He glanced up at the cloudy sky. Perversely, the clouds were too high for rain, and they scudded along too quickly on a fresh breeze. It was perceptively cooler than it had been, and thunderstorms were unlikely. With this weather, it would be dark sooner than normal.
Akitada folded the paper and put it in his sleeve. ‘I have an errand and will drop this off with Superintendent Kobe on the way. If those hooligans operate in the usual manner, we needn’t expect trouble until the hour of the rat or later.’ He cast a worried glance towards the house. Tamako was getting stronger every day, but a sudden scare might dry up her milk. He did not want to risk that. ‘Better not alarm the women yet. Tell my wife I’ll be back in time for the evening rice.’
Seimei looked dubious but bowed, and Akitada turned on his heel to walk out of his gate again.
He went quickly along Horikawa Avenue, hurrying because he felt uneasy, and arrived at Kobe’s office out of breath. To his disappointment, Kobe was not in, and the officers and men seemed very busy. Akitada left the note and an explanation with an assistant. Then he turned south to Nijo Avenue to make his way to the residential area where Fuhito lived. He did not relish this errand, but wanted to get it over with.
As last time, the major-domo’s mother admitted him. He noticed the change in her almost immediately. She held herself as taut as a bow string.
Her expressions of the usual courtesies and her congratulations on the birth of his daughter were almost painful in their stiffness.
As last time, Fuhito was not home yet. They took the path through the lush foliage of the outer garden, now shimmering with moisture from the recent rain and shaking a soft shower of drops on them. Feeling awkward, he commented on the benefits of the recent soaking.
‘The garden becomes oppressive in the rainy season,’ she said. Her voice shook a little, and so did her hands. Taking him directly into her son’s study, she left him to wait alone. Outside, moisture still dripped from the roofs, making odd musical patterns of small sounds.
He thought about the change in her and decided that she was terrified of him.
Something had happened to put her in a panic.
Impatient with the delay, Akitada got to his feet and started pacing. He should be at home, looking after his family. A sound from the garden made him pause to listen. Somewhere a gate closed, and Akitada hoped that Fuhito had returned, but he heard nothing else.
A moment later, Fuhito’s mother brought a tray of refreshments, and Akitada realized he had been wrong. Nobody had come, but someone had left.
He sat back down, and she knelt to serve him.
‘I thought I heard a gate,’ he said, ‘and hoped your son had returned.’
Her hand jerked, and she spilled a little wine as she filled his cup. Apologizing, she dabbed at the moisture with her sleeve. ‘It must have been my maid. My son is not back yet.’ She sounded strangely breathless. Pushing the cup and a small bowl of nuts a little closer to him, she murmured, ‘Please forgive this poor food.’
Akitada looked at her sharply. She looked positively ill. ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he said. ‘I am the one causing trouble. Perhaps this is not a good time.’
‘It is no trouble,’ she murmured. To his shock, tears began to course down her cheeks. She did not brush them away. Neither did she explain or withdraw. She sat there, silently weeping.
He rose nervously. ‘Please allow me to call someone.’ He went to the door and clapped his hands.
In the distance, a voice shouted, ‘Coming,’ and soft shuffling footsteps announced a small woman even older than Fuhito’s mother. She fussed over her mistress and led her from the room, leaving Akitada alone, wondering who had left by the gate. He was sure Fuhito’s mother had told him on his last visit that they had only the one servant.
Perhaps it had been Fuhito himself, taking flight because he expected to be arrested, but Akitada did not think so.
He was proved correct a moment later when the front gate opened with the familiar clatter of bamboo, and Fuhito’s firm footsteps approached the house.
‘I’m home, Mother,’ he called out, and then there was the sound of muffled voices, his mother’s high and agitated, Fuhito’s soothing, until the house fell quiet again. After a moment, steps approached, and the major-domo walked in.
‘My Lord?’ he said, bowing. ‘What gives me this honor? I did not expect you again.’
Akitada did not return the greeting. ‘There are some unanswered questions,’ he said vaguely.
Fuhito hesitated. ‘I’m afraid that Her Ladyship does not wish the matter pursued,’ he said. He was still standing, as if he expected Akitada to cut his visit short and depart again. ‘She said the police will handle matters from now on.’
Akitada raised his brows. ‘Really? In that case, I shall satisfy my own curiosity.’
Fuhito fidgeted. ‘I don’t think it would be wise for me to speak, sir. It might be seen as disobedience by my mistress.’
Akitada was becoming irritated. ‘Sit down, Fuhito,’ he snapped in his best court-hearing manner. ‘It seems you have a grandson, your master’s son by your daughter. I believe Tojiro is slightly older than his half-brother Katsumi.’
Fuhito’s legs gave way and he sank to the floor. He was very pale and opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for words.
Akitada looked at him and dreaded what he had to do. He decided to get it over with quickly. ‘I think you quarreled with Kiyowara about the boy. If he has an obligation to this son and refused to acknowledge it that would constitute a powerful motive for murder and explain the furious attack that killed him. Did you kill your master?’
He can deny it, thought Akitada. I hope he does. In spite of his knowledge, he felt great pity for the man.
The sound of steady dripping fell into the silence like funereal music and reminded him of the old lady’s tears. Four generations of a family destroyed by the selfishness of an ambitious nobleman. The Fujiwaras and their connections had spread their poison throughout the land, at first disenfranchising the old order and then, once they had what they wanted, finishing the process by tormenting its descendants. There was little difference between the Sugawaras and Fuhito’s family. His own fall from fortune had already begun. Why should he play into the hands of the authorities by revealing Fuhito’s guilt?
Fuhito surprised and disappointed him. After a long silence, he asked, ‘How did you find out?’
Akitada did not answer. There was still time for the man to deny the deed.
Fuhito looked at him with moist eyes. ‘Yes, Tojiro is my daughter’s son. You were right. Lord Kiyowara…’ He paused, searching for words. ‘Kiyowara seduced her when she was only fifteen and in his mother’s care.’ He raised a shaking hand and brushed it over his face. ‘No,’ he said fiercely, ‘it was not a seduction. The truth is that he raped her brutally, raped a child! Not once, but again and again, until his mother found out and put a stop to it. They sent her home. But she was with child by then and tried to drown herself in the pond. Then she tried to hang herself with her sash. In my despair, I went to him and confronted him with what he had done. At the time he could not afford a scandal. He was afraid I would talk and agreed to install her in his household as a secondary wife. She gave birth to his first son there, but the birth and her misery were too much, and she died a day later. The child is Tojiro.’
Silence fell again. Fuhito sat hunched into himself, his thin hands clutching his knees, his eyes staring holes into the flooring.
Akitada waited a decent time, then asked, ‘What happened next?’
Fuhito started and went on: ‘My daughter’s maid Ako was with her at Kiyowara’s house. After my daughter’s death, she looked after my grandson until they were sent away. Tojiro was not yet a year old when Lady Kiyowara gave birth to Katsumi.’ Fuhito sighed. ‘My master called me in to tell me that the first lady wanted Tojiro to be raised by us. My mother and Ako looked after him for the first years. His Lordship settled some income on us and promised to do more for the child when he was older.’ Fuhito spread his hands helplessly and looked at Akitada. ‘The boy’s future was at stake. It made up for what happened to his mother. We hoped his father would not forget his promise.’
‘And did Kiyowara remember?’
Fuhito did not answer that. Instead he said, ‘When Her Ladyship’s sister married His Excellency, the present regent, things changed again. Lord Yorimichi wasn’t regent or chancellor then, but everyone knew he would be
