by I. J. Parker
Tora would have preferred to doze fitfully through the morning but, true to his word, Seimei came to treat him with evil-smelling ointments, bitter infusions, and painful squeezing of the oozing wound. He was followed by an anxious Hanae, who hid her panic behind anger. She accused him of wanton carelessness in seeking out trouble, of allowing himself to get stabbed, of not caring for his injury, of not caring about her or his baby son.
Just when the worst storm had blown over, and he was trying to find a comfortable position to rest in, Seimei returned with the doctor. The bandages came off again; there was more painful poking and squeezing, much head-shaking and pursing of lips, and then the doctor left, promising to send a good barber along to cut into the festering wound.
They left, and Akitada took their place. Here at last, Tora found some sympathy.
‘Does it hurt a lot?’ his master asked, looking worried. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? You did far too much yesterday. I blame myself. I should have known that you needed to rest, but my head was full with preparations. I’m sorry, Tora.’
That brought tears to Tora’s eyes, and he turned his head away. ‘No, no, sir,’ he muttered thickly. ‘It’s nothing. It doesn’t even hurt.’ That was a lie, of course. ‘And I had a lot fun.’ That was true enough. The memory dried his tears, and he turned back to Akitada with a grin. ‘They were great, those fellows, weren’t they? Oh, the racket we made! I swear we made the roof shake over Her Ladyship.’
‘There wasn’t an evil spirit anywhere near our place. I expect they’ll keep their distance in the future, now that you’ve taught them some respect.’
‘Right.’ Tora chuckled weakly. ‘And how’s your lady today? And the little one? What will you name her?’
His master’s face broke into one of his rare smiles. ‘Both are well. You saw her. Isn’t she the most exquisite little creature? It’s miraculous that we should have produced something so very beautiful. I don’t believe there’s ever been an imperial child to compare with her. We’ve decided to call her Yasuko. It’s one of the names approved by the doctor of divination. What do you think?’
‘It’s a fine name, sir. And your daughter is as beautiful as her parents.’
Akitada laughed happily. ‘As her mother, perhaps, but certainly not anything like the long-faced, scowling old dog who is her father.’
‘Well, perhaps girls aren’t supposed to take after their fathers.’
His master seemed to think this very funny also. ‘Her mother tells me that she has an enormous appetite. Surely that means she’s a strong child.’
He sounded a little uncertain about this. Tora knew that he would always fear losing another child. ‘I could hear her voice all the way into the garden,’ he said. ‘I think she screamed louder even than Yuki did when he was born.’
‘Really? Yes, she does have a very strong voice.’ His master chuckled again.
Seeing so much happiness where there had been none for so long, Tora almost forgot the pain in his arm and the fierce headache that had developed over the past hour, and smiled back.
His master patted his good arm and said, ‘You must rest now. Genba will be home soon, and meanwhile we’ll manage quite well. I’m perfectly capable of raking the courtyard, and the women are busy sweeping the reception room and preparing festive delicacies for the guests. I’ll stop in again a little later.’
Akitada had almost finished raking the courtyard. He liked the activity; it allowed him to think of his little daughter and of having once again a family. One of the first things he had done this day was to send a courier to the farm to inform his people there of the birth of the child and to call Genba home. In his joy, expense was nothing to him. The following days would bring many visitors.
There would be many happy times ahead: playtime with Yasuko, excursions into the countryside with Tamako once she was recovered, shared books, time spent on the veranda to admire Tamako’s garden in its summer greenery as the baby played between them. He would play his flute for them…
Hanae broke into his daydreams. ‘Sir? Sir, we have no foods to offer visitors, and the cushions in the reception room look very worn and dirty to me. Also, perhaps there should be more wine – and candles, in case some of your friends stay past dusk. Do you want me to go into the city?’
Akitada set aside his bamboo rake. ‘No, you’re needed here to help look after our patients and the two little babies. I’ll see to it that provisions are delivered.’
Hanae did not argue. Poor girl, he thought, watching her run back into the house: we ask far too much of her and give her little credit.
He, too, went inside, changed into a decent robe, and helped himself to more gold from the money chest. Seimei was absent, most probably looking after Tora.
It was a glorious morning as he strode down the street outside his residence. A neighbor saw him and came running from his house to congratulate him. The good news had spread. Akitada was happy. He felt as though he were walking on clouds. The willows lining the canals on Suzako Avenue swayed gently in a light breeze. Children splashed in the water, and a pair of guards officers in their bright tunics trotted by on their fine horses.
When he reached Rokujo Avenue, he decided to simplify his chores by seeking out a few of the best food merchants, placing his orders, and having them delivered immediately. A silk merchant displayed handsome cushions in festive colors of rose and yellow. He purchased these on the spot. The merchant was very pleased to send his clerk with them to the Sugawara residence. All of this naturally involved a generous infusion of gold, but in Akitada’s present mood that did not matter. What mattered was speeding up the process so that he could return quickly and look in on mother and child. In the market, he found young men offering their services to carry purchases or messages. Choosing the cleanest and most polite of these, he hired him for the rest of the day to answer the gate and perform other services. Loading the young man down with a number of other purchases, Akitada returned home, pleased that he had discharged his duties so quickly and efficiently.
He found Tamako in good spirits and his daughter asleep. Hanae, drawn and worried, reported that the doctor had looked in on Tora and sent his assistant for a man skilled in surgery. Between them, they had cut open Tora’s swollen arm and removed a good deal of blood and poison. Tora had not been cooperative, but was sleeping now.
Tamako said, ‘Make her go and tend to her husband, Akitada. It isn’t right that she should spend all her time here when I feel perfectly well.’
Hanae protested that Tora was sleeping, and so was Yuki, who was with him. She needed to see to the preparations for the afternoon’s callers.
‘All is in good hands,’ Akitada assured her. ‘The food will be delivered already prepared. And so will the cushions and gifts for well-wishers.’
Hanae looked doubtful, but left.
Akitada felt a pang of concern for Tora. But being relieved of visiting him immediately, he spent a pleasant hour admiring his sleeping daughter and chatting with his wife about his purchases in the city.
‘It must have cost a good deal,’ she said at one point when he had regaled her with a description of the delicacies he had selected and the excellent wine he had tasted and ordered to be delivered in ten large jars.
He waved her concern aside with a light heart and, seeing that the baby was awake, he leaned over her to make faces and funny sounds.
Yasuko looked back at him with wide eyes and no change of expression whatsoever.
‘She doesn’t smile,’ he complained. ‘Possibly she’s astonished or sadly disappointed, but I cannot help my face. Do you think I frighten her?’
Tamako laughed. ‘She’s much too young to smile.’
‘Oh.’
He tickled the baby’s neck and was thrilled when she seized his finger with her tiny hand and attempted to suck on it. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘she’s really very strong for such a little thing. Is she hungry?’
‘She’ll cry when she is hungry.’
‘Oh.’ He
looked at his wife and saw the amusement on her face. ‘I must have forgotten how it is with babies,’ he said, abashed.
Seimei interrupted this blissful moment with the report that deliveries were arriving, and that the merchants expected to be paid. Akitada parted reluctantly from his family.
In his study, he sat behind his desk, opened the account book, and rubbed some ink. Seimei showed the first claimant in.
She was a Mrs Kameyama, a middle-aged woman of portly stature in formal black silk. Her business catered for the parties given by court nobles and specialized in such choice delicacies as honey-glazed chestnuts, fried fish cakes, shrimp-filled steamed buns, pickled watermelon, and a variety of rice dishes. She recited a long list of items delivered by her men and ended with an exorbitant figure that made Seimei draw in his breath sharply. He hid the sound by clearing his throat with a little cough, but Akitada knew guiltily that he had been carried away with his order.
Seimei went to the money chest and counted out an amazing stack of gold pieces, bringing them to Akitada, who entered the expenditure in his book and paid the woman. She smiled and bowed her way out backwards as if he were an imperial prince.
As well she might, thought Akitada, when she carried away such a princely sum of money.
And so it went, as bill after bill was presented, and when the last merchant had left, Seimei reported the amount of gold and silver that remained. It was shockingly small. Not only had Akitada spent lavishly on this day, but the expenses of the previous one had also been costly.
Akitada and Seimei looked at each other. Akitada said, ‘I had no idea that having a daughter would be so expensive.’
Seimei smiled. ‘I am told it gets worse when they take husbands.’
‘This gold I spent… I have not earned it yet. I have neither found Lord Kiyowara’s murderer nor the abbot’s disciple. I feel as if I had stolen the money.’
‘Nonsense, sir. You will solve those cases quickly enough.’
Akitada was not convinced. He was forbidden to meddle in the Kiyowara affair, and the abbot’s case had been in Tora’s hands, but Tora was lying in his bed with an infected wound and a worrisome fever. He said, trying for a light tone, ‘There is an appropriate proverb for this situation. I am surprised you haven’t remembered it.’
Seimei raised his brows. ‘Proverb, sir?’
‘Yes. “Unjustly gained wealth disperses like floating clouds.” I have been strangely out of touch with reality.’
Seimei shook his head. ‘The gold cannot be said to be unjustly gained when you are working to earn it.’
Akitada sighed. Like the rest of his household, Seimei expected more from him than he felt able to produce.
What was worse, he could not make a start when there would be visitors who must be received and entertained, and Tora was far too ill to take up his duties.
The day passed slowly with social duties and frequent visits to Tamako and Tora. Tamako looked and felt well, but Tora was very feverish. When he saw Akitada, he asked what day it was, and when told, he tried to get out of bed to take up his duties. Akitada calmed him down with difficulty.
The stream of neighbors and friends bringing their best wishes continued throughout the afternoon and evening. Both humble and great, they came in their best clothes carrying gifts, some modest and others generous, and sat to chat a little about riots in the city and about Michinaga’s resignation of all his posts to his sons. Most thought it very unfair that Michinaga should be blamed for the fires when the gods might be upset about any number of other matters. They looked forward to the many new appointments that would surely follow in due course. New people would rise to power suddenly. But they all avoided asking about Akitada’s future.
Sometime towards evening, Seimei brought in a little package, wrapped carefully in rose-colored silk and tied with pale floss silk. He said with great emphasis and satisfaction, ‘Compliments of the superintendent of police, sir, and his apologies for not being able to deliver it in person. He seemed in a great hurry.’
‘Kobe brought this himself?’ Akitada asked, amazed.
‘With his best wishes for the honorable little daughter.’
‘How very strange!’
Akitada unwrapped the parcel, half expecting some poisonous creature to emerge. But it contained only a child’s fan, exquisitely made and painted with birds and butterflies playing among pink cherry blossoms.
Seimei peered at it short-sightedly. ‘Dear me,’ he said, ‘that must have cost a good deal for such a bauble.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Akitada and thought how very much it was like his image of his little daughter. With some regret, he added, ‘Of course, we must return it.’
‘Return it? Why?’
Akitada shot Seimei a look of reproach. ‘Have you forgotten his insult? I’m surprised he dared send this.’
‘Perhaps he thought the occasion warrants forgetting the past.’
‘Never!’ Akitada pushed the little fan away and rose to his feet. ‘If he thinks he can wipe out all that he has said and done with a child’s toy, he is very mistaken. Wrap it up again and send it back.’
‘Sir, perhaps it would be better to reconsider. Superintendent Kobe has been helpful to you in the past, and at the present time he could still be useful. Why offend the man when he clearly still retains feelings of friendship?’
‘Feelings of friendship?’ Akitada looked at the old man in surprise and wondered if Seimei was becoming senile and forgetful. It was likely, considering his advanced age. Come to think of it, there had been other times when he had seemed out of touch with reality. The sudden thought of Seimei’s approaching death filled him with sadness and calmed his anger. ‘We’ll leave it for the time being,’ he said. ‘Shall we go look in on Tora?’
Tora was clearly miserable. He raised glazed eyes and asked for water. He was not a water drinker. When Akitada touched his forehead, it was cold and clammy rather than dry and hot. When Seimei turned to pour some water from a pitcher into a cup, Akitada saw his face. It filled him with dread. He almost burst out with a question, but bit his lip. There was no point in scaring Tora.
He knelt beside his friend and supported his shoulders while Seimei held the cup to Tora’s dry, cracked lips. Tora drank thirstily. When he was done, he croaked, ‘Sorry, sir. Don’t know what’s come over me. I feel as weak as a baby.’
And in pain, to judge by his expression when he made the slightest move. But the water had refreshed him a little. After a moment, he tried a smile. ‘A great day for you, sir,’ he said. ‘I bet you’ve been busy receiving guests.’
‘Fairly busy. Even Kobe sent a token.’
‘No! The big man came himself?’
‘To the gate only.’
Tora tried another grin. ‘He’ll come around now, you’ll see.’
Akitada shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. To change the subject, I’m free at the moment and thought I’d take up the search for the abbot’s lost boy.’
Tora looked alarmed and struggled upright again. ‘You can’t. It’s too dangerous. If it’s that urgent, I’m sure I could get up in a little while.’
Akitada pushed him back gently. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d feel insulted,’ he chided. ‘Do you think I cannot handle it myself?’
Tora flushed. ‘N-no, sir. It isn’t that. The trail leads to those hoodlums, and I expect they’re out to get me after what happened. If you show up asking questions, you’ll have both gangs hunting you down.’
Akitada frowned. ‘Gangs? I thought we were talking about some young troublemakers. Maybe it’s time the police looked into activities around the Western Market. I assume that’s where you made contact?’
Tora looked very uncomfortable. ‘Hoshina has her wine shop there. She knows where Jirokichi is, and Jirokichi knows something about the fires. But the gangs hang out farther west from there.’ He described the warehouse area and the Fragrant Peach. ‘If you do go there, sir, you must take some police co
nstables with you. The local warden is no use whatsoever. They all protect each other.’
Akitada attempted to get more information about his progress with the missing acolyte, but Tora had exhausted his strength. He rambled on about the fires, a serving wench and her boyfriend, and the young lord. He shivered a good deal and seemed to have trouble concentrating. At one point, he did grasp the urgency of all the questions and argued about getting up again. Eventually, his voice faded, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.
‘Sir,’ whispered Seimei, ‘I think we’d better go now. I’ll make him a strengthening broth for his supper later and mix in something to dull the pain and help him rest. After that we must hope that his strong young body will heal quickly.’
Akitada was very worried about Tora. He returned to his room and wandered out into the garden. It was dusk, and the warm air was heavy with the scents of summer. The sky was that lavender hue just before it would dull to gray. A few pale clouds scudded across it, their skirts still gilded by the last rays of the sun. One of the carp in the pool jumped and fell back with a soft splash. For a moment, the sound took his eyes to the thickening darkness below. When he raised them again, even that last faint light had gone.
The joy of the day had passed.
It seemed strange that nobody had become suspicious that the fires always started at night when most householders were asleep with their hearth fires and lamps extinguished. Some had been blamed on lightning. There had been thunderstorms around the time of the fires. That, too, seemed strange. Why set a fire, if the rain would put it out again? And why had the police not investigated? Of course, if the arson was connected to extortion, the victims might have covered up the truth for fear of further retribution.
Akitada had reached that point in his rumination when Seimei came out. The old man’s face told him that there was bad news. Akitada’s thoughts flew to Tora, but Seimei said, ‘A messenger from the Board of Censors, sir.’
Akitada went inside and found a stiff-faced, stiff-backed young man in the uniform of a lieutenant of the outer palace guard. The lieutenant did not bother to salute. He demanded, ‘Are you Sugawara Akitada of the Ministry of Justice?’
