by I. J. Parker
Tora grinned. Perfect.
The delivery man from the market had refused to carry the goods all the way to the kitchen, and the woman, probably Maseie’s cook, had no help at hand. Now she stood there, staring at the pile and muttering to herself.
Putting on his best smile, Tora approached. “Good morning, dear lady. Why so glum on such a pretty spring day?”
She glowered at him, then at the new green leaves on the trees and the pale blue sky above. “It may be a good day for you,” she said bitterly, “but some of us have to work.” She bent for a bundle, but straightened up again to give him a sharp once-over. “Never mind. Move on. You’re in my way.”
Her accent sounded familiar to Tora. If he was right, luck was indeed with him. “I think you need to carry all those things inside,” he said, “and you don’t want to leave them in the street for thieves. Allow me to help. My name’s Tora.”
She still hesitated, but relaxed a little after giving him another careful look. Tora’s handsome face and neat clothing clearly impressed her. Here was a courteous, friendly young man who was certainly strong enough to carry all the abandoned cabbages and turnips, bags of rice and beans, and kegs of sake and oil. Well,” she said dubiously.
Tora put on one of his dazzling smiles.
She blushed, smoothed her hair back, and straightened the cloth apron covering her blue gown. She was middle-aged, near the same age as the Sugawara’s cook, but unlike that shrew she had a pleasant face with apple cheeks and laugh lines at the corners of her eyes.
Tora said, “Look, dear lady, I have some time on my hands, and you cannot be expected to do such rough work. That’s for men. I’ll gladly give you a hand.” He reached for a large basket of vegetables with one arm and scooped up a heavy bundle with the other. “Lead the way, my dear.”
“Well, if you’d just take the big stuff inside the gate, that would be a big help. The master doesn’t allow strangers inside and makes us keep the gates closed. I’d hate to leave all this outside. There are a lot of thieves in this city.”
“It wouldn’t last long enough for you to take one basket to the kitchen and come for the next.” Tora deposited his vegetables inside the gate in what appeared to be a service yard and turned back for another load.
With both of them moving parcels and bags inside, it was done quickly. Tora had identified the kitchen by the fact that smoke came from the one-story building. “Well,” he said, glancing at it, “I think that’s still a long way for you to carry all these heavy things.”
“It’s all right,” she said, holding the gate open for him to leave. “I can manage now.”
He hung his head. “I see you still don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. My guess is you’re not from here yourself.”
She blushed and hesitated. “It’s true. I’m from Sagami.”
“What if I told you a bit about myself?”
“Well …”
“You see, I work for a man called Juntaro. He’s a dealer in grass mats and cushions in the fourth ward. This morning, he sent me to drum up some business from your master. He heard his lordship had come to town and he told me to ask the steward if they needed any mats. I tried at the main gate, but they wouldn’t let me in.”
She nodded. “It’s not a good time to sell anything.”
“You sound a bit like my people back home. I was born and raised in Shimosa province. My people were farmers.”
Her round face lit up. “You’re from Shimosa? So am I, from near the coast. Near Chiba. My people were fishermen.”
“You don’t say! Have you been to Asakusa?”
“Oh, yes. When I was young girl. We went to the beautiful temple there.”
They regarded each other happily for a moment, then Tora asked, “So, what do you say? Since our people were practically neighbors, maybe cousins? Back home a dainty female didn’t have to lug around heavy things.”
She giggled at that “dainty female,” then cast a look around. There was no one in sight. “All right, then. But we must hurry so nobody sees us, or I’ll be in trouble for letting you in. You’re very nice to offer, Tora.” She slammed the gate shut.
Tora chuckled. “Least I can do. You remind me of home. I miss it a lot. It was beautiful there. All green woods and fields and the blue sea.”
“Yes, not like this big dirty city.” She glared at the gate as if it kept out all the filth of the great city. “Let’s get everything inside the kitchen over there. I’m Hanishi, the cook. We’re short-staffed, because the master rushed up here and left all the servants behind. He only brought soldiers.”
“A bit strange, that.” Tora loaded up again and started toward the kitchen.
“You’d think he was about to start a war,” she grumbled, following him. “And me having to feed the big louts all by myself.” They reached the kitchen, and she pointed. “Put those vegetables over there.”
Tora sniffed the air. A large iron pot simmered over the open fire, filling the room with the aroma of seafood. He gave her another smile. “I bet you’re a great cook, Hanishi. That smell reminds me of my mother. I miss her cooking something terrible.” He tried to look hungry as he said this.
She laughed. “When we’re done, I’ll let you sample my fish stew.”
“Fish stew?” Tora, smacked his lips and dashed back outside.
When all the supplies had been brought in and put away, Hanishi found a bowl and ladled stew into it. She gestured at the earthenware ovens that heated two rice cookers. “Sorry, the rice isn’t done. Ran out of wood after making this fire.”
Tora tasted the stew. It was good. He did not have to pretend pleasure, and started gobbling it. “Who needs rice with something like this,” he said with a full mouth. “Oh, that brings back memories. You’re a wonderful cook, Hanishi.”
She preened herself a little. “Well, I like to feed hungry men like you. Do you have a wife, Tora?”
She gave him a very considering look, and Tora thought of lying, but in the end he said, “Oh, yes. A wife and a son. I’m a family man.” He gave her another grin, hoping he had not discouraged her altogether. “But my wife’s been raised here. She doesn’t know how to make fish stew like this.”
“Oh,” she said, a little deflated. “I suppose I could tell her easily enough. Another bowl?”
He made her a bow. “You’re a generous woman in addition to being the best cook in town. But let me go out first and bring you some wood to fire up the rice cookers. Where do you keep it?”
She positively glowed with good will again, showing him the huge wood pile behind the kitchen. Tora worked hard, and when he had carried in enough kindling and logs, he helped her lay the fire. Then he sat down with a sigh of relief; he had done more work for Masaie’s household this morning than he normally did at home.
“So,” he asked her when she brought him his second bowl of stew, “do you like it here? Do you have a good master and mistress? They say this Lord Maseie is a very wealthy man.”
“He is that. He’s got three wives, but they’re meek as mice, no trouble at all. Now his daughter, she was something! The spirit of that girl.” She heaved a sigh. “Poor thing. I loved her, no matter what they say now.”
This was going better than Tora had expected. He raised his brows. “Oh? There’s a story there. Why do you call her a poor thing?” He got up to help her carry a pail of water to the rice pot.
“Thanks. Lady Masako’s dead. She was her father’s favorite and entered the palace last year. Her father really doted on her. It’s funny the way the meanest men turn soft as goose down when it comes to little girls. She was always beautiful. A little princess even then.” Cook stopped what she was doing to look dreamily into the distance. “She’d come running to me for sweet dumplings and oranges all the time. Oh, she was something. And beautiful! She grew tall, but slender and quick. The master taught her how to ride and use bow and arrow, and he took her hunting. She was much better at those things than the young lord. He’d come home in
a mighty temper, that boy.” She laughed at the memory.
Tora smiled. “Can’t blame him. But I wish I’d had a sister.”
“What’s your family like?”
Tora preferred no distractions from the flood of reminiscences and said, “There’s no one now. They all died.” It was true enough.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Tora. Well, the lady Masako died this past winter. She killed herself, except we’re not to talk about it. They say she brought shame on the family.” She turned away, overcome with emotion. “It’s hard to stop loving her.” Her voice broke, and she sniffled. “I have no children. I was very fond of her.”
“You’re a soft-hearted woman. What happened?”
“A man, what else?” she said bitterly. “And it wasn’t His Majesty. The young emperor didn’t want her, poor child. She came home in despair to tell them. Her father raged because His Majesty hadn’t bedded her yet. Every time she came for a visit—you know His Majesty’s ladies have to leave the palace when it’s their time of the month—his lordship would talk to her. She cried and cried. It wasn’t her fault.” Hanishi heaved a deep sigh. “I wish my lord hadn’t been so hard on her. Or that her mother had taken her side. My young lady was so unhappy. Well, she went back to the palace and met another man. If you ask me, His Majesty should’ve taken better care of her.”
Tora listened with rapt attention. “You don’t say?” he breathed. “What a love story! I thought men weren’t allowed near His Majesty’s ladies.”
“That’s what you think,” Cook said darkly. “Turns out it’s a very good place to meet men. All those parties every day.” She paused, suddenly nervous. “But don’t you go talking about it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” She sat down abruptly on an upturned basket and started weeping softly. “Her father and her brother, they both say terrible things, call her a slut, and worse.”
“Don’t cry,” said Tora, jumping up and putting an arm around her shoulder. “I won’t say a word, but I’m thinking it must be a terrible thing when a father won’t help his child. And she was just a girl.”
Cook wiped her face with a sleeve and nodded. “A terrible thing. He drove her to kill herself, that’s what her father did. And when they told him, did he care? Oh, no! Him and the young lord went hunting as if nothing had happened.”
To make sure he had his facts straight, Tora said, “I suppose it took a long time for the news of her death to get to Sagami.”
“We were here then. Had been for months. The master was waiting for the good news from the palace.” She said bitterly, “Some good news!”
At that moment, the kitchen door flew open and in stalked a burly soldier in half armor, his boots shining with polish, and his long sword swinging from his sash. He stopped when he saw Tora. “What the devil’s this? What’s he doing here? He didn’t come in through the front gate.”
The little round Hanishi jumped about two feet and started gabbling about deliveries and fire wood.
Tora interrupted her. “I’m Tora. I’ve come on a visit from her family back east,” he told the soldier, making him a bow. “Hanishi’s people asked me stop by and see how she’s doing.” He stared back at the man.
For a moment, nobody said anything. The soldier’s gaze faltered. He turned to the cook and asked, “Is that true?”
Tora frowned. “Are you calling me a liar?”
Hanishi cried, “No trouble, please, Tora and Tomogoro-san. The master wouldn’t like it. Yes, it’s true. He comes from my home.”
The armed man relented. He gave Tora a sour look. “I see she’s been feeding you,” he grumbled. “That’s more than she’s doing for us. Where’s our grub, woman?”
It was a good thing that Lord Masaie’s retainer had restrained his appetite until now. It would have been even better, had he waited until after Tora’s departure. “I see you don’t show women much respect here,” he remarked. “Or maybe it’s only the custom in Sagami. Hanishi needs help. You should show some appreciation for a fine cook like her. I found her trying to carry heavy baskets and barrels, and she had no wood for the fire to cook your rice. Does your master know she’s not getting any help from you?”
The man reddened. “We have out duties, and carrying wood isn’t one of them.”
“Well, just remember, without a fire or supplies, there isn’t going to be any food.”
They glowered at each other for a moment, then the warrior said to the cook, “I’ll mention it to my sergeant.”
“Thanks, Tomogoro-san. The rice’ll be ready in an hour. Do you want some stew now?”
He nodded. “Just a bowl. I’ll tell the others their food is coming later.”
As she filled his bowl, Tora said, “Well, Hanishi, I must be going. It’s a long journey back. I’ll give them your messages and tell them not to worry. And I hope they’ll be treating you as well as you deserve.”
He gave the soldier a meaningful glance. The man took his stew and said nothing.
Hanishi walked him to the back gate. “Thank you, Tora,” she said. “That was smart thinking. He can be a nasty one. And thank you for your help.”
“Think nothing of it. Thanks for that delicious stew. I’d like to check back to make sure all’s well with you. I didn’t like the way he treated you.”
Her eyes moistened. “Better not. They might want to know how come you didn’t go back home.” She grinned, then reached up and patted his cheek before closing the gate behind him.
Tora smiled, too. He had got what he came for.
Good News and Bad News
After his chores, Genba set out to give Ohiro the good news that his master had promised his help. His heart overflowed with gratitude as he walked through the warm dusk. Had Akitada been in mortal danger at that moment, Genba would have thrown himself in the way of the fatal spear, arrow, or sword. He thought himself blessed by such goodness when he was worthless himself. Or if not worthless, then not clever and brave like Tora, and not nearly as useful as Saburo with his secretarial skills. He, Genba, could not keep the master’s accounts or wield the brush with skill. As for Saburo’s stranger talents, he felt nervous just thinking about them. He had almost been relieved when Saburo had met someone better than himself.
But then, that attack also meant the loss of the contracts. Genba had sworn to himself he would pay his master back for buying out Ohiro.
In spite of such drawbacks, Genba reached Ohiro’s tenement with a spring in his step.
He had heard the music and laughter from some distance away and wondered at it. When he turned the corner, he saw a crowd in festive clothes, singing and dancing among paper lanterns as if this were a fair at one of the great temples celebrating a holiday. The colored lanterns competed with the fading rosy light in the sky, and men and women wore costumes almost as colorful as the lanterns. There was much laughter and perhaps happy drunkenness.
It could not be a holiday. No, he would not have missed that. So why have a fair here among the tenements of the poor?
Vaguely uneasy, he sped up a little. Most of the lanterns and people were in front of Ohiro’s place. Someone was playing a flute, and a woman’s voice was raised in song. Raucous laughter and shouts accompanied it.
A dirty ditty. Sung by one of the girls from the Sasaya.
Genba was a good deal more straight-laced than Tora and frowned at the blunt language. Still, this was where many of the prostitutes kept rooms, and such things must be expected. But it shamed him again to bring a woman from this life into his master’s house. He had seen the expression of distaste on Akitada’s face, heard the hesitation before he had assured Genba that Ohiro would be welcome.
Ohiro was not like these women who flaunted themselves in gaudy costumes before men they would not accept as customers because they were too poor but who often kept them as lovers when they were not working.
That was really all he was: Ohiro’s man.
Shame washed over him. He pushed through the merrymakers without looking at them and made for O
hiro’s door. He had almost reached it when he heard a woman shout his name. He did not turn, but she caught him just as he laid his hand on the latch.
Shokichi.
Red-faced with drink and smiling broadly.
“Genba, have you heard? The most wonderful thing has happened. Ohiro was dancing with happiness. And so was I. Look!” Shokichi wheeled about, tattered silk gown and sleeves all aflutter and her hands waving in the air.
Genba looked at her, dazed. What wonderful thing? She must mean Tokuzo’s death. It was not proper to celebrate a man’s death even if he had mistreated them. Maybe the new owner would be a better man. “What wonderful thing?” he asked.
“Oh, go in. Let Ohiro tell you herself.” She gave him a push, laughing.
Ohiro must have heard, because she opened the door. Her face broke into a wide smile when she saw Genba, and then she flung herself at him, babbling with joy.
He held her and lifted her over the threshold, closing the door firmly behind them.
“Oh, Genba,” she breathed, still clutching him.
Her embrace stirred his lust. “So eager?” he asked with a smile, setting her down.
“I got the contract! It’s mine. Someone returned all the contracts of Tokuzo’s girls. See!” She swept up a crumpled sheet with writing on it and waved it happily in the air.
The news dumfounded Genba. He snatched the paper from her hand and smoothed it out. Frowning with concentration, he deciphered the writing, the signatures, Ohiro’s name, the money owed.
She giggled. “I danced on it when I saw what it was.”
The document looked authentic. It must be part of the haul taken from Saburo last night. But stealing the contracts to return them to the women who had worked for Tokuzo made no sense. The contracts were valuable. Did such a document become illegal if acquired by theft?
On the other hand, who could prove the contracts hadn’t been sold legitimately? Or that the women had not bought themselves out? Improbable though that was.
