They asked more questions about his family and home next, all easy to answer. Yukiko’s mother wanted to know about the children’s ages and their upbringing. Kosehira supplied anecdotes from his visits to Akitada’s home, carefully avoiding references to Tamako.
Akitada felt grieved by this. He said, “I have neglected my children. It was very wrong of me, but the death of their mother was deeply painful. I hope to make up for my neglect.” This, alas, struck a funereal note on what should be an auspicious occasion.
To dispel the somber mood, Kosehira said, “You have good people who look well after your children. I recall seeing Genba jumping about the courtyard with young Yori on his back, and Tora used to teach him how to fight. I’m sure they also look after the other two very well.”
Seeing some blank looks, Akitada explained, “Yori was my first son who died in the smallpox epidemic.” The women sucked in their breath and gave him pitying glances, while Kosehira bit his lip. Clearly the topic of tragic losses was undesirable. Embarrassed, Akitada added quickly, “You are right. My people love the children, and so do their wives. Tora has a son who is a year older than Yasuko. They all study and play together. And now Genba also has a little daughter.”
He felt awkward talking about his family and wondered what Yukiko thought. This new worry caused him to fall silent.
Kosehira changed the subject to the troubles in Otsu. “Akitada has been helping Chief Takechi with those murders that have people so upset,” he said. “It’s a difficult case, and I’m very glad he’s here to help.”
This brought more questions which Akitada and Kosehira answered cautiously, leaving out details that might frighten the women and give the smaller children nightmares.
And so the meal finally ended. Yukiko left quickly with the other women. She had not spoken once. Neither had she looked at him.
He walked back to his room dazed and miserable, wondering what was expected of him next. Was he to slip into Yukiko’s room under cover of darkness and make love to her?
Probably. But he had no idea where her room was. A younger man would have found out such an important fact long before now. He grimaced at the contrast between himself, a staid government official with a growing family, and a young lover. Poor Yukiko.
Clearly he could not force her to submit to him. It would be insensitive and brutish. The bedding of the bride had been easier in Tamako’s case, though there, too, he had been afraid to make his move. But he had been younger then, both eager and ardently in love, and that had overcome all his scruples. Now he had acquired a host of feelings of inadequacy.
He reached his room, looked at the bedding spread out by servants, and knew he would not be able to sleep. Turning around, he went back into the dark garden.
Half hoping.
It was already quite dark at the koi pond, and no one was there. Disappointed, he walked on to the promontory. Daylight lingered on the shining mirror of the lake, but a pale moon had risen, and the land lay dark beneath the starry sky. Only a few lights glimmered like glowworms in the city below.
Was the killer sleeping down there somewhere or was he watching another victim’s house? He had surely been watching the rice merchant’s house, waiting for the family and the servants to leave for the shrine fair. Then he had gone inside to kill Fumi Tokiari. This killer was a man of enormous patience.
So many fairs! A memory nagged at him, the words of a child. Yes, it had been the little boy at the rice merchant’s place wanting a puppet. Could he have seen the killer?
A rustle among the shrubs, a soft step, the scent of almond blossoms.
He turned slowly. Yukiko stood on the path. She wore the same blue robe as the last time they had met here—when he had believed he would never see her again.
“I thought you might come here, Akitada,” she said softly.
“Yukiko,” he murmured, extending his hand to her. “Oh, my dear. Are you pleased?”
“Yes, Akitada. I’m well pleased. And you?”
“Come here, my love!” he begged.
She came and he drew her close, and after a moment’s hesitation he cupped her face in his hands and put his lips to hers, tasting her sweet breath, and then kissed her again. His hands found their way under the loose blue robe to the merest wisp of silken undergown and the warm skin beneath. He caressed her lightly and kissed her again, feeling her soft gasp and the way she swayed against him.
Releasing her reluctantly, he gestured at the moon. “Last time, the sun was rising and you were bathed in golden light. I thought you the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen and grieved my loss. And now, by the light of the moon, I find you again, far more beautiful and dearer to me.”
She took his hand and placed it against her cheek. “It nearly broke my heart, your leaving.”
They stood, their arms around each other, looking up to where the moon was riding on a bank of silvery cloud. The Milky Way, that magical river in the sky had been crossed by the herdsman to embrace the weaver maid. Akitada was enchanted that he, too, should have found love again.
Just then a flight of birds crossed the sky. He murmured, “Not magpies, surely.”
“Geese,” she said with a soft chuckle. “My brother was right. They are flying north.”
They followed the arrow of their flight as they passed across the moon. It was a beautiful sight and surely a good omen.
Yukiko took his hand. “Come!” she said.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Puppet Man
Akitada spent at least part of the next day in a dream.
He intended to work with Takechi, to talk again to all the people connected with the crimes, but this time asking them a specific question. This would be time-consuming and frustrating, but there was a sense of urgency now, and the danger of riots was rising in the city. People were frightened by rumors of a mad killer and had become angry with the authorities. Even the constables were not safe. In one street, a crowd of boys had pelted them with horse droppings and stones and called them names.
But his thoughts were with Yukiko. He was as hungry for her as a young man in his teens and could not stop thinking about their night together. Feeling foolish, he reminded himself that this unaccustomed passion was due to long abstinence—or if not abstinence, then those quick and loveless unions he had purchased with silver. Yukiko, beautiful, young, utterly desirable, was his wife. He was barely able to comprehend it yet. Every thought of her filled him with a strange mix of tenderness and lust.
After spending the night with his daughter, Akitada’s first meeting with Kosehira was awkward. Fortunately, his friend was similarly embarrassed, and the situation in the city was the topic of the conversation. Akitada told Kosehira what he had remembered. Kosehira looked dubious, but said, “Well, since we have nothing else, I suppose you and Takechi had better look for the man.”
It was easier said than done.
His next embarrassment stemmed from Tora’s reaction when he told him what had happened. Tora’s jaw dropped in utter surprise. Alas, his shocked silence was temporary. After boisterous congratulations accompanied by backslapping, he bombarded Akitada with advice. You would have thought he, Akitada, had never bedded a woman or—which was more galling—that he was well past the age where he was able to function in the marriage bed. Tora insisted on regaling him with his experience in sexual matters.
“Remember now, sir, hot passion cools easily. Take it slowly. The young ones like it that way. Else you might frighten her.”
That one got Tora a stern warning, “How dare you, Tora. Mind your own business.”
Tora merely grinned, and Akitada was too happy to pursue the matter. But Tora was not done yet. He next advised, “Be careful how you look to others today, sir. It’s hard to conceal one’s thoughts of love-making.” Caught out in a lustful memory, Akitada flushed and shot Tora an angry look.