Fifteen? She was a mere child then. "Was there really a marriage?" asked Akitada, looking at Kinsue's wife. She nodded, her eyes unhappy.
"But I thought Prince Yoakira had refused to give his consent," Akitada said.
The two old people looked at each other, puzzled. "But they must be married," said the old woman. "His lordship spent the night with her three nights running, and I baked the wedding dumplings myself on the third day." Her face crumpled again. "It was the day before the master went away to heaven."
Kinsue shook his head in wonder. "What a day! So many things happening!"
"Yes," said Akitada. "It must have been. Thank you both. I shall tell Lord Minamoto what you said."
The old woman scrambled up to whisper something in her husband's ear, then wobbled off at a half-run. Kinsue said, "My wife went to fetch something for the young lord."
Akitada nodded and turned to look up at the prince's quarters. Here the quarrel had taken place after Yoakira had discovered to his shock that his granddaughter had, willingly or otherwise, become Sakanoue's wife. No wonder he had been furious! What had passed between the old nobleman and his new grandson-in-law? Had he acknowledged the marriage, or refused to countenance it? Akitada thought he knew the answer to that. It was the motive for the murder of the prince. Poor children, both at the mercy of an unscrupulous man. He tried to imagine what the girl must have felt, must be feeling now.
Lost in thought, he walked up the steps again and stood in the doorway looking in. It must be a marriage as empty and desolate as this room. He thought of his parents, their formality with each other, the absence of any signs of fondness, of physical familiarity. But his mother had always been a strong character, well able to cope with an autocratic husband. Was this what had frightened Tamako? Had she been afraid that he would be a distant husband, leaving her to the cold demands of her mother-in-law? He sighed unhappily. That mystery would never be solved, but the strange disappearance of the man who used to occupy these rooms would be, if he could help it.
As he thought this, Akitada felt his hair bristle. It was as if something spoke to him with a terrible urgency.
He looked around. Not so much as a clothes chest remained, only the outline where one had stood, obliquely, near the door. Packed and ready for transport to the country? Why had they removed the prince's things? he wondered. He had been gone by then and would hardly need his clothes.
Someone had inexpertly scoured the wooden floor after the chest had been removed. The marks had dulled the deep gloss of the floor-boards. Kinsue, no doubt, in his fervent desire to keep the master's room spotless.
The calligraphy scroll caught Akitada's eye. Idly, he deciphered the Chinese ideograms, feeling strangely as if he were hearing the words in his head. "Seek the truth and thou shalt find it! Neglect the truth and it shall be lost forever! The seeking is within thy power, but the finding is in the hands of heaven. Thou must search the truth within, for thou shalt not find it without." The words were attributed to Meng Tse.
With a sigh Akitada turned away and went out into the courtyard. Kinsue and his wife awaited him.
"Tell me," he asked them, "what has become of the prince's clothes and other things?"
"Oh, they've been taken to the country," the old man said. "Lord Sakanoue took them himself in the last cart."
"I see. Well, I see your wife has returned, and I must be on my way. Thank you for telling me your story. Lord Minamoto will be glad to know that you and your wife are taking such good care of his home and are thinking of him."
Kinsue's wife shuffled up. With a toothless smile splitting a round face that resembled a dried yam, she bowed and extended the small box tied with a bit of hempen string towards Akitada.
"It's sweet dumplings," Kinsue explained for her. "The young lord is partial to them."
"Thank you," said Akitada, accepting the parcel, "and thank you also for your explanations. Should either of you remember anything else, even if it seems unimportant, send for me. It may help the young lord to understand."
Kinsue nodded. "There's nothing else, sir," he said, "except the horse, but how can that matter?"
"Horse?"
"Lord Sakanoue's horse, the one he took to the mountains. It wasn't his and it wasn't one of ours. I know all of our animals, sir."
Sixteen. Roasted Walnuts
In spite of the brutal murder of its most famous scholar, the university was open as usual. Akitada arrived just in time for his first class. He was relieved, because that meant that he need not exchange pleasantries with Hirata. Their relationship had become unbearably strained, not only because Akitada still resented the way Hirata had trapped him into a marriage proposal- one which had turned out to be unwelcome to Tamako- but also because even the briefest encounter with the father reminded Akitada painfully of the daughter. Striding quickly through the main hall, he went directly to his own classroom.
His students sat waiting, their faces turned eagerly towards the door as he entered, their smiles welcoming him before the fifteen blue-robed backs and the fifteen black-capped heads bowed low before their master. His heart warmed with gratitude. He considered for the first time that a teacher had a blessed life. Encouraged by his reception, he spent the morning expounding the laws governing provincial administrations and was pleased with their patience.
In fact, Mr. Ushimatsu, the middle-aged student, outdid himself, having not only memorized the names of all the provinces, but volunteering to point them out on the map. He also supplied fairly accurate information about crops, industries, towns and temples, until even his peers looked impressed. When Akitada praised him, Ushimatsu's eyes sparkled with pleasure. He murmured shyly that he dreamed of being sent to one of the provinces as a recorder or junior clerk on the staff of one of the governors. Therefore he had thought it wise to prepare himself by studying all the possible assignments ahead of time.
One of the young nobles snorted. "You want to leave the capital for some godforsaken place?" he cried. "And as a mere clerk? I have more ambition than that, I hope. Why bother to attend the university if that is all you want, Ushimatsu?" A chorus of supporters joined him, and it looked for a moment as though poor Ushimatsu would once again be cowed by his sneering comrades.
But Ushimatsu bowed to his critic. "Forgive me, Mokudai, but that is all very well for you. And for a lot of the others, too, I imagine. You have relatives who are great men here in the capital, and your Chinese is much, much better than mine." With a smile at the others, he added, "I am quite content to be a secretary to one of your cousins, or perhaps some day to one of you. As for leaving the capital, I quite look forward to that because it means that I shall get to see what the rest of the country looks like."
Young Lord Minamoto cried, "And I shall envy you, Ushimatsu. I wish I were free to see the world." For a moment a look of great sadness passed over the boy's face. "Oh, Ushimatsu," he said softly, "when you talked of the great snows and the bears in Echigo, I wished I could see them for myself. And I wished to sail the Inland Sea to see the monkeys in Kyushu, and travel the Tokaido Highway until I looked on Mount Fuji. But I know that I will probably never leave the capital as long as I live."
The critics yielded, and Akitada said quickly, "None of us knows what the future may bring. Many a great lord has been sent on missions of importance by His Majesty. We all serve where we can."
Akitada was inordinately proud of the progress Ushimatsu had made. If he kept up his pace, he would pass the next examination. Making a mental note to lend Ushimatsu some of his documents, he assigned an essay on the system of corvée to the class and dismissed them for their noon rice.