But Seimei was gone and instead Kojiro was there, backing away from a figure in red and orange silk. As Akitada looked, the demon king lunged forward and pushed the much smaller Kojiro so violently into the screened enclosure of the stand that it toppled inward.
Shouting for Tora and Genba, Akitada tried to push through the milling crowd, but another carriage blocked his way. The huge wheel almost ran over Akitada’s foot, and when he jumped out of the way, he fell over someone behind him. Scrambling up and forward again, he saw that his stand had collapsed and its occupants were in full view of the crowd. Danjuro jumped about among fallen benches, flinging the elderly Seimei aside and making for the cluster of women in the corner. Akitada vaulted over some debris in the road and shouted. He saw Danjuro dodging a bench which came flying through the air. The bench was followed by Miss Plumblossom’s large bulk in a flutter of black silk skirts and red ribbons. She collided violently with the fiery demon king, bringing both of them down with a crash that Akitada could hear over the noise of the fleeing crowd.
Pushing people out of his way, dodging the hooves of oxen, and squeezing between two carriages barely in time before one of the large wheels almost caught him again, Akitada managed finally to reach his family. To his relief, Tamako and Yoshiko huddled together on a bench, their arms around each other and Yori. Kojiro stood over them, his face flushed and an ugly bruise marring one cheek.
They all looked at a pile of overturned seats where Miss Plumblossom sat among the broken boards and splintered bench legs. She had lost her wig, and her bald scalp shone in the torchlight. Her gown was ripped down the front, and a broad streak of mud decorated her ruddy face. But she looked triumphant.
“Miss Plumblossom,” gasped Akitada, sliding to a halt, “are you hurt?”
Groping for her wig with its red ribbons, she grinned. “Not a bit, sir. Look, I caught me the head goblin himself. If that isn’t good luck, I don’t know what is.”
Seimei staggered over, rubbing his shoulder and holding his head. “Thank heaven you’ve returned, sir. This madman attacked Mr. Kojiro and then ran into the ladies’ enclosure. But fleeing from the tiger’s den, he ran into the dragon. If it hadn’t been for Miss Plumblossom, I don’t know what we should have done.”
Akitada stepped closer. On the ground, pinned between Miss Plumblossom’s massive haunches, lay a figure dressed in orange and red silk. Danjuro was on his back, his eyes closed and his face contorted with pain. Miss Plumblossom chuckled and stuck her wig on his head. The actor jerked away and started bucking and moaning. His struggle had perversely sexual overtones. Dressed in his orange finery, with the wig on his head, and straddled by a bald Miss Plumblossom, he resembled the female partner of a lecherous priest.
The resemblance had not escaped Miss Plumblossom. She giggled and bounced. “Come on, lover,” she cooed. “Get it up. I’ve got you right where I want you. If you were a bit more of a man, I think I’d take you home with me.”
Seimei gasped.
Danjuro stopped struggling and moaned again. Akitada shot a glance at his wife and sister and said sternly, “Miss Plumblossom, get up! There are ladies watching.”
Miss Plumblossom made no move to obey. “Time they learned the way to please a man, if they haven’t by now. I don’t mind giving them pointers while Goblin here is twitching between my thighs, but the poor creature’s rod is a limp noodle. I wonder what all those girls have been seeing in him.”
Seimei gave a choking cry and clutched at Akitada’s arm. He looked so profoundly shocked that Akitada thought he was about to faint.
TWENTY-THREE
The Twofold Truth
The night between the old year and the new was long. Akitada did not return to his home and bed until just before dawn, to the cheerful noise from the Imperial Palace, where the members of the Imperial Guard were twanging their bows and officials were ringing bells to mark the new beginning.
After the capture of Danjuro in the Spring Garden, Akitada sent his family home and arranged to have Miss Plumblossom escorted by Tora and Genba. The tumult of the demon chase died down gradually, as Kobe and Akitada accompanied the prisoners to jail.
Kobe insisted on interrogating Danjuro and Nobuko immediately and separately. He commandeered the prison director’s office and sent the sleepy constables and guards rushing about, carrying messages and summons to clerks, physicians, and the women’s prison matron. Danjuro was dragged in first. Someone had decided that he was not injured badly enough to rate a litter. Danjuro did not agree and refused to cooperate. The two burly guards had to grip him under the arms and drag him in between them. They expressed their frustration by handling him as roughly as they could, and Danjuro cursed and screamed.
“Put him down!” shouted Kobe over the din. “Why is he screaming like that?”
They dropped him like a load of firewood. One guard grinned. “Broken rib, sir.”
“Oh.” Kobe eyed the whimpering prisoner on the floor. “Well, he’s calmed down,” he said carelessly. “The doctor can take a look at him later. But you shouldn’t have roughed him up before I had a chance to talk to him.”
“We didn’t,” protested the men. “That rib was already broken.”
Kobe turned to Akitada. “Did you have trouble with the bastard?”
“No. But Miss Plumblossom did.”
Kobe’s eyes widened. “Not that woman again? She’s better than any of my men. I may have to give her a job.” He chuckled. “That would stop her from criticizing the police. I could make her a warden of her quarter, maybe?”
“I should think she would like that very much,” Akitada said with a laugh.
Danjuro cursed again. One of the guards unhooked his two-pronged metal jitte from his belt and gave him a sharp prod with it.
“Sit up, you!” Kobe snapped.
“I can’t. She broke my back,” whined Danjuro. “She finished me. I’ll never act again. I want compensation.”
“You what?” Kobe guffawed. “Don’t worry! You’ll be compensated. And if you don’t sit up, I’ll make certain you cannot lie down for weeks.”
Danjuro bestirred himself weakly and with many moans and cries. His face was wet with sweat and tears when he finally faced them.
Kobe burst into another shout of laughter. “Behold the fierce demon king! You look more like an old woman without your mask. What a crybaby! How can someone like you play famous heroes and gods? You’re an insult to men everywhere.”
Danjuro shot him a malevolent glance and sniffled. “I’m an actor,” he said with an attempt at dignity, “not a crude soldier or constable. Besides, I’ve been viciously attacked and injured. Imagine finding yourself pushed into an enclosure where some man starts hitting you! I was defending myself as best I could when that female monster joined in and tried to kill me. You’d do better to arrest that pair than to torture me. Tomorrow I shall lay charges before a judge against my attackers and all of you. Now I demand to be treated by a physician.” He snapped his mouth shut and glared.
The guard jabbed Danjuro again with his jitte while his partner reached for his whip, but Kobe shook his head. “It is late, and I am tired,” he said, “so we’ll dispense with your amusing pretense of innocence. You are charged with murdering three people, specifically the actress Ohisa, the antiquarian Nagaoka, and the retired professor Yasaburo.”
“Ridiculous,” said Danjuro, feeling his ribs.
“Not at all. The actress Ohisa was a member of your troupe and one of your women. You strangled her during a stay at the Eastern Mountain Temple because you had tired of her, and had a new lover. Her murder may have been instigated by your new lover, Nagaoka’s wife. We know she helped you contrive an elaborate plot in which Ohisa’s body would be disguised as hers so that the murder could be pinned on Nagaoka’s brother.”