The Hell Screen

by I. J. Parker

  “Delicious,” Akitada said, and meant it. “If this is peasant fare, we must give it a fancy name and serve it to company.” He lifted his bowl of fish stew and bamboo sprouts. “How does ‘silver carp playing among the reeds and grasses’ strike you?”

  Yoshiko giggled. There was a little more color in her pale face now. Akitada put down the bowl and looked at her. Gone were the childlike innocence and gaiety, the soft prettiness of her face and body. She was paler, thinner, older, and much more fragile, but had gained an elegance which was quite attractive. In brighter clothes and with her hair loose she would be a different woman. Seeing her like this, in her dull cotton gown and with her hair pulled back and tied at her neck, he regretted bitterly that his younger sister’s chances at happiness had been sacrificed to his mother. And to his own career, he thought sadly, for if he had remained at home, she, too, could have married.

  “Have you not met any young men?” he asked bluntly. “Your sister seems to have managed very well.”

  Yoshiko flushed and turned her head away. “Someone had to stay with Mother,” she said. “When Akiko’s match was arranged, Mother said I was not to mind, that Akiko had a stronger character and was better able to put up with the sorrows of marriage. She implied I was lucky to be saved from all that.”

  Akitada was speechless. If this was indeed his mother’s opinion, it provided a surprising glimpse of her own relationship with his father. For the first time he considered whether the bitter, autocratic woman who had made his life unpleasant all these years was in fact more to be pitied than blamed. Still, her treatment of Yoshiko showed selfishness rather than concern. He put softer emotions aside and said, “Well, I do not agree. You shall marry if you wish, and you shall have the same dower your sister had.” He had provided the silver for the marriage settlement— and Toshikage had not come cheaply—as well as boxes of silk and brocade, household furnishings, and enough rice to feed five servants for a year. Akiko’s good fortune had meant a year of deprivation for himself and his family in the far north. Now his finances were in better shape and he would gladly do the same for Yoshiko.

  But his sister said bitterly, “It is too late. No one will want someone like me, no longer young and worn out from serving Mother as a maid.”

  He flared up, “It is not too late. You are young still, and pretty. What you need is a rest, some happy people around you, and pretty clothes. I shall see to it that you will have them. Is there any man you like?”

  She looked at him then, and slowly her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Akitada! You mustn’t!” She sniffled. “Really. It is so kind, but... it’s all over.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, upset by her grief.

  She shook her head wordlessly and buried her face in her sleeve.

  “Yoshiko,” he begged, “please tell me. I think it is my fault you are so unhappy. Perhaps there is something I can do to set it right.”

  “No,” she cried, her voice muffled. “It has nothing to do with you, or with Mother. I was foolish. There was someone once. I thought that he liked me... and I hoped he would ask Mother. But nothing came of it. He married someone else.” She paused to heave a shuddering sigh. Then she squared her shoulders and lifted her face. “When Akiko married Toshikage, it did not really matter what Mother said. You see, after that I really did not want to marry anymore.”

  Akitada was taken aback. “This man,” he growled, “did he visit you privately?”

  Yoshiko waved this aside as immaterial.

  “Did he?” persisted Akitada, his voice tense with anger.

  She nodded with downcast eyes.

  “How often?”

  “Please, Akitada. It does not matter. It is all over. As I said, I was foolish. I thought of you and Tamako. But I see now that that was different.”

  “Do you mean that he came to you at night as a bridegroom and allowed you to think you had become his wife and then disappeared?”

  “No,” she cried, wringing her hands. “Oh, Akitada, stop! It is long past and forgotten.”

  Akitada bit his lips. Hardly forgotten! Something truly hurtful had happened to cause Yoshiko such unhappiness. He would get to the bottom of it but did not want to force the issue now. “I am sorry,” he said. “I should not have questioned you about such a private matter. Forgive me.”

  She nodded, giving him a small, moist smile.

  “You once spoke to me very bravely, when you were still a young girl and thought that I was making a mistake by staying away from Tamako. Do you remember?”

  Her face brightened. She nodded. “And I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, you were, and we both owe you a great deal. I mention it because nothing would make me happier than to repay that debt someday. Will you allow me to do so?”

  She said sadly, “I know you want to help, Brother, but it is too late.”

  “Very well,” he said, yawning. “We will talk about it some other time. Now I shall get some rest, and early tomorrow I shall meet the servants and take a look at the house.”

  The next day, after Akitada had duly spoken to all his people, thanked them for their faithful service to his mother and sisters, and made a brief inspection of the property, he returned to the house. Yoshiko awaited him.

  “Mother wants to see you again.”

  He followed her to his mother’s room. If he had expected to find Lady Sugawara apologetic or in a more mellow mood, he was mistaken. She fixed her sunken eyes on him and asked in a peremptory tone, “Have you reported your return to the controller’s office?”

  “No, not yet. I came directly here.”

  “I thought so.” She spoke with difficulty, forcing out brief phrases between gasps of pain. “You have not changed. Always irresponsible! Go immediately.” She took a shuddering breath, and added, “You can ill afford to risk whatever little good will you may have gained with your last assignment.”

  Akitada protested, “But Mother, I thought you would want me to see you first. Besides, my official robes and all the documents are traveling with Seimei in the convoy. I assure you, the controllers do not expect me for weeks.”

  Rolling her head from side to side, she gasped, “Why are you arguing with me?” and pressed a hand to her chest, closing her eyes in pain. “Do you want me to die?”

  Akitada bit his lips. “Of course not, Mother. I shall go immediately.” He turned to leave.

  His mother’s voice pursued him to the door. “Hurry! How stupid of you not to think that the news of your arrival will be all over town by now!”

  Akitada went to his room fighting depression. She had not changed at all. There was nothing he could do to please his mother. He flung open one of his old clothes chests. It contained robes which had been too worn to take along four years ago. He rummaged around and found an old suit of court robes. The gray silk robe was faded, mildew-stained, and threadbare, and the white trousers had yellowed and showed muddy splotches along the bottom. Both garments were badly wrinkled and smelled of mold. And the formal court cap, still trimmed with the colors of his former rank, had lost much of its lacquer and leaned limply toward one side. But he dressed in the costume that was compulsory for a visit to the palace, and left the house, walking the distance in the slanting rays of the winter sun.

  The workday was nearing midday, and most officials, clerks, and scribes, hurrying to their homes for their noon rice, cast astonished glances at Akitada’s disreputable appearance. Admitted to the controller’s office only after long negotiations with a shocked clerk, he found one of the senior secretaries still in and explained his errand. The young nobleman, himself dressed impeccably in a freshly stiffened cap and gorgeous robe of figured silk over white silk trousers, wrinkled his nose, took in Akitada’s costume, and raised his eyebrows in astonishment.

  “You are Sugawara?” he said, staring at Akitada. “But you are not expected till the end of the month.”

  “I know. I received news of my mother’s illness and rushed ahead by myself.
I just arrived and thought it best to report to Their Excellencies as soon as possible.”

  “Hmm. Nobody’s here now. I suppose you can leave a note.” The young man rummaged among papers, found a sheet and writing utensils, and pushed them toward Akitada, who dashed off a few lines. When he raised his head, he saw that the young dignitary was still eyeing his clothes suspiciously. Taking the note, the young man read it with a frown, then asked, “Are you pressed for funds, by any chance?”

  Interpreting the question correctly, Akitada said stiffly, “Not at all. If you are referring to my attire, I rode ahead of my entourage and did not bring any luggage. I had to make do with some old clothes put away years ago.”

  The young noble’s face reddened, then relaxed into a smile of amusement. “Oh. I see. For a moment, I thought you might be someone masquerading as a ranking official. Well, you’d better go back home until you can equip yourself properly. Their Excellencies are very particular about dress. I’ll see to it that they get your message. We’ll send for you when you are needed.”

  “Thank you.” Akitada did not return the young man’s smile. The incident would, he was sure, make an amusing tale to pass around among the fellow’s noble friends. Seething with anger, he gave the young man, who undoubtedly outranked him, a mere casual nod and turned on his heel.

  He walked home quickly and without looking into people’s faces. The sun shone, but there was a chill in the air. The blue of the sky and the drifts of fallen leaves under his feet had lost their brilliance and seemed merely a sickly pale and dull brown. Far from making a triumphant return after a dangerous and highly successful assignment, he felt he was taking up where he had left off. After all these years he still shrank in embarrassment from what people thought of him. It was as if his mother’s reception had brought back a host of old miseries. In truth, he reminded himself, there was no reason for him to be ashamed. He was no longer poor and he had made a name for himself in the far north. He had handled difficult situations well and he would be of use to the emperor in the future. It was ridiculous that he still cringed before his dying mother and some noble youngster in an expensive robe.

  When he got home, Akitada found that his sister Akiko had arrived. She greeted him with a big smile and immediately posed to show off an extremely handsome robe of embroidered silk.

  “How do I look?” she cried.

  “Wonderful,” he said, and meant it. Akiko had filled out and looked rosy and contented. Her long hair almost reached the floor and shone with care and good health. He looked from her to. Yoshiko. The contrast was painful. Yoshiko was the younger by two years, but her thinness and the plain robe, along with the unattractively tied-up hair, made her look like a middle-aged servant. His heart contracted with pity.

  Akiko was still posing, sideways now, stroking her robe down over her belly and arching her back. “Do you really think so?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

  Yoshiko gasped. “Akiko! Are you sure?” she cried.

  It took Akitada another moment. “You are expecting a child,” he cried, and went to hug her. “How splendid to hear such happy news on the very day of my return.”

  Akiko sat down complacently. “I have known for a while now. Toshikage is beside himself with pride.” She gave Akitada a look. “You knew that he has two grown sons?”

  Akitada nodded. He had seen the documents when Akiko’s marriage settlements were being arranged, a process which had frustrated everyone because of the long delays involved in carrying papers between Heian Kyo and the distant province of Echigo.

  “Of course, my position was impossible until now. Unless I can produce a son, I have nothing to look forward to but widowhood living on your charity in this house.” She made the fate sound like abject penury. “Toshikage is no longer young. He could die any day. And then everything will go to his sons, and nothing to me.”

  Akitada’s jaw dropped at Akiko’s cool analysis of her situation. It told him that her happy looks had nothing to do with marital bliss, a fact she confirmed almost immediately.

  “It was not easy,” she said, patting her belly with a sigh. “My husband is willing, but not always able. I am told men lose their desire with age. You cannot imagine what I’ve had to do to keep him coming to my bed.”

  Akitada said sharply, “I have no wish to hear such intimate details. And if you felt that way about Toshikage, why did you consent to the marriage? You knew that I would take care of you.

  Akiko laughed bitterly. “Oh, yes. But who wants to grow old serving Mother as a target for her ill temper, while going around looking like a common maid? Look at Yoshiko! Anything is better than that! I am Lady Toshikage now, with my own household. I have many beautiful gowns, my rooms are furnished luxuriously, and I have three maids. And now that I bear a child—a son, I think, and with luck the future heir—my position will be permanent.”

  Akitada looked at Yoshiko, saw the averted face, the clenched fingers in her lap, and felt anger at Akiko. “Your sister has too much work, with your mother so ill. Your place should have been here to help her,” he said sharply.

  Akiko’s eyes grew wide. “With my own house to run? And in my condition?” she cried. “Toshikage would never permit it.”

  As if on cue, Akitada’s brother-in-law arrived. He was a corpulent man in his fifties, and he approached smiling widely, until he saw Akitada’s clothes. Then he stopped uncertainly.

  Akiko followed his glance. “Heavens, Akitada,” she said, “where did you find those old rags? You look absolutely ridiculous. Toshikage no doubt thinks you’re some itinerant soothsayer.’“

  “Not at all!” cried her husband. “I recognized the noble features of my brother-in-law. Pleasure, my dear fellow! Great to be related!” He approached and embraced Akitada, who had risen.

  Akitada returned the pleasantries and invited him to sit down. When he congratulated Toshikage on his imminent fatherhood, his brother-in-law smiled even more widely and cast an adoring look at Akiko, who simpered in return.

  “Lovely girl, your sister,” he told Akitada, “and now she’s made me doubly happy at my advanced age. I tell you, I feel quite young again.” He laughed until his belly shook and clapped both hands on his pudgy thighs. “We are to have little children running around the house again! It will be wonderful.”

  Akitada began to like the man. As a proud father himself, he soon involved Toshikage in cheerful discussions of children’s games and antics. Seeing the ice thus broken, the sisters withdrew, and Akitada sent for wine and pickles. In due course, he turned the conversation to news and gossip about the government. At first Akitada had only a vague sense that the subject depressed his brother-in-law. But Toshikage became increasingly ill at ease, fidgeting nervously, sighing, and making several false starts to convey some information.

  “Is there anything the matter, Brother?” Akitada finally asked.

  Toshikage gave him a frightened glance. “Er, y-yes,” he stuttered, “as a matter of fact, well, there is something ... that is, I could use some advice....” He paused and fidgeted some more.

  Akitada was becoming seriously alarmed. “Please speak what is on your mind, Elder Brother,” he said, using the respectful form of address for an older blood relation, to encourage Toshikage.

  Toshikage looked grateful. “Yes. Thank you, Akitada. I will. After all, this is a family affair, since it also affects Akiko and our unborn child. Er, well, there has been trouble in my department. Some false stories are being told about me.” He gulped and gave Akitada a pleading look. “They are quite untrue, I assure you. But I am afraid—” He broke off and raised his hands, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness.

  Akitada’s heart fell. “What stories?” he asked bluntly.

  His brother-in-law looked down at his clenched hands. “That I have... privately enriched myself with, er, objects belonging to the Imperial Treasury.”

  * * * *

  THREE

  The Cares of This World

  After a moment
of shocked silence, Akitada asked, “Do you mean that someone suspects you of having stolen imperial treasures?”

  Toshikage flushed and nodded. “It all started with a stupid misunderstanding. In an old inventory list I found that a lute called Nameless had been mislabeled ‘Nonexistent.’ Then some fool had drawn a line through the entry and made the notation that the instrument had been removed from the storehouse, but did not say by whom. When I started asking questions, nobody seemed to know what had happened to the lute, and there was no record that someone from the palace had sent for it. This started me checking all the lutes in the treasure-house. I could not find Nameless, but saw that another lute needed repair and restringing. Because it was the last day of the week, I took it home with me to have our usual craftsman work on it at my house. Foolishly I did not sign it out. It so happened that evening I was having a party for friends. Someone must have seen it lying there, for when I returned to work the next week, the palace sent for me and asked what an imperial lute was doing in my house. It was embarrassing, I tell you, especially since the person did not quite believe my explanation.” Toshikage broke off and sighed deeply.