Both Tamako and Yoshiko stared at him in horror.
“No,” cried Yoshiko. “I would never say what isn’t true. I would die first.”
Tamako said, “They would not dare lay a hand on your sister.”
“Don’t be a fool!” Akitada stormed at her. Then he looked from one to the other. They were well-brought-up young women, belonging to the “good people,” their skin white and soft because they did not have to work for their food, their hair long and glossy because they had leisure to brush it. What did either of them know of the extremities of existence? He said harshly, “You know nothing of such things, but I do. As part of my duties I have had to witness such interrogations, and once or twice in my life I myself have come to know what it is like to go beyond caring about anything but the unbearable agony.”
Tamako paled and bowed her head. “Forgive me, Akitada,” she murmured.
But Yoshiko’s stubborn chin was raised. “I am as certain as I can be that you did not dishonor your name on those occasions,” she said, her eyes flashing. “But I, too, am Sugawara and, I tell you, I should rather die than submit.”
“Keep in mind that your lover will undergo the same treatment as you. Will he also be willing to die to protect your family?”
“Yes. Kojiro has already suffered through one interrogation without telling them about me,” Yoshiko said proudly. “It was because of me that he was beaten today. His guard told me when I got to the prison.”
“That was the reason Yoshiko was so distraught when she came home,” said Tamako.
“You were followed,” Akitada informed his sister.
Yoshiko nodded. “Yes. I am very sorry to have caused you trouble, Akitada,” she said. “And I am even more sorry for Kojiro. He has suffered for my sake. But I am not sorry that I love him. Once he is cleared of the murder charge, we shall be married.”
“What?” Akitada ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Was there no way he could assert his authority in his own family? First the trouble with Akiko, and now Yoshiko, too! It must be their mother’s blood which made them so unmanageable, so bent on causing mischief. He shouted, “You will do nothing of the sort. I forbid it! He is not a suitable husband for a sister of mine.”
Yoshiko was quite pale now, but her chin was still up and she looked him straight in the eyes. “I am only your half sister. You owe me nothing. Having brought disgrace upon you, it will be best if I leave this house. I shall go to my sister. Toshikage will speak to Superintendent Kobe to explain to him that you knew nothing about my relationship with Kojiro. Then, if the superintendent wishes to arrest me, at least he will not need to come to your house to do so.”
Their eyes locked. The pain of her rejection twisted like a knife deep in his stomach. Belatedly appalled at his treatment of her, he stammered, “You cannot do that… why Akiko?… or Toshikage? What can they do for you that I cannot do? Have I not always stood by you? By both of you? Why are you doing this to me, Yoshiko?”
Yoshiko’s eyes faltered. She murmured, “I am sorry, Akitada, but I have given my word to Kojiro and I cannot break it.”
Seimei’s phrase! Everyone in his family seemed eager to pledge allegiance to others! Who would desert him next? Staring bleakly down at his sister, Akitada shook his head, turned on his heel, and left the room.
He did not share his wife’s bed that night but spent restless, guilt-ridden hours in his father’s room, trying to find answers to his family troubles. Tamako came once, perhaps in an effort to make peace, but he said, “Not now. I must think what to do.” She inclined her head and left silently, returning much later with his bedding, which she spread for him without a word. He felt intensely lonely after she had left again.
Sometime during the night it began to snow. When the shadows of the room began to close in on him, Akitada threw back the shutters onto a pitch-black night. It was cold, but there was little wind now. The light from his lamp caught the large flakes as they fell slowly, drifting a little on unseen air currents, spinning in circles before floating gently to the ground. Shimmering like moving stars, they seemed to arrive from a void beyond, materializing only within the reach of his study light. The nearer shrubs and trees showed dimly with faint white highlights, but the gravel and the veranda boards were solid sparkling silver. Only the surface of the fishpond lay like a black mirror reflecting a black universe beyond.
Akitada stood for a long time, watching the mysterious arrival of the snow, before he closed the shutters and returned to his bed.
When he woke the next morning, the blackness outside had changed to a uniform gray. The snow had stopped, but heavy low clouds seemed to brush the stark treetops, and the light was so faint that the snow on the ground and on the roof of his house looked dull like unbleached silk.
Akitada dressed quickly in a dark robe, his court hat with the taboo pendant, leggings, and boots. Seimei knocked and entered with a bow and murmured a greeting, bringing a dish of rice gruel and a pot of hot water for tea. He asked for instructions for the day.
Akitada sipped his tea. “Do what you like! Carry on with the accounts,” he said. “I have to go out this morning.”
Seimei hesitated, looking unhappy, then bowed and left.
In spite of the early hour, Kobe was waiting at the prison when Akitada was shown to the office set aside for his use. Kobe’s mood was almost conciliatory. He offered Akitada warm wine.
“No, thank you.” Akitada found it impossible to produce a polite smile. Seating himself across from Kobe, he plunged into his speech. “Last night I was shocked and angered by your accusations. Today I find that I must apologize for the foolish and dangerous actions of a member of my family. As head of the family, I take full responsibility for what happened, even though I had no knowledge of it.”
Kobe nodded. He looked politely attentive. “Please continue!”
“I am afraid that the woman your men followed from the prison to my house is my younger sister Yoshiko.”
At that Kobe’s eyes widened. “Your sister?”
“Yes. It appears that she formed an attachment to the prisoner many years ago. I am to blame for her visits, because I carelessly discussed the Nagaoka murder with her. At the time, I had no idea that she knew anyone in that family, and she did not tell me.”
Kobe seemed too astonished to doubt Akitada’s words. “I see,” he murmured. “How very unpleasant for you! It would hardly have occurred to you that your sister would form such a very unsuitable … relationship with a person of that type. You have my sympathy.”
For a moment, Akitada thought he was being mocked. But Kobe’s face expressed only shock and concern. Perversely, this easy acceptance of his explanation, entailing as it did revelations of a personally embarrassing nature, angered Akitada. Surely the man Yoshiko had become involved with was not so completely contemptible. Nagaoka was a merchant, but a highly respected one and a man of considerable culture. And the man Akitada remembered meeting in the rain at the temple gate had appeared gentlemanly. Then he realized that, to Kobe, Kojiro was a criminal, and that his sister’s reputation depended on clearing her lover of the murder charge.
He pulled himself together and said, “I am much obliged to you for believing me, Superintendent. Since my sister is now deeply implicated in the case, I wonder if you might reconsider your position and allow me to assist you.” He steeled himself for another refusal.
To his surprise, Kobe pursed his lips and studied the ceiling thoughtfully. He said, “Hmm,” and after a moment, again, “Hmm.”
Encouraged by this, his heart beating faster, Akitada promised rashly, “I would, of course, do nothing but what you had approved beforehand, work under your supervision, so to speak.”