“I am to be his assistant.”
The old man made a sound thatmight have been a grunt or another “pah” and shuffled off down a dark hallway.
Bythis time, dusk had fallen. Hitomaro got on his horse and glanced back at thevilla huddling under the bare willows. No sane man would conceive of the schemeHisamatsu had proposed. Merely mentioning such matters was high treason. Buthere in the north, so close to the barbarians, many things were not as theyshould be. Hitomaro debated for a moment whether to return to the tribunal tomake his report. But he had another promise to keep, and there was no longerany urgency. Toneo was certainly not hidden in Hisamatsu’s house. Theill-tempered servant would have complained, had he been asked to look after asmall boy. On the other hand, there might be other secrets, secrets connectedwith the mutilated corpse. How fortunate that the mad judge had offered him ajob. All in all, it had been a very productive day, and Hitomaro felt he hadearned a night of pleasure.
Spurring his horse, he hummed, “Ofumi,my love, loosen your sash and soothe my troubled heart.”
The sharp-nosed woman-he knewby now her name was Mrs. Omeya and that she claimed to be a respectable luteteacher, though, in fact, she was a procuress who purchased the services ofyoung women by paying money to their parents- opened to his knock and helpedhim off with his wet straw cape and boots.
“You are later than usual,Lieutenant,” she gushed. “The pretty flower is waiting anxiously.” She acceptedher usual fee, gave him a coy wink, and led him to the customary room, closingthe sliding doors after him.
After the cold and stormydarkness outside, the room embraced him with perfumed warmth, soft light, andthe gentle chords of music. He stood for a moment and drank in the scene,feeling, as always, the hot blood starting to pound in his temples and groin.
Silken bedding had been spreadon the mats. Ofumi reclined on it, idly moving an ivory plectrum over thestrings of a lute. She wore only the thinnest white silk robe, and her thick,long hair fell over her shoulders, framing her beautiful face.
Her resemblance to his latewife always moved him profoundly. Lost in the momentary memory of the deadpast, he whispered, “Mitsuko,” then winced at the jarring sound from the lute.
She sat up, her beautiful faceangry. “I have told you not to call me that.” Her loose robe had slipped,revealing pink-tipped breasts and a softly rounded belly. Hitomaro’s eyesgreedily searched lower, but she snatched at the silk and covered herself.
He was instantly contrite.Falling to his knees beside her, he begged, “Forgive me, my beloved. Yourbeauty has bewitched me until I no longer know who or where I am.”
“Tell me that I am morebeautiful than that dead wife of yours,” she demanded.
His heart rebelled, but hiseyes wandered over her body, lingering where warm skin shimmered through thesilk. “You are more beautiful than any woman living or dead,” he murmured,lightly touching a breast and then cupping it in his hand.
She shuddered and moved away. “Howcold your hands are. Where have you been?”
His eyes fell on the lute. Evento his inexperienced eye this was a rare instrument. It was made of sandalwoodand the front and back of the oval body were covered with an intricate floraldesign of inlaid amber, mother-of-pearl, and tortoiseshell. Such an instrumentwas worth a fortune. The bitter bile of jealousy rose in his throat. She hadanother lover.
“Who gave you this?” he askedhoarsely.
“The lute? Oh, I borrowed it.Isn’t it beautiful? An antique dealer saw me admiring it and let me try it out.When I told him how much I liked it, he insisted I take it home for a while. Hesaid a beautiful lute must feel the touch of a beautiful woman to stay in tune.Wasn’t that charming?” She smiled up at him. “Will you buy it for me, Hito?”
“Anything, my beloved.”Hitomaro reached for her again.
“No, Hito! Your hands are likeice. I asked you where you have been.”
“An assignment outside thecity. The wind is very cold.” He held his hands over the brazier of glowingcoals and rubbed them briskly.
“Outside the city? Where?”
“The judge’s place.”
She cried, “You went to seeHisamatsu? Why?” Seeing his surprise, she added, “Surely a judge is beyondreproach.”
Hitomaro saw a flask of warmwine and two cups, and went to pour himself some with the idea of speeding upthe warming process. “Not this one. He hired our former sergeant, a thoroughscoundrel if ever there was one. I was sent to check him out, and what do youthink I found? His honor is plotting some mad scheme of rebellion against theemperor.”
She stared. “You must bejoking. Hisamatsu is a bit eccentric. Better not take it seriously or you’lllook a fine fool.” She held her breath, but when Hitomaro chuckled, she changedthe subject. “There was some rumor about a murder in the market.”
Hitomaro disrobed, folding hisclothes neatly. “A merchant killed a vagrant. He claims the man attacked him. Ihad to let him go.”
“What will happen in courttomorrow?” she asked as he stretched out beside her.
“Oh, I expect…”-he brushedback her hair, revealing a dainty ear and a soft white neck, and kissed both-”Iexpect his Excellency will announce the findings of this murder and report onthe other pending cases.” He bent to breathe in the warm scent of her body,caressing her neck and shoulder with his lips.
She purred softly and turnedtoward him. Nuzzling his ear, she murmured, “What other cases?” Her fingerstraced a design on his bare chest. “Is there new evidence? Will he pronounceany sentences?”
“Ofumi!” Hitomaro drew back. “Whatis the matter with you? Why all the questions? You know I come here to forgetmy work, and you want to do nothing but talk.”
“Oh.” She pouted. “How rude youare! You men are all the same. You only want to use our bodies. You carenothing for us as persons. I was trying to show you that I take an interest inwhat you do and that I think about you all day long.” Her soft lower lipquivered and tears gathered in her eyes. “To you I am just another whore,” shesobbed.
“No. Oh, no.” Hitomaro flushedwith contrition. “Please don’t cry. You know how deeply I care for you. I wantyou to marry me, Ofumi.”
“Truly? Oh, Hito! If only itwere possible! If only we could be together day and night! All our lives! Itwould be paradise.” She gave him a melting look, then turned away with a littlesob. “It will never be. Too much money is owed to Mrs. Omeya. You said you didnot have enough to buy me out.”
He reached for her with a softlaugh and pulled her into his arms. “I have a surprise, little one. See!”Reaching into his bundle of clothes, he extracted the small package. “Take it!There is enough to buy your freedom.”
She lifted the package. “It issmall.”
“I changed the silver bars intogold. Now will you marry me?”
She unwrapped the gold and satlooking at it with a rapt expression.
“Well?”
“Oh, Hito,” she cried, throwingher arms around his neck. “You are the most generous, the kindest, the strongest of men.”
Her arms slid over his muscular shoulders and her fingers moved lightly across his chest and down to his loincloth. Hitomaro drew a shuddering breath.
She smiled up at him, her pinktongue slowly licking her lips. Her practiced hands undid the cloth and,shaking with desire, Hitomaro pushed aside the folds of her robe. She sank backinto the silken quilts and parted her thighs.
THIRTEEN
RAISING THE DEAD
