I Parker - The Convict's sword

Like Yori.

She was sitting on the wooden porch of a vine-covered garden pavilion, her attention on the zither before her. He almost did not recognize her in a peasant woman’s gray cotton robe and trousers, and with her long hair braided into a single plait. Her face was bare of cosmetics, but her beauty made his heart contract at the futility of his desire.

Reminding himself of her lies, he strode up to the stone step of the porch and demanded, “Are you alone?”

She started and the melody splintered. Then her eyes widened and her face softened into joy. “How did you find me?” she asked.

He said coldly, “By accident. I had planned to call on you at your husband’s house, but this will do very well. How do you come to be here, and where are your people?”

The joy faded. “I have been banished. Yasugi sent me here.”

“You mean you are a prisoner?”

“Something like that.” She studied his face anxiously. “You have changed, Akitada. You look… ill.”

He brushed that away. “I’m well enough.” He glanced into the building behind her. It was empty except for a straw mat and the sort of bundle people make of a change of clothes when they travel. “You stay here? Why didn’t they at least open the main house for you?”

“They say it’s haunted. Someone was murdered there.”

“Yes,” he said harshly. “I know, and so do you. This used to be your home. You lied to me.”

She opened her mouth to protest.

“No, don’t deny it. Your first husband was the Tomonari heir. He died in exile for crimes he didn’t commit. Tell me, did you believe him guilty? Is that why you accepted so eagerly the rich man’s offer? Did you at least wait until the authorities confirmed your first husband’s death before you leapt into Yasugi’s bed?”

She had turned very white. The ivory plectrum in her right hand jerked across the zither, and a string tore with a loud, dissonant twang. She dropped the plectrum and bent her head, hunching her shoulders as if she expected him to strike her. “Please don’t.”

He was unmoved. Life was full of horrors, and he had no time for pity; he wanted answers. He said fiercely, “Your husband was my friend and died in my arms. His last thoughts were of you and the others, of the children. He believed you would stay together, and I promised I would find you. But I found only you, married to a rich man and living in luxury. Where are the others? Where are his children?”

She shuddered but did not answer, and that angered him. He went to her, seized her shoulder, and shook her until she raised her head and met his eyes. “Damn you, woman! You will speak and you will not lie to me this time, for I shall have the truth somehow. Your personal feelings no longer matter to me.”

She flinched as if he had struck her, but her eyes remained dry. “No,” she said softly, “I see that now. I think I knew it when I first saw your face. You’re changed. But I have never lied to you, whatever you may think. You never asked about my first husband.”

“You lied about your relationship with the murdered street singer,” he thundered. “I checked your family records. You are an only child, yet you claimed she was your sister and told me a string of lies about your parents abandoning her for making an unsuitable marriage. You even embroidered the tale by making out that her husband was an unfeeling brute who divorced her when she got smallpox. Who was Tomoe really?”

“I did not lie. One may call one’s husband’s wives ‘sisters.’ ”

That stopped him. “Tomoe was Haseo’s wife?”

“She changed her name because she had to earn her living on the streets.” Hiroko looked at him reproachfully, and he wondered if she was feeding him another elaborate lie.

“Even if this is true, the rest was a pack of lies.”

“It was all true. The Atsumis rejected her when she decided to accept the offer of a common gate guard. She and the children lived with him for a year, but when she became ill and blind, he threw them out. She was too proud to ask her parents for help after that.”

Akitada felt as if the ground were shifting beneath him. If this was indeed finally the truth, it was monstrous. He sat down abruptly on the stone step. She rose to fetch a cushion for him, inviting him to sit beside her.

“Please tell me about Haseo,” she begged.

He obeyed. When he was done, there was a long silence. Then she nodded. “Yes, that was like him. He could be very kind. And it’s good to know that he did not forget us in the end.” She sighed. “I have been angry with him for too many years.”

It was hard to know how women felt about their husbands. Apparently she had blamed Haseo for their abandonment. Akitada changed the subject. “How long have you been here?”

“Since we returned from the capital. Don’t look so shocked. I much prefer it to the company of my present husband.”

“You have your maid with you?”

“No.”

“Surely you’re not alone?”

“Someone brings me food once a day.”

He felt outrage at Yasugi’s treatment of her. At least two of Haseo’s wives had been abandoned to fates worse than exile. Uncomfortably aware of the offer of marriage he had made her, he said awkwardly, “You cannot stay here. Do you have relatives?”

She bowed her head. “Only a great-uncle in the capital. He doesn’t want me.”

Akitada felt wretched, but he simply could not bring this beautiful creature into his household now. In truth, he no longer wanted her there.

She guessed his thoughts and twitched a shoulder impatiently. “Don’t worry. I’m not your responsibility.”

“I wish I could offer you my home-” He broke off helplessly.

“I know. Once the cherry blossoms have fallen, not even Buddha can reattach them. We are not the same people any longer.”

He felt constrained to explain. “My little son has died.”

She raised her eyes in dismay. “When?”

“Four days ago. I left the morning after the funeral.” As he said it, he felt as if the suffocating pall of smoke from the pyre once again darkened the sun, and his tongue tasted the acrid stench.

She was still staring at him. “You left? But what about your wife? Your other children?”

“There are no other children. And Tamako is quite strong.”

She moved away a fraction. “Oh, yes. She will need her strength. Left all alone to grieve the death of her only child.”

Akitada detected a note of reproof. “You don’t understand,” he snapped.

She gave a small bitter laugh. “Oh, I understand only too well. You wanted to get away, to turn your back on an empty house, to immerse yourself in your work in order to blot out the pain. All men please themselves. Haseo did, too. I suppose that’s what makes women strong.”

He eyed her resentfully. “You think I’m pleased? You cannot possibly know what it feels like to lose your only son. Besides, my behavior is not for you to judge.”

She rose, her pale face flushed with anger. “I know your grief only too well, my lord. I lost my son. And you have judged me all along.”

He stumbled to his feet. “You lost a son?”

“Yes. He was my only son also, though I still have a daughter. He was barely two years old.”

“Yasugi’s child?”

“I have no children by my present husband.” She twisted her hands, and for the first time her eyes filled with tears. “My daughter is no longer with me. Yasugi keeps her from me. She’s almost eight, and he threatens to sell her into prostitution unless I submit to him.”

“Dear heaven!”

“I no longer have any choice,” she said bitterly. “You do.”

Akitada was dumfounded. “You mean you have refused Yasugi all these years? But why did he marry you if you had no intention of living with him as his wife?”