by I. J. Parker
‘Nonsense. It just needs water. Or something.’
‘There has been a lot of rain.’
Seimei sighed. ‘Too much rain. It causes rot, and healthy things shrivel up and die.’
Tamako turned. They both looked at Seimei and then at each other and wondered if the old man was talking about the wisteria.
FOUR
Tora’s Secret
In the stable, Tora and Genba unsaddled the horses. ‘How’s the master doing?’ Genba asked, reaching for a rag to rub down Akitada’s mount.
‘The same, I think.’ Tora leaned against his horse for a rest. He felt very tired all of a sudden. So many problems. He sighed. ‘He did talk a little about some mystery in Otsu, so maybe he’s taking an interest again.’
Genba brightened. ‘That’s good. So, did you tell him?’
‘No.’ Tora led his horse to his stall and tied him up. ‘It’s too soon. He’s still brooding.’
Genba glanced at him as he scooped some grain into two leather buckets. ‘Time’s passing,’ he said, taking the buckets to the horses. ‘You’ve got to do something soon.’
Tora sagged down on some straw and did not reply.
‘Besides, there’s work to be done here. The place is falling apart. I can’t do it all by myself. This can’t go on, Tora. It’s not fair to her or to our master.’
Tora was saved by the stable door creaking open. The cook came in. Tora groaned.
She put her hands on her wide hips and glared at him. ‘So you finally show your face again. What’s the matter? Are the girls fed up?’
Tora said, ‘I hope you haven’t been looking into the stew pot again, Turnip Nose. I hate curdled stew.’
‘I hope it gives you a bellyache.’
Tora made a face at her. ‘It will. You’ll kill us all one of these days.’
‘You think you’re so smart. Here -’ she held out a stained basket – ‘run to the market and get a good-sized bream for your master’s dinner. And be quick about it. He’ll want his food as soon as he’s had a bath.’
‘For Buddha’s sake, woman,’ Tora cried. ‘I just got back from riding all the way to Otsu and beyond.’
‘Then it’s time you made yourself useful around here.’ She pushed the basket at him.
‘Aiih!’ Tora jumped back in mock horror.
‘It’s the fish basket, stupid!’
‘I know. I meant you.’ He gave a bellow of laughter, and she threw the basket at him with a curse and ran out, slamming the door behind her.
‘You shouldn’t tease her,’ said Genba.
‘That one brings nothing but joy,’ Tora grumbled, bending for the basket, ‘when she leaves.’
‘She’s a good cook. Give me the basket. I’ll go. You look dead on your feet.’
Tora relinquished the basket. ‘She’s short, fat, stupid, ugly, lazy, and mean. A woman like that is spitting into the wind of fate. And her bad karma is ruining our lives.’
‘Get some rest, brother. You’ll feel better.’
Tora collapsed on a pile of straw. ‘You’re right. Thanks.’
Genba swept up the basket with one hand and trotted out.
Akitada retreated from the scene in the garden to his study, and Tamako turned back to her work. Seimei watched her for a moment, then got up from his seat on the veranda and shuffled after his master into the house. He found Akitada seated behind his desk, drumming his fingers on the lacquered surface and scowling.
‘Will you have some tea now, sir?’ Seimei asked.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Akitada continued drumming, while the old man lit the coals in a brazier under the water pot and selected a twist of paper with powdered tea leaves and orange peel.
‘Was your journey successful?’ Seimei asked.
‘Hmm. What? Oh, that. Quite successful.’
Seimei eyed his master. ‘I was afraid there were problems when you were gone longer than expected.’
Akitada sighed. ‘I found a small boy, Seimei. And I lost him again. Don’t mention the matter to your mistress because it might upset her, but I’m worried about that child.’
‘Ah.’ Seimei cocked his head at the kettle, gauging the moment when the steam would whistle from the spout. Not yet. He poured a little of the powder into a cup and glanced at Akitada. ‘You are worried, sir?’
‘Apparently, he belongs to a fisherman and his wife. He has been beaten and starved, Seimei. I saw his poor body. It was covered with bruises, and he was just skin and bone. And he’s such a nice little boy. Do you think I should buy him?’
‘Buy him?’ Seimei’s jaw dropped. ‘To do what?’ The water came to a sudden rolling boil, sending a hissing thread of steam from the narrow spout. Seimei snatched the kettle up and poured. Stirring the tea with a bamboo brush, he brought the cup to Akitada. ‘What did you have in mind for the child, sir?’
The question was uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I thought he would be company. That I could teach him. He’s deaf-mute, you know. Or perhaps just mute. I’m not sure.’
Though he had not been invited to do so, Seimei sat down on a cushion. ‘You miss Yori,’ he said firmly. ‘It is quite natural to feel such a loss.’
‘You think I’m acting like a fool,’ objected Akitada. ‘I felt sorry for the child. He needed help. Is that so hard to grasp?’ He saw the pity in the old man’s face and threw up his hands. ‘Oh, very well. Have it your way. All I know is that for the day and night I had the boy I felt whole again. And now that he is gone, I … have nothing – except a dreadful fear of having abandoned him to the brutality of his parents.’ He stared bleakly into the cup of tea.
‘You cannot replace a child the way you would a dog,’ Seimei said.
That made Akitada angry. ‘Forget it. You don’t understand. How could you?’
Seimei bit his lip. ‘Drink your tea.’
Akitada drank. They looked at each other. Akitada felt demoralized. He groaned. ‘Everything I touch breaks in my hands. My life is cursed. What am I to do, Seimei?’
‘Her Ladyship—’ began Seimei.
Getting up abruptly, Akitada said, ‘Never mind. Thank you for the tea. After a bath, I shall work on the household accounts for the rest of the day.’
Seimei sighed and left.
Tora was too worried to rest long. He decided to forego the evening rice. Since Akitada was bathing, he told Seimei he was going into the city. The old man was arranging the household accounts on Akitada’s desk and seemed preoccupied. He barely looked up.
Tora’s destination was a quarter near the Eastern Temple, a far distance for a tired man, but he walked quickly. This southernmost corner of the capital was almost rural. A few great estates mingled with a large number of very modest homes and small farms. The small houses clustered around and between the large, tree-shaded and walled compounds and belonged mostly to the owners’ retainers and servants. Children played in the street, and laundry dried on bamboo fencing.
The rain had left puddles in the streets, and some ducks scattered as Tora passed. Doves cooed on the wooden eaves, and behind one of the mansion walls someone played a lute. Tora’s spirits lifted and he started to whistle.
Near the southern embankment of the city he turned into the yard of a tiny house and carefully closed the bamboo gate behind him. As always, he stopped to gaze at his home. The new roof was thatched and set the wooden house, little more than a one-room shack, apart from its flat-roofed neighbors. New steps led to a small porch at the front door, and a morning glory vine covered with deep-blue flowers and buzzing bees twined around its railing. Tora thought about adding a beehive next year, and then turned his attention to the little vegetable garden. His cabbages and radishes, planted in neat rows, looked well. The soil was good here, and the recent rain had caused a spurt of growth. He smiled as he walked along the path to the house. On the new step sat a fat white cat cleaning one front paw and barely pausing to purr when Tora bent to scratch its head.
He strai
ghtened and called, ‘Hanae? I’m back.’
Immediately, a loud yelping sounded from behind the house. It changed to excited barks, and then a cloud of squawking and fluttering chickens erupted around the corner, followed by a large grey creature making the sharp turn on scrabbling paws. The creature transformed itself into a shaggy dog, who flung himself on Tora in a paroxysm of joy. Tora staggered back and stepped on the cat’s tail. The cat yowled, spat, and jumped on to the railing, where it clung, hissing and twitching its tail.
Tora fended off the flying paws and lapping tongue. ‘Down, Trouble. Down, you big useless monster. Down. You broke your rope again. Where’s your mistress?’
The dog sat, the remnants of a straw rope still attached to his neck, his tail beating a drum roll on the wooden boards. He pricked up pointed ears and looked attentive.
‘Hanae?’ Tora called again.
The dog’s ears twitched, and he looked around expectantly.
‘Stupid dog,’ said Tora. ‘That’s what I bought you for. To watch your mistress. Don’t you remember where she went?’
The tail thumped apologetically.
Next door, a middle-aged woman came out on her porch. ‘That you, Tora? Hanae’s gone to the market. She should be back soon. Is that big brute loose again? I don’t want him after my chickens.’
‘Hello, Mrs Hamada. I’ll tie him up. He doesn’t mean any harm. Just has too much energy.’
She sniffed. ‘That dog’s a fiend. Better get rid of him. You here to stay?’
‘Not yet.’ This was a sore subject, and Tora hoped the nosy biddy would go back into her house.
But she slipped her bare feet into wooden clogs and waddled to the fence between their houses. The dog, recognizing an arch enemy, growled. Mrs Hamada fixed Tora with an accusing look and said, ‘Hanae’s talking about taking a job. In her condition! You know she’s not very strong. How about asking that grand master of yours to take her in? Hanae works hard, and she’s good with children.’
Tora shook his head. ‘Can’t. The master has no children.’
‘No children?’ She gaped at him. ‘In a noble house? How can that be? Your master isn’t … you know?’ She waved a limp hand.
‘No, he isn’t,’ Tora snapped. ‘They had a boy, but he died from the smallpox in the spring.’
‘Oh.’ She relented, as Tora knew she would, having lost her husband and one of her own children in the epidemic. So many had died. It was the reason the small house next to her had become available. She gave him a shrewd look. ‘You aren’t afraid to tell them, are you?’
Tora stuck out his chin. Of course not. We’ll manage. I’ll find a way.’
‘That’s what you men always say. In the end it’s us who have the babies and then have to scrimp and save to put food in their mouths. And nine times out of ten, we end up feeding their father while he squanders his money on wine and loose women.’
Tora was getting angry, all the more so because he could not antagonize Hanae’s neighbor. ‘I’m not like that,’ he growled.
Encouraged by Tora’s tone, the dog burst into furious barking.
Someone called from the street, ‘Tora?’
They turned and saw a young woman with a large market basket over her arm. She was slight and very pretty, with a tiny waist and such fragile wrists that the basket seemed much too large and heavy for her.
Tora gave a whoop of joy and rushed to meet her, the dog at his heels. Taking the basket and putting it on the ground, he swung her up into his arms, while Trouble danced around them, yapping with pleasure.
‘Tora, let me down,’ she protested, laughing. ‘What will the neighbors think? Oh, and Trouble is loose again.’
‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I don’t care what anybody thinks. You’re my wife. Why shouldn’t I do as I want with my own wife?’ He swung her around, and she giggled.
At the fence, Mrs Hamada watched, a sentimental smile softening her face. Young love.
But even young love must come back to earth. Tora put his wife down and picked up the basket instead. Hanae caught up the dog’s broken rope and waved to Mrs Hamada.
They walked together through the gate and retied the dog. Then they went inside the small house, closing the door on neighbor, dog, and cat.
Tora took the basket into the small kitchen. ‘A fish?’
‘Yes. For our supper. With some of your cabbage and a few mushrooms.’
‘It’s still early,’ he said, reaching for Hanae again.
She blushed. ‘Let me at least start the vegetables.’
‘I’ll help you.’ He rummaged in a box and brought out a couple of knives, passing one to her. They worked side by side at the wooden counter, scraping and chopping quickly, and when she had tossed the last handful into the black kettle and hung it from the chain over the fire, Tora stirred the coals and added a little more wood.
‘We’re almost out,’ she said, glancing at the wood pile.
He turned to look at her, aghast. ‘You want me to split wood, too?’
She chuckled. ‘No. Of course not. Later.’
He took her into his arms and carried her into the main room they used for eating and sleeping. There he knelt, laying her gently on the single thick mat in its center. He untied her sash and parted her gown.
Later they lay side by side, smiling. Tora felt almost dizzy with love. He turned on his side and put his hand on her still flat belly. ‘A son or a daughter, do you think?’ he asked, looking down at her with a besotted expression.
‘A son, of course,’ she said. ‘How could it be otherwise with such a strong tiger for a father?’
‘Hanae,’ he said, suddenly serious, ‘you’re quite well, aren’t you? That heavy basket. Let me bring home the food next time.’
‘Nonsense.’ She sat up, rearranging her robe, and tied her sash. ‘I’m very strong. And it’s early still. But I thought we’d better make some plans …’ She stopped. forgot. Did you find your master?’
‘Yes. In Otsu. In the warden’s office. Busy solving some minor crime.’
‘Did you tell him about us?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I’m sorry, Hanae, I just couldn’t. It was the O-bon festival. He remembers.’
‘Yes. Poor man.’ She touched his cheek. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll find a time.’
Tora was not at all hopeful. Akitada’s mood had become very morose and bitter. He either ignored the other members of his household or flared up in sudden fury at the most minor infractions. But Tora did not want to worry her or make her think that Akitada was a cruel tyrant, so he changed the subject. ‘He did tell me a strange story on the way back. It happened in Otsu. A courtesan drowned herself and her child in the lake. He thinks the death is suspicious. If he’s taking an interest in murder again, he may be getting better. Anyway, it made me think of you.’
She flushed. ‘Me? I was never a courtesan, Tora.’
‘No, of course not. But I thought you might know something about her. She was bought out by a nobleman. Her name was Peony.’
‘Peony?’ Hanae frowned. ‘There was a famous Peony who disappeared suddenly. I wonder if it could be her. But it was a long time ago. Maybe six or seven years.’
Tora had an idea. If Hanae could get information about this woman, Akitada might be interested enough to look into the matter, and that might give Tora a perfect excuse to introduce Hanae to him. ‘It’s possible. Very possible. Are they still talking about her? Tell me what you know.’
‘Well, she was a choja, a courtesan of the first rank, which means she was very beautiful and talented, so, yes, they’re still talking about her. A woman like that can choose among many great admirers and is invited to private parties in noble houses. But one day she was gone, and she was never heard of again. They say she owed a hundred bars of gold at the time. I’ve always wondered what happened to her.’
‘A woman of the quarter that famous doesn’t just disappear. If she ran away, there would’ve been a search for her. Can you find
out more? Like who held the debt?’
‘I’ll try. Maybe she bought her own way out and left the profession.’ She paused. ‘Some of us do, you know.’
He looked hurt. ‘I gave you all the money I had. You wanted to buy this house instead of paying off Ohiya immediately.’
‘We needed a place to live. And you know you like it here. I was starting to make good money, and I thought if we lived here I could save enough to pay Master Ohiya off in six months. But now there won’t be six months. I’ll have to stop dancing soon.’ She let her voice trail off and touched her belly.
Hanae was an enchanting dancer. Tora had fallen in love with her the first time he had seen her. She had studied under Ohiya and had already been the most sought-after among the entertainers when she had agreed to be Tora’s wife. Her success still made Tora uneasy. He suddenly remembered something Mrs Hamada had said. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘Is there something you haven’t told me?’
Hanae got up and started towards the kitchen. ‘I can smell the vegetables. Time to cook the fish,’ she called over her shoulder.
Tora followed. ‘Hanae? Mrs Hamada said something about a job. What job?’
She turned around. ‘Tora, you know I won’t be able to perform much longer and I still owe Master Ohiya a lot of money. I’ve asked around for another job and …’
Tora’s stared at her in profound shock. ‘B-but I thought you were done with all that,’ he stammered.
The ‘quarter’ was the pleasure quarter, where men could hire entertainers and prostitutes. Hanae was not only much in demand as a dancer at private parties, but she sang, too. Tora was afraid that she would become a great success and leave him. He still marveled that she had been willing to forego fame and fortune to share his humble life. No woman had ever made that sort of sacrifice for him, and he was both shamed and dizzy with pride. But now he might lose her after all. He clenched his fists in helpless misery.
She said gently, ‘It’s not that kind of job, Tora. I’m hoping to work as a nursemaid in a noble house. They have many servants so there won’t be any heavy work. My debts are almost paid, and when the time comes that I get too big and clumsy to dance, I’ll have somewhere to go to earn the rest of the money. And when Master Ohiya hears that I’m working for Lord Sadanori, he will be patient.’