The Fires of the Gods (A Sugawara Akitada Novel)

by I. J. Parker

  ‘At least you got that bastard Takeo. He was the worst.’

  She exchanged a glance with her father and gestured. He shook his head. Tora staggered to his feet and limped over, picking up his boot on the way. The skinny youth had been the leader of the gang. He had had his head split open by Koichi’s pole or cudgel and was unconscious, but he was breathing.

  They had not bothered to tie him up.

  Puzzled, he returned to the group. ‘You should’ve killed him for what he did to Jirokichi, but at least I can turn him over to the police. They’ll have their own methods for making the scum talk.’

  The girl looked at the others and translated. Koichi and his companions regarded Tora the way a man might look at a poisonous snake in his house. Tora realized that there had been a distinct cooling of their relationship for a while now.

  He was in a difficult position. Having chosen the path of justice, he now owed his life to a member of a gang. He bit his lip, then said, ‘Look, I realize you don’t want the police involved in this, but there’s the matter of the fires, and of Jirokichi. I promise to do my best to keep you out of it.’

  Koichi shook his head and growled deep in his throat.

  The girl said, ‘No police. We did this for Jirokichi, not for you.’

  ‘That bastard over there knows all about the fires. At least let me have a go at him.’

  Koichi growled again. Tora saw that the other two looked ready to attack him. The girl said sharply, ‘You’d better leave now.’

  So much for his having saved Jirokichi and gotten a knife in his arm for his trouble.

  Tora said, ‘Jirokichi needs a doctor. He’ll have to be carried home. I’ll help, but I’ve only got one good arm.’

  She said, ‘That’s our business. We were just waiting for you to come round and leave. There’s nothing else for you to do here.’

  ‘Look,’ Tora blustered, ‘I’m the one who found him. He’d be dead by now if I hadn’t come. The bastards you’re protecting would have killed him. If he’s your friend, you owe me something, and I’d at least like some information.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. We don’t work with the police, and we don’t rat out our own.’

  ‘I’m not the police.’ But Tora saw their faces and knew that it was useless. How had they found out about him? His eyes went to Jirokichi. The Rat was watching him. ‘You told them I was with the police,’ he said accusingly. ‘Damn you, Rat. I don’t want your filthy gold, but I could’ve used some support.’

  Koichi got to his feet with an angry grunt. The other two followed. Koichi pointed towards the door.

  ‘You’d better go,’ said the girl. ‘And you’d better not come back.’

  Words failed Tora. He took a step towards them and found he was still holding his boot. With a curse, he bent to put it back on. The vicious pain in his left arm made him sick to his stomach. He was in no shape to argue. Shaking his head, he stumbled out of the warehouse and into the sweet-smelling night air.

  FAMILY MATTERS

  Akitada had taken to sleeping in Tamako’s room after spending that pleasant night with her. He did so for the companionship, not for sexual gratification. Perhaps he had also hoped to be there when the child came.

  The first warning came sometime in the middle of the night. He woke because Tamako moaned beside him and then clutched his arm. Her fingers dug almost painfully into his skin.

  ‘What? What is it?’ he asked, coming awake slowly, then finding himself immediately in a panic. He had pent up his fears over the past days, pushing them aside, telling himself that Tamako looked and felt much better, and that all was quite well. Childbirth was a natural process. Women had children all the time and came through it very well. Tamako had survived the first birth in spite of some difficulties.

  Yes, there had been difficulties, even beyond the immense snows that had isolated them. But then there had been Doctor Oyoshi, that kind and gentle man who had helped her through it and, more importantly, helped him as well. He had been a gibbering idiot by the time Yori was born.

  And now it was about to happen again.

  Tamako’s grip on his arm gradually relaxed. ‘The child,’ she said, after the pain had passed away. ‘It’s coming this time. I’ve been feeling the pains for a while now. I’m sorry, Akitada, but could you wake Hanae and the others?’

  The others were her maid Oyuki and Seimei.

  Akitada scrambled out of the bedding. ‘Yes, of course. Right away. Can I do anything? Are you thirsty? Do you want screens put up around you? What about lights?’

  ‘No, Akitada. The women will see to it. You’d better make yourself a bed in your study. This will take a while.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be right here.’

  ‘Thank you, but there’s no point to it. I’ll be well looked after.’ She bit her lips and closed her eyes, clutching at the bedding as another pain started. ‘Now please go!’ she gasped.

  Akitada grabbed his robe and ran.

  The maid was the first he shook awake. She slept in the eave chamber of Tamako’s pavilion and knew immediately what was happening. Then he hurried barefoot across the compound to Tora’s quarters and pounded on the door. Tora appeared, sleepy-eyed and clutching his bandaged arm.

  ‘Sorry, Tora. Where’s Hanae? The child is coming.’

  Tora’s eyes widened and he turned, but Hanae had heard and was already there, tying the sash on her gown and then twisting her hair back.

  ‘Perhaps Tora had better go for the doctor,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it’s quicker the second time around.’

  Akitada saw the way Tora cradled his arm and shook his head. ‘No. Seimei said he was to rest. That was a very nasty cut. I’ll go myself. Just as soon as I wake Seimei and put on my boots.’ Tora protested, but Akitada overruled him. ‘I’ll be glad to have something to do,’ he said. ‘You rest that arm and look after your son.’

  Seimei was awake and gathering his herbal remedies. He greeted Akitada with a smile. ‘A happy day, sir. And perhaps another son.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Akitada, too distracted to contemplate it. ‘Hanae said it would be quicker than last time. That’s good, isn’t it?’

  Seimei chuckled. ‘I am sure Her Ladyship will think so. You are getting a doctor?’

  Akitada nodded. ‘I’m going myself. And I’d better get a monk, I suppose, if it’s really urgent.’

  ‘It is always best to take an umbrella before the rain starts. Don’t forget that you will need some money, sir.’

  Akitada hurried back to Tamako’s room to make sure she was being looked after. He arrived just in time to hear her moaning again. He shuddered and was tempted to leave, but made himself creep closer. The women had set up screens around Tamako and covered them with white cloth. He peered over and saw that the bedding had been changed to white hemp, and that Tamako was draped in a tent-like white hemp gown. Her eyes were closed, and her face was flushed and covered with moisture. Oyuki knelt beside her, mopping sweat from her face, and Hanae was on the other side, holding her hand and murmuring encouragement. Tamako writhed and tossed her head from side to side. Her long hair was spread all over the bedding and the floor. Akitada fought rising nausea as he watched her agony, and he swallowed convulsively. He felt utterly helpless and unwanted.

  When the pain passed, she relaxed. Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes and looked up at Akitada blearily.

  ‘Go away,’ she said.

  She sounded almost angry, and a shocked Akitada retreated to the door. ‘Is… is everything going well?’ he asked.

  Hanae called out, ‘Yes, sir. But it will be best if you see to the arrangements. It may not take long now.’

  Akitada obeyed gladly. In his room he found money and his boots. He put them on with shaking hands. Then he left, running all the way to the doctor’s small house half a mile away. He was out of breath as he rang the bell. Nothing happened, and he pounded on the door until the doctor’s servant appeared.

  ‘Quick,
’ Akitada said. ‘Your master’s needed.’

  The servant seemed unsurprised. He asked the honored name of the caller and the nature of the emergency, then left to inform the doctor. Akitada paced anxiously until the physician appeared, followed by his servant carrying his satchel. He dispatched them to his home and breathed a sigh of relief.

  At a more moderate pace, Akitada next proceeded to the small temple where they had made arrangements for a monk to chant sutras during the birth and later to say an appropriate prayer to the Buddhas of the three worlds for the child. He had little faith in this having any practical effect, but now that the time had come, he decided to engage three monks instead of the one who had been requested. He told himself that Tamako would be able to hear the chants of three monks better and feel reassured. Then he paid an additional three pieces of gold to have sutras recited in the temple.

  Having made such an efficient start, he decided to invite also the neighborhood Shinto priest to say prayers and scatter rice for good luck. The priest was a pleasant older man who was unsurprised by the sudden urgency of the request. While Akitada waited impatiently, he donned a striking black and red robe and gilded head dress and took up a spear and a shield. Then he called an assistant to carry a hamper with other paraphernalia. They walked back together and arrived to the solemn chanting and bell ringing of the three monks, who had positioned themselves on Tamako’s veranda.

  The Shinto priest inspected the premises, then performed a ritual perambulation around Tamako’s pavilion, reciting spells, scattering rice grains, and holding up an amulet against potentially lurking evil spirits at the four corners. Afterwards he took up his station in the courtyard, where he laid out a thick straw rope in a circle. In this circle, he danced and chanted while beating on the shield with his spear. His assistant accompanied him on a drum and occasionally twanged the string on a catalpa bow.

  As Akitada observed these performances, dawn was breaking over the rooftops, and somewhere a cock crowed: a new day and a new life were beginning. He smiled to himself, content at having carried out his duties with such success, and went to see how his wife was progressing.

  But when he crossed the threshold into Tamako’s room, he was greeted by an atmosphere of heat, sweat, blood, and anxious activity. When Tamako screamed, Akitada grasped the door frame for support and stared at the rectangle of white-enshrouded screens, behind which heads bobbed up and down and tense voices muttered. Some crisis was at hand. It sounded as if things had gone very wrong. Perhaps Tamako was on the point of death.

  Afraid to move closer, he called out, ‘What is happening? How is my wife?’

  The doctor bustled out from behind the screens, making shooing motions as if Akitada were a small child or pet dog who had wandered where he was not allowed. ‘You must have patience, sir,’ he cried. ‘There’s nothing you can do. Now go away, please.’

  Akitada would have stood his ground for answers, but at this point loud shouting broke out in the garden. He turned and ran out. Some fifteen or twenty strange men were jumping about waving assorted weapons and screaming unintelligible words at the tops of their voices.

  He gasped, ‘What the devil—?’

  Tora joined him, grinning. ‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ he shouted over the noise.

  He looked so proud that Akitada was speechless. Tora roared to the men, ‘Louder, brothers. Put your hearts in it. Don’t let them get anywhere near.’

  It dawned on Akitada that Tora had taken it upon himself to provide and drill a troop of helpers to scare away demons lying in wait to possess mother and child in their weakest moments.

  The chanting of the monks on the other side of the building combined with the shouts of the demon-repelling warriors and the noise made by the Shinto priest and his helper in the courtyard. All of it nearly drowned out another scream from inside.

  Nearly, but not quite.

  The whole scene filled Akitada with sudden terror and revulsion. Tamako was dying – he was sure of it – dying in agony, and this horrible noise was her death chant. There had been chanting when Yori lay dying. The whole horror was repeating itself.

  He turned away and staggered to his study, where he sat down, shivering with fear.

  Seimei found him a little later. ‘Come, sir,’ he called from the doorway. ‘The doctor said to call you.’

  Akitada stared at Seimei’s smiling face. ‘Call me?’ he asked dully.

  ‘You’re a father again,’ crowed Seimei and shuffled away happily.

  A father again!

  And Tamako was alive? She must be. Seimei had been smiling. Akitada got to his feet and started for the door. Then he remembered. A father always welcomed his son with a sword. He took the Sugawara sword from its stand and, carrying it reverently in both hands before him, walked to Tamako’s pavilion.

  Outside, the shouting and chanting continued, but it made a happy sound now. Akitada was filled with joy and gratitude. The door to Tamako’s room opened just as he got there – conveniently, since his hands were full and laying down the sword might have been a bad omen. He walked in, a broad smile on his face for the moment when he would see his son.

  He was met by several gasps. The screens around Tamako’s bedding had been moved aside so that he could see her lying there, looking pale and exhausted.

  Someone snatched the sword from his hands. Akitada turned his head and saw that Seimei seemed to be hiding it behind his frail body. The old man looked apologetic and bowed immediately. ‘Your pardon, sir. I should have mentioned… Please forgive an old man. It was the joy that overwhelmed me. It’s a little girl, sir.’

  A little girl?

  Akitada was surprised and turned back to Tamako for clarification. To his dismay, she had started crying. Now she rolled on her side with a wail.

  ‘What…?’ Akitada looked around at shocked faces, then strode to her side, knelt, and took her hand. ‘Tamako, what is it? Are you in pain?’ She snatched her hand away, but did not respond, and the sobbing increased. He looked for the doctor. ‘Come here. Something’s wrong. Help my wife.’

  The doctor crept closer, looking a little uncomfortable, but he continued to smile. ‘Nothing is wrong, sir. I’m afraid Her Ladyship thinks you’re disappointed.’

  Akitada was no wiser, but now Hanae came to place a small silk-wrapped bundle in his arms. ‘Welcome your daughter, sir,’ she told him.

  He looked down at a tiny red face and moist dark hair. The baby’s eyes were closed, the nose a mere button, and the rosy lips a flower bud. As he watched, the mouth opened slightly, and lips and tongue made wet sucking noises. Then a minuscule hand emerged from the folds of fabric. His heart contracted with a great surge of love. ‘Oh,’ he said, and ‘oh’ again, then he bent over the child and kissed her small head. ‘A daughter.’ He looked at Tamako with tears in his eyes.

  His wife had stopped sobbing and looked back. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘A daughter, Akitada. Do you mind so very much?’

  He smiled, rocking the baby gently. ‘Look, a daughter. Isn’t she beautiful?’ he said to the others. ‘Who would have thought we’d have a daughter?’

  Relieved laughter filled the room. They called out their well-wishes for the child’s future health and happiness.

  Through Akitada’s head danced visions of a pretty little creature in colorful clothing skipping through his house, tugging on his hand, begging to be picked up, bringing her dear Papa small gifts of flowers and stones from the garden.

  He muttered endearments and stroked the child’s silky hair with a finger, admiring the perfect little hand. ‘I have a daughter,’ he said again, with such evident joy and satisfaction that Tamako laughed aloud.

  ‘A little girl,’ she said, her voice still thick from weeping. ‘A little girl who will steal all your love from me.’

  ‘Never,’ he said fervently and reached for her hand.

  FLOATING CLOUDS

  Tora’s wound worsened overnight. He had ignored it in the e
xcitement of the birth, and the others had been too busy. He woke feverish and in pain. Hanae was spending the night in Tamako’s pavilion to look after her and the newborn, and Yuki was with his mother.

  Tora got up with a groan and went to their small kitchen to quench his thirst with some water. Then he unwrapped his arm and saw that the wound was oozing and surrounded by a swollen and angry redness. He soaked some rags in cold water and laid them on his arm. This soothed the pain a little, but did nothing to clear his fuzzy head. He needed Seimei to take a look and work some of his magic with herbs or salves or whatever, but he did not want to draw attention to himself at a time when the household was exhausted and when any extra care should be devoted to its mistress and the little baby girl.

  Eventually, he rewrapped his arm as best he could and ventured outside to sweep the courtyard and clean up the garden. The sweeping proved impossible with only one arm, so he confined himself to whatever he could do in terms of tidying up. But even that was exhausting. He could not remember when he had felt so weak and tired. Eventually, he sat down on the steps to Akitada’s study, leaned his head against a post, and closed his eyes.

  Seimei found him there. ‘What are you doing?’ he scolded. ‘Sleeping when so much is to be done? The courtyard looks terrible. Go and sweep it immediately. We will have company.’

  Tora opened his eyes blearily. ‘Can’t,’ he said.

  ‘What? Did you drink yourself into a stupor?’

  Tora sighed and got to his feet. He felt awful. ‘What do you need me to do, old man?’

  Seimei peered at him. ‘What is the matter with that bandage?’ He came closer, looked at Tora’s face, then reached up to touch it. ‘Amida,’ he murmured. ‘Here, sit down again. You have a fever.’

  Tora obeyed gratefully. Seimei undid the bandage, pursed his lips, and shook his head. ‘That looks bad. It may have to be cut again.’

  Tora’s heart sank. ‘Not that. Can’t you wrap some of your herbs around it, or dab on that stinking paste that draws out the poison?’