I. Parker - Island of Exiles

The tangled relationships between the men and women in the hermitage complicated matters. He tried to gauge the situation later, when Ribata cleaned Haseo’s wound and applied powdered herbs and various ointments, wrapping his leg again in some clean hemp bandages. When Haseo left to lie down, she asked to see Akitada’s knee.

“So. You have sought out trouble and found it, my lord,” she murmured, probing his leg.

Though she had addressed him as Taketsuna earlier, she knew very well who he was and that he had been trying to clear the governor’s son. Almost her first words to him had shown it, but he had been too shocked at the news that Masako and Toshito were with her to think clearly. He wondered how long she had known, and remembered her friendship with the Kumo family, but he only said, “Yes. And I’m afraid I have lost your flute.”

She looked up then and smiled. “Never mind. It is your life which matters.” Then she glanced through the door of the hut to where Masako was cooking over the open fire while her husband watched. “And that matters not only to you, but to your loved ones.”

Was Ribata reminding him that his duty lay elsewhere?

Of course, Masako’s marriage solved his problem. There was now no need to take her into his household. He should have been glad, but was perversely irritated and hurt that she had preferred the immature, ungracious, and inept Toshito. In fair-ness, Toshito was probably only a few years younger, and yet I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

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had already achieved an official position which was both more secure and better paid than Akitada’s. But it rankled.

In his resentment he reminded himself that her background, though upper-class, was severely lacking in proper upbringing and that her manners had never been ladylike. In that sense she certainly matched her new husband perfectly.

Akitada looked at her figure critically, trying to find fault. She was attractive, but no more so than his wife or other women he had had. There was a certain coarseness about her. All those muscles, while useful, were certainly not feminine. Yet, as much as he tried to soothe his hurt pride, the memory of how she had clung to him in her father’s room came unbidden, the way she had pulled him down to her and taken him passionately, hungrily into her embrace. Had she truly felt nothing at all?

A sudden sharp spasm in his knee recalled him.

“There,” said Ribata, vigorously massaging a palmful of ointment into his sore joint. “That should help. Go get some rest now. We’ll wake you when the food is ready.” Haseo had stretched out under a pine and was asleep already. Akitada suddenly felt drained of strength, but he walked over to Toshito, who greeted him with a scowl.

“You probably want to know what I learned about the prince’s death,” Akitada said.

Toshito looked toward Masako, who shot an anxious glance their way. “Not particularly,” he said.

Akitada raised his brows. The fellow’s manners were insuf-ferable. But he had no intention in wasting any more time on the puppy, so he said, “There was no murder. Okisada either died accidentally or committed suicide by eating fugu poison.” Toshito turned a contemptuous face toward him. “Ridiculous,” he snapped. “I was there, remember? No one ate fugu fish, least of all Okisada. And why would he kill himself when he intended to claim the throne?”

Akitada felt like knocking the smug fool to the ground.

Turning away abruptly, he said, “Nevertheless, he did,” and walked away to join Haseo.

The weather had remained dry and pleasant in the daytime but grew much cooler at night. Here in the mountains it was chilly in the shade and they had no clothes except their ragged pants. Akitada shivered and worried about Haseo, who looked flushed in spite of the cold. He found a sunny, sheltered hollow for himself, where he slept fitfully until Masako’s touch on his shoulder returned him to consciousness.

“The food is ready,” she said aloud, then whispered, “What did you say to Toshito?”

Akitada sat up. Tempting smells came from the large pot over the fire, and he felt ravenous. “Nothing to worry you. I told him that the prince committed suicide. He scoffed.”

“Oh.” She was going to say something else, but Toshito called to her.

Haseo looked better. He was less flushed and more inclined to take notice of the others. “Those two are in love,” he told Akitada with a nod toward the young couple.

They were standing close together, and as Akitada met Toshito’s eyes, the young man put a possessive hand on the girl’s hip.

“He doesn’t like you,” Haseo said. “Must be the jealous type.

Though why he should worry about a pathetic scarecrow like you, I cannot fathom.”

Akitada, for his part, could not fathom Masako. After their meal, he found an opportunity to talk alone with her. She was washing their bowls in a stream that ran behind the hermitage.

Toshito had gone to gather more firewood.

“Why did you make love to me, Masako?” he asked.

He had startled her and she dropped one of the wooden bowls into the water and had to scramble after it. The delay gave her time to gather her wits. In her typical fashion, she, too, was blunt. “When I found out why you had come and what power you had, I knew you could help us. That is, help both Toshito and Father. I was desperate. But the papers were secret and I could not ask you, so I tried to win your regard . . . by other means.”

He flinched as though she had slapped him. “So you seduced me, and I was fool enough to allow myself to be seduced,” he said bitterly.

She nodded.

Akitada turned away, angry and shamed. There were many kinds of love. Their relationship had been only lust on his part after all, but something altogether different on hers. He had at least felt a strong attraction to her, but she had merely manipulated him to gain her ends. And she had done what she did for another man, for Toshito. It struck him as abominable that some women, like Masako, strong, independent, and unconventional, would not hesitate to give their bodies to another man to save their husbands or lovers. He thought of Tamako. He would gladly sacrifice his life for her and his new son, and believed she would do the same for him, but he hoped she would never sleep with another man for any reason. The very thought made him sick.

Masako whispered, “Don’t tell Toshito, please. He’s jealous of you.”

“Of course I won’t tell. But I hope you don’t think I helped your father because you slept with me.”

“I shall always be grateful,” she said softly.

He glared at her. “I’m sorry we met.” She hugged herself and began to cry.

“Twice,” he said. “You lay with me twice, and all the time you only wanted to place me under obligation to you?” She gulped and sniffled, but said nothing in her own defense or to salvage some of his pride. After a long silence, Akitada said bitterly, “So be it. I wish you both well.” Then he turned and limped away.

Haseo watched him coming back. “Why in such a temper?” he asked lightly. “Did the pretty flower slap your face?” Akitada managed a laugh as he sat down beside him. “Of course not. She is married now and I’m a married man also.

And you? Do you have a wife and children?”

“Three wives and six children, two of them sons.” Haseo sounded both proud and sad. “I hope they have gone to my first wife’s parents. She comes from a wealthy family. My other wives were quite poor. And you?”

“One wife and one son. He’s only six months.”

“You must miss them.”

“Yes. Very much.” His need for Tamako suddenly twisted his heart. He had been a fool to desire another woman.