The man gave him a look. ‘No. Of course not. Black with anger. He looked like the god of thunder or… well, like Fudo. You do know who Fudo is?’
Tora nodded. Fudo was one of the heavenly generals. He was always depicted as snarling ferociously. ‘So what do you think made him so angry?’
But the man did not know.
Down the street, Tora saw a tall female who looked like a fortune-teller. She was coming slowly in their direction. He nodded towards her and asked, ‘Is she a regular?’
The dumpling man looked. ‘She comes and goes. I don’t know what she’s up to. She walks right in and out through the gate.’ He shuddered. ‘With that look on her face, she must frighten customers away.’
Tora watched her with interest. She was tall, and both her expression and appearance were off-putting. Her clothes were made of rough white hemp, and her shawl was a deep red. Thick strands of beads and amulets hung about her neck and decorated her arms and the ankles above her bare feet. And her hair was a wild and tangled mane. But Tora looked beyond the scowl and saw that she was young and beautiful.
He grinned. ‘Why would a man be scared by a beauty like that?’
The dumpling man eyed him slyly. ‘Why don’t you go talk to her?’
Tora went to meet the fortune-teller at the open gates. She was going to enter, but Tora stepped in her path, flashing his wide smile. Few women could resist him when he smiled, but this one stopped and stared back with a face like stone.
What a beauty, he thought, even with that wild hair and those angry eyes. A man could lose himself in both. She was like some wild thing, and he itched to tame her. Not that he was being disloyal to his Hanae, but no real man could resist dreaming a little with such a challenge.
‘Greetings, my pretty little sister,’ he said, making her a bow. ‘I could use a good fortune told by a beautiful woman. How much will you charge me?’
She gave a shudder. ‘I’m not your sister. Go away.’
She had a striking voice, deep, almost masculine, but this was not the way to do business. Tora’s eyes narrowed, searching her face and body. Could it be a man in woman’s garb and a wig? He was not easily fooled in sexual matters, but her robe was full and he could not make out the shape of breasts under those thick strands of beads. Her hands were somewhat large but slender enough for a woman. And the face was smooth, but some men had little or no beard.
‘Are you deaf?’ the fortune-teller asked, raising her voice. ‘Scram! I have no time for lazy louts.’
Tora had no time for males in women’s clothing, but the problem was an interesting one. If this was a man, what was he doing here, dressed as a woman, and going to the Kiyowara mansion? And if a woman, why did she turn custom away?
He was about to follow up on the mystery when voices and hoof beats sounded inside the compound. Then a young rider on a very fine dapple-gray horse rode out of the gate. They both stepped out of the way.
Tora sucked in a breath. The horse was magnificent, tail flicking, ears perked, and red tassels swinging at every step. He loved fine horses, and this one was superb. Its rider was also easy on the eye: a slender youth dressed in a fine dark-green silk robe over full white trousers tucked into embroidered black boots. He sat the animal well and had a very handsome face.
He stopped before the fortune-teller, who bowed. ‘Mother asked for you,’ he said, then he spurred his fine horse and rode away. The fortune-teller watched his receding back for a moment, then walked through the gate.
Tora decided she was a female. She was tall for a woman and moved with great economy, walking erect and with a firm step, but her gait was a woman’s. What a creature! His face grew hot at the thought of bedding her.
Mildly ashamed, he rejoined the dumpling man, who said, ‘That was the young lord I told you about. Did he tell her to go in? I wonder what they want with her.’
Tora decided to share the information. You never knew when the dumpling man, so conveniently positioned, would become useful again. ‘Her Ladyship sent for her, it seems.’
The dumpling man shook his head in wonder. ‘Who needs a medium after a death?’
‘You got me there,’ Tora said. ‘The world’s full of strange things.’
He bought another dumpling – for Hanae because he felt guilty – and they parted on friendly terms.
As he was walking homeward, he pondered something even stranger than the beautiful fortune-teller. The young Lord Kiyowara had looked a lot like the boy in the market.
FOREBODINGS
As if things were not bad enough for the Sugawara household, Tamako’s condition suddenly took a dramatic turn the next day. She had spent a restless night and refused food in the morning. She complained of feeling feverish again. Akitada went out early to buy some things in the market, hoping to tempt her with oranges, sweet plums, mushrooms, chestnuts, a fresh bream from nearby Lake Biwa. He paid a boy to carry his purchases home and called on Kobe to find out how the investigation was going.
Since Kobe was out, Akitada returned home – to hear a monk chanting. Monks were generally called only if someone was seriously ill or near death. Akitada rushed into the house and burst into his study, where Seimei was bent over paperwork.
‘What’s wrong?’ he gasped.
Seimei looked up. ‘Nothing. When the pains started, Her Ladyship thought it was time. She sent for the doctor, but the pains subsided again. The doctor left a draught for her fever.’ Seimei shook his head. ‘Some unusual concoction. I could not find anything about it in my herbals. I hope the man knows what he is doing.’
Fear had drenched Akitada in cold perspiration. He loosened his collar. ‘But how is she now? Never mind. I’ll go see for myself.’ He turned on his heel and dashed off, bursting into Tamako’s room without announcing himself. His wife was resting on her bedding with a picture scroll open beside her. The monk’s chanting was so loud that he must be sitting outside her lowered shades. ‘I heard you were unwell,’ Akitada shouted. He was relieved that all seemed normal, but was becoming angry with himself for his unwarranted panic.
Tamako rolled up the picture scroll. ‘It was nothing. I was a little feverish, and there were some pains, but they stopped. I’m very sorry to disappoint you.’
Weak with relief, Akitada sat down abruptly and brushed the film of moisture from his face. ‘I was afraid,’ he said. ‘The chanting and the doctor… I suppose I… I keep remembering last year.’ He heaved a deep breath to steady himself. ‘Never mind. All is well? The pains are gone? You’re feeling quite… all right?’
She smiled a little and nodded. ‘Poor Akitada. This is harder for you than for me. Be patient. The child will be born, and the gods will protect it.’
They had to raise their voices.
‘Yes… but must we have the monk? It’s impossible to talk with that howling going on.’ He glared at the shades.
She hesitated. ‘They won’t like it if we send him back so quickly.’
He recalled that it was customary to have the sutras chanted to protect mother and child during birth, but they had not done so in Echigo when Yori was born because the heavy snows had prevented it. Akitada had experienced chanting only for the deaths that had occurred in his family. He shuddered. ‘If it makes you feel better, let him stay,’ he decided.
She reached for his hand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Let him go. He makes me nervous, too.’
Back in his study, Seimei waited with his house robe.
‘How much is in the money box?’ Akitada asked, taking off his robe and untying his full silk trousers.
‘Apart from Tora’s gold, fifteen pieces of gold, about thirty of silver, and twenty strings of copper cash.’
So little.
‘Tell the monk he’s not needed quite yet and give him what you think is adequate for his work.’
‘Very well. But perhaps we should speak to a yin-yang master, sir. To cast the child’s fortune and to perform proper purification rites.’
