The Hell Screen by I. J. Parker Page B
Authors: I. J. Parker
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, General, Historical, Mystery & Detective, Mystery Fiction, Japan, Government investigators, Nobility, Kyoto (Japan), Japan - History - Heian period; 794-1185
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will you sew two robes, one for you and one for me?”
She looked down at the plain cotton gown she wore. “I do not need anything. Fine silk is wasted on mere housework and nursing.”
“It would give me pleasure to see you in it when we share our meals.”
She smiled with sudden affection. “In that case, yes. Thank you, Elder Brother.”
* * * *
Akitada went shopping the next morning. Leaving the house to the accompaniment of the monks’ chants, he felt as if he were escaping from a prison. The weather was warm and sunny, and even the bare willows of Suzaku Avenue made a fine show against the limpid blue sky. The recent rain seemed to have washed the world clean, and the ordinary people in the streets looked remarkably tidy. The great thoroughfare bustled with foot traffic, ox carriages of noble gentlemen and ladies, and riders on urgent business.
He passed the red-lacquered gate of the Temple of the City God and turned right into the business quarters of the capital. Here well-dressed shoppers mingled with bare-chested porters carrying heavy bales and boxes on their backs. An occasional red-coated constable, bow and quiver slung across his shoulder, kept an eye out for pickpockets.
The increased traffic and noise told him that he was approaching the markets, and he turned into a street of large shops, looking for silk dealers and antiquarians.
He found Nichira’s almost immediately. Whitewashed plaster walls and high screened windows covered with dark wooden fretwork faced the street. A sign announced proudly, “Nichira’s Treasure House of Antiquities,” but the shop door was plain. Akitada walked through and found himself in a stone-paved entryway just below a raised platform of polished wood. The wooden floor stretched all the way to the dim back of the building. As far as he could see, the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, and rows of raised tables stood everywhere, forming passages crisscrossing the central space.
From nowhere, a thin young man appeared at Akitada’s side and knelt to help him with his shoes. Stepping out of his own clogs, he led Akitada up onto the wooden floor, bowed, and asked what his honor would like to see.
“Hmm,” said Akitada, glancing around him. Every surface of shelf space and every tabletop were covered with objects. There seemed to be hundreds of small boxes of every description, and thousands of small ceramic and porcelain vessels. The shelves held figurines and masks, rolled scrolls and yellowed books, lamps and candlesticks, carved writing utensils and jade seals, games and musical instruments, religious as well as secular items. “May I look around?”
The assistant bowed, and followed Akitada around the room. Closer inspection proved that none of the objects on display were of sufficient antiquity to qualify as imperial treasures. Akitada gave up. Turning to the assistant, he asked, “Do you perhaps have a very old lute?”
The assistant bowed again and led him back to one of the shelves. It held some twenty different instruments, all of them nice, but none old enough to be “Nameless.” Frowning, Akitada pursed his lips and said, “No, no. Nothing so ordinary will do. Don’t you have something really special? Really old?”
The young man hesitated, then said, “Perhaps Mr. Nichira had better be called.”
Mr. Nichira duly appeared. He was short, fat, and quite self-possessed. Casting an appraising eye over Akitada’s brocade hunting robe, he bowed. “I am told the gentleman is looking for a very special old lute? Might I have some particulars about the instrument?”
Akitada bit his lip. They were getting on dangerous ground. How to ask for an object without describing it in recognizable detail? He pretended ignorance. “Yes. Well...” he said, glancing helplessly around the large room. “Not necessarily a lute, but something really special.... I suppose it need not be a
She looked down at the plain cotton gown she wore. “I do not need anything. Fine silk is wasted on mere housework and nursing.”
“It would give me pleasure to see you in it when we share our meals.”
She smiled with sudden affection. “In that case, yes. Thank you, Elder Brother.”
* * * *
Akitada went shopping the next morning. Leaving the house to the accompaniment of the monks’ chants, he felt as if he were escaping from a prison. The weather was warm and sunny, and even the bare willows of Suzaku Avenue made a fine show against the limpid blue sky. The recent rain seemed to have washed the world clean, and the ordinary people in the streets looked remarkably tidy. The great thoroughfare bustled with foot traffic, ox carriages of noble gentlemen and ladies, and riders on urgent business.
He passed the red-lacquered gate of the Temple of the City God and turned right into the business quarters of the capital. Here well-dressed shoppers mingled with bare-chested porters carrying heavy bales and boxes on their backs. An occasional red-coated constable, bow and quiver slung across his shoulder, kept an eye out for pickpockets.
The increased traffic and noise told him that he was approaching the markets, and he turned into a street of large shops, looking for silk dealers and antiquarians.
He found Nichira’s almost immediately. Whitewashed plaster walls and high screened windows covered with dark wooden fretwork faced the street. A sign announced proudly, “Nichira’s Treasure House of Antiquities,” but the shop door was plain. Akitada walked through and found himself in a stone-paved entryway just below a raised platform of polished wood. The wooden floor stretched all the way to the dim back of the building. As far as he could see, the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, and rows of raised tables stood everywhere, forming passages crisscrossing the central space.
From nowhere, a thin young man appeared at Akitada’s side and knelt to help him with his shoes. Stepping out of his own clogs, he led Akitada up onto the wooden floor, bowed, and asked what his honor would like to see.
“Hmm,” said Akitada, glancing around him. Every surface of shelf space and every tabletop were covered with objects. There seemed to be hundreds of small boxes of every description, and thousands of small ceramic and porcelain vessels. The shelves held figurines and masks, rolled scrolls and yellowed books, lamps and candlesticks, carved writing utensils and jade seals, games and musical instruments, religious as well as secular items. “May I look around?”
The assistant bowed, and followed Akitada around the room. Closer inspection proved that none of the objects on display were of sufficient antiquity to qualify as imperial treasures. Akitada gave up. Turning to the assistant, he asked, “Do you perhaps have a very old lute?”
The assistant bowed again and led him back to one of the shelves. It held some twenty different instruments, all of them nice, but none old enough to be “Nameless.” Frowning, Akitada pursed his lips and said, “No, no. Nothing so ordinary will do. Don’t you have something really special? Really old?”
The young man hesitated, then said, “Perhaps Mr. Nichira had better be called.”
Mr. Nichira duly appeared. He was short, fat, and quite self-possessed. Casting an appraising eye over Akitada’s brocade hunting robe, he bowed. “I am told the gentleman is looking for a very special old lute? Might I have some particulars about the instrument?”
Akitada bit his lip. They were getting on dangerous ground. How to ask for an object without describing it in recognizable detail? He pretended ignorance. “Yes. Well...” he said, glancing helplessly around the large room. “Not necessarily a lute, but something really special.... I suppose it need not be a
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