turned on his heel, and left.
Seikan-ji temple and monastery were to the north-east of the capital and on the other side of the Kamo River.
Akitada checked on Tamako before leaving. She looked better than she had for weeks and greeted him with a smile. Hanae was with her, making a list of supplies they wanted brought from the farm. Hanae asked, ‘Should they bring Trouble back, sir?’
Tamako giggled. It was a familiar joke. The dog’s name fit its disposition well enough and frequently caused merriment. A good omen, Akitada thought, and joined in the laughter. ‘By all means. I’m fond of the beast. But we’ll have to confine him when it’s time for the child to be born. Seimei and Tora have invited monks and a yin-yang master for the occasion. I’m afraid to think what Trouble would make of that.’
‘What about a medium?’ Hanae asked and started laughing again. ‘Can you imagine him chasing after that paper wand while she dances? Perhaps she could cast a spell on him.’
‘No medium,’ Akitada said firmly. He thought of the strange Lady Aoi in the Kiyowara house. She had even upset Tora. It occurred to him belatedly that she might have information about the family. Perhaps she would be willing to provide it, if he asked her to perform an exorcism for him.
THE ABBOT
On horseback, the journey to the Seikan-ji Temple took less than two hours. It gave Akitada a chance to pass through the center of the capital before turning towards the river. He had not been in the city for weeks. Earlier, his work at the ministry had kept him busy in the Daidairi, the greater palace enclosure in the northern part, and now he spent his time near Tamako as much as possible.
He observed for the first time the uneasiness the fires had brought to the city: piles of sandbags and stacks of buckets gathered at street corners, makeshift altars with gifts of flowers, rice, and fruit stood near shrines and entrances to city quarters, carts of charred rubble lumbered towards trash piles, and Shinto priests and their attendants performed ceremonies to appease the angry gods.
After he crossed the broad Kamo River, he entered the wooded mountains to the east of the capital. The heat and noise of the city faded, and a fragrant green world embraced him with peace and silence. Akitada had accepted the summons in a very ill spirit, but now he found pleasure in his journey. Part of it lay in being on horseback again, even if the rented horse was far from perfect and tried to bite the rider at odd moments.
Seikan-ji was a small temple and monastery, but like many imperial retreats, it was situated in a beautiful setting. The halls were rustic and of the same simple elegance as the emperor’s palace. Since it housed a member of the imperial family, the wooded grounds and buildings were beautifully kept and resembled more a series of villas in gardens than a religious retreat.
The monks wore simple but very clean brown hemp robes, but Akitada also saw groups of young boys, acolytes or students, at play. Most were probably scions of noble families and wore the colorful and expensive silks of cherished children.
He had given his name and purpose to a young monk at the gate. Another monk had taken his horse, and a third showed him to the abbot’s quarters.
In theory, an imperial prince who took the tonsure lost all claim to special honors and privileges enjoyed in his past life. His family and friends would grieve as he passed into another physical realm: that of a poor monk. In reality, that step was very carefully planned. He would choose his monastic abode from the most pleasant spots near the capital and take with him certain comforts of life, such as fine clothes, books, musical instruments, as well as favorite servants. And he stayed in contact with family and friends. In exchange, he would give up women, public life, wine, and his hair. Since, by middle age, those things had frequently lost their appeal, and official duties had become burdensome, many emperors and imperial princes took up a religious life because it allowed them to enjoy a life of leisure.
His Reverence Shokan was no exception. He resided in a small, but elegantly appointed hall among fine objects and paintings. Monks and acolytes competed for a chance to be of service, and the monastery kitchens served excellent meals, even if they tended towards the vegetarian.
Akitada had little respect for those who shirked their duties to the nation in order to indulge in a contemplative life, but even he felt an ingrained respect towards men of imperial blood. He prostrated himself before His Reverence.
Shokan received Akitada with a strange mixture of reserve and eagerness.
Like many Fujiwara relatives, he was prone to pudginess and jowls in middle age. Waving a white and dimpled hand, he said, ‘Please. I am a simple monk. Be seated, Sugawara.’
He had a high voice and lisped a little. Akitada wondered if he had been born with a speech defect or if he cultivated the childish manner. His Reverence wore black silk of such volume and stiffness that it was hard to make out his figure underneath. A finely patterned purple brocade surplice, glistening with gold threads, was draped over one shoulder.
Akitada waited politely to be told why he had been summoned and hoped His Reverence would not waste time with idle chit-chat. Some of the abbots he had met tended to make up for their absence from public affairs by getting news, gossip, and information from their visitors.
But the twitching hands and the searching eyes meant the abbot was anxious. Shokan waited only until Akitada had been served fruit juice and a bowl of pickled nuts before saying, ‘I am told that you are good at solving mysterious events.’
Akitada said cautiously, ‘Until recently it has been my honor to serve His Majesty as senior clerk in the Ministry of Justice. In that capacity, I have from time to time come in contact with puzzling criminal matters and may have offered suggestions to the police. I cannot be said to be working with the police, or as part of my official duties, or indeed regularly.’
Shokan waved that aside. ‘But you have solved difficult cases, and it is your intelligence that is needed, and perhaps your knowledge of the law.’
‘You are too generous, Reverence. My modest skills are at your service.’
‘Thank you.’ Shokan gave him a tremulous smile and dabbed a sleeve to his eyes. ‘My apologies. I am very emotional. This is the only thing that still matters to me in this life.’ He caught a breath, then burst out, ‘Oh, what does it matter? You see before you a grieving father, Sugawara. It is as if I had lost my only son.’
Akitada was mystified. He was uninformed about Shokan’s family – many noblemen did not take the tonsure until late in life – but then the abbot had said it was ‘as if he had lost a son. So not a son. ‘May I ask if this young man has died?’
‘Oh, no, I hope not.’ Shokan shuddered. ‘I could not bear that. A monk strives to give up the things of this world, but for me the struggle has been hard. How do you turn your back on someone you love?’
‘Perhaps Your Reverence had better tell me more. Your messenger said it concerns an acolyte?’
‘Yes. He is a youth now, but he came to us more than ten years ago. Right away, he was seen to be special – beautiful, gifted, and eager to learn. I saw him grow into a youth on the threshold of manhood.’ Shokan flushed a little and gave Akitada a beseeching glance. ‘You know, that delicious age when a boy is almost a man, ardent and full of heroics, yet still capable of childlike grace. Kansei looks exactly like one of those depictions of the young Prince Siddhartha before he attained Buddhahood. Oh, I hope you will find him before he is lost.’
Akitada had formed a shrewd guess of just what the relationship between Shokan and the boy had been – certainly not that of a father and son. He was irritated. As a rule, he did not judge men for engaging in sexual relationships with other men, but that Shokan should compare such bonds to those between a father and his son sickened him. What could this man know of a father’s love – or his grief when his son died? How dared he snivel over the loss of a lover who had probably simply run away from a cloying relationship with an older man. Akitada still wept for his son a year after smallpox had taken him. He still felt as if part of his flesh had been ripped away and he was no longer whole.
His silence had grown too long.
‘Well, what will you do?’ demanded His Reverence. He was staring at Akitada.
‘I beg your pardon, Reverence. I lost my only son a year ago and was remembering how that felt. Er, what
