Akitada shook his head. “I cannot take on another person, Tora. Feeling pity for the poor is all very well, but there are children in this household who may also soon stare at empty bowls.”
Tora nodded again and left.
Akitada sat, glumly contemplating the money box. He could not recall when it last had been so empty, and in the past he had not had so many mouths to feed. Yes, there could well be empty bowls, and that would mean that his people would have to leave to try and earn a living elsewhere. He could not bear the thought.
Getting up, he walked into his garden. It was fall. The chrysanthemums were fading and the maple had turned red. The cold weather of the past week had brought winter closer. Tamako had planted those chrysanthemums, a rare and wonderful dark copper color that looked magnificent with the maple’s brilliant red leaves. In her hands, his world had turned to beauty in so many ways. What gifts she had given him!
The children!
He had nearly forgotten them again. Ashamed, he decided to walk over to Tamako’s pavilion. It had become Yasuko’s pavilion now, but her brother and Tora’s son also spent most of their day there. Even though Yoshitada took such pride in having his own room in the main house, he always ended up there.
On an impulse, Akitada went to look into his son’s room. He found the boy still tangled in his quilts and softly sobbing.
“Yoshi?” he said alarmed, kneeling beside the weeping child. “What’s the matter? What has happened? Are you ill?”
The boy gave a cry and flung himself in his father’s arms, clinging to him with arms and legs. “I want Mother,” he wailed.
Akitada did not know what to say. He had marveled that the children had taken their mother’s death so calmly and both admired and resented their restraint. It had not occurred to him that they would suffer alone and in silence at night. He held Yoshi, rocking him in his arms.
“I do, too,” he said softly. “It’s always worst when I wake up. I miss her very much. She has gone to live in paradise where we hope to meet her again someday.”
The boy nodded against his chest and gulped.
“I’m sorry, Yoshi. What can I do to help?”
“N-nothing!” The arms clung a bit more tightly. “I’m sorry, too, Father.”
“I’m sure Yasuko will be missing her also. Shall we go to see her?”
Yoshi released him and got up. His clothing consisted of a rumpled shirt, but his father found a pair short pants and a jacket to put on over it. He was awkward about dressing his son, but Yoshi did not seem to mind the odd costume, and Akitada was in his old house robe. Both were barefoot, unwashed, and with their hair disordered. Akitada smiled at his son and wiped away his tears with his sleeve.
“This is no way to dress when visiting a young lady, but this once it will do.”
“Yasuko’s no lady,” said Yoshi dismissively and seized his father’s hand to pull him away.
They found Yasuko putting away the bedding with Tamako’s maid. The maid, herself still in her sleeping clothes, gave a little cry of embarrassment and ran out. This made Yoshi laugh and Yasuko scold.
“We aren’t dressed yet.” she told her brother. “You are not to enter a lady’s chamber without making sure she’s dressed. It’s improper.” Yasuko only wore a silk undergown over her skinny little body. This she had slept in, but it also served as her underclothes. Her gown was draped over a clothes stand. Akitada was amused that his children should already have adopted the manners of adults. Yoshi had wanted his own room even though he probably felt alone there, and Yasuko insisted on the respect due to her as a female.
“I’m sorry we are early. We came to see how you are,” he said, searching her face for tears. He saw none; perhaps sharing the room with the maid kept her from weeping. Letting go of Yoshi’s hand, he went to pull Yasuko close. How frail and fine-boned she was! Fear for his children’s future rose again. He must find a way to feed them, to raise them into strong, healthy adults.
He reached for her gown and offered to help her. She was quite adept at this process and giggled at her father’s ignorance.
Akitada watched her and thought that a daughter needed a family with money or influence who could secure her a good husband who would respect her and take care of her. And his son would need the same to make his way in the world, to get a good education and a government position so that he could support his own family some day.
Akitada’s own father, for all his harshness, had found a way to get Akitada into the imperial university and later into the ministry of justice. Such things came with fatherhood.
He reached again for his daughter, but Yasuko struggled in his arms. He released her quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.
She reached for his hand. “You didn’t, but my gown will get wrinkled. Thank you for coming, Father. We have missed you.”
He was ashamed. “I’ll come every day if you like,” he said, adding with a teasing smile, “so be sure to be ready to receive me next time.”
She laughed.
“How are the lessons going?”
Yasuko and her brother exchanged glances. Yoshi said, “Sensei is not much fun. I get sleepy.”
His father said, “You must try harder. Lessons aren’t supposed to be fun.”
“We’ll try harder, Father, Yasuko said. “I’ll sit next to Yoshi and pinch him when he dozes off.”
The maid reappeared, having managed to get dressed and tie up her hair. She blushed and bowed. “Shall I bring the children’s gruel, sir?”
“Yes, and bring an extra bowl for me.”
As Akitada took his morning meal with the children, listening to their chatter, he made up his mind to do so as often as it might be managed. Of course, if he should be able to return to government service again, he would already have left the house by dawn.
And this reminded him of his responsibilities. He took his leave from the children and went back to his room, trying to think of men of influence who might be able to help him. In the end, he came up with no one but Kosehira and wrote his friend a letter. Kosehira had lost most of his influence at court since he had supported Prince Atsuhira recently and been suspected of treasonable activities.
When the letter was done, he could not face sitting in his room any longer to wait for news from court. Getting up, he got dressed, then went to speak to Genba, who had returned with feed for the horses.
“Genba,” he said, “I’m going back to Abbot Genshin’s mansion. If anyone comes from the Daidairi, send the boy to fetch me.”
He wasn’t at all sure what he hoped to do there. Perhaps, if Genshin had an interest in finding out what had caused the lady’s death, the abbot might thank him by using his influence at court, but the very thought of asking such a favor sickened him.
No, he was going back on a whim, with a notion that there was a secret to be uncovered, and because it was an excuse to leave his house and forget his troubles and his grief for a little while.
This time he did not bother to knock at the small gate set into the large, imposing one but merely pushed it open and walked in. Like last time, the forecourt lay empty, weeds growing here and there, and the autumn chill had touched the trees beyond the main house with golden and auburn colors.
Akitada had no plan and no more questions to ask the inhabitants, but he wanted to look again at the dead woman’s pavilion. He felt strongly that the secret lay there, and while her room had revealed little, he wanted to see it again in hopes that he might learn something.
On this occasion, he wandered around the pavilion to look at the small lake behind it. The lake was fed by one of the many small streams that passed through the city and made possible the network of canals and the elaborate gardens of noble houses and palaces. This lake was home to a number of ducks, and as he came closer, he caused a pair of cranes to fly up with a clatter of wings. They were large, handsome creatures with their black and white plumage and brilliant red patches on their heads. Their wingspan was impressive, and they might have risen high into the sky to make for some larger watery habitat, like Lake Biwa, or even the Inland Sea. But they flew only to the opposite side of the lake and returned to stalking the fish. The lake seemed well-stocked with them. Perhaps the cranes had made a permanent home here.