Текст книги "The Masuda Affair "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

SEVEN

The House on the Uji River

Tora did not return to Otsu. His fear for Hanae and his unborn child outweighed everything else. Akitada, who was armed, was well able to defend himself, while Hanae was helpless.

Too ashamed to tell either Seimei or Tamako, he left on foot. He had lost the right to use Akitada’s property. He stopped at their little house, hoping against hope that Hanae had returned. She had not, and he set out for Uji.

Without money to rent a post horse, he fell into a steady pace walking south on the Nara highway. Night fell quickly, and most travelers on the road were headed for their homes in the capital. He scrutinized each sedan chair he met. Once or twice he got in trouble for lifting a curtain to look inside.

The road was lined with pines, snaked away towards black mountains.

Taking the extraordinary and painful step of leaving his master had been much like cutting off his arm or leg, and his stomach still twisted at it. That bond had been made for life. He had walked away from a debt he could never repay and made a lie of the solemn oath of loyalty. By all the rules he lived by, he was dishonored.

He no longer blamed Akitada. As his master, he had a right to expect unquestioning loyalty and obedience.

Tired and discouraged, he was tempted to lie down under a tree to sleep for a few hours, but his worries about Hanae had increased a hundred-fold. She should have been home a long time ago. He thought again of Sadanori’s reputation and of Hanae’s beauty and popularity. Sending a sedan chair was an unlikely courtesy towards a prospective servant, and Mrs Hamada’s opinion that no wife would tolerate such a beautiful maid or nurse in her household gnawed at him.

At Uji, the mountains loomed ominously above him, and the river rushed through the narrows with a sound like thunder. Tura felt a kind of panic, a fear of real disaster. Oh, Hanae, he thought, why did you run away from me into such danger?

He had hoped to find an inn open to ask for directions, but all the houses were dark. He passed a shrine and walked across the bridge. The sound of the river was deafening, and the rushing waters made the massive timbers shiver beneath his feet.

Tora followed the highway along the river until the mountains fell back and a vast plain opened before him. Here he saw a great complex of buildings. When he reached the gate, a dog inside set up a loud barking. Someone shouted at the animal. Encouraged, Tora struck the bell by the gate with its wooden clapper.

There was more shouting, a yelp, and the dog fell quiet. Then a small window in the gatehouse opened a crack and a disembodied male voice asked impatiently, ‘Yes? What is it?’

‘Is this the villa of Lord Sadanori?’

‘Are you mad? This palace belongs to the regent. I thought you were a messenger from the capital. Go away.’

The window was about to shut, but Tora cried, ‘Wait! Sorry to trouble you so late, but I have to find Lord Sadanori’s villa. I have an urgent message for His Lordship. From his lady. A matter of life and death. Can you at least point me in the right direction?’

The voice grumbled, ‘They shouldn’t send messengers who don’t know the way.’ Then added, ‘Go back across the river. It’s upriver from the shrine. There’s a willow by the gate. You can’t miss it.’ And the window slammed shut.

Tora trotted back the way he had come, followed by more barking and another yelp from the dog. He thought of Trouble, left for Genba to look after. Would Akitada, in his anger, drive the beast out to join the other starving creatures that roamed the streets? In his tired and exhausted state, Tora was unable to achieve the smallest shred of his former optimism. Wifeless and masterless, he would join the mangy dogs scavenging for food in the market, kicked, cursed, and beaten by the more fortunate beings in the world. The image of Hanae intervened – a desperate Hanae fighting off the groping hands and wet lips of a repulsive male in an expensive silk robe.

He found the Sadanori villa quickly after a steep climb, because it perched on a hillside above the river gorge. The wind had picked up and whistled through the pines around him. The house was more modest than a palace, but still substantial for a summer residence. The wealthy loved such places, remote from the bustle of the capital and close to nature. In this mountainous area, the river rushed and gurgled through picturesque gorges. Tora wondered why a man would want to live in a place where the river and the wind made such a din that you could not hear yourself talk.

The faint moonlight played on the swaying branches of the willow by the gate, but the buildings lay darkly under their cedar-bark roofs. Tora suddenly felt, with absolute certainty, that Hanae was not here.

He pounded on the gate anyway, and this time someone came quickly. A faint light glimmered above the tall fence and a voice called out, ‘Just a moment, Master Ishikawa. We’d given you up already.’ Before Tora could reply, the gate opened. A stout, middle-aged man stood there, holding a lantern, a welcoming grin on his broad, bearded face.

The grin changed to a scowl. ‘What do you want?’ the man growled.

Tora was too tired for small talk. ‘I’m looking for my wife, Hanae. Lord Sadanori sent for her, and she hasn’t returned to the capital.’

The servant made a rumbling sound in his throat that Tora took for laughter because the man’s belly shook. ‘You mean you walked all the way from the capital in the middle of the night to fetch your woman home?’ the fat man asked, grinning.

Tora put his hand on his sword. ‘It’s not funny. Send for her this instant.’

The servant stopped grinning. ‘Don’t threaten me. You’ve wasted your time. She’s not here. Go home. Maybe she’ll come back.’

Tora whipped out his sword and put its tip under the bearded man’s chin. The other man backed away, his eyes bulging and his mouth half open in surprise, and Tora followed. When they were well inside the courtyard, he lowered the sword. ‘Now will you do as I say?’

The man gasped, ‘You’re crazy. What do you think you’re doing? If I call for help, they’ll cut you to pieces.’

Tora raised his sword again and bared his teeth. ‘Call then!’

The stout man’s eyes rolled in panic. ‘I tell you, she’s not here. There’s nobody here but Her Ladyship and two maids. Lord Sadanori lives in the capital.’

‘Then my wife’s with your mistress. She came about a job as a nurse.’

‘Nurse? She lied to you. Lord Sadanori’s mother has no need for a nurse.’

Tora stared at him. ‘Only his mother lives here? Is that the truth?’

‘Yes, I swear it. His ladies are in the capital.’

Slowly, Tora lowered his sword. ‘My wife said she was to go to Uji. Lord Sadanori sent a sedan chair for her. Where could she have gone?’

‘Well, she’s not here,’ the servant said resentfully. ‘Now will you go away and leave us alone?’

‘No, I’ve come too far. I’ll have some answers first. And since you don’t seem to have any, I’ll speak to your lady.’

‘You can’t. She doesn’t see strangers, and it’s the middle of the night. She’s asleep.’

‘Go wake her.’ Tora raised his sword.

The servant muttered something, then said, ‘All right. Wait here.’

Tora went to sit on the steps that led to the main hall. He was exhausted and glad that the servant had not put up a fight. Apparently, he was the only male in residence. It was clear that Hanae had been taken somewhere in the capital. The whole story had been a pack of lies. Hanae had been abducted, and he was already too late. Tora clenched his fists in helpless misery.

By the time the servant returned, Tora had worked himself into a fury against the Sadanori family. The fact that Sadanori’s mother was willing to speak to him in the middle of the night did not settle his temper. Seething, he followed the servant along a covered gallery to a pavilion that perched like a bird on a ledge above the rushing and tumbling river. The servant knocked at the door, waited to hear a woman’s voice call out, and entered, Tora on his heels.

The room faced the river gorge. Its doors were wide open to the night air and the sound of the rushing waters. A tall candle flickered in the air current. Lady Sadanori was in her sixties and still very handsome in a haughty way. She sat in the middle of the room, voluminous gowns draped around her. Her long hair was streaked with silver and perfectly tidy, and her large eyes were fixed on her visitor. A maid had apparently put away her bedding and now knelt in the background. Strange shadows moved over walls covered with paintings of the landscape outside.

Having taken Tora’s measure, the lady said, ‘Seijiro claims you have come here for your wife?’ Because of the sound of the water, she had to raise her voice.

Barely remembering his manners, Tora bowed and said loudly, ‘Yes. My name is Tora. My wife Hanae was to become a nurse to Lord Sadanori’s expected child. She was taken from our home this morning in a sedan chair to travel here and be introduced to his household. Since she has not returned, I have come to take her back.’

There was a long silence. The old lady studied him and bit her lower lip. Finally, she said, ‘There must be some mistake. She is not here.’

‘If I have come to the wrong house,’ Tora said, ‘if there is another place in Uji where she might have gone, I’m sorry to have disturbed you, but ask that you direct me. Hanae is pregnant, and I worry about her.’

‘Pregnant.’ He almost did not catch the word. She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded and said more loudly, ‘That does you credit, young man. Who exactly are you? Where do you work?’

Tora no longer worked for anyone, but that was not likely to impress this great lady, so he said, ‘I’m a retainer to Lord Sugawara.’

‘Sugawara Akitada?’ Her eyes sharpened and she compressed her lips. ‘I think you must have been given the wrong information, Tora. There is no one here but myself, and I have had no visitors in weeks. My son does not have another house in Uji. And lastly, none of his wives is with child. Could you have mistaken the name of the family?’

Tora looked at her and around the room. She seemed honest. Could Hanae have been confused? He decided not. Hanae was a level-headed girl. He said, ‘No, My Lady. Hanae was very certain about it. I questioned her because I worried for her safety’ He paused and added an explanation for his concern. ‘Hanae is very beautiful and well-known as a dancer and singer in the capital’

The lady’s expression changed, closed, looked weary. ‘I have no information for you,’ she said curtly and turned away to look into the darkness outside. Tora followed her glance, but saw nothing apart from the trees tossing in the wind, the night sky, and the black abyss of thundering waters. He suddenly felt sick.

The servant plucked at Tora’s sleeve. Sadanori’s mother did not acknowledge Tora’s bow, and he left without thanking her.

Outside, he stopped the servant, who was hustling him towards the gate to get rid of him as quickly as possible. ‘Where is your master’s house in the capital?’

‘In the Sanjo quarter, between Muromachi and Karasuma Streets. Everybody knows that.’ The servant was becoming defiant again.

Tora snapped, ‘Not me.’ Then he put his real worry in words. ‘What about other houses? Manors? Farms? Hunting lodges? … Places where he keeps his paramours?’

The servant chuckled richly. ‘Ah, you finally caught on. It won’t do you any good running after her. Take my word for it, she’s made her choice. If she’s as beautiful as you say, she’s long since tasted His Lordship’s favors – if you know what I mean.’

Tora hauled back and put his fist into the leering face with such force that the heavy man’s feet left the ground and he flew across the courtyard. Then he let himself out.

Hoof beats approached as he stepped from the gateway, and two horsemen appeared out of the darkness. They stopped when they saw Tora coming from the gate, sucking his lacerated knuckles.

‘Who are you?’ asked the taller man.

‘None of your business. Get out of my way,’ snarled Tora.

The man moved his horse to bar his way. His companion approached also. ‘Seijiro,’ shouted the tall man.

The fat servant came staggering out through the gate. He was holding his mouth. ‘Master Ishikawa,’ he mumbled, looking up at the taller man. ‘Thank heaven. This man pushed his way in and forced Her Ladyship to see him. Then he beat me when he didn’t get what he came for.’ He took his hand from his face and spat out some blood.

The tall man looked at Tora as if he were a poisonous snake. ‘You! Back inside,’ he snapped.

His companion drew his sword, and this time Tora backed into the courtyard. When he was inside, Seijiro put out his leg and tripped him.

Tora lay on his back on the gravel and looked up at the horsemen. The man called Ishikawa looked familiar.

‘Bring a lantern,’ ordered Ishikawa. He and the other man dismounted and stood looking down at Tora, their swords ready.

Tora sat up. He also had a sword, but hoped to avoid an uneven battle. ‘I was looking for my wife,’ he said. ‘The servant insulted her so I taught him a lesson.’

Neither man responded. Tora started to get to his feet, but the shorter man used his boot to push him down again.

‘Look,’ said Tora, ‘All I wanted was for someone to tell me where Sadanori has taken my wife.’

Ishikawa said, ‘That’s Lord Sadanori to you, scum.’

Seijiro returned with a torch and held it uncomfortably close to Tora’s face.

‘I know you,’ Ishikawa said. ‘By heaven, aren’t you …? Yes, you’re Sugawara’s servant. I remember that silly mustache. Apparently, you still lack proper respect for your betters. I believe I’ll have you beaten.’

Tora also remembered. ‘That’s Lord Sugawara to you, Ishikawa.’ He tried to get up, but Ishikawa’s companion pushed him down again. This time Seijiro singed his hair with the torch. ‘Hey!’ Tora protested, ‘get that damned thing out of my face.’

The servant sniggered and singed his other temple. Enough was enough. Tired as he was, Tora rolled away, under the legs of one of the horses, and jumped up on the other side. He drew his sword and, keeping the horse between himself and the three men, he said, ‘That’s better. I can see you now, Ishikawa. You’re the student who cheated and was accused of murdering his professor. How did you manage to find work after they expelled you?’

Ishikawa’s face darkened. ‘Why you …’ He took a step, raising his sword. Tora slapped the horse hard on the hind quarters with the flat side of his sword. The animal whinnied and reared. Ishikawa jumped back. ‘I am His Lordship’s steward,’ he snapped. ‘I’ll have you arrested for breaking in and attacking one of our people.’

‘You’d better not.’ It was an empty threat, but as long as Ishikawa believed that Tora still worked for Akitada, he might hesitate to risk a confrontation.

‘What’s this about a wife? What are you really after? Has your master sent you?’

‘What if he did? He talked to your mother in Otsu. She’s the Masudas’ nurse, isn’t she?’ It was what Hanae had meant to be – if it had not been for a lecher who had other plans for her. The thought filled him with a black rage again. He was prepared to kill all three men to find out the truth. He gripped his sword more tightly.

A voice called sharply, ‘Ishikawa.’

Sadanori’s mother stood on the veranda of the main house and looked down at the scene in the courtyard. ‘What is this unseemly noise?’

Ishikawa went to make her a deep bow. ‘I’m very sorry, My Lady. This person forced his way in and attacked Seijiro. We arrived just in time. I’ll have him arrested.’

‘You will do nothing of the kind. He came looking for his wife. Let him go.’ She looked at Tora. ‘Go home and try to forget this night. It was all a mistake. I’m sure your wife will be waiting for you at home.’

Tora did not believe her. What was more, he was convinced that she did not believe it herself. But there was nothing else he could do here, and so he put his sword back in his sash and left.

Trudging down the hill to the bridge, he wondered what Ishikawa was doing here in the middle of the night, but he was too tired, and his mind was a blank except for the thought that he was too late to save Hanae.

In the east, the sky was getting lighter. The night was almost over, but here in the river gorge, the darkness pressed in on him from all sides. Ahead lay the long road back to the capital. The wind wailed as he left the valley. The waters hissed and roared, and the sound echoed from the mountainsides.

EIGHT

Rotten Wood

Akitada arrived home safely, a fact that – perversely – irritated him more because it made Tora’s desertion less serious. He fully expected to be met by a contrite Tora, full of explanations and apologies, but Genba informed him that he had stopped only long enough to leave his horse and a dog and had then walked away.

‘Walked away? Did he say where he was going?’ Akitada asked, temper battling against bitterness as he slid awkwardly from the saddle.

Genba shook his head. His massive body communicated distress, from the mournful eyes and sloping shoulders to his nervously shuffling feet. ‘No, only that he was looking for Hanae … Is something the matter with your arm, sir?’

‘An overeager constable used his truncheon on it. I was arrested in Otsu for child stealing.’

‘What?’ Genba’s eyes popped open.

‘Later, Genba. I’m very tired and just want to rest for a while.’

‘Of course, sir. Shall I send for Seimei? To look after your arm?’

‘No.’

Akitada left an unhappy-looking Genba and went directly to his own room. There he took off his sword and outer robe and sat down behind his desk. He was not sure how he had got home or what he was to do with himself now that he was here. The journey had passed without his taking notice of it. His thoughts had chased each other so confusedly that he was only dimly aware of them even now. Some had concerned Tora’s desertion, but most were about the boy and Yori.

He rubbed his sore arm. One by one, he was losing the things that mattered most. First it had been his wife’s love and support, then his son’s life, and now Tora.

He felt incredibly tired, both physically and mentally. For months now, he had tried to keep despair at bay by working harder. He had volunteered for difficult assignments, and he had put in long hours at the ministry in the hope that work would distract him during his waking hours and that exhaustion would bring him a few hours’ sleep and brief oblivion at night. This strategy had not worked.

Until he met the mute child.

However odd their meeting, for a few brief moments he had felt joy again. The dreadful loneliness had lifted, and the ice that paralyzed his soul had thawed a little. Even now, his heart melted at the memory of those small arms wrapped around his neck and the soft cheek pressed against his.

But he would lose the boy and, when the scandal of his alleged perversion with a small child reached the ears of his enemies, he would lose his position in the ministry.

Seimei broke into his gloomy thoughts with the inevitable tea. ‘Welcome home, sir,’ he said cheerily and looked around the room. ‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes.’

Seimei’s face fell. He looked at Akitada more closely. ‘Is anything wrong?’

Not much point in postponing bad news.

‘If you’re wondering about the boy I had planned to bring home with me, the authorities would not permit it. And Tora seems to have walked out on us. I have no idea where he is and at the moment I don’t care.’

Seimei sat down. ‘Oh, dear. That is not like Tora at all,’ he said, shaking his head and looking at Akitada anxiously. ‘Something is very wrong, sir. I hope you will reconsider. Does Genba know anything?’

‘Ask him yourself. Tora seems to get all the attention here.’ As soon as he said it, Akitada was sorry. He felt resentful and was taking it out on Seimei. Dear heaven, what had happened to him?

‘You look very tired, sir. Drink some of your tea.’

Wine was what Akitada wanted. A great deal of very strong wine to drown his misery. He said, ‘I’m sorry, Seimei. I’m concerned about Tora, but this has not been a very good day for me.’ He reached for his teacup with his left hand and drank.

‘What is wrong with your right arm, sir?’

And that, of course, brought out the whole story of his disastrous visit to Otsu. Seimei got his case of medicines and listened.

Seimei’s ministrations soothed Akitada’s feelings more than they did the pain. Seimei clucked as he searched through his case of powders and ointments. It was not clear if he reacted to the tale of troubles or to the swollen arm, but it did not matter. Someone cared. Mollified, Akitada asked about Tamako.

‘She is visiting your sister, sir.’

Akiko?’ Silly question. Only Akiko, the older of his two younger sisters, lived in the capital. She had married a wealthy, much older nobleman and was the proud mother of a small son. Akitada wondered how Tamako could bear to visit there and be reminded of her own loss, but then he remembered how he had held the lost boy and felt whole again. Perhaps it was the same for Tamako.

Seimei also thought of the boy. After applying a soothing salve to Akitada’s swollen and bruised forearm and wrapping it, he gave Akitada a sharp look. ‘This boy must be very special for you to take such trouble, sir.’

No doubt they all wondered about this. Hardly anyone but Akitada would find him an attractive child, let alone lovable. He was skinny, dirty, and silent – a boy who could not communicate because he was mute, and possibly deaf. But to Akitada he had become special because no one seemed to want him. ‘I think I have grown very fond of the child,’ he said. Only, the child had turned his back on him.

Seimei nodded. ‘I’m sure that is quite natural. The child needed protection, and you needed someone to protect. But such a suggestion of misconduct is really outrageous.’

Akitada correctly took this to refer to the charges brought against him. ‘The charge is ridiculous, but it can do some real damage if it reaches the right ears. I’m convinced the whole thing is a form of blackmail. The Mimuras want money, a great deal of it, and I refuse to pay them for tormenting the child.’

Seimei refilled his teacup and pursed his lips. ‘I wish Tora were here. He would find a way to snatch the child and bring him here.’

Akitada pointed out that this was what had got him in trouble in the first place.

‘Your lady would be so pleased to have a child in the house again,’ Seimei said wistfully.

That seemed doubtful. Akitada recalled Tamako’s shock when he had proposed adopting the child. No doubt she had felt obliged to acquiesce. They all tried to appease his moods and only managed to irritate him even more. But in any case, Tora was gone, perhaps for good. He asked, ‘Have you ever heard Tora mention a woman called Hanae?’

‘Hanae? I don’t think so, but I may not have listened. Tora is always talking about girls.’

‘Exactly. And the wrong kind, the kind that gets a man into trouble. Why can’t he find a well-brought-up young woman?’

‘It’s a mystery. I’ve tried my best with him. Our Oyuki would have been much more suitable than the loose women in the quarter. But that’s where he spends all his time lately. As they say, the barley at the neighbor’s tastes better to him than the rice at home.’ Seimei expressed his disapproval of Tora’s lifestyle more often, and more sententiously, than anyone else, but now he regarded Akitada very pointedly, as if the proverb had a more personal application.

The list of Tora’s shortcomings would this time – Akitada strongly suspected – be followed by a lecture on his own neglect of Tamako, including a reminder that it was high time he produced more children of his own instead of running around stealing those of other, most unsuitable, people. When Seimei cleared his throat, Akitada said quickly, ‘My arm feels a little better, but I’m very tired. I’ll try to get some sleep. Wake me when Tamako returns. Or Tora, of course.’

Foiled, Seimei left, and Akitada stretched out and tried to rest. Seimei had stirred up unpleasant thoughts. They all considered him remiss in his responsibilities. He had not visited his wife’s room since their quarrel early in the year. He had neglected the accounts, which had shown poor returns from their farms, and then had left nearly all of his funds in the hands of Judge Nakano. It was not likely that he would get anything back. No doubt, Nakano would bestow most of the gold on the Mimuras and keep the rest for ‘expenses’.

As he lay on his back with his eyes on the ceiling, Akitada added another dereliction of duty to the list. Telltale black water stains had appeared on the wooden boards. The roof they lived under was probably close to falling down on top of them.

With a sigh, he got up again and unlocked the iron-bound chest that stood against one wall. As expected, only three gold bars and a little silver remained: hardly enough to begin large building projects. But he could at least see what needed to be done. He changed into his old robe and began an inspection tour.

Some time later, he had found enough urgent repairs to require double the money he had. Over the main hall, where guests were entertained and the family and friends gathered for celebrations, the cedar-bark shingles needed replacing. In summer the rains would finish the damage, and in winter the snow would melt and make its devious way into the house. Damaged railings, loose boards, and broken shutters were everywhere. In one gallery, the rain had come through and rotted out the flooring.

Akitada put off visiting Tamako’s room until last, and then he knocked to make sure it was empty. It was. His wife had taken her maid on her visit to Akiko. He wondered what they were talking about – no doubt how difficult Akitada had become to live with.

He found more water damage. And when he raised the woven reed blinds to let more light in, the entire contraption fell with a loud crash and a cloud of dust. He muttered to himself. This sort of thing was dangerous. On closer inspection, the blind was not worth remounting; the reed strands were so dry and brittle, they had disintegrated when they fell. He wondered how Tamako had managed to use it.

Angry at himself and his family for not keeping an eye on things until it was too late, he kicked the blind aside and strode out on to the veranda to inspect the outside of the pavilion. The boards sagged alarmingly. Such repairs should have been done by Tora and Genba. He growled and looked up at the eaves. At that moment, the board he stood on decided to give way, and he plunged downward, ending up in a splintered hole.

He cursed at length.

A swallow had built a nest on one of the eave brackets. Swallows’ nests were a good omen, but this nest was empty and long since abandoned by the bird family. He was still staring upward, bemused by this new symbol of the decline of his fortunes, when Tamako appeared in the doorway.

Her eyes widened when she saw her husband, oddly foreshortened by his fall. ‘Are you hurt?’ she cried.

Akitada’s injured arm hurt because he had used it to break his fall, and one of his ankles had been jarred. But mostly he felt ridiculous. He snapped, ‘No.’

Tamako raised a hand to her mouth and giggled.

He scowled and made an attempt to extricate himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘If I had known that you were coming to my room, I would have warned you.’

An implied criticism? He was hampered by having the use of only one arm, but managed to boost himself up enough so he could get a knee on the veranda. Tamako extended a hand to him. He looked at it doubtfully for a moment, then took it with his left hand and got both feet on the veranda. She smiled.

‘I was inspecting the house,’ he explained.

‘You looked very funny.’

He glowered. ‘No doubt. Why haven’t you brought the condition of your quarters to my attention?’

Her smile faded. ‘You’ve been working very hard lately. I mentioned the veranda to Genba, but he has his hands full with the horses and other daily chores.’

‘And Tora is never around any more,’ he added bitterly.

‘Are you sure you aren’t hurt? You’re holding your elbow.’

Akitada had been cradling his throbbing arm and now dropped it quickly. ‘It’s nothing. I had a run-in with some constables in Otsu.’

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Constables? You?’

‘Yes. They took the boy from me. It seems the people who claim to be his parents accused me of stealing him for improper purposes.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Improper? But how … ‘I They claim to be his parents? You mean you could not prove your own rights?’

‘What rights? I don’t suppose I have any, except common humanity. The child was in a pitiful state each time I saw him. Oh, Tamako, if you had been there, it would have broken your heart.’

‘I don’t understand. This was not … you had no claim on him?’

‘Of course not. Except—’ He had almost said, ‘Except that I love him.’ He choked on the words and turned away. Stepping to the edge of the veranda, he looked into the garden. His eye fell on the brown stump that had been the wisteria vine, and he shuddered. Tamako’s silk gown rustled softly, and he felt her hand on his arm.

‘Akitada?’

Unintended tears rose to his eyes. He did not want her to see him like this: broken, hopeless, and useless to her and to himself.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said harshly. ‘It was my fault. All of it.’ He glared at the dead vine. ‘Everything I touch dies. My own son died because of my neglect, and when I tried to help another child, I just made matters worse.’

‘You mustn’t say that. You mustn’t think it. None of it is your fault.’

He turned to her. ‘What?’ he asked bitterly. ‘Not even Yori’s death? Have you changed your mind about that?’ He saw her eyes filling with tears also. She started to speak, but so many bitter words had passed between them, followed by dreadful silences filled with unspoken recriminations, that he had a sudden horror they were about to begin the entire searing process again. ‘Tamako,’ he said, ‘I am so tired. I don’t want to quarrel again. Please don’t remind me of Yori. I don’t think I can bear it.’