CHAPTER FIVE
In the morning, Akitada had only a slight headache and a few swellings and lacerations which his hair hid well enough. He verified these matters by peering at himself in the courtyard well. Unfortunately, his appearance was marred by the unkempt state of his beard. Since he had no razor, he decided to ask Yamada for the use of his.
Father and daughter were at breakfast as before. It was millet gruel again, this time with a bit of radish thrown in. It was poor food indeed for a family of Yamada’s status. Akitada cast furtive glances at his hosts. Masako wore the same silk dress, not new because the blue had faded in the folds, and Yamada’s dark robe was mended at the sleeve and collar. Could they indeed be abjectly poor? Perhaps the son in the northern army required hefty sums. Many young men in the military gambled.
Yamada politely inquired about Akitada’s injuries and repeated the story of Yutaka being attacked by the prisoner.
Masako said nothing and, beyond a bow and a muttered thanks for her ministrations the day before, Akitada avoided speaking to or looking at her. When they were done, he begged the loan of the razor. An awkward silence met his request. Then Yamada said, “Forgive me, but it is not permissible to provide prisoners with such things.”
“Oh,” said Akitada. “Of course. In your house I tend to forget that I am a prisoner.” He touched his beard with a rueful smile. “I do not like to appear in front of you so unkempt, but I suppose I must.”
“But,” said Masako quickly, “I could trim it for you. I always shave Father.”
“No,” cried Akitada, rising quickly, “I would not dream of asking such a thing of a lady.”
“Well,” put in her father, “I suppose it is out of the ordinary, but we can hardly expect to live by the old rules, any of us. Masako is quite skilled with a razor. You may trust her completely.”
“Of course I trust her,” said Akitada, reddening, “but it is surely not seemly for her to trim my beard. A servant, perhaps . . .”
“We have no servants,” Masako said practically. “But if it embarrasses you, I would rather not.” It was an impossible situation which ended, predictably, after reassurances and apologies from Akitada, with him sitting on the edge of the veranda, while she knelt beside him and trimmed his beard. Yamada had withdrawn into his room, where he was bent over some paperwork and out of earshot.
Masako’s closeness was as disturbing to Akitada as her featherlight touch on his skin. He could not avoid looking at her face, so close to his that he felt the warmth of her breath. She had unusually long lashes, as silken and thick as her hair, and her full lips quirked now and then with concentration. Once they parted, and the tip of her pink tongue appeared between
her teeth. White teeth. She did not blacken them as other women of her class did. Neither did his wife, for that matter, unless she had to appear in public. The memory of Tamako shook him enough to avert his eyes from Masako’s pretty features. But there was little escape, for they next fell on her wrist, slender and white where the sleeve of her gown had slipped back, in contrast to the rough redness of her hands.
He remembered the first time he had met her, how she had been barefoot, and how dirty her pretty feet had been. How could such a beautiful and wellborn young girl lead the life of a rough serving woman? Had her education been as neglected as her manners? He felt a perverse desire to protect her.
In his confusion, he blurted out, “Why are you and your father so poor?”
She dropped the razor in her lap and stared at him. “What do you mean?”
Oh, dear. He could hardly refer to the millet gruel and their mended clothes. But there were always her menial tasks. “You know very well,” he said severely, “that a young lady of your class should not engage in the kind of work I have seen you perform.
That is for slaves or outcasts to do. Only utter penury could have caused your father to care so little about his daughter’s behavior.”
She reddened and her eyes flashed. “My behavior is not your concern,” she hissed, waving the razor at him to make her point.
“If I wish to shave men, it is my business. And if I want to work in the prison kitchen, it is also my business. Let me tell you that I find such a life more entertaining than spending all my days and nights in some dark room reading poetry like the fine ladies you are familiar with. I am fed up with people telling me how improper I am and how no gentleman will want me for a wife.
There are only farmers, soldiers, and prisoners in Sadoshima.
The few officials are either too old or too settled to look for another wife. The best I can do is to marry some penniless exile like you, and he would surely appreciate the fact that I can cook a meal, clean the kitchen, and trim his beard when it needs it.”
They stared at each other, dismayed at opening the flood-gates of so much suppressed frustration. The deep color which touched her translucent skin reminded Akitada of the blushing of a rose.
“Forgive me,” he said, taking her hand.
“I didn’t mean that,” she cried at the same moment. They both laughed a little in mutual embarrassment.
He took the razor from her hand and laid it aside. “You have been very good to me, Masako, you and your father. I have been wondering if you are in some sort of trouble. Perhaps I can help.”
She did not point out to him that he was hardly in a position to help anybody. Instead she shook her head and smiled tremulously. “Thank you. You are very kind. It is a temporary situation and involves my father’s honor. I’m afraid I cannot tell you more than that.”
“Something to do with the prison or the prisoners?” he persisted, wondering if Yamada had become involved in some way in Toshito’s predicament.
“No. Not the prison. Another duty. Please don’t ask any more questions.” She took up the razor again and finished trimming his beard, while he sat, puzzling over her remarks. What other assignment did Yamada have? Whatever it was, it probably involved money somehow, for the deprivation they suffered must be due to the fact that he must make restitution. Had Yamada mismanaged government funds?
She laid aside the razor and smiled at him. “There. You look very handsome,” she said. “And you could easily have slashed my throat and made your escape.”
He smiled back. “Your throat is much too pretty for that, and there is little chance of my getting off the island. That is why exiles are sent here in the first place.”
“As to that, there have been escapes. At least, people have disappeared mysteriously. They say fishermen from the mainland used to do a lucrative business ferrying off exiles. Of course, it takes a great deal of gold, but some of the noblemen here have wealthy families back in the capital or in one of the provinces.” She stopped and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear. I talk too much. Do you have a family?” Akitada laughed out loud. “We are very poor.” It was the truth. He could hardly have raised the money for the passage to Sadoshima, let alone the sum involved in an escape attempt. But the topic was an interesting one. “I assume Prince Okisada could have availed himself of such a method if he had wished to do so. Why did he remain?”
“Oh, the prince was too famous. He would have been caught quickly. And they say he was too soft to be a hunted man.” She regarded Akitada affectionately. “You, on the other hand, look able to take on any danger. Where did you get the scar on your shoulder?”
Akitada saw the admiration in her eyes and smiled. “A sword cut. And it wasn’t proper of you to stare at a man washing himself.”
She blushed. For a moment they sat looking at each other, then she turned her face away. “I told you that my life is more entertaining than that of proper young ladies,” she said lightly.
“I could not help noticing that the scar is recent, and there were others. Are you a famous swordsman?”
“Not at all.” Her sudden warm regard made him uncomfortable, and he started to rise. “It is time to go to the archives.” She snatched at his hand. “Not even a thank-you, when I have made you look so handsome?”
Akitada looked down into her laughing eyes. The invitation in them was unmistakable and unnerving. There
