Akitada asked the girl. “You must have been very sad that the lady died.”
She nodded. “We miss her a lot,” she said simply. “She was very good to us.”
Shiro said, “She gave us sweets.”
In spite of the lady’s great poverty, she had saved sweets for the children. She had expected them that day. Akitada said, “Yes, she was very kind. Many people must miss her like you do, but they don’t know that she has died. You see, we don’t know who she was, where her family lives.”
The girl looked puzzled. “Her name was Lady Ogata, but we call her the lady of the crane pavilion.”
Her brother explained, “’Cause there’s cranes there. Two of ‘em, and sometimes three. The lady owns the cranes. She said her house is called the crane pavilion because of the cranes.”
“A pretty name,” Akitada said. “But I wondered about her parents. Or perhaps she had brothers and sisters. They should be told, so they can pray for the lady’s soul. Did she ever talk about them?”
They looked at each other and shook their heads. “The lady was alone,” said the girl. “She never talked about anyone. We didn’t think she had a family. She liked us to come because she was lonely and we were alone, too. She told us stories, and sometimes she sang songs and we danced. She danced beautifully. She was going to teach me.” Her eyes filled with tears at the memory.
It was not much, but the singing and dancing raised a new idea in Akitada’s mind. What if this “Lady Ogata” had really been an entertainer? Some of those talented young women made names for themselves and even married into good families. They often ended up being kept by noblemen in separate establishments where they could be visited without the wives being any the wiser.
And that, of course, again made him think of Tasuku, or rather Abbot Genshin. Though, if she had indeed been the abbot’s mistress, he had hardly provided her with the luxuries such women expected. No. There must be another mystery here.
“If it doesn’t trouble you too much,” he asked, “could you tell me about your last visit?”
They looked at each other. The boy’s lower lip started to tremble, and Akitada was sorry he had asked. But Maeko nodded and gave her account about how they had come as usual, only to find Lady Ogata hanging by the neck from one of the rafters. They had thought to run away, but Maeko had decided to call for help and headed toward Koshiro’s house. She had had a vague idea that Koshiro, being tall and strong, could untie the scarf and lift her down, and all would be well. They knew better now and were very sad.
A brief silence fell when she finished. Into this, the boy said again, “I really didn’t mean to do it. Honestly!” Tears threatened to spill again.
Akitada crouched again. “Don’t cry, Shiro,” he said. “You’re a brave boy and brave boys don’t cry.”
Shiro sniffled and nodded.
“What did you do that worries you so? I promise you won’t be in trouble.”
The boy looked up at his sister first, then said, “I touched her. Just a little. She moved. Like she was floating.” He hung his head.
His sister said, “He really only barely touched her foot. He didn’t know any better.”
“Well, it was natural enough,” Akitada said, patting the boy’s shoulder. But he rose to his feet, puzzled by something. “The lady isn’t there any longer. The pavilion is empty. Would you mind very much going there with me?”
Again they consulted by looking at each other. Then the girl said, “We wouldn’t mind.”
“Thank you.”
Akitada went back to the old woman. “I’m taking the children across to the lady’s pavilion for just a little while. My name is Sugawara. I am from the Ministry of Justice.”
She stared at him. “Are you investigating? Has she been murdered then? They said she hanged herself.”
This was awkward. Akitada said quickly, “The police are satisfied it was suicide. But the lady’s relatives are eager to know what may have caused her to take this tragic step. The children may be helpful.”
The avid interest disappeared. She nodded, slightly deflated. “Yes, of course. I’m sure they’re safe enough with you, my Lord.”
*
He hated taking the children back to the place where the woman had died. The boy seemed eager enough, now that he knew he was not in trouble for having touched Lady Ogata’s dangling feet. His sister, however, had become very quiet.
When they neared the pavilion and looked out over the lake, he saw that the cranes had returned. Turning to Maeko, he asked, “Are those cranes always there?”
She nodded.
“And that is why you called this place the crane pavilion?”
“She called it that. She loved the ducks and cranes, but the cranes especially. She said they reminded her of when she was young.”
“How so?”
“There was a dance she used to do. It was called ‘Cranes Dancing at the Shore.’”
There it was again, the hint that the dead woman had been an entertainer.
As they stood watching the peculiar slow movements of the cranes, Maeko slipped her hand into his and looked up at him. “She taught me a little bit of it. Would you like to see?”
“Oh, I would be delighted.”
“No, let’s go,” Shiro said, pulling his hand free. In a moment he had scrambled up the incline to the pavilion.
“Shiro!” cried his sister. “Come back here.”
“Never mind,” said Akitada. “Let him go. I would very much like to see you dance.”
She blushed a little, but stepped away a few feet. And there on the mossy ground she began a slow and charming dance, moving fluidly, lifting her arms as if she were shaking out her wings, bending toward the ground as if searching for fish in the water. With some slow steps, the girl-bird spread its wings, raised itself upward and then dipped low, only to raise its head again. Maeko stopped suddenly. “That’s all I know how to do. There’s more. It’s better with music. The lady used to hum along.”
“It was beautiful. Thank you. Did the lady talk much about her youth?”
“Not really. Only about how she was chosen to dance for the emperor.”
Akitada’s eyebrows rose. So! Not an entertainer in the willow quarter then. The word “chosen” suggested a special court festivity. Girls or very young women belonging to good families appeared for certain annual events involving performances. They marked their entrance into the world of eligible brides. This was becoming interesting.
“Are you sure she never talked about other things in her life?”
Maeko shook her head. “No. Never. She got sad when we asked her questions.”
“Well, let’s go and see what your brother is doing.”
Shiro was standing on the veranda railing, investigating a bird’s nest under the eaves.
Maeko cried, “Get down, Shiro. You might fall and tear your new shirt. Mother would be very unhappy.”
“I’ll be careful,” replied the boy, trying to climb the veranda column.
Akitada plucked him down. “Come, Shiro,” he said. “I need you to take a look at the room and show me exactly what you did that morning. You don’t have to go inside, just look in from the door.”
The door was unlocked. The children stayed outside while Akitada walked in and opened the shutters; sunlight streamed in. The place looked untouched from his last visit. Maeko looked frightened, but Shiro pointed to the center of the room, his eyes fixed on the beam that had supported the body of Lady Ogata.
“I went just there,” he said. “Her feet were in front of my face.” He gestured to his chin. “But she wasn’t standing on them. She was floating. Like a fairy. I went up to her and gave her a little push, and she started swinging.” He looked at Akitada. “I didn’t mean to,” he said again defensively.
“I know. I can see that you wanted to know how she could float in the air.”
The boy nodded.
“Did you see anything else nearby? Her fan maybe, or the clothes rack? Or one of the trunks?”