A sob and a soft, ‘No.’
So the man who was responsible for his present condition still lived and was probably better off. Akitada felt resentful. The fool! No one would bother checking this building until other emergencies and damage to the main house had been taken care of. He took in more air and choked again. The blood pounded in his temples. It was not likely that he could last that long.
‘She was so beautiful.’ Sadanori’s voice sounded dreamy.
‘What?’ Akitada was not sure he had heard correctly.
‘Peony. She was mine. My wife to be. Did you know that I planned this place for her? We were to live here together. She left me before I could finish it.’
Akitada closed his eyes. He no longer cared to hear the dreary love confessions of a man who could have bought any woman he wanted.
‘Masuda came like a thief and took her from me. Who would allow such a thing?’
Against his better intentions, Akitada asked, ‘What did you do?’
‘Clever Ishikawa found her in Otsu. She would not come back.’
‘She died a pauper.’
Sadanori sobbed. ‘I loved her. I will always love her.’
‘Did you tell Ishikawa to kill them both?’
Silence. Then softly, ‘No, oh no. I thought…’ Sadanori’s voice faded.
‘He sent his mother to poison Masuda. And he killed the doctor and Peony’s maid because they knew about it. On your instructions.’ Akitada gasped for air.
Sadanori said something very faintly, but Akitada was coughing and did not hear. ‘Are you all right?’ Akitada asked when he could speak again, surprising himself.
‘I’m dying. May Amida help me.’
Perhaps he was dying, perhaps not. Akitada felt callous about the spoiled Fujiwara lord’s fate. ‘If you had told your people where you were going,’ he said with a certain satisfaction, ‘they would be here by now.’
Sadanori did not speak again for a long time, but the periodic sound of sobbing and whimpering meant that he was still alive. Akitada used his free hand to scratch away at the dirt again. It seemed hopeless; he could no longer get his fingers under his body except just below his chin. Mercifully, there were no more shocks, and after a lot of scratching and scraping, he breathed easier. Encouraged, he worked harder.
Sadanori said suddenly, ‘I would never have allowed Ishikawa to kill Peony. He did not kill her. Masuda deserved to die. But not the others. I did not want that.’
Akitada managed to ease his left shoulder away from whatever had rested on it. His left arm was still caught, but hurt less. He ignored Sadanori and concentrated on freeing himself. After more grubbing under his body, the fingers of his right hand were bleeding. Never mind. He had certainly suffered worse in his lifetime, and Tamako was worth every effort.
Sadanori was still talking to himself. Something about stars. Perhaps he was reciting poetry. Or hallucinating. For that matter, there were some chinks and slivers of light in the murky darkness. Akitada bit down on his lip and gave his left arm a sharp jerk. Something shifted and his clothing tore and then he was blessedly free. Or rather, his upper body was free.
‘Sugawara?’
‘Hmm?’ Akitada flexed his left arm and hand. They hurt too much to be useful. With a sigh he began scratching at the dirt with his bleeding right hand again.
‘What will happen to me?’
‘I thought you said you were dying.’
‘You would like that, wouldn’t you?’
‘Well -’ Akitada decided to take another chance and used all his strength to force his hips against the weight that rested on the small of his back – ‘you took a life.’ Something gave, and he held his breath in fear that he would be crushed. But all was well. He could twist his body now. It hurt like the devil, but he managed to pull up one leg, and then the other. Sadanori said something else, and Akitada snapped, ‘Be quiet, I’m trying to get out of here.’
‘Someone will come and get us.’
‘If you’re going to live, you’ll have to stand trial.’
Sadanori clicked his tongue. ‘If you believe that, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. It’s you who’ll stand trial, and I’ll watch you. Exile is very unpleasant, I hear.’
Akitada was familiar with exile. It was the most common form of severe punishment bestowed on government officials who embarrassed their superiors and was rarely preferable to execution. His own legendary ancestor, Michizane, had died miserably in Kyushu.
He pushed himself forwards a few feet. Feeling around, he moved aside some smaller pieces of lumber, then crept around an obstruction and saw daylight ahead of him. It was like a gift from the gods, though he would have to find a way under or around a pile of broken boards and crazily tilting beams. There was no sign of help, but he felt reasonably sure now that he could eventually extricate himself.
‘I take it you’ve decided you’ll live,’ he said dryly. ‘In that case, perhaps you would not mind answering a few questions while we wait for rescue?’
There was a brief silence, then Sadanori said, ‘Since we are alone, it cannot signify.’
‘Peony gave birth to a child in Otsu. Is he your son?’
‘No. They told me she drowned the boy along with herself.’ Sadanori’s voice broke. There was a long silence marked by faint sniffs.
Akitada managed to crawl over a pile of splintered wood after slipping off his good silk robe and abandoning it. Peony’s fate still nagged at him. Had she really drowned herself? Her message to her maid could only have meant that she expected money and was no longer desperate. He called back to Sadanori, ‘Could Ishikawa have killed Peony without your knowledge?’
The tearful noises ceased, and Sadanori said faintly, ‘No, he was here with me when it happened. Never, never did I think she would take her own life.’
Akitada registered the answer, but he had a new worry. He smelled smoke. Resting for a moment, he sniffed. Yes, and it was getting much stronger. All those reed screens and dry grass mats, all of Sadanori’s paper scrolls and silk paintings would go up in a roar of flames any moment. Something had caught fire, and he had no time to lose on idle conversation.
The main obstruction between himself and the outside was one heavy beam that rested on smaller debris. He could neither squeeze through nor move things out of his way. There was a small space under it at one point, and he crawled in and heaved upward. But the beam was too heavy or lodged too firmly. Still, he tried again, and again. He heard a creaking and felt a slight movement. Using every ounce of his strength, he heaved again. Splinters cut into his back, and he could feel blood running down his sides, but the beam shifted and rolled a little. Something else shifted also and fell with a dull rumble somewhere behind him. Sadanori squealed briefly. Akitada paused to listen, but his ears now detected the crackling of flames, and he choked on smoke. Coughing, he frantically moved broken tiles and other debris. He thought he could already feel the heat searing his back.
When he found an opening that was just wide enough, Akitada squeezed through, shedding his under robe in the process. He emerged outside half-naked, dirty and bloody, and staggered to his feet. The pavilion was a leaning pile of rubble. Flames engulfed its north side and already licked eagerly at the near corner.
Sadanori was trapped.
Through the thick smoke, Akitada climbed on to the pile to see if he could reach Sadanori from above, but it would take more than one man to lift the heavy timbers, and the fire was getting very close.
Cradling his painful arm, he set off towards the main house at a limping trot. There was a fire here also, but he saw people milling about: servants, and a small huddle of colorfully robed ladies.
‘Ho!’ he shouted. ‘Help! Over here. Your master’s caught under the pavilion.’
They heard him and came. They tried their best, as Akitada stood by and directed their efforts. Some formed a chain to the lake and passed leather buckets of water up. The fire subsided in hissing steam.
Eventually, Sadanori was found. He was dead. It was not clear if he had died of suffocation from the smoke, been crushed, or had slowly bled to death. Akitada clambered on to the ruins and looked down at his corpse. He lay in a pool of blood from a deep wound in his upper leg. Everything considered, he looked quite peaceful. Perhaps he
