“No, sir.” Tora was still grinning. Unlike Saburo, he was enjoying the prospect of sharing a bath with one of the great nobles in the land. “They kept me locked up. I saw nothing. I figure they’ve got lots of secrets to protect.”
“No doubt,” muttered Kosehira, casting a leg over the side of the tub and plunging in, sending hot water over the side and its three occupants. “Ahhh, hmmm!” he sighed, closing his eyes. “That’s better.”
For a while they enjoyed the warmth silently. Akitada recalled his fear that Lady Yukiko would someday surprise him in his bath and quickly banished the thought again.
“So,” said Kosehira and looked at Tora, “it was all for nothing?”
Tora’s smile faded. “Afraid so, sir.”
“Not quite,” said Akitada. “I arrested one of the sohei involved in the attack on Kinzaburo and his family. He’s safely in the tribunal jail by now.”
Kosehira’s eyes widened. “Did you, now? How did you manage that?”
“Tora pointed out his tattoo. Tomorrow, we’ll transfer him to the Otsu jail and confront him with witnesses. He won’t be terrorizing women and children again.”
“He’s a stupid bastard,” said Tora, cheerful again. “Couldn’t resist being the one to bring me out in chains.”
“I can’t believe they let you take him.” Kosehira was dumfounded. “He can claim sanctuary on temple land.”
Akitada smiled. “I told them I have extraordinary powers while I’m looking into this matter of temple improprieties.”
“And do you?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. It was the best I could do at the moment. If we had left without him, we’d never have seen him again.”
Kosehira burst out laughing. “I don’t believe it. You stood right there before the abbot and took one of his men?”
“It was the prior Kanshin. The monk who paid me a visit earlier. The abbot did not seem interested in getting involved.”
“Ah. I’ve only met old Gyomei once. Yes, he either pretends to be above all this wrangling or he really has no idea what is going on.” Kosehira had become serious again. “I don’t have to tell you how difficult things have been with Enryaku-ji and Onjo-ji squabbling like bad little boys while they are grabbing land right and left. I’ve been told many times that I have no power to administer my own province. It seems most of it is owned by the temples.”
This was the first time Kosehira had voiced a complaint. Akitada looked at his friend with new eyes. He wanted to know more about his life but could not ask with Tora and Saburo present, so he only said, “I hope I haven’t caused trouble for you. Tora thinks the man will talk when confronted by local witnesses.”
Tora nodded. “Those tough-looking bastards with tattoos always end up being cowards.”
“Well then, tell me everything that happened,” Kosehira said.
They complied, taking turns. At one point, Kosehira was shocked to hear that the monks had taken Tora’s horse.
“Can’t have monks stealing horses,” he muttered.
Saburo, who had been fairly quiet, said, “They do so already and have been doing it for years. They claim shipments of horses for the temple even though they come from private estates and are intended for the market in the capital.”
Kosehira looked astonished. “You know this for a fact?”
Akitada said, “Saburo was once one of them. Or rather, he was a sohei who spent some interesting time on Mount Hiei.”
Kosehira’s eyes widened again. “Really? Is that … I mean did they …?” His eyes were searching Saburo’s face.
Saburo looked away. “Yes, sir.”
“Dear gods!” Kosehira fell silent. After a while, he got out of the bath. “I think I have enough to occupy my mind for a while,” he said, sounding dejected.
Akitada joined him. “I’m sorry, Kosehira,” he said softly. “I did not mean to spoil your well-deserved relaxation.”
“No, no,” said Kosehira, wrapping a cotton gown around his paunch. “Will you join us for dinner?”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of your ladies.”
Kosehira smiled. “It’s among his family that a man finds true happiness, Akitada. Remember that.”
∞
It was still raining steadily later when Akitada made his way along the covered gallery toward the pavilion of Kosehira’s ladies. The garden lay in a green haze, the leaves glistening and the blooms on the azaleas drooping with moisture. A warm scent of wet earth, moss, and growing things came from the ground and, as he passed an azalea growing close to the gallery, its heady scent filled the moist air with an almost intoxicating power. He stopped to breathe more deeply and was filled with a great longing for Tamako.
Her scent had been orange blossoms, but he recalled her vividly in their own spring garden, bending over a flowering azalea to breathe in its fragrance. Kosehira had been right. His true happiness had been then, with her and the children in their garden. And he had lost it.
“Akitada?”
He returned from his dream of happier times and saw that Yukiko had come from the pavilion, perhaps to fetch him or to greet him. She had paused a little distance away, looking like a spring flower herself in her pink robe.
“I’m sorry, Lady Yukiko,” he said, taking a guilty pleasure in seeing her pretty face, that graceful figure in pale rosy silks. Had not his wife favored this color? She had been quite different from this charming girl. Tamako had worn her clothes with a quiet grace; Yukiko had the quick movements of a young deer. Emotion suddenly constricted his throat.
But Yukiko came toward him slowly, almost shyly. “I’m the one who is sorry. I interrupted your thoughts. You looked happy.”
“A delightful interruption. Am I late for dinner?”
“No. I came out to smell the rain. The garden always smells quite wonderful at this time.” She chuckled softly. “Do you smell it, too? The azaleas. I love the scent. It’s always especially intense in a slow rain.”
“I had the same thought a moment ago. Your garden is beautiful in all kinds of weather.”
“You will always be welcome here.”
It was a strange thing to say. He was a guest, a temporary visitor who must leave, perhaps never to return. “Thank you.” He looked out over the garden once more, and she came to stand beside him.
“You are lonely, I think,” she said softly. “I know all about loneliness.”
He was startled and upset by her comment. “How can you be lonely here amidst your family. I would think you would never wish to leave them.”
She looked up at him, her eyes sad. “One can be lonely in a crowd. I love my family, but I feel they have their own lives, that I am somehow apart.” She turned away. “And adrift.”
She said this last in a voice filled with such sorrow that Akitada reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She made a small sound, turned toward him, and came into his arms, laying her head against his chest.
Akitada’s thoughts were in turmoil. What had happened to her to cause such sadness? How could he make things better? And then: what was he doing, standing here, holding Kosehira’s daughter in his arms? Someone might come at any moment. Yet he drew her a little closer. The top of her head almost reached his eyes. Her hair gleamed a beautiful bluish black, and he could see part of her neck, just below a dainty ear. It was a neck he wanted to kiss so very much that he felt his hands trembling with the effort not to do so.
All around them, the rain fell with a soft music of its own, and the scent of spring flowers and warm, moist earth filled the air. At that moment, Akitada knew he was lost.
Somehow they parted, neither speaking, and walked slowly toward the pavilion.
Akitada did not know how he managed to get through the cheerful family meal on this occasion. He ate automatically, answered absent-mindedly, and tried not to look at Yukiko. He failed miserably. A few times their eyes met and both looked away quickly.