Текст книги "Rashomon Gate "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Akitada almost burst into laughter. "Stop shouting," he said. "You checked the building yourself. No one can hear you."

Okura gave him a frantic look and rushed for the door to the veranda. It was closed, and he lost precious time scrabbling at the handle. Akitada caught up with him and put a hand on his shoulder. But he had underestimated his adversary once again. Okura turned, his teeth bared like a cornered rat, and pulled a knife from his sash. He slashed viciously at Akitada's face. Akitada jumped back and retreated a few steps.

Okura was trembling with rage or fear. For a moment it looked as though he would attack. Then he slipped away along the wall. What followed was another frustrating chase. Akitada could not get close enough to disarm Okura, who was small but surprisingly agile and dashed from corner to corner and finally out into the dark hall, with Akitada on his heels.

Okura's dimly seen form disappeared into the shadows. Akitada rushed after, a foolish mistake that almost cost him his life. He could not see Okura against the solid blackness, but Okura could see him, his figure perfectly outlined from behind by the light from his room. One moment he was groping along the wall, the next something hissed past his right ear and hit his shoulder. He flung himself forward, reaching for Okura, but caught only a piece of silk which tore noisily while he overbalanced and fell, hitting the floor with his chin so hard that he momentarily blacked out. When the pain receded enough for him to roll out of the way of his attacker, he wondered why the knife was not in his back. Crouching in the darkness, he listened. Silence. Then a soft rustle moving away from him. He rose and followed as quietly as possible. For many long minutes they both groped around in the darkness, pausing to listen, then moving again, until there was a thud and a cry of pain. Okura had collided with a pillar. He panicked and, much to Akitada's relief, ran back into the lighted room.

When he followed, Okura lost control completely. He was swinging his knife wildly and screamed, "Get away from me or I'll kill you!"

Akitada quickly moved around him to block his escape via the veranda, keeping his eye on the madly slashing blade, wishing he had some weapon to defend himself or that Okura would lose courage again and give Akitada an opening to disarm him. But this time Okura attacked, his eyes murderous. Akitada raised an arm to protect his face and crouched to go for Okura's middle.

At that moment the door behind him opened abruptly, propelling him forward. He fell to his hands and knees, someone or something kicked him, there was a rush of footsteps, the sound of a blow, and then Okura started shrieking.

When Akitada staggered to his feet, he saw Tora. He had Okura by the scruff of the neck and shook him like a kitten until the knife fell from his fingers. Then Tora pushed him so sharply that he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Snatching up the knife and holding the blade under Okura's nose, Tora snarled, "Sit still and shut up! I'd just as soon kill you as put up with your wailing."

The dapper little man choked back a howl, opened his eyes wide, spat out a broken tooth and some blood, and burst into tears.

"What are you doing here?" asked Akitada, looking from Tora to Hitomaro and Genba who had hovered outside but now joined them, looking pleased.

Tora grinned. "Your lady sent us. She was nervous about you. When we saw you had company, we hid under the veranda, just in case."

"Tamako sent you?" asked Akitada in disbelief.

Tora nodded.

Akitada digested this. A new thought struck him. "Did you hear what we said?"

"Yes," Tora said. "Nasty little monster, isn't he?" He gave Okura a kick which produced another bout of wailing. "We figured you could handle him until we heard all the rushing about and screaming."

Akitada flushed. Not only had Tamako thought it necessary to send reinforcements, but they had witnessed how Okura had got the advantage of him. But perhaps their account of the conversation would convince Kobe to lock Okura up. And the harsh treatment meted out to prisoners might encourage Okura to admit his guilt.

It had been a long day and suddenly Akitada was bone-tired.

"Take him to police headquarters," Akitada told Tora. "Tell Kobe what happened, and that I hope he will charge Okura with the murders of Oe and Hirata."

"Right!" grinned Tora, eyeing the sobbing Okura with satisfaction.

"No!" Okura raised both hands to Tora pleadingly. "If you let me go, I'll give you gold, lots of gold, more than you have ever dreamed of." He started fumbling in his sash, but Genba jumped forward and jerked both of his arms behind him where Hitomaro tied them with rope. Okura let himself go limp and burst into tears again.

Hitomaro had a quick whispered conversation with Tora, who asked Akitada, "How about coming along and sharing a pitcher of wine to celebrate after we get rid of him?"

Akitada stretched. He felt stiff with fatigue. They were kind to offer, but he had better things to do. Shaking his head with a smile, he said unwisely, "Thanks, but no. At the moment I am only thinking of bed."

Tora snorted, and Genba and Hitomaro turned their heads to study the sky. As if on command, a bright streak of lightning hung for a moment over the black trees and distant roofs, casting its white light over the whole room. It was followed quickly by a sharp crack of thunder.

Tora shook his head. "It's getting close. I can manage the prisoner by myself. Genba and Hitomaro will walk back with you, sir."

Akitada said quickly, "No. I don't trust Okura. All three of you go with him. And, Tora, remember to give my message to Kobe."

The men exchanged glances. Then Hitomaro said, "Genba and I cannot accompany Tora to the police."

Akitada stared at Hitomaro without comprehension. Outside the first heavy drops were striking the boards of the veranda. Then he understood and snapped, "I see your usefulness is limited to areas which are remote from the sharp eyes of the police. Go with Tora as far as possible and make certain that he and his prisoner get safely within the walls of police headquarters. Then wait for him and return home together."

Hitomaro's face had reddened. "As you wish, sir," he said dully.

"All right, let's go!"Tora urged.

But Hitomaro still hesitated. "Could I not come with you, sir? The streets are not safe at this hour."

"No!" Exhausted and irritated, Akitada made no effort to keep the anger out of his voice. "Do as you are told or you are both dismissed."

They trouped out the door, leaving him behind in the empty room, where the oil lamp still flickered on his desk, casting its uncertain light on student papers. Ashamed about his outburst, Akitada went to finish the paper Okura had interrupted. But he had lost his concentration and Tamako awaited him. Putting away his writing utensils, he used the flame from the oil lamp to light a lantern and set off for home.

The moment he stepped outside and locked the door, he became aware of a change in the atmosphere. The temperature had dropped, and a wet gust of wind tore at the skirts of his robe and knocked the lantern against the wall. Overhead the black clouds roiled as lightning flashed between and behind them. Thunder roared and grumbled almost continuously.

He ran quickly down the steps and into the courtyard. There another blast of wind threw wet sand into his face and blew off his hat. He caught it by the silk cord, winced as it bit into his barely healed skin, untied it and tucked the hat into his sleeve. Steadying his lantern with both hands, he bent forward into the wind.

He passed with long strides through the deserted university grounds, thinking of his bungled efforts at bringing three killers to justice. Although he had solved the cases and laid the ghosts of self-reproach about Hirata to rest, he could not be certain that Okura would be charged. He had even less assurance that Sakanoue would be confronted with his crime and punished. Only Kurata had been apprehended and would be convicted, and that was due more to Tora's efforts than his own.

Well, tomorrow he would return to his job at the ministry and this time he would make every effort to excel at his work. He would be taking a wife and could not afford any longer to chafe at the long, dusty hours among the documents or avoid unpleasant meetings with his superiors. Sato and his wife had made far greater sacrifices for each other and their family. Such patience was more admirable than any heroics he might have dreamed of in his younger years. It spoke of devotion more loudly than any of the love songs recited at the poetry contest. And patience was a small price to pay for the delight he had found in Tamako.

Cheered by blissful thoughts of their future together, Akitada crossed Second Avenue and headed east along the high earthen wall of the government enclosure. Lightning cast the long wall, the buildings and the wind-tossed trees into a momentary blue brilliance. He skirted a fallen branch. Because of the late hour and the storm, he walked alone on this normally busy thoroughfare. The smell of rain was heavy in the air and large drops stung his face, along with small bits of gravel and windblown leaves, but at least the clouds had not yet opened up and released their torrents of water. With any luck, he might reach home in time.

At the corner of the palace grounds he turned north onto Omiya, and a sharp gust caught his lantern, flung it up and extinguished the light. No matter. Another five blocks would bring him to his own gate. And to Tamako. He warmed to the memory of her, imagined hearing her soft voice, smelling her subtle fragrance, touching her skin. She was as soft as silk under his hands. Her hair, long, smooth silken tresses against his palm . . . her thin robe, silk warmed by her flesh, shifting and trembling under his caressing fingers . . . her skin, softer than silk . . . softer, warmer and more alive than anything he had ever touched before.

He came back to reality reluctantly.

At first he was dimly aware of a sharp hissing sound somewhere on the palace wall, then of a violent rustling in the branches above his head. Thinking of the storm, Akitada glanced up. From the darkness of the leaves and branches of the tree an even denser darkness separated and hurtled towards him. Too late he tried to twist aside. A sharp pain seared through his head and shoulder as a crushing weight pushed him forward. He struck the ground, felt gravel bite sharply into his face, and then his chest was crushed and the night turned black.

Twenty-Three

Fresh Shoots

Akitada regained consciousness in his own room. Dimly aware of discomfort, he opened his eyes on the familiar rafters of his ceiling, shadowy in lamplight. He easily deduced that it was nighttime and that he was stretched out on his own bedding, a fact further proven by the familiar feel of the hard headrest supporting his head.

Someone was talking softly.

He turned his head and immediately felt a sharp stab of pain run from his head to his shoulder. To his astonishment his small room seemed full of people. They sat around the oil lamp, their backs toward him, except for Seimei, who faced in his direction. It was he who was doing most of the talking while rummaging in his medicine case, holding up from time to time a jar or package to show to one of the others. Belatedly Akitada put names to the broad-shouldered backs: Genba, Hitomaro and Tora. Genba was the one who carried on the conversation with Seimei. The other two watched but said nothing.

Akitada croaked, cleared his throat, and tried again. "What are you doing?"

Immediately four anxious faces turned his way. Seimei and Tora got up to sit beside him.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Seimei asked, peering sympathetically down at him.

Akitada frowned and checked how he felt. His legs and arms seemed to behave normally. The skin on his face felt sore and tight, and his neck and shoulder still pained him at the slightest move. However, that discomfort was minor compared to the fact that his whole torso appeared to be paralyzed. He could not move his spine, and breathing was restricted and painful.

"I cannot move. What happened?" he asked, as a hazy memory joined panic. "Something fell on me, I think."

Tora answered. "You were attacked on the way home. By paid assassins, two of them, with knives."

"I have been stabbed?"

Seimei said, "No, no. Nothing like that. Hitomaro here got to you just in time. You only suffered a few cracked ribs when one of the brutes jumped on you out of the tree."

Akitada thought about his ribs and touched them gingerly. He felt absolutely nothing. "An overly optimistic diagnosis, old friend," he said grimly, panic tightening like a vise about his heart. "I'm afraid I am paralyzed."

To Akitada's hurt surprise, Seimei turned to grin at Genba who grinned back, then rose and joined them. He poked an exploratory forefinger into various places on Akitada's upper body. There was still no sensation. Akitada closed his eyes to hide his terror.

"I had to wrap your rib cage very tightly to keep the bones in place," boomed Genba's voice into his ears. "They should heal just fine, provided you avoid too much movement."

The relief was overwhelming. Akitada said weakly, "Oh!" and opened his eyes again. He thought. There had been something else he needed to ask. "But how did I get here? And what is this about Hitomaro?" He craned his neck, risking another jolt of pain, to look for the burly swordsman.

Tora told him, "It was a lucky thing Hitomaro did not trust that snake Okura and went back to follow you. Come over here, Hito, and tell him what you did."

Hitomaro crept up reluctantly. "I'm sorry I disobeyed you, sir," he muttered, his eyes lowered, "but glad I could be of service."

"What happened?"

"I caught up with you on Omiya Avenue, between the corner and the first palace gate where the paulownia trees hang over the walls of the palace. They were lying in wait for you, one in the tree above you, the other on the wall. When the first one dropped down on you, the other jumped from the wall with a knife. Only by then I was there and made short work of them."

Tora cried, "Beautiful work, brother! Couldn't have done better myself."

"Heavens," said Akitada weakly. "You saved my life. Who were they?"

Hitomaro hung his head even lower. "I'm afraid I had to kill them, sir. There was so little time. But I'm sure Okura was behind this. It occurred to me that if a man promises such rewards, he doesn't expect to be called to account." He gave Akitada an earnest look and added, "If the dead thugs cause any problems for you, sir, I am prepared to turn myself in."

Akitada could guess what such a promise would mean to him. "Nonsense!" he said. "I won't allow it. It seems I owe you an apology. I am sorry for the way I treated you. What happened to the bodies?"

"I had to leave them there and carry you back."

"If they are known criminals, chances are we won't hear any more about it. However, I am deeply indebted to you, my friend, especially since you tried to warn me. Facing two armed assassins single handedly was a very brave thing to do."

Hitomaro grinned. "Not at all, sir. They were not trained fighters, and I had my sword."

Akitada said, "You seem to have a remarkable understanding of human nature, Hitomaro. You were quite right to warn me, and I was careless. It was highly unlikely that Okura would let me live, let alone pay off so handsomely. I owe you my life and must find a way to repay you. We have very little money, but perhaps there is some other service I can do for you. Feel free to ask for anything that may be of use to you."

Hitomaro shook his head, but he exchanged a glance with Genba.

"Come," said Akitada, "I see there is something. What is it?"

Hitomaro said shyly, "You owe me nothing, sir. I was in your service at the time. But if it would make you feel better, Genba and I have been very happy here. We would be grateful if you allowed us to serve you in the future."

Fleetingly Akitada thought of the family finances. Well, he must find a way somehow. "Of course. But I cannot pay either of you what you deserve."

Genba cried, "We want no pay. You see, sir, you're not getting a bargain. We have both committed crimes."

Akitada winced and closed his eyes. "Not murder?" he asked weakly.

"Murder," they said in unison.

"But they had no choice," cried Tora.

"Really, sir," remarked Seimei, "if you heard their stories, you might understand. Remember, though a man wear rags, his heart may be brocade. And even Master Confucius had his troubles."

Akitada grimaced. "I see it's a conspiracy. Very well. Tell me about it."

Genba said, "Thank you, sir," bowing deeply. "My complete name is Ishida Genba. I am a wrestling master by profession, just as my father before me. Our school was in Nagato province, and one day the governor watched one of our exhibition bouts and promptly sent his oldest son to me for instruction. The boy was a weakling and resented me bitterly. We quarreled and he tried every way to blacken my name. One day he threatened to tell his father a particularly nasty lie about me. During the subsequent lesson we engaged in a practice bout. There was an accident and he broke his neck." Genba heaved a deep sigh and shook his head.

Akitada looked at him with sympathy. "Accidents will happen in your profession," he said. "If you give me your word that you did not intend to kill the boy, I am satisfied."

Genba looked at him bleakly. "Of course I did not intend to kill him. That would have been dishonorable and made me unfit to teach the sport. He insisted on trying out a dangerous move because he was angry. I had my arm around his neck when he suddenly flipped backwards. His neck snapped. But that is not the death I meant. I was arrested and killed two men in jail."

"What?"

"The night before my trial the governor sent two guards to my cell to strangle me. I killed them both and escaped."

Akitada was silent with shock for a moment. He did not doubt for a moment that the governor had meant to take revenge for his son's death. Genba would certainly have been cleared of the charge of murder. He said, "I am sorry for your misfortune. You have already paid a heavy price for what was apparently due to a spoiled boy's carelessness. I am inclined to give you the chance to prove your innocence by your future actions, but what if someone recognizes you?"

"Nagato is far from here, sir, and since I left, the governor has died. Besides I'm greatly changed in appearance."

"Very well then."

Tora and Seimei burst into relieved laughter and slapped Genba on the back. The wrestler bowed deeply and thanked Akitada with tears in his eyes.

Akitada looked at Hitomaro.

"I cannot claim either accident or self-defense, sir," the burly man said bluntly. "I meant to kill the man and went after him knowing that he was no match for my sword."

Akitada raised his brows. "A drunken brawl?"

"No. I was cold sober. And I would do it again." He met Akitada's astonishment with fierce determination.

"You are brutally honest," Akitada said. "Surely there were some extenuating facts. Were you very young?"

When Hitomaro shook his head, Tora urged, "Tell him the reason."

Hitomaro heaved a deep breath. "I have no intention of ever using it again," he said, "but my family name was Takahashi. My people are from Izumo province."

Akitada was startled. He had heard of the Takahashis. They were an old, respected military family who had come down in the world.

"Ten years ago my father, my grandparents, and all my brothers and sisters died in a smallpox epidemic. That left only my mother and myself. I took a wife to carry on the family name." Hitomaro lowered his head and stared down at his clenched fists. "My wife Michiko was very young," he murmured. "She was also very beautiful, and I . . ."He bit his lips. "The son of a neighbor, a powerful family with many manors and hundreds of retainers, saw Michiko and made advances. She told me about it, and I went to warn him off. He was a haughty sort of man and there were words. No, I did not lay a hand on him then. That came later."

Again he paused to stare at his hands. His face worked as if he had to force the rest of the story out by sheer willpower. "I had to leave home for a few days on business. When I came back, my mother greeted me with the news that my wife had hanged herself. She had been only seventeen and expected our first child. Michiko left me a letter explaining that our neighbor had raped her, and she could not live with the shame she had brought to our family."

The room had become very still. Hitomaro's eyes left his hands and wandered to the ceiling.

"That's when I went and killed him," he said calmly. "My mother and I had to flee after that. She died the following winter in the mountains from cold and lack of comfort." Looking at Akitada, he said bitterly, "I have nothing left to live for. A man in my position, whose only skill is in his sword, is always prone to being used for other men's violent purposes. It is for that reason that I wish to serve you rather than selling my fighting skills to the highest bidder."

Overcome with emotion, Akitada could not speak right away. A look of disappointment settled in Hitomaro's face, and he said, "Well, never mind! I know I'm too much of a liability."

Akitada said quickly, "On the contrary. I am honored by your confidence. Forgive me for not speaking right away. Your story has touched me profoundly. I, too, have a wife now."

Hitomaro smiled and nodded his understanding.

"I do not blame you for your actions," said Akitada, "but there is the problem of your rank. It puts you above the status of a hired man. If it pleases you, I should be honored if you were to remain with us as our guest."

"No." Hitomaro got up. "I have neither rank nor family name. I shall serve you like Genba and Tora, or not at all."

Akitada met the fierce eyes and nodded. "As you wish."

Another round of backslapping ensued. Tora cried, "See, brothers! I told you my master is a fair man!"

"Thank you, Tora," said Akitada. "But now I wish to sleep. I shall see you all in the morning."

Tora and the two new retainers left quickly, but Seimei made no move to follow, busying himself instead with his medicine box.

"Leave it till morning," Akitada called out impatiently.

"But I cannot leave you alone, sir. You might need something."

"I need nothing but sleep. Go!"

Seimei looked mutinous, but seeing his master's expression, he obeyed.

As soon as his steps had receded outside, Akitada began the complicated business of getting up. It took several minutes and he was drenched in perspiration when he finally stood on his feet. Another minute was required to pick up a cotton gown to cover his bandaged nakedness and then he pushed the screen door open to the veranda.

The storm was long past, but it had left the garden rain-drenched. Above, the night skies had cleared. Stars blinked and a nearly full moon turned the garden into a glistening image of silver-inlaid black lacquer. Akitada walked softly on bare feet through the moisture-laden, rose-scented night to Tamako's room.

Akitada did not leave his house for a week due to setbacks in the healing of his broken ribs. Genba expressed surprise that he had to repeat the wrapping process several times. Akitada, gritting his teeth against the pain, muttered, "I'm afraid I'm a very restless sleeper."

During his convalescence, a number of events took place. Bishop Sesshin made a brief visit to inquire into Akitada's state of health and to take young Lord Minamoto back to the family mansion. Sesshin told Akitada that he had appointed two legal scholars to fill the positions of Hirata and Akitada, and that Fujiwara had been given Oe's rank as eminent Chinese scholar. Sato had received special permission to accept private students, and his wife had already performed at two noble houses and was becoming quite popular.

Next Kobe stopped by to report that Kurata's trial was over and he had been condemned to hard labor on the island of Tsukushi. "Draining swamps," said Kobe with great satisfaction. "I doubt he'll survive the year."

"What about Okura?" asked Akitada.

Another grimace. "The bastard keeps petitioning the court. No telling when we'll get a trial."

The third event was the most private and most important. Tamako became officially Akitada's wife and the junior Lady Sugawara. This brought with it a surprise for Akitada. When he went to his mother to inform her of the event and to request the preparation of the special rice cakes, customarily presented to the newlywed couple on the morning of their third night together, she caused him a moment of acute embarrassment by pointing to an elegant footed lacquer tray which was covered with a square of precious embroidered silk.

"They have been ready since last night," she said, smiling a little at his discomfiture. "I had it on good authority that your injuries did not stop you from doing your duty. It was most gratifying news."

Lady Sugawara's approval of the marriage was not entirely unexpected. Akitada had discovered that Tamako seemed to have a special touch when it came to handling his mother. In fact, every day he spent with his new wife brought a new wonder to him, who had never been close to anyone before. Tamako was an indispensable companion in his convalescence, and he fell imperceptibly into the habit of sharing even his innermost feelings and thoughts with her.

But this blissful time, of course, could not last forever. Akitada had to return to his work at the ministry. The rainy season had started with the storm of the night of his attack. It was on a particularly drizzly morning in a series of wet days, that Akitada told Seimei to lay out his official robe and hat. He and Tamako had spent the previous evening looking out at the lush wet growth in the garden as he told her of his intention to face the minister the following day. He had been frank about their precarious financial condition, his past difficulties with his superiors and slim chances for promotion, and of his own impatience with the dull paperwork. As always she had been supportive and reassuring. This morning he was in a much better frame of mind and approached the inevitable with resolution.

Ironically, a series of unforeseen events almost immediately began to change his plans.

First Kobe arrived, his official robe rain-spattered and his face full of barely contained excitement.

"You'll never guess what happened!" he cried, sitting down on a cushion and accepting a cup of tea from Seimei. He took a big mouthful, immediately gagged, and spit it back into the cup. "Are you trying to poison me?" he roared. "What is that nasty bitter stuff?"

"Tea," said Akitada.

"Phew! Don't you have wine?"

Seimei muttered something about tea being good for the belly in such wet weather, but went to fetch some wine.

"Well, what happened?" asked Akitada.

"Okura hanged himself. The guard found him this morning."

"I thought he had hopes of support from his powerful friends."

"Hah! He had visitors yesterday. They didn't give their names, but you could tell their rank by their cap colors. One third rank and two fourths. He knew them all right. I don't know what was said– they made me stay outside– but their faces were the grimmest I've ever seen. Okura was limp as a rag after they left. By the way, do you wish to press charges against Ishikawa?"

"Good heavens! Are you still holding him?"

Kobe grinned and emptied his cup of wine. "Of course. Jail has improved his manners greatly."

Akitada smiled also. "Good. Let him go now. He has been punished enough by losing any chance for a degree. Fortunately he is bright. He can get a living as a provincial teacher. They need good ones."

Kobe nodded. "As long as I don't have to see the insolent puppy again. Well, I'll be on my way then. "They both rose. Kobe bowed, saying, "I suppose you will return to your former duties soon and trust they will be less exciting than your recent activities."

"Thank you, Captain." Akitada suppressed a sigh at the thought, though it had probably only been a hint to stay out of Kobe's business in the future.

He watched Kobe walk away through the drizzle, thinking about those hated duties in the archives of the ministry.

Then he squared his shoulders and returned to his room to set up the mirror and put on his formal hat. At that moment, Seimei stuck in his head. "Good, you are dressed. Come to the main hall. His Reverence, Bishop Sesshin, and young Lord Minamoto have called."

Seimei certainly knew his protocol for formal visits by high-ranking individuals. Wondering what had brought both of them out on such a wet day, Akitada rushed across via the covered gallery, noting with irritation that the roof had sprung more leaks. Skirting the puddles, he stepped into the main hall of his house.

Sesshin and the boy were seated on brocade cushions, somewhat faded and threadbare, but passable in the gray light of the rainy day. His guests were quite dry and unexpectedly resplendent in their silk gowns. Akitada bowed, still painfully, though Genba had only that morning loosened the bandages for the first time.

Sesshin said immediately, "Please do not strain yourself, my dear fellow! How are you coming along?"

"Much better, thank you." Akitada seated himself gingerly on the third cushion, while Seimei poured tea and served sweet rice cakes. When his guests had helped themselves and Seimei had withdrawn again, Akitada said, "Actually, you see me in my formal robe for the first time today. It is time to return to my duties at the ministry."

"Oh," cried young Minamoto, "but surely you must take a longer rest, sir. It has only been a few days."

"Ahem!" The bishop gave the youngster an admonishing glance, then said, "My young charge is overeager to speak his mind, but I think there cannot be much harm in a brief delay. I trust you will take at least another day to consider your future." He regarded Akitada benevolently, his broadly smiling face and round shape disconcertingly reminiscent of the fat, jolly god of happiness. "In fact," he said, "one of the reasons we came today is to extend our best wishes to you and your new lady."