by I. J. Parker
Unlike the first lady. Yes, it made sense. Still, it limited the options. A jealous wife might well have attacked her husband. Women could be quite vicious when they felt themselves slighted. But Lady Kiyowara was small. Could she have delivered such blows? It was barely possible, given the right sort of weapon. Akitada sighed and started off towards the building beyond the shrubbery.
Fuhito hurried after him. ‘That path leads to the women’s quarters, sir,’ he cried.
Akitada stopped. ‘I thought Her Ladyship had instructed you to give me access to all parts of the property?’
Fuhito glanced towards the roof of the distant pavilion and bit his lip. ‘Perhaps I had better go ahead and announce you.’
‘Very well.’ The ladies might be in a state of undress on a hot day like this and have their doors open to the garden. Akitada twitched his shoulders where his own robe was sticking to his skin and thought of Tamako, doubly miserable at this time of year.
Fuhito disappeared into the shrubbery just about where Ono had emerged the other day. The poet’s relationship with Kiyowara’s wife was surely dubious. Had Kiyowara really been so tolerant of another man’s comings and goings?
Akitada wandered along the small stream where Ono had paused to recite his verses. The water was very clear and flowed over smooth river stones that must have been gathered in the mountains, because none so large and smooth were available in the capital. It seemed to him, as he looked around him, that access to Kiyowara’s room had been easy and would have been unobserved. No one would be in the gardens around the main house unless the gardeners were at their supervised chores. The verandas would have been empty in the midday heat.
The waiting room was around a corner from Kiyowara’s room. Each shared a view of part of the winding stream and of the more distant roofs of the women’s pavilions, but from the waiting room it was impossible to see Kiyowara’s room or his veranda or that part of the garden.
The sun blazed down out of the cloudless sky, and Akitada moved into the shade of a catalpa tree. There he stood, raising his eyes to the far blue mountains in the north. They looked hazy through the shimmering heat that covered the capital on this scorching summer day. Far above him in the sky, a hawk circled slowly. He smiled at the notion that it, too, was searching for prey.
Gravel crunched, and Fuhito reappeared.
‘Her Ladyship wishes to speak with you, sir,’ he announced.
He sounded and looked disapproving. It was understandable. This was a house where mourning had been disrupted by police searching for a murderer, and now strange men were being admitted to the women’s quarters. All he had expected was a glimpse of the layout of the grounds.
Akitada followed him through a small thicket of shrubs, trees, and tall grasses, along an overgrown path that might well give a husband romantic notions of seeking out a new beauty in her hidden and derelict house. He was shortly disabused of such thoughts. Lady Kiyowara’s pavilion was large and ornate with red-lacquered railings and banisters. Several maids, their many-layered silk dresses now covered with hempen jackets, had stepped on the veranda to watch their approach. They seemed astonishingly unattractive or elderly. Perhaps this suited their mistress’s vanity.
When Fuhito clapped his hands, they scattered.
Lady Kiyowara’s room was most luxurious. She was seated, surrounded by several folding screens painted with flowers nodding against a background of gold. As before, she wore little paint on her face – just a dusting of white, a thin outline of her eyes in kohl, the high eyebrows barely brushed on, and the merest touch of red on her lips. She seemed younger for that and was still a desirable woman. Raising her fan, she smiled at Akitada.
‘Please be seated, Lord Sugawara.’ Her voice was pleasant but cool. ‘You, too, Fuhito, for propriety’s sake.’
They bowed and sat.
Akitada took in the presence of two other women, sitting together at a distance. One was the same woman who had been with Lady Kiyowara on his last visit. The other was a handsome young female in a very odd-looking costume of white hemp covered with a red stole, and thick ropes of beads and shells hung about her neck. Her hair was thick but disheveled, and she stared at him boldly, almost hungrily. He looked away, wondering why the major-domo was required when there were other women present.
An odd thought seized him. If Ono was not the lady’s lover – he had only claimed brotherly affection – then a middle-aged woman like Lady Kiyowara might well have chosen a man like Fuhito to be her lover and confidant. True, the man was in his sixties and his hair was sprinkled with white, but he was, for all that, tall and handsome enough. Besides, he was well-educated and conveniently available.
Lady Kiyowara gestured with her free hand. ‘You have met my companion,’ she said. ‘The other lady is Aoi, a spiritualist and miko . She is consulting the gods to find out the truth about my husband’s murder.’ She paused to let Akitada absorb this, then said, ‘And you, sir? Have you made any progress with your methods?’
It was a humbling moment. Akitada was clearly valued no higher than the local witch. He decided to ignore it. ‘I assume from your major-domo’s explanations and an inspection of the grounds that the attacker must have come from the inside,’ he said.
Lady Kiyowara frowned. Her eyes moved to Fuhito, who shifted uncomfortably on his cushion. ‘From the inside?’ she said sharply. ‘Can you be certain? My husband received visitors from the outside that day, yourself included.’
Akitada understood the implied hint that he had better come up with a stranger or he would become a suspect again. He said stiffly, ‘My assumption is based on the information I was given.’
She turned on Fuhito. ‘You know as well as I that no one in this household would lay a hand on my husband. Why then do you suggest this to Lord Sugawara?’
Fuhito paled. ‘I know it, My Lady, but I also know how careful all of us have been to protect our lord from unwelcome visitors.’
This surprised Akitada. It seemed to make a point of ready access for welcome visitors. Could the major-domo mean Ono? But he focused on something else. ‘What unwelcome visitors?’ he asked. ‘If Lord Kiyowara feared anyone, surely this is the time to mention names.’
Fuhito compressed his lips and looked down at his clenched hands. Lady Kiyowara fidgeted with her fan.
‘Well?’ Akitada urged.
Lady Kiyowara shot Fuhito a furious look and said sharply, ‘My husband was an outsider at court and widely resented by his colleagues. I assumed that you would answer this question yourself. I turned to you for help because you have access to government circles that are closed to the Kiyowara family.’
A very neat turning aside of his request. While she was far off about his real position in the government, Akitada had to accept her point. He was to find the murderer among her husband’s enemies. Still, he was not at all sure that the solution did not lie within the Kiyowara household. For that matter, what better place to hide a murder weapon than in the women’s quarters? The police would hardly dare search them. He said stubbornly, ‘It does not answer the question how an outsider could have entered the compound unseen, My Lady.’
She snapped her fan angrily. ‘Then you must look harder. You and Fuhito. I wish you luck.’ She did not look at him this time, but sketched a slight bow.
Thus dismissed, Akitada and Fuhito withdrew.
As they walked back to the main house, Akitada asked, ‘How secure is the compound at night?’
Fuhito seemed dejected. His shoulders slumped and his head was bowed. ‘The gates are closed, and there are watchmen,’ he said listlessly.
‘I take it, if a thief were caught trying to enter, you would be called. Has there ever been a disturbance at night in your memory?’
‘There have been some minor alarms. Once a group of drunken officers of the guard drove a carriage up to the outer wall and tried to climb in. They were noisy, and the servants stopped them quite easily. Another time, the guard in the front courtyard heard noises
and rustling in the garden. They investigated, but found only some wild cats fighting. I was not called on either occasion. I am not here at night.’
Akitada stopped. ‘You don’t live here?’
‘No, I have my own house in the western quarter. I go home at sunset and return at sunrise.’
Akitada left after this exchange, wondering more than ever about Fuhito. It was very unusual for a house servant, even a major-domo, to reside anywhere other than with the family. The fact that Fuhito owned property and preferred living there suggested again that he did not belong to the servant class. Surely some tragic circumstance had forced him to accept his present humble position. Akitada decided to check into the major-domo’s background first thing the next morning.
Unfortunately, several events were about to intervene and drive all thought of Fuhito from his mind.
ANOTHER SUMMONS
Akitada was tired when he got home. To his relief, he found Tamako looking better. Hanae was with her, fussing to make her comfortable as Yuki whimpered in a nest of bedding. Nodding to the women, Akitada went to pick him up. Yuki fell silent for a moment and looked at him with large, sorrowful eyes. Akitada smiled and clicked his tongue. The baby scrunched up his face and wailed.
Putting the child over his shoulder, Akitada patted his back and asked, ‘Isn’t Tora back yet?’
Hanae shook her head. ‘The rascal’s out late again. He says he’s working for you, but every night I can smell and taste the liquor on his lips.’ She sounded irritated.
Taste?
Akitada glanced at Tamako. Their eyes met, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. They knew that Tora was deeply in love with his dainty wife and that she returned his affection ardently. Akitada often felt envious to see them so passionate about each other. In the early months of his own marriage, he, too, could not get enough of making love to Tamako. They had gloried in their physical closeness. But he was older now, more settled. They both were.
Still, it was a pity.
He said to Hanae, ‘Tora is looking into those fires that keep starting up all over the capital. You know how he felt about not being able to save the two men. I think someone may be responsible for them, and I’ve encouraged him to keep his eyes and ears open. Now he believes that it will help me if he can prove arson. This gossip about the gods punishing the capital is ridiculous; still, it must be unpleasant for Lord Michinaga and the chancellor. I hope you’ll be patient. You know how Tora is when he becomes an investigator.’
‘I know.’ Hanae chuckled. ‘I’m really very proud of him.’ Seeing how Akitada struggled to calm the fussy child, she said, ‘He’s hungry, sir. If you’ll stay here a while, I’ll go nurse him and start our supper.’
He had not planned on staying, but now he handed over the baby quickly. Of course. By all means feed this fine boy.’ Yuki stopped crying the moment his mother took him.
When they were alone, Akitada sat down and looked at Tamako worriedly. Was she so fragile that Hanae was afraid to leave her alone for even a short time?
Tamako smiled at him. ‘Soon I’ll have our own child to nurse,’ she said happily. ‘I hope I remember how.’
They both chuckled at that. Outside, the sun was setting and the sounds of the city faded. Akitada began to relax a little. He told Tamako about Lady Kiyowara and the men who might be her lovers. She was interested, and time passed agreeably as they explored motives and personalities. Hanae did not return, but Akitada did not mind. This was like old times. When dusk fell and a warm wind started up, tossing the branches in the garden, Akitada got up to close the shutters.
‘Another storm is coming,’ he said, looking out at the angry black clouds.
Tamako struck a flint and lit an oil lamp. ‘Good. It will cool the air and refresh the plants. I have not been able to look after my two gardens.’
He turned and watched her. In the pool of golden light, she seemed to him more beautiful than ever.
His wife – the mother of his children. He felt a surge of gratitude and affection.
Going to her quickly, he knelt and took her into his arms. They clung to each other and kissed. Her lips were soft, responsive. Desire stirred. He kissed her more deeply, tasting her sweetness and thinking: Tora is not the only one.
But Tamako returned his passion only briefly – if deliciously – before drawing away. ‘Akitada,’ she murmured, ‘it may not be good for the child.’
He released her with a sigh. ‘Of course. Please forgive me.’
‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘I am highly gratified.’ She looked at him quizzically and murmured, ‘Will you return after your supper? There are surely other ways that I may please you.’
He jumped up. ‘We’ll have supper together. I’ll tell Hanae we’ve retired early and bring the food back myself. Then we can have the whole night together without being bothered.’
He left, humming to himself. No doubt, Hanae would inform Tora of his master’s ardent attentions to his pregnant wife.
They dined on small delicacies he had coaxed out of the cook, and then they lay close together, while the storm passed over the city. He put his hand inside her gown on her swollen belly and felt the child moving against his palm. The touch of another life filled him with joy and wonder. ‘Tamako,’ he murmured into her ear, ‘I have been so afraid to lose you.’
She looked at him and traced his lips with her finger. ‘I know. My heart is full.’ Then she raised herself on an elbow to kiss him while she undid his sash and then the bands of his trousers.
The wind buffeted the sturdy roof, and the rain fell in torrents outside. Inside, they explored a hundred ways of giving and receiving pleasure. Akitada discovered a boundless gentleness in himself and profound gratitude to Tamako. When the noise outside abated, they fell asleep contentedly in each other’s arms.
When he left Tamako the next morning and returned to his study, Tora was waiting for him. Seeing Tora’s broad grin, Akitada flushed and snapped, ‘What are you so happy about?’
Tora’s grin faded. ‘Is anything wrong? Your lady… is she…?’He trailed off.
Akitada straightened his collar and tied his sash. He had hoped for an early bath and time to change his clothes. With a sigh, he sat down behind his desk.
‘Nothing is wrong. My wife is very well.’
‘The gods be thanked,’ said Tora with feeling. The grin returned. ‘I caught the little bastard.’
Akitada had no idea what Tora was talking about and found it hard to think before he had had his customary tea. ‘Hem,’ he said, searching his mind. ‘You did?’
Tora looked smug. ‘Yes.’
From the hallway came the sound of Seimei’s shuffling steps. Akitada brightened. ‘Here comes Seimei with tea. Save the story so he can hear it, too.’
Seimei came in and nodded to Tora. ‘I looked for you earlier, sir,’ he said to Akitada. ‘No one told me that you spent the night with your lady.’
Tora chortled. ‘Caught me unawares, too.’
‘I’m parched,’ Akitada said, ‘and Tora is anxious to tell us his adventure.’
Seimei took his time pouring and stirring, and Tora fidgeted. It looked as if he wanted to comment on the sleeping arrangements again, but fortunately he thought better of it. He refused tea and, as soon as Seimei was seated with his own cup, he told the story of catching the boy Tojiro running away from the latest fire.
‘He admitted stealing my gold.’
‘What did you do?’ Seimei asked.
Tora’s face fell a little. ‘He got away before I could find a constable, but I reported it to the police.’
‘This is the young man who looks like the Kiyowara heir?’ Akitada asked. ‘I don’t know, Tora. There’s something very odd about your bumping into him all the time. Are you quite sure he set last night’s fire?’
‘Absolutely. This is the second time he was at a fire. He’s the one all right. I told the superintendent that it was all your doing that the arson problem is getting solv
ed.’
With a sinking feeling, Akitada set down his cup. ‘I wish you hadn’t done that.’
Tora’s jaw dropped. ‘What? You’ve changed your mind? I thought you wanted me to find out about those fires. I wish you’d told me. I wasted a whole night on this. And the police weren’t exactly eager to arrest the little bastard. I did it because I thought it would help you get your job back.’ He clamped his mouth shut in disgust and folded his arms across his chest.
Akitada felt guilty – as he was meant to feel. ‘You didn’t let me finish, Tora,’ he said.
Tora said nothing and looked sullen.
‘You know I’m investigating the Kiyowara murder. That means we have enough money to see us through the rest of the year. And besides, I never wanted you to risk your life in this matter.’ He paused, then added in a softer tone, ‘But I’m very grateful that you should have cared so much.’ When Tora looked slightly mollified, he went on: ‘I’ve been trying to keep Superintendent Kobe out of our activities because he ordered me away from the Kiyowara case. He may see a conflict of interest because of our past friendship.’
‘But the fires have nothing to do with the Kiyowara murder.’
‘Well, perhaps no harm is done.’ Akitada paused. ‘Unless, of course, you happened to mention this Tojiro’s resemblance to young Lord Kiyowara?’
Tora mumbled, ‘I might have said something about it in passing. Not to make a point of it, you know.’
‘Not to Kobe, I hope. He would wonder why you should be familiar with Kiyowara’s son.’
‘I may have-’ Tora broke off and cocked an ear towards the courtyard. ‘Someone’s calling.’ He jumped up and left.
Akitada had not heard anything. He thought Tora had fled because he did not want to face his anger, but then there were voices.
A visitor? This early in the morning?
Seimei hurriedly put away the tea things. The door opened, and a strange monk stepped over the threshold, followed by a puzzled-looking Tora, who announced, ‘This is Saishin, sir. He comes with a message from Abbot Shokan of the Seikan-ji Temple.’