitada! We returned barely in time."

Akitada looked into his wife's tear-filled eyes and marveled at her grief for a woman she had barely known. He knew his mother to be undeserving of such kindness. "I returned too soon," he said harshly. "If I had taken my time, it would have saved me the knowledge that my own mother hated me enough to drive me from her presence with curses."