I. Parker - The Emperor's woman

Tamako rose quickly to get it.

Akiko said, “It seems strange nobody in the palace caught on. He managed to creep into her room a number of times, and then she was always going off on excursions. It must have been very dangerous. If he was so eager to take her to wife, he should have done so much sooner.”

Her brother nodded. “Yes. I thought so, too. Prince Atsuhira has played fast and loose with young women before. Perhaps he got cold feet?”

She nodded. “Men are such cowards.”

“Not all men, surely.”

“No, but there are enough of those like the prince at court. If you ask me, Masako was a fool. Even at eighteen, a girl knows better than to listen to such honeyed words.”

Akitada thought back to his last encounter with the prince. “He seemed very distraught over her death. I wonder if it was Lady Kishi who found out about their plans and made difficulties.”

“Kishi would have done more than make difficulties. She would have gone to the emperor.”

“Really?” Akitada was surprised by this and wondered what might have happened if she had done so. But, no, he did not believe the palace would engage assassins.

Akiko said, “No. Kishi doesn’t love her husband. You have to love a man madly to cause a scandal like that.”

Tamako came back, followed by her maid with a tray containing a wine flask and three cups. The maid set this down and poured, then left again. Akitada drank thirstily and refilled his cup immediately. The ladies sipped.

“Akitada thinks Kishi might have informed the emperor of the affair,” Akiko told Tamako.

“Surely that would simply have meant sending Lady Masako home in disgrace,” Tamako remarked.

“Exactly,” nodded her husband. “Still, might she have written to Masaie?”

They pondered this but found no answer.

“Go on with the reading,” urged Akiko. “If she did, we’ll find out soon enough.”

In the middle of the Gods Absent Month, Lady Masako went home again. Akitada paused, looking at the women.

“Strange,” murmured Tamako. “She couldn’t expect anything but more harsh reprimands from her father, yet it sounds as though she requested permission to travel.”

Akiko cried, “I have it. She found out she was with child. It’s the only possible explanation. She couldn’t stay in the palace in that condition.”

Akitada said mildly, “It wouldn’t have been noticeable under all those gowns you women wear.”

Akiko snorted and Tamako smiled. “There are other signs,” she told her husband.

He flushed. “Oh, but would anyone know beside herself and her companion?”

Akiko said, “Certainly. In the imperial palace, there are ladies assigned to taking note of such changes.”

Akitada was embarrassed and decided to go on with the reading rather than pursue such matters.

As it turned out, Lady Masako returned to the palace a week before her death in the Frost Month. The entries were even shorter now. She noted the arrival of winter, perhaps because her visits to the mountain villa became more arduous. Somehow, Akitada sensed that a decision had been made.

“I try to read your heart,” she wrote in one poem to her lover, “while snow falls on my melancholy days.”

“It sounds as though she realized too late she couldn’t rely on him,” commented Tamako. “He’s not a good man. Could he have killed her?”

Silence fell as they considered this.

Akiko nodded first. “I like it. He’s never had a conscience when it came to women. I think he did kill her. How will you prove it though? Go on and read the rest. What does she say just before the day she died?”

“If he killed her, he didn’t try to cover up the affair,” Akitada reminded her. “It got him in all this trouble.”

Akiko pursed her lips. “The trouble happened because your friend insisted on going to the police.”

“True.” Akitada reluctantly gave Akiko credit for having seen this. “But his behavior seemed to be the reaction of an innocent man who was profoundly shocked by her death.”

“Oh, you’re just stubborn. Go on and read.”

There was not much more. Some court observances at the beginning of the Frost Month were briefly mentioned. The prince sent a note. She responded, “Are you also thinking of the moon over the mountain’s edge, lamenting how the days drag on?”

The decisions had been made, Akitada thought. And he read the final entry.

“’Oh winter storm! Your voice is thunder and my sleeves are soaked with tears.’”

“There!” cried Akiko.

Akitada said, “There is no more. She didn’t write another line.”

“A storm. It means a bitter quarrel. She quarreled with the prince.” Akiko’s voice filled with excitement. “They quarreled, Akitada. She wanted marriage and he refused. So she threatened scandal. He made an appointment to meet her, and then he either killed her himself or sent someone to do it. There’s your proof.”

Tamako looked troubled. “She doesn’t use his name. There is no real proof.”

Turning the journal in his hands, Akitada nodded. “Yes, Tamako is right. There is no real proof, just suspicion.”

Akiko jumped up. “Oh, you’re both blind. Can’t you see he’s the obvious one? What was simpler than to send her up to the villa and stage a suicide while he could claim to have been with Kosehira?”

“It could have been as you say,” said Akitada. “But this must have happened while she was still supposed to live in the palace. It could also have been someone else.” He sighed and put down the journal. “And now I think I’ll go and have a nice long soak in the bath.”

He did not mention that he had recognized a line in the journal.

Saburo was aware that his suspicion could be wrong and an embarrassing waste of time. Even given the two pieces of information which supported it, they could fit any number of different people. Yet he could not shake the feeling that he was right.

He spent every free minute watching. This was complicated and expensive because he did not want to attract notice and scare his suspect off. He sat outside a wine shop to keep his eyes on a door farther down the street, hoping his man would emerge or enter. Eventually, he had to abandon his watch to go to work before he laid eyes on him.

The following night, he was back at his spot, and this time he was in luck. His quarry emerged and walked away down the street. Saburo followed at a distance, watching, waiting for the other to make a mistake. Once or twice he thought he did, but he could not be sure.

The next day, he met with Tora and Genba.

He was surprised to see Genba free. They embraced and then walked to a nearby restaurant to celebrate.

Genba and Tora took turns filling him in on all that happened since Genba had been released.

“I don’t mind telling you,” said Genba, his face shining with joy, “I was flabbergasted. The superintendent himself came to set me free. It was almost like he meant to tell me how sorry he was except, of course, he didn’t do that.”

Tora broke in, “He should’ve apologized. He had no business treating you or any of us who work for our master in this fashion.”

“Well, I was glad enough, except there was Ohiro. I hardly dared ask about her, but I did, and he said to wait outside and she’d be with me. And it wasn’t any time at all before she came, looking just as confused as I felt. I can’t tell you how good it was to see her.”

“So what are your plans?” Saburo asked, wondering if Genba really intended to make a prostitute his wife.

“Oh, that’s the best part,” Tora said. “The master made her welcome. We’re on our way now to hire the carpenter. Genba will need a separate place for his wife and children. We’ll use part of the stables. There’s plenty of room there, and the master’s given us his blessing. Genba and Ohiro will have a cozy room or two with a small kitchen, just like Hanae and me.”