by I. J. Parker
The Fumi family were all together in the large room. A middle-aged man Akitada did not know rose to bow them to pillows that a woman placed for them. Takechi introduced him as Fumi Tabito, the son of Fumi Tokiari. The woman was his wife. There was also another, younger, woman with two small children. These were the daughter and grandchildren of the couple and had come to support the family.
Akitada expressed his condolences. They received his words with polite bows. The daughter hurried to bring wine and refreshments, while her mother gathered the two little ones to her. It was a typical, peaceful family of industrious and well-to-do people, and Akitada regretted their loss again.
The son talked about his father’s murder, wiping tears from his eyes. “I blame myself. We should have stayed with him. Or at least left a servant behind. But who would have thought that such a thing could happen on our quiet street? In the harbor now, that’s another matter.”
“I did not have the pleasure of meeting you when I called on your father recently,” Akitada said.
“I run the shipping side of the business. Usually I’m in my office near the harbor.”
Akitada commented on the good health of his grandchildren.
His wife bowed her thanks and said, “It was for the sake of the little ones that we went to the fair. My daughter had come for a visit. She lives with her husband in the capital.”
At this point, feeling all eyes on himself, the little boy, who was perhaps five, said, “I saw the dolly man.”
His grandmother hushed him, but he was persistent. “I wanted that dolly. I wanted the monkey dolly.”
His mother said, “He means the puppet man. From the fair.”
Akitada thought of all the fairs and of his own children, disappointed once again. He asked the merchant, “Did your father have other children?”
“No, sir. And we have only a daughter, but now there are grandchildren, and it may be that one of them will run the business some day. Who did this, sir? My father was old, but he was very healthy. First my uncle and now my father! Who hated him so much?”
Takechi cleared his throat. “Have you received any threats? Say from people who borrowed money from you or your father?”
The merchant bristled. “No. We are fair, and we don’t lend money to untrustworthy people. My Uncle did more lending than we do now. My father rarely advanced funds. He hated that business. He said it brought my uncle death. Does this have anything to do with my uncle?”
Akitada and Takechi exchanged a glance. Akitada said, “Perhaps, but we cannot be certain. Did your father ever mention anyone watching the house?” He looked around the room, but they all shook their heads.
“You think someone was watching us?” asked his wife. “Are we in danger?”
“Probably not,” said Akitada. “But I think you should keep your eyes open for a while and not go anywhere alone.”
“Amida!” cried the merchant. “They are right. A maniac is loose in Otsu and he’s after my family.” The women cried out in dismay, his wife pulling the children closer to her.
“Please calm down,” said Akitada. “There is probably no reason to be afraid, but it couldn’t hurt to be careful for a few days. We are close to getting the man responsible for these deaths.” It was a hopeful lie, because he hated having put them into a panic.
They left after this, and Akitada returned to the tribunal to report to Kosehira.
Kosehira was dismissing a citizen’s delegation with some reassuring words and a smile. As soon as the door closed behind them, he waved Akitada to a cushion and asked, “Well? Anything?”
“I’m not sure,” said Akitada. “This business made me realize that there have been fairs in all the other cases.”
“Oh, Akitada, it’s the time of year. It’s spring, rice planting season. All the shrines put on fairs to bring people in to pray to the kami for a good harvest and to collect donations. The temples are also behind it. Enryaku-ji sponsors many shrine fairs as well as the big one coming up that you won’t bring your children to see.”
Kosehira’s reproachful face made Akitada smile. “I told them we might come up just for the day of the procession.”
“You won’t stay with us?”
Too late Akitada realized he had made an error. He did not know what to say and muttered something about work at the ministry.
Kosehira recognized this for prevarication. His face set, he demanded, “What happened at my house to send you away in such a rush and make you refuse to come back?”
Akitada just shook his head and muttered, “Nothing, Kosehira. Nothing at all?”
“This has something to do with Yukiko, right?”
“No, no.” Akitada was aware that he had flushed. “Kosehira,” he begged, “let it go. Nothing happened. I’m just in one of my moods.”
For a few moments, Kosehira did not speak. Then he said, “I was wrong to push my daughter at you. It was not respectful of either of you. Now I have made her desperately unhappy, and you refuse to accept my hospitality. I beg your pardon.”
Akitada gazed at him. He thought he must have misheard. “What?”
Kosehira wrung his hands in distress. “I’m sorry, Akitada. Believe me, I thought it would help you to have someone to love again. And Yukiko, well, she’s my favorite, though I’ll deny it if you mention it to anyone. I wanted her to have a happy marriage. Like Tamako’s.”
Akitada found his voice. “You wanted me to meet your daughter because you wished us to be married?”
“Yes. That’s why I arranged your stay at my house.”
“But Kosehira, I’m too old for her and certainly not a good prospect in terms of rank and influence.”
Kosehira waved a hand to disperse such objections like gnats. “Who cares? I know you and I know you would be kind to my child.”
Weak with the shock of this revelation, Akitada burst into laughter. “Oh, Kosehira,” he gasped. “With you for a father-in-law, no son-in-law would dare mistreat Yukiko.”
Kosehira did not smile. “You don’t understand. It doesn’t matter. I’ll try to look after her. The trouble is she’s been talking about becoming a nun. Yukiko a nun? Think about it.”
Akitada thought about it and stopped laughing. “I thought she planned to marry the prime minister’s son?”
“She doesn’t like him.”
An awkward silence fell, while thoughts chased each other in Akitada’s mind like agitated koi in Yukiko’s fishpond. “Kosehira,” he finally said, “I left because I’d fallen in love with your daughter.”
Kosehira’s jaw sagged for a moment. Then he jumped up, laughing out loud, and performed a little dance. Grasping Akitada by the hands, he pulled him up, embraced him, and then made him dance about with him. They were both laughing.
When heads appeared in the doorway, they stopped.
Kosehira waved his clerks away. “Never mind,” he called out..”Just some very good news.”
They left, and Kosehira looked as if he might start dancing again. Akitada, deeply embarrassed, though quite ridiculously happy, cleared his throat. They resumed their seats and looked at each other, smiling.
Akitada said, “I’m too old for her.”
Kosehira countered with, “She doesn’t think so.”
“You mean she would really agree?”
“Of course. You nearly broke her heart.”
They fell silent. Akitada sat, shaking his head, smiling, suddenly impatient to see her, to be certain she really wanted this.
Kosehira guessed his thoughts. “No time like the present. You’ll stay with her tonight?”
“Dear gods,” protested Akitada, “you cannot rush such a thing. I have not had any time to court her. She has not met my children.”
“Yes, but hurry up, will you?”
Akitada promised.
Kosehira next insisted on discussing his daughter’s dowry. Akitada was reminded that Tamako had brought him nothing but herself and an empty lot where her father’s house had stood.
His ears were ringing by the time Kosehira was done. He said weakly, “It shall all be hers and her children’s.”
Kosehira rubbed his hands. “It’s all set then. I’ll have the papers drawn up tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The Wild Geese
As soon as they reached Kosehira’s villa that evening, Akitada went into the garden, hoping to find Yukiko.
Kosehira had spent the ride home chattering gleefully about his daughter. It was clear he loved her dearly, and Akitada had the uncomfortable feeling that his friend would remain alert to her welfare even after she had become his wife and lived in the Sugawara home.
Custom prescribed that a son-in-law live in his new wife’s home and become a part of her family. It was not a notion Akitada found appealing. There would be no privacy for the couple, and he treasured his privacy. In his first marriage, the possibility had not arisen because Tamako had become both fatherless and homeless on the same day. In this case, it was surely understood that Yukiko would come to him, but clearly there would be strings attached.
More worrisome was that all of these plans had been presented to him so quickly and completely. Apparently, Kosehira had expected Akitada and Yukiko to step unprotestingly into their ascribed roles. And so he now wanted to see her to assure himself that she would come to him willingly and without reservations. He was no longer at all sure of this.
Alas, the garden was empty, and after waiting quite a long time, wandering back and forth between the promontory and the koi pond, Akitada returned to his room to change. There would be another family dinner tonight in celebration of the engagement, and he dreaded it.
It was young Arimitsu, the youngest of Kosehira’s sons, who met him on his way to the main house. He came running, all smiles, and stopped before Akitada with the words, “You are to be my brother-in-law. Father said so. I’m very glad!”
Greatly moved by this artless welcome, Akitada laughed and swung him up into his arms to hug him, saying, “I’m very glad, too, Arimitsu. Thank you.”
They walked hand-in-hand to the main house, Arimitsu quiet now and proud to be leading the guest of honor. When they entered the reception room, chosen for this meal in honor of the occasion, Akitada’s heart misgave him again. It was all happening too fast. He had not had time to think. What would Kosehira’s wives think of this odd match?
He glanced around nervously, but saw only smiling faces. Yukiko was absent, and that gave him a new worry.
They seated him between Kosehira and his first lady, Yukiko’s mother. This was perhaps traditional. The presence of all the children though, was surely not. He was grateful for it, especially when Arimitsu gave him a broad grin. The other youngsters were more reserved, but seemed quietly pleased.
When all eyes turned toward the door, he saw Yukiko. She wore a gorgeous robe of shimmering gauze over pale green silk with touches of red and pink peeking forth at her full sleeves and at the hem of her skirts. She looked beautiful and remote. Not once did she lift her head to look at Akitada as she went to her place on her father’s other side where Akitada would be unable to catch her eye throughout the meal.
He wished himself elsewhere. Back at home in his study, far away from people and obligations, from having to make conversation when his heart misgave him. Dear gods, how was he to get through this meal?
And through the other formalities yet to come?
Somehow they consumed the first courses, served by two pretty maids, while talking about the weather.
“Today, I saw geese flying north again,” said Arikuni, Kosehira’s second son. “Spring is almost over. What a pity. All those fairs are so much fun. Will you be here for the Great Shrine Festival, Cousin Akitada?”
“Yes. That is, if I can get the time off. My superior indicated that he has a good deal of work waiting for me.” That had sounded stilted and awkward, and he added, “Yasuko and Yoshi have been begging to come, and I did promise them.”
They asked more questions about his family and home next, all easy to answer. Yukiko’s mother wanted to know about the children’s ages and their upbringing. Kosehira supplied anecdotes from his visits to Akitada’s home, carefully avoiding references to Tamako.
Akitada felt grieved by this. He said, “I have neglected my children. It was very wrong of me, but the death of their mother was deeply painful. I hope to make up for my neglect.” This, alas, struck a funereal note on what should be an auspicious occasion.
To dispel the somber mood, Kosehira said, “You have good people who look well after your children. I recall seeing Genba jumping about the courtyard with young Yori on his back, and Tora used to teach him how to fight. I’m sure they also look after the other two very well.”
Seeing some blank looks, Akitada explained, “Yori was my first son who died in the smallpox epidemic.” The women sucked in their breath and gave him pitying glances, while Kosehira bit his lip. Clearly the topic of tragic losses was undesirable. Embarrassed, Akitada added quickly, “You are right. My people love the children, and so do their wives. Tora has a son who is a year older than Yasuko. They all study and play together. And now Genba also has a little daughter.”
He felt awkward talking about his family and wondered what Yukiko thought. This new worry caused him to fall silent.
Kosehira changed the subject to the troubles in Otsu. “Akitada has been helping Chief Takechi with those murders that have people so upset,” he said. “It’s a difficult case, and I’m very glad he’s here to help.”
This brought more questions which Akitada and Kosehira answered cautiously, leaving out details that might frighten the women and give the smaller children nightmares.
And so the meal finally ended. Yukiko left quickly with the other women. She had not spoken once. Neither had she looked at him.
He walked back to his room dazed and miserable, wondering what was expected of him next. Was he to slip into Yukiko’s room under cover of darkness and make love to her?
Probably. But he had no idea where her room was. A younger man would have found out such an important fact long before now. He grimaced at the contrast between himself, a staid government official with a growing family, and a young lover. Poor Yukiko.
Clearly he could not force her to submit to him. It would be insensitive and brutish. The bedding of the bride had been easier in Tamako’s case, though there, too, he had been afraid to make his move. But he had been younger then, both eager and ardently in love, and that had overcome all his scruples. Now he had acquired a host of feelings of inadequacy.
He reached his room, looked at the bedding spread out by servants, and knew he would not be able to sleep. Turning around, he went back into the dark garden.
Half hoping.
It was already quite dark at the koi pond, and no one was there. Disappointed, he walked on to the promontory. Daylight lingered on the shining mirror of the lake, but a pale moon had risen, and the land lay dark beneath the starry sky. Only a few lights glimmered like glowworms in the city below.
Was the killer sleeping down there somewhere or was he watching another victim’s house? He had surely been watching the rice merchant’s house, waiting for the family and the servants to leave for the shrine fair. Then he had gone inside to kill Fumi Tokiari. This killer was a man of enormous patience.
So many fairs! A memory nagged at him, the words of a child. Yes, it had been the little boy at the rice merchant’s place wanting a puppet. Could he have seen the killer?
A rustle among the shrubs, a soft step, the scent of almond blossoms.
He turned slowly. Yukiko stood on the path. She wore the same blue robe as the last time they had met here—when he had believed he would never see her again.
“I thought you might come here, Akitada,” she said softly.
“Yukiko,” he murmured, extending his hand to her. “Oh, my dear. Are you pleased?”
“Yes, Akitada. I’m well pleased. And you?”
“Come here, my love!” he begged.<
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She came and he drew her close, and after a moment’s hesitation he cupped her face in his hands and put his lips to hers, tasting her sweet breath, and then kissed her again. His hands found their way under the loose blue robe to the merest wisp of silken undergown and the warm skin beneath. He caressed her lightly and kissed her again, feeling her soft gasp and the way she swayed against him.
Releasing her reluctantly, he gestured at the moon. “Last time, the sun was rising and you were bathed in golden light. I thought you the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen and grieved my loss. And now, by the light of the moon, I find you again, far more beautiful and dearer to me.”
She took his hand and placed it against her cheek. “It nearly broke my heart, your leaving.”
They stood, their arms around each other, looking up to where the moon was riding on a bank of silvery cloud. The Milky Way, that magical river in the sky had been crossed by the herdsman to embrace the weaver maid. Akitada was enchanted that he, too, should have found love again.
Just then a flight of birds crossed the sky. He murmured, “Not magpies, surely.”
“Geese,” she said with a soft chuckle. “My brother was right. They are flying north.”
They followed the arrow of their flight as they passed across the moon. It was a beautiful sight and surely a good omen.
Yukiko took his hand. “Come!” she said.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Puppet Man
Akitada spent at least part of the next day in a dream.
He intended to work with Takechi, to talk again to all the people connected with the crimes, but this time asking them a specific question. This would be time-consuming and frustrating, but there was a sense of urgency now, and the danger of riots was rising in the city. People were frightened by rumors of a mad killer and had become angry with the authorities. Even the constables were not safe. In one street, a crowd of boys had pelted them with horse droppings and stones and called them names.