by I. J. Parker
This time Tanabe woke up. "Hear, hear!" he cried. "The names of the august sponsors and participants, if you please."
Oe suppressed a smirk. "For the time being," he said, "I will only reveal that Prince Atsuakira will preside over the judges. However, we have been given permission to use the imperial pavilion in the Spring Garden for the occasion. And, since a certain anonymous benefactor is paying for everything, no expense will be spared."
Oe finally got enthusiastic applause from the faculty. He received it complacently, like an indulgent parent might accept his children's delight at an unexpected treat. Then, raising his hand, he cut the chatter short, and got down to business.
"You have been given a draft of the program. Please note particularly the selection of musical pieces and dances which will be incorporated. Does anyone have a question?"
Takahashi shot up, waving the program. "Yes. How dare you? I, for one, find it intolerable that I was not consulted about this," he snapped. "It shows the same unprofessional attitude towards your colleagues which caused me to reproach you earlier on another matter."
Oe reddened and his white hair seemed to bristle. He said acidly, "Someone has to plan these affairs and since it was I who worked tirelessly to gain support at court, it would hardly be seemly to turn this occasion over to someone who has neither interest nor talent."
Someone snickered in the audience. Glancing around at bland faces, Takahashi quivered with rage, then shredded his program and turned back to Oe. But before he could speak, Ono cried, "Pray do not allow personalities to get in the way of this remarkable achievement. Since it is a contest in the composition of Chinese verse, there can be no question as to who is the best man to plan it."
Takahashi flung around again. "Shut up, you silly, snivelling toady!" he shouted. "We all know you'd lick that conceited bastard's fat ass if he asked you to."
There were some gasps and a snort of suppressed laughter. Then Fujiwara's booming voice cut in. "Enough! I have better things to do with my evening than to listen to a couple of angry roosters crowing. Sit down Takahashi! Get on with it, Oe, and make it brief!"
For a moment Takahashi resisted the arms which were pulling him down, and Oe looked ready to walk out, but common sense prevailed. Oe got through the rest of his announcements with a minimum of flourish and self-congratulation, as Takahashi glowered silently. More papers were passed around by Ono without arousing much discussion. Only Tanabe could be heard muttering, "Splendid!" "Most gratifying!" and "What condescension!"
Akitada glanced at the sheet in his hand. It contained a list of noble sponsors and competitors. He did not share Tanabe's thrill, but recognized a name amongst the competitors representing the government, a Secretary Okura. He wondered if this could be the man who had placed first in last spring's examination.
The meeting broke up early enough for Fujiwara, who left arm in arm with Sato, talking loudly about a night on the town.
"Disgusting!" muttered Takahashi, who had been behind them and now paused to say to Akitada, "Such men should not be allowed to teach! They corrupt the young."
At this, Nishioka inserted his slender figure between them, saying, "Dear sir. Aren't you forgetting that that dissolute history professor is likely to win the contest prize away from Oe? I should have thought you'd be more tolerant of his foibles under the circumstances."
Takahashi grunted and walked away.
"What do you mean?" Akitada asked Nishioka. "I thought Oe was the favorite."
"Oh, no. There are any number of talented names on the list, but the fact is that only Fujiwara is a true poet. Compared to him, the rest are merely practitioners. If Fujiwara has a mind to it, or if he is sufficiently drunk— the same thing in his case— he composes like another Li Po. Oh!" Nishioka's face split into a grin. "That earlier quarrel between Oe and Takahashi? That was about a draft of a memorial to the emperor. Seems Takahashi composed it and asked Oe's opinion. Oe gave it to the calligraphy professor as scratch paper for his students."
Akitada's brows shot up. "Not intentionally?"
"Apparently. At least Oe does not deny it."
"What an extraordinarily rude thing to do!" Akitada said, shaking his head. "No wonder Takahashi was furious."
Nishioka nodded happily. "Mark my words! This will not be the end of it. Takahashi holds a grudge, and Oe cannot take any injury to his pride. Oh, yes! There will be repercussions!" Rubbing his hands, he walked away.
When Akitada left the building with Hirata, the sun was setting, and the cleaning crews were busy about the grounds.
"The Kamo festival is only two days away," Akitada remarked. "How can Oe expect the participants to be ready for their parts in such a short time?"
"He probably doesn't. Mind you, the musicians, like Sato, always have something prepared. The others . . . well, as long as Oe is ready himself, he does not mind who makes a fool of himself."
Hirata was uncharacteristically caustic. Akitada put it down to pressure. He asked, "Are professors always so hostile towards each other, or is all this bickering due to what happened last spring?"
Hirata shuddered, hunching up his shoulders. "I cannot believe that it is public knowledge," he muttered. "No. The problem is that we are more vulnerable to human flaws than ordinary people. If we were not, surely we would not be teaching. Saints make very poor preceptors. They don't know what it is to struggle with temptation."
He sounded so bitter that Akitada had to remind himself of the extraordinary tolerance Hirata had always shown for other men's shortcomings and vices. Such an attitude could, of course, be carried too far, and if such men ended up hurting others, it must eventually lead to self-recrimination. He recalled uneasily Hirata's strange remark that he only persisted because he still had two duties to accomplish.
They passed silently between the red-lacquered columns of the university gate and walked into Mibu Road. Directly across from them was the vast expanse of the park. Another gate, of rustic beams and with a thatched roof instead of lacquered columns and blue tiles, like the university gate, led into the Shinsenen, the imperial Spring Garden where the poetry contest was to take place. Flowering trees shimmered amidst the darker green of oaks, maples and pines, and the warm evening air was filled with the scent of blossoms. The picture of Tamako in her flower garden came to Akitada's mind.
"You must come to dinner again soon," said Hirata suddenly, as they turned north.
Akitada started. "Thank you," he said awkwardly.
"Tamako asks about you every evening."
"Oh." Akitada was at a loss for words.
They continued to the corner where Mibu Road ends at Second Avenue and their paths parted.
"Well?" asked Hirata, stopping.
"Yes. I should like to," stammered Akitada. "That is, if Tamako really . . . that is, I do not want to be a nuisance."
"Not at all. You would do us a favor." Hirata put his hand on Akitada's arm and pleaded, "You see, we live too detached a life. Especially Tamako. She needs to be with young people her own age. Usually mothers manage this sort of thing, but since my wife died . . ." He let his voice trail away uncertainly and sighed. "Some day I shall be gone and my daughter will be alone in the world. It is not natural for her to spend all her time with me."
Akitada's head spun. If he was not mistaken, Hirata had just implied that he would welcome him as a son-in-law. He could imagine what his mother would have to say to this! Suddenly anger at his circumstances seized him and he blurted out, "I always reserve a viewing stand for my mother and sisters to watch the Kamo festival procession. Would you and Tamako be our guests on this occasion, or are you otherwise promised?"
Hirata's drawn face brightened instantly. "Thank you, my dear boy! How very kind of you," he said warmly. "I cannot accept myself, because I am to join some old friends, but Tamako will be delighted. Please convey our gratitude to your lady mother for her great kindness to my child."
Akitada's heart quailed at this charge, but he said bravely, "Exce
llent! In that case, may I be permitted to escort her?"
"Of course, of course. What would be more suitable? And shall we say tomorrow night for dinner then?"
"Yes. Thank you. I am most honored, sir."
Hirata chuckled. "Why so formal, my boy? You are practically a member of my family. Good night!" He waved and walked away.
Akitada stood staring after him, wondering if this, rather than the blackmail note, had been the real reason Hirata had contacted him.
Five
Death in the Spring Garden
Early the next morning Akitada paid a visit to his mother's apartments. He found Lady Sugawara taking her morning rice on the new veranda. When she saw her son, she waved the maid away.
Akitada's mother had once been a great beauty, but age and discontent had made her body gaunt and her face severe. Still, she greeted her son pleasantly and invited him to sit.
After having made his usual inquiries into her health, he reported on his preparations for the viewing of the procession of the Kamo virgin. His mother was pleased to approve. After an uncomfortable moment, Akitada said, "There is a matter on which I hope you will give your unworthy son your honored counsel."
Lady Sugawara raised her brows, then nodded. "Speak!"
"You may recall the kindness my former teacher, Professor Hirata, has shown me?"
His mother frowned. "It has been a great regret to me," she said, "that strangers should have taken the place of your own parents." After a short pause, she added, "Still, the man was respectable, and there was nothing unsuitable in the arrangement. You simply resided with your tutor."
"You know very well," Akitada protested, "that the arrangement, as you call it, was nothing of the kind. The Hiratas took me into their home out of the goodness of their hearts after I had been forbidden this house."
His mother looked away. "Always remember that you are a Sugawara. However, I expect Mr. Hirata is a very estimable person."
"He is the kindest of men and the father of a lovely and talented daughter." Akitada held his breath for a moment, but his mother merely compressed her lips and waited. "Her name is Tamako. We grew up together like brother and sister during the years I lived with them, but I had not seen her since my father's d—" He broke off, because his mother twitched her sleeve abruptly and frowned again. Taking a deep breath, he rushed through the rest of his speech. "Anyway, she is twenty-two years old now, the only child. He is anxious for her future. I believe he would welcome a proposal of marriage." There! It was out!
A long silence fell. Lady Sugawara neither moved nor looked at him. Finally she said, "I see."
"I," stammered Akitada, "I also would welcome . . . that is, I am naturally very fond of Tamako. You will like her. She is extraordinarily capable, reads and writes Chinese, having studied with her father along with me, and she is a wonderful gardener. You will have much in common!" This last was an outrageous lie, of course. The two women had nothing in common at all.
Lady Sugawara heaved a deep sigh. She turned to regard her son. "Well," she said. "You have passed your first youth and I have passed the golden years of age and count my remaining days in this world as unexpected gifts." She dabbed her eyes with the corner of her sleeve, then gave Akitada a tremulous smile. "It is time you took a wife, and I long to hold a grandchild in my arms before I die."
The weight of the world lifted from Akitada's shoulders. He almost could not believe he had heard right. "Thank you, Mother," he said fervently, making her a deep bow. "You are very understanding."
She waved away his thanks, and smiled a little. For a moment, she was quite beautiful again.
He said eagerly, "I am invited to dinner tonight and will give the professor my answer then. And you shall meet your future daughter-in-law on the day of the procession. I have invited her to join us on the viewing stand."
Lady Sugawara's smile faded abruptly. "You issued the invitation without consulting me?" she asked. "I have never heard of a more improper arrangement. It is customary to hire a go-between in these matters. You know how I dislike surprises! In the future, you will ask before introducing strangers into my presence."
Akitada apologized and bowed humbly.
His mother rearranged her gown, sniffed, then said, "Well. It does not matter. It is a respectable, but hardly important family. Naturally, you could do much better, but since I assume you are offering her a secondary position in your household, we can afford a certain informality."
Akitada's blood rushed to his face. "Oh, no!" he gasped. "I am afraid you misunderstood, Mother. A secondary position is completely out of the question! It would be the gravest insult after what the Hiratas have done for me." Feeling suddenly very angry, he corrected himself pointedly. "For us! Please remember that your highly-placed friends are fully aware of the circumstances which link our families!" His voice had become uncharacteristically sharp and his mother blinked.
"You have become very hard, Akitada," she said reproachfully. "I have always had only your own good in mind. The Hiratas can do nothing for your career. You simply must make a good marriage. I had thought of Takeda's daughter or one of the Otomo girls. Their fathers have considerable influence at court."
"I don't care!"
She shook her head sadly. "I know. That has always been the trouble with you. I, on the other hand, have a responsibility to my family. And I bear it alone! Your sisters are still unmarried."
There it was again. The guilt. His sisters' imminent doom was once again held over his head. His mother was fond of painting heart-rending pictures of their ending up as spinster aunts, running errands and nursing children and aged parents like unpaid servants. Should one of them find a husband, he would no doubt be a penniless, rude country bumpkin who would beat her. Or, worst of all, she might linger in misery as third or fourth consort of a nobleman under the cruel rule of the first wife.
He stiffened his back and said firmly, "No, Mother. I will not offer Tamako anything less than the status of first wife."
"Very well," she said with a sniff, and clapped for her maid.
Akitada rose and bowed. His audience was over.
• • •
He walked to his morning classes unhappily, thinking of his mother and of changes for which he was not ready. In the future, he would have to consider a wife, and eventually children, in every decision he made. There would be more financial constraints. He was taking on a new family at a time when he was scarcely able to provide for the old one.
He felt immediately guilty for his reluctance and reminded himself how lucky he was to win this slender, intelligent and lovely girl to share his life. And, in fairness, perhaps she, too, would be troubled at the prospect.
Caught up in his uncomfortable reflections, Akitada passed Mibu Road, the turn-off to the university, and absent-mindedly entered the greater imperial enclosure, turning his steps towards the ministry as if he were headed for his usual workplace. It was still early, but already clerks and scribes were rushing past him on their way to their various bureaus and offices. When he realized his mistake, he decided to look in on Seimei.
The old man was crouched over documents, taking rapid notes with his spidery brush strokes. He looked up anxiously, but brightened when he saw Akitada. "Good morning, sir." Rising, he bowed and said, "I found some records of the holdings of Prince Yoakira in the archives of the Bureau of Revenue and am making a copy for you. The papers must be returned before someone asks questions."
"Good man!" Akitada reached for the document and ran his eye over it. "Heavens!" he said. "Such wealth!"
"Yes. Five manors near the capital, one palatial in size, some thirty-five others all over the country, and huge rice acreage in the richest provinces, of which over two hundred acres are tax-exempt. I have made friends with a clerk in the Records Office. In time I may be able to consult the wills on file there."
Akitada nodded, leafing through the documents.
"But sir!" said Seimei, "I have become even more uneasy. Everyon
e at court is content to let matters rest. Lord Sakanoue, who has laid claim to a large portion of the estate as dowry of his bride, and who was never well liked before, has been received by both the emperor and the chancellor."
Akitada angrily tossed the papers down. "I am not surprised," he said grimly. "He married the granddaughter for gain and is said to be the grandson's guardian. All the more reason to keep on asking questions. Such wealth is a tremendous temptation to an unscrupulous man. It opens doors to him which would otherwise be closed. I want you to find out whatever you can." When he turned to leave, he remembered something else. "Oh, and also ask about a young man called Okura. He placed first in last year's examination, and must have received a good post in the administration."
"Okura? Wasn't that the name of the young gentleman who ran into Tora a few days ago?"
Akitada frowned. "Surely not! That silly fop? But I believe you are right! What an unimpressive figure he makes! Did he say he worked in the Ministry of Ceremonial? Well, see what you can find out about him! He may be connected with Professor Hirata's problem."
• • •
Akitada's classes passed uneventfully. He had finally managed to accustom himself to his subject and charges and even enjoyed himself. With the late Prince Yoakira's wealth still fresh in his mind, he had set the class a topic on tax exemptions for members of the imperial family. This had produced some very intelligent and original comments from the students, but none more so than young Minamoto's, who had argued forcefully against the practice.
Still, many of his students showed a woeful lack of accuracy in Chinese. This was not his subject, but Akitada decided to stretch his legs by calling on his colleagues in the Chinese faculty.
He found only Ono and the student Ishikawa in the main hall. Both were grading student papers.
"The master is in the library," Ono informed Akitada, "but he is preparing for his poetry reading and must not be disturbed." He attempted to soften this news by many bows and profuse apologies, twisting his body, rubbing his hands together, and bobbing his head up and down, so that Akitada was forcibly reminded of Oe calling him "squirrel." Ishikawa watched the performance, a sneer on his handsome face.
