hoped for promotion-as if he had the glimmer of a chance at Soga’s rank and title. He turned away from the proclamation and walked home in a glum mood. Not far from his house, he encountered a funeral, an important one to judge by the long and solemn procession, on its way to the cremation grounds at Toribeno. It was not yet dark, and that meant that the fires at Toribeno must be burning day and night. Apparently the nobles who had remained for whatever personal reasons were paying a heavy price for their decision, and so were the ordinary people who had no choice in the matter.
He could risk his own life-the possibility of dying of smallpox still did not strike Akitada as very likely-and he must do so because of Soga’s absence, but he had no right to endanger others. Tamako and Yori must leave the city. If Tora had returned, he could take them to Akitada’s sister. Or if Lady Yasugi had left for her husband’s home, Genba could do so. If neither was available, he must go himself. He shook his head at the problems that would cause at the ministry.
Yori opened the gate for him, proud of his new role as gatekeeper, and Akitada’s heart lifted. Swinging the boy up in his arms, he said, “I see you’re making yourself useful. That’s a very good thing. I may have to rely on you to look after the whole family.”
Yori clung to him. “That’s what Mother said. She said you didn’t have time for us anymore.”
Akitada put the boy down abruptly. “That’s not true,” he said harshly.
Yori gave him a frightened look. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.
Akitada tried to control his anger. Apparently Tamako had wasted no time letting the child know his father cared more for others than his family. Then he saw Yori’s eyes fill with tears, and something twisted inside him. Crouching down to bring his face level with his son’s, Akitada said, “No, Yori. I am sorry. I know I haven’t had much time for you lately, but there have been so many worries. Seimei is sick. Tora’s in danger of going to prison. A lady was attacked by evil men and I had to send Genba to watch over her. People are falling ill and dying everywhere in the city. I’ve had a great deal of work. You do understand, don’t you?”
The boy nodded, but then said, “Do you have time now?”
Akitada rose with a sigh. How could you make a five-year-old understand? He took the boy’s hand. “Yes. Will you help me change out of my court clothes first?” Yori brightened and nodded eagerly. “Then let’s walk through the garden, and you can tell me what you’ve been doing lately.”
His reward was a broad smile and an excited and disjointed report on varied activities. Yori had caught a mouse, but the mouse had bitten him and he had dropped it. He showed off a tiny red mark on a finger and was praised for his courage. He had also helped the cook to make dumplings and his mother’s maid to shake out the bedding. Then he had fed the fish in Akitada’s pond. Akitada thanked him gravely. He had tried to practice with his sword, but the straw man had fallen apart and neither Tora nor Genba were there to fix it.
“And have you had your lessons with your mother?” asked Akitada, who was wondering what mood Tamako might be in.
“Oh, Mother said I didn’t have to do them. I wanted to go to the market with cook, but she wouldn’t let me. She won’t let me go anywhere. Will you take me with you sometime?”
Akitada felt sorry for Yori, cooped up for days now without playmates or anyone in the household paying attention to him. He tried to explain about smallpox and how people could pass it to others. Yori gave him a worried look and asked, “Have they passed it to you, Father?”
“I hope not.”
The boy gently removed his hand from Akitada’s and stepped away a little. “Is it a very bad illness? Is it like what Seimei has?”
Akitada did not attempt to take the boy’s hand again. Fear raised walls between people, and this one had been thrown up between them by Yori’s mother. “It’s bad,” he said, “but not at all like Seimei’s. How is Seimei, by the way?”
“All right. Can we have some sword practice?”
“Perhaps later.” They had reached the center of the garden, and Akitada-at a loss for words to make his son understand-looked around him. The last light of the sinking sun still gilded the treetops, but below the bright colors had softened. Spring was gradually passing into summer, and the warm air was filled with the scent of a thousand blossoms. His was an old garden and had become somewhat unkempt in the exuberance of its new growth and recent neglect. He tried to find some hope in this proof of burgeoning life and beauty, but knew that beyond these walls and towering trees there were men, women, and children tossing with the fever of the disease or dying in dark incense-filled rooms, surrounded by chanting monks and weeping families.
Or perhaps, given the general fear of infection, they suffered and died alone.
Within his house, things were not much better. No one was dying, but he was alone all the same.
Akitada paused outside his room to look into the fish pond. The koi, replete with an overgenerous feeding by Yori, rose sluggishly to the surface. “Thank you for feeding them,” Akitada said. “I’ll understand if you would rather not help me with my clothes.”
Yori looked stricken. “If you would like me to help, Father, I will. I’m not afraid.”
Akitada smiled and tugged his son’s hair. Yori, like all children his age, wore his hair parted and looped over each ear. He was a handsome child, with perfect skin, large long-lashed eyes, and dimples when he smiled. He was smiling now, and Akitada’s heart melted. “Come inside then,” he said. “I have not been near anyone who is likely to be infected. Besides, we must not let our fear drive us away from each other.”
“No, Father.” Yori took his father’s hand and together they climbed the steps to the veranda and went inside.
But as they entered Akitada’s room from the garden, Tamako came in from the corridor.
“Oh,” she cried, her eyes on Yori. “I was busy and missed your return.” She made her husband a formal bow. “You are welcome.”
Seeing her worried glance at Yori, who was clinging to his robe, Akitada doubted the last, but he bowed in return. “Do not trouble yourself. Yori has offered his assistance.”
“But I’m here now. Yori, please go and read to Seimei.”
Yori clung harder and cried, “I promised.”
Akitada disliked subterfuge. “Why can’t he stay?” he asked his wife. “Are you afraid that I might infect the boy? And if so, are you not afraid for yourself?”
Her eyes blazed. “Sometimes it’s wiser to keep our thoughts to ourselves. It seems to me that lately we have both said more than was wise… or kind.”
Akitada seethed, but Yori tugged at his sleeve. “Please don’t be angry again.”
Akitada made an effort to smile at his son. “I’m not angry with you. Here, you may help me take off the train and hang it up neatly on the stand.” He began the laborious process of un-tying, unwinding, and peeling off the many layers of stiff silk.
Tamako stayed, but said nothing else. When Akitada was putting on his ordinary robe, she asked tonelessly, “You are staying in the city?”
He did not bother to turn around. “Yes. I gather neither Genba nor Tora have returned?”
“No.”
“I think it best for you to take the whole household to stay with Akiko in the country. If neither Tora nor Genba is available, I will accompany you. Perhaps you could be ready to leave tomorrow?”
There was a long silence, and he turned to look at her. Her face was pale and expressionless. “You will not stay with us at your sister’s?”
“You know I cannot leave my post.”
He watched her eyes move from his face to Yori’s. “Let Yori and the others go,” she said. “I will stay here.”
The notion was ridiculous. He frowned and said, “I cannot imagine what good that will do. In the country you and Seimei can continue with Yori’s lessons and you can be a companion and help to my sister. We cannot just saddle her with a child and an old man, not to mention two servants who won’t know what they’re supposed to do in a strange household.”
She lifted her chin stubbornly. “I shall stay.”
“Absolutely not.” He turned his back on her and left his room, furious at her defiance of his orders.
He found Seimei on his veranda, sitting placidly in the last rays of the sun and sipping tea. Thank heaven, the old man looked much stronger. Seimei was instantly apologetic for taking his leisure. “I had planned to begin
