Yasuko looked back at him with wide eyes and no change of expression whatsoever.
‘She doesn’t smile,’ he complained. ‘Possibly she’s astonished or sadly disappointed, but I cannot help my face. Do you think I frighten her?’
Tamako laughed. ‘She’s much too young to smile.’
‘Oh.’
He tickled the baby’s neck and was thrilled when she seized his finger with her tiny hand and attempted to suck on it. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘she’s really very strong for such a little thing. Is she hungry?’
‘She’ll cry when she is hungry.’
‘Oh.’ He looked at his wife and saw the amusement on her face. ‘I must have forgotten how it is with babies,’ he said, abashed.
Seimei interrupted this blissful moment with the report that deliveries were arriving, and that the merchants expected to be paid. Akitada parted reluctantly from his family.
In his study, he sat behind his desk, opened the account book, and rubbed some ink. Seimei showed the first claimant in.
She was a Mrs Kameyama, a middle-aged woman of portly stature in formal black silk. Her business catered for the parties given by court nobles and specialized in such choice delicacies as honey-glazed chestnuts, fried fish cakes, shrimp-filled steamed buns, pickled watermelon, and a variety of rice dishes. She recited a long list of items delivered by her men and ended with an exorbitant figure that made Seimei draw in his breath sharply. He hid the sound by clearing his throat with a little cough, but Akitada knew guiltily that he had been carried away with his order.
Seimei went to the money chest and counted out an amazing stack of gold pieces, bringing them to Akitada, who entered the expenditure in his book and paid the woman. She smiled and bowed her way out backwards as if he were an imperial prince.
As well she might, thought Akitada, when she carried away such a princely sum of money.
And so it went, as bill after bill was presented, and when the last merchant had left, Seimei reported the amount of gold and silver that remained. It was shockingly small. Not only had Akitada spent lavishly on this day, but the expenses of the previous one had also been costly.
Akitada and Seimei looked at each other. Akitada said, ‘I had no idea that having a daughter would be so expensive.’
Seimei smiled. ‘I am told it gets worse when they take husbands.’
‘This gold I spent… I have not earned it yet. I have neither found Lord Kiyowara’s murderer nor the abbot’s disciple. I feel as if I had stolen the money.’
‘Nonsense, sir. You will solve those cases quickly enough.’
Akitada was not convinced. He was forbidden to meddle in the Kiyowara affair, and the abbot’s case had been in Tora’s hands, but Tora was lying in his bed with an infected wound and a worrisome fever. He said, trying for a light tone, ‘There is an appropriate proverb for this situation. I am surprised you haven’t remembered it.’
Seimei raised his brows. ‘Proverb, sir?’
‘Yes. “Unjustly gained wealth disperses like floating clouds.” I have been strangely out of touch with reality.’
Seimei shook his head. ‘The gold cannot be said to be unjustly gained when you are working to earn it.’
Akitada sighed. Like the rest of his household, Seimei expected more from him than he felt able to produce.
What was worse, he could not make a start when there would be visitors who must be received and entertained, and Tora was far too ill to take up his duties.
The day passed slowly with social duties and frequent visits to Tamako and Tora. Tamako looked and felt well, but Tora was very feverish. When he saw Akitada, he asked what day it was, and when told, he tried to get out of bed to take up his duties. Akitada calmed him down with difficulty.
The stream of neighbors and friends bringing their best wishes continued throughout the afternoon and evening. Both humble and great, they came in their best clothes carrying gifts, some modest and others generous, and sat to chat a little about riots in the city and about Michinaga’s resignation of all his posts to his sons. Most thought it very unfair that Michinaga should be blamed for the fires when the gods might be upset about any number of other matters. They looked forward to the many new appointments that would surely follow in due course. New people would rise to power suddenly. But they all avoided asking about Akitada’s future.
Sometime towards evening, Seimei brought in a little package, wrapped carefully in rose-colored silk and tied with pale floss silk. He said with great emphasis and satisfaction, ‘Compliments of the superintendent of police, sir, and his apologies for not being able to deliver it in person. He seemed in a great hurry.’
‘Kobe brought this himself?’ Akitada asked, amazed.
‘With his best wishes for the honorable little daughter.’
‘How very strange!’
Akitada unwrapped the parcel, half expecting some poisonous creature to emerge. But it contained only a child’s fan, exquisitely made and painted with birds and butterflies playing among pink cherry blossoms.
Seimei peered at it short-sightedly. ‘Dear me,’ he said, ‘that must have cost a good deal for such a bauble.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Akitada and thought how very much it was like his image of his little daughter. With some regret, he added, ‘Of course, we must return it.’
‘Return it? Why?’
Akitada shot Seimei a look of reproach. ‘Have you forgotten his insult? I’m surprised he dared send this.’
‘Perhaps he thought the occasion warrants forgetting the past.’
‘Never!’ Akitada pushed the little fan away and rose to his feet. ‘If he thinks he can wipe out all that he has said and done with a child’s toy, he is very mistaken. Wrap it up again and send it back.’
‘Sir, perhaps it would be better to reconsider. Superintendent Kobe has been helpful to you in the past, and at the present time he could still be useful. Why offend the man when he clearly still retains feelings of friendship?’
‘Feelings of friendship?’ Akitada looked at the old man in surprise and wondered if Seimei was becoming senile and forgetful. It was likely, considering his advanced age. Come to think of it, there had been other times when he had seemed out of touch with reality. The sudden thought of Seimei’s approaching death filled him with sadness and calmed his anger. ‘We’ll leave it for the time being,’ he said. ‘Shall we go look in on Tora?’
Tora was clearly miserable. He raised glazed eyes and asked for water. He was not a water drinker. When Akitada touched his forehead, it was cold and clammy rather than dry and hot. When Seimei turned to pour some water from a pitcher into a cup, Akitada saw his face. It filled him with dread. He almost burst out with a question, but bit his lip. There was no point in scaring Tora.
He knelt beside his friend and supported his shoulders while Seimei held the cup to Tora’s dry, cracked lips. Tora drank thirstily. When he was done, he croaked, ‘Sorry, sir. Don’t know what’s come over me. I feel as weak as a baby.’
And in pain, to judge by his expression when he made the slightest move. But the water had refreshed him a little. After a moment, he tried a smile. ‘A great day for you, sir,’ he said. ‘I bet you’ve been busy receiving guests.’
‘Fairly busy. Even Kobe sent a token.’
‘No! The big man came himself?’
‘To the gate only.’
Tora tried another grin. ‘He’ll come around now, you’ll see.’
Akitada shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. To change the subject, I’m free at the moment and thought I’d take up the search for the abbot’s lost boy.’
Tora looked alarmed and struggled upright again. ‘You can’t. It’s too dangerous. If it’s that urgent, I’m sure I could get up in a little while.’
Akitada pushed him back gently. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d feel insulted,’ he chided. ‘Do you think I cannot handle it myself?’
Tora flushed. ‘N-no, sir. It isn’t that. The trail leads to those hoodlums, and I expect they’re out to get me after what happened. If you show up asking questions, you’ll have both gangs hunting you down.’
