because he is Lord Michinaga’s oldest son. Tojiro was five when his father told me to enroll him at Seikan-ji, a monastery outside the capital. Ako was to take him and claim she was his mother. I did not like it, but his father insisted he would receive a good education there. I knew he was more afraid than ever his relationship with my daughter would become known.’
Fuhito had remained in the service of the man who had dealt with his daughter and grandson in such a dishonorable manner because he had hoped that some day there would be a better future for the child. That did not altogether excuse him from having abandoned the child himself. Akitada firmed his resolve.
‘I take it Tojiro objected to becoming a monk.’
Fuhito’s head sank again and the hands clutched his knees. ‘Yes, but that was not until much later. Tojiro ran away from the monastery the first time when he was thirteen. He went to Ako, who was living in the western city on some money I paid her. One day the foolish woman told him something of his background. He came to me to argue his case. I explained and begged him to be patient a little longer. His father had just accepted his new position. I told him that he would soon be able to do something for his son. Alas, this last time Tojiro fled, he was in despair. I saw that he could not remain in the monastery and went to His Lordship to plead his case. My master became angry with me and the boy. He said that he wanted nothing to do with Tojiro. That we had been paid. I could see that all my hopes had been in vain. He would never acknowledge Tojiro.’
Fuhito paused a moment, then spoke quickly, as if he were afraid he would lose his courage if he paused. ‘I remembered my poor child’s fate and all of Kiyowara’s empty promises and lost my temper. I accused him of breaking his word. He laughed in my face, mocking my family and my dead daughter. I could not think straight and lashed out at him. I just smashed my fists into his head and face again and again, and when he fell down, I kicked him until he stopped moving. When I gained some awareness again, I saw that I had killed him.’
A heavy silence fell.
Akitada had not thought that it would be so easy to get a confession. Fuhito, for all his humble position, was still a gentleman and would not shame his family by cowardly lies. The daughter’s fate was a powerful motive for murder, one that had perhaps simmered for decades. Now that he thought about it, neither Fuhito nor his mother had said in so many words that the young girl had committed suicide. They had merely let him think so.
Akitada asked, ‘Where is Tojiro now?’
The major-domo raised his head and looked at him. ‘The boy had nothing to do with it. I beg that you will keep him out of it. Let it be me who pays the price. I promise to cooperate fully.’
‘I’m afraid Tojiro is suspected of being part of a gang involved in setting the fires. He will almost certainly have to answer questions.’
Fuhito became agitated. ‘Tojiro got mixed up with some boys when he stayed with Ako, but that was only because he envied them their freedom. He was a child. He still is a child.’
Akitada got up, suddenly tired and defeated. ‘I am sure he’ll explain it all to the police. I think you’ve been giving him shelter here. If he returns, please convince him that it is better if he gives himself up.’
Fuhito rose also. ‘What will you do?’ he asked anxiously.
Akitada’s stomach contracted. He had to turn the man over to the police. Regardless of Tojiro’s fate, Fuhito would be jailed, tried, and sentenced to exile. His family property would be confiscated, and his family would be sent into the streets to beg. All that could be done was to delay the arrest a little longer. He said reluctantly, ‘I’m afraid you will be arrested and eventually tried for Kiyowara’s murder. If you can, it would be best to make some arrangements for your mother and grandson quickly.’
Fuhito looked around the room as if trying to memorize it. He made a sound that was half groan and half acquiescence. Raising his hands to his face, he swayed for a moment, then straightened his back, lowered his hands, and bowed. ‘Thank you, for your considerate behavior, My Lord.’ And with that, he turned and led the way to the gate.
Akitada walked homeward quickly. The wind had picked up, and there was again the smell of burning in the air. He hoped he would not be too late.
FIRE WATCH
To his relief, all was well in his quarter. Tora opened the gate, his face breaking into a wide smile. ‘Wait till you hear what I found out,’ he cried.
Akitada, still breathless and thinking of the threat to his family and his tragic errand to Fuhito’s house, ignored this. ‘Is all well here? Did Kobe send an answer?’
Tora’s face fell. ‘All’s well, and no, no word from the superintendent. Did you expect to hear from him?’
Akitada growled, ‘I expected better than that. A police cordon around my house would be nice.’
Tora cheered up. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll handle the little bastards if they come. I hope they do. I’ll show that sack of shit Takeo what’s what.’
Akitada said sourly, ‘You’re hardly in any shape to fight.’
‘I’m fine. Now listen. I know who’s been running that arson gang. Jirokichi finally came through.’ Tora clapped his hands in glee. ‘We’ve got them. You can turn them over to the police and collect your reward. Jirokichi’s a miserable specimen, but this time he lucked out.’
‘Get to the point.’ Akitada’s eyes were on Genba who was filling buckets and large pots at the well. The number of containers was pitifully small.
‘There’s a rice merchant called Watanabe in the Fifth Ward. He’s been paying those kids to set the fires. Jirokichi thinks he’s working for someone in the government.’
‘A rice merchant setting fires? It sounds far-fetched.’
‘Jirokichi was in his house and watched him pay off the three creeps who run the gang. Takeo was one of them. They caught Jirokichi leaving. That’s why they tortured him, to find out what he knew.’
Akitada was even more doubtful about this news. ‘Did they actually talk about setting fires?’
‘Umm, no. Not in so many words. But you can see-’
‘You’re accepting the word of a thief. If he told the truth, he would have been dead by now. It’s just a bunch of hoodlums terrorizing merchants and tormenting the weak.’
Tora snapped, ‘Well, they tried to kill him. Maybe they couldn’t find his hideout. I couldn’t.’ He took a deep breath. ‘All right, don’t believe me. I’ll tell Kobe myself. I think he’ll listen.’ He turned on his heel and stalked away.
Muttering under his breath about Tora’s manners, Akitada went to check on his family. Tamako was nursing the baby, and Hanae sat near her. She was feeding Yuki small bits of melon with a pair of chopsticks. They looked calm and happy.
‘There you are,’ said Tamako with a smile. ‘Please forgive my not rising to make you a proper bow.’
She was teasing. They had both become very casual about such conventions between husband and wife. In fact, they behaved almost like equals these days. He liked that.
He went to sit next to her, peering at his daughter’s rosy face. That small and tender dark head against Tamako’s white breast was to his mind one of the most perfect things of his world. He reached out a finger to caress his daughter’s silken hair and let it stray to Tamako’s warm skin. ‘I will hold you to proper protocol later, wife,’ he murmured. ‘You mustn’t think that you can forget your duty to your husband because you’re a mother again.’ Tamako blushed and bent her face more closely to the baby’s.
‘Should I leave?’ Hanae asked, eyeing Akitada with raised brows.
They said ‘no’ together. Tamako still looked embarrassed, even though she smiled, and he wished he could take his words back.
He desired his wife more than ever, but it was too soon. Besides, he would not be able to come to her bed tonight anyway.
He left the women and went to discuss the arrangements with his retainers. In the morning, Genba would go to hire sedan chairs. Seimei and Tora would accompany the women and children to his sister Akiko.
Tora protested immediately.
Akitada said, ‘Your arm is not healed enough for you to use your sword.’
Tora glared. ‘I’m not useless,’ he snapped.
