Akitada wondered if the young man was shy. He certainly did not engage in conversation.
To ease the awkward moment, Toshikage filled in. “Takenori is twenty-eight years old. My other son, Tadamine, is twenty-seven. He serves at the northern front and was recently promoted to captain.” Fatherly pride and something else—a sadness?—sounded in Toshikage’s voice.
“You are to be congratulated on your children. Are there daughters also?”
Toshikage brightened a little and chuckled. “No such luck, or I could make some shrewd connections with the ruling Fujiwaras. Are you by any chance asking because you wish to take another wife?”
Akitada was taken aback by the suggestion. He would never take another woman into his household while Tamako occupied it. Renewed worries about his family’s welfare surfaced and were banished. “Not at all,” he said firmly. “I am well content with my present arrangements.”
“And so am I,” cried Toshikage. “Your sister is all an old man like myself could wish for. She has such elegance and beauty it takes my breath away.”
Akitada smiled warmly at his brother-in-law. When he glanced at Takenori, however, he noticed the young man’s clenched hands. So there might be some ill feeling here! Not a pleasant situation for Akiko, who had probably been a bit naive to congratulate herself on being the mother of the next heir. She had planned without considering Toshikage’s grown sons.
Toshikage, unaware of the effect of his speech on his son, continued happily, “And now she is to be a mother soon. She tells me it is to be a boy. Women know about such things, don’t you think? What about your wife? You have a son, I hear. Did she carry him high in her belly? For that is what Akiko does. A lively child! He kicks already to open the door to life!” Toshikage laughed and his own belly trembled with merriment. His son got up abruptly and busied himself with some papers at the desk.
“Well,” said Akitada blandly, “if it is not a son, you will have a daughter to play marriage politics with. And, in any case, you have sons already.”
Toshikage’s face fell. “My sons are well enough,” he said, “but Takenori here is promised to the church. He has postponed taking the tonsure to see me through the present problems at work but will enter the Temple of Atonement in Shinano province in the coming year. And Tadamine insisted on joining the army last year. There has been a great deal of fighting up north.” He sighed deeply.
Akitada looked at Takenori with surprise. The young man returned his glance stolidly. Akitada told him, “You are to be admired for such a serious spiritual choice at your age. Few young men are so devout, though it is said the Buddha himself followed the calling before he had reached the prime of life. But will you not miss your family and the life of the capital?”
Takenori said, “I see my path clear. There is nothing for me in this world.”
Toshikage shifted uncomfortably. Akitada wondered whether Takenori had rejected the temptations of a worldly career or felt abandoned by his father. He glanced uncertainly at Toshikage and thought he saw tears in his brother-in-law’s eyes. So it had been the young man’s own choice, just as apparently it had been the other son’s wish to become a soldier. To have both sons turn their backs on a career in the capital where they could support their father and eventually carry on the family name was a tragic blow. But eventually, of course, it would benefit Akiko, particularly if she did bear Toshikage more sons, and if Tadamine lost his life on the battlefield. No doubt his sister had taken these things into account. Thus were grief and happiness forever intertwined in the rope of fate.
“Takenori,” said Toshikage with a sigh, “stop your fidgeting and sit down. We must tell Akitada about our visitor.”
It developed that the director of the Bureau of Palace Storehouses himself had called on his assistant to express his dissatisfaction with certain rumors he had heard.
Toshikage was distressed. “Apparently the story of my having the lute got out past our department,” he said. “The director does not show his face very often in the office. His is one of those appointments which merely produces a good income. He was angry because someone made insinuations about lax administration at a party he was attending.”
Akitada watched his brother-in-law as he reported on the director’s visit. Toshikage appeared more frustrated than conscious of guilt. His son looked angry. When he met Akitada’s eyes, he cried, “It was an intolerable insult to my father and may cost him his position.”
Akitada said soothingly, “Well, nobody takes gossip very seriously. Next week they will have something else to talk about. I meant to tell you that my questioning the local antiquarians has at least given us the encouraging news that the thief, if there was one, has not offered any of the objects for sale.” He gave Toshikage a hard look. “I don’t suppose they could simply have been misplaced. Perhaps, like the lute, they were removed temporarily only and will be returned?”
“Impossible,” cried Takenori. “Father and I checked carefully. They have been missing for months.”
Toshikage nodded with a sigh. “Yes, I am afraid Takenori is right. We have made a most careful search since I last spoke to you. We did so after hours so as not to attract the notice of my colleagues.”
Fleetingly Akitada wondered if Takenori was taking refuge in Buddhist vows because he foresaw his father’s downfall and exile. They would certainly protect him from prosecution. But what about the figurine in Akiko’s apartment? “Are you quite certain, Brother, that you have not forgotten bringing home some of the things? They could easily have become mixed up with your own treasures.”
Toshikage stiffened. “Of course not. I am not yet in my dotage even if I am quite a bit older than you.”
“Sorry. I did not mean to imply anything.” Seeing the anger in Toshikage’s face, Akitada broke off awkwardly. How was he to pursue the matter? Any suggestion of his suspicion might offend Toshikage so seriously as to lead to a break between the families, or worse.
Toshikage had fallen into a hurt silence, but Takenori looked flushed with anger. When he saw Akitada’s eyes on himself, he protested, “My father is most meticulous in his duties. It is so unfair! I think that we should propose that this house be searched. It will establish his innocence once and for all.”
Toshikage cried, “Heavens, no! I forbid it. What are you thinking of? It would upset Akiko, and in her delicate condition that could endanger the child.”
Akitada, more than ever at sea about Toshikage’s culpability, sought desperately for something else to say and remembered the screen.
“Forgive me, Brother, for speaking so carelessly. I really was thinking of the many wonderful things I saw in Akiko’s quarters.”
Toshikage looked slightly mollified. “It gives me pleasure to surround beauty with more beauty,” he said sentimentally.
“She is a lucky woman. And you are a remarkable collector with a fine eye for art. I particularly admired the screen with the flowers.”
“Oh, that! Yes. Does it look well there? It cost a pretty penny. The fellow is getting a name at court.”
There was something not quite right about Toshikage’s response. Had the man not seen it for himself ? Akitada said, “It looks very well indeed. Was it you who chose to place it just to the side of the sliding doors to the courtyard? In the summertime it must look as if the garden had moved into the house.”
Toshikage beamed. “Hah! Very good. No, Akiko must have put it there. Clever girl!”
So Toshikage did not venture to his wife’s room regularly. Apparently, like the emperor’s consorts, Akiko proceeded to her husband’s quarters for their intimacies. More importantly, it was possible that Toshikage had nothing to do with the suspect figurine. It made the problem more complex, for someone else in the household could have placed it there. If, indeed, it was part of the imperial treasure and not some similar piece.