I Parker - The Fires of the Gods

He said quickly, ‘Oh, in your company, of course. Thank you for offering. And perhaps you would not mind showing me a little of this wonderful garden?’ He stopped himself, seeing her cane and her great age. ‘I beg your pardon. It is too much to ask.’

But she looked so pleased and was so eager that he accepted. She led the way, explaining graciously and with considerable pride. ‘My son has studied the art deeply,’ she said at one point. ‘He has a library of books, both in our language and in Chinese. It has helped him deal with his grief.’

Akitada asked, a little diffidently because it was a personal question, ‘His grief? Forgive me, but he seemed calm and businesslike when we met. I confess I have had little chance to get to know him well.’

She was silent for a long time. Finally, she said, ‘My son was widowed early, but this sadness concerns the loss of his daughter, my granddaughter. Motoko was beautiful and young and full of happiness. He loved his child entirely. Some would say too much. She was his whole life. This garden makes a poor substitute.’

Akitada’s thoughts flew back to the horrible death of his beloved son Yori. He, too, had loved his child entirely. He still loved him. Taking a deep breath, he said softly, ‘I know. They call it the darkness of the soul.’

She turned and searched his face. ‘You also?’

He nodded. ‘My five-year-old son. Last year, from smallpox.’

She reached out impulsively to touch his arm. ‘Oh, I am so very sorry. And now you fear for this child?’ Hushing, she withdrew her hand. ‘Forgive me. That was quite improper.’

He managed a smile. ‘Not at all. You are very kind. A kindness is never improper. And yes, I am afraid – for the child and its mother.’

She nodded. ‘I shall remember them to Amida when I worship.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t you think it is terrible when you have nothing left to fear?’

He thought about that for a moment because there was a good deal of pain in his fears, but he nodded. Old people became lonely if their children died before them. He was sorry for her even as his own heart lifted a little. Soon there would be another child in his home, another son to raise and to carry on his name, and this time the chances of his surviving into adulthood would surely be better. Yori had been a healthy child until the disease had struck him down. They would be more careful this time.

They finished their stroll through the garden.

Fuhito had created banks of flowering azaleas, a miniature mountain with a small waterfall that became a watery rill, winding about in more intricate curves even than the paths they walked. They passed over three different small bridges and walked beside a pond filled with water lilies. Tiny frogs swam there, and carp jumped for clouds of small gnats.

It was dusk when they reached the house again. The first fireflies sparked among the darkening boughs. Into that peaceful world broke the sudden rattle of bamboo from the gate.

‘That will be my son now,’ she said, and even in the fading twilight, Akitada saw her face light up. Perhaps she was not really so bereft that she had nothing to fear. She loved her son, and Akitada might take him from her.

Steps approached, and there was Fuhito, stopping in surprise – or terror, for he turned quite pale when he recognized Akitada.

His mother said quickly, ‘See who has come. Lord Sugawara has honored our house with a visit and taken a great interest in your garden.’

Akitada smiled and nodded. ‘Indeed, I have had great pleasure seeing this beautiful place. Surely this is what the Western Paradise must look like. You are to be congratulated.’

Fuhito bowed. ‘Thank you, My Lord. The garden is a poor thing, a mere dabbling for the sake of passing time.’

Akitada explained his presence, and Fuhito nodded. ‘Yes, Her Ladyship was very upset about the policeman at the gate. She would be even angrier if she knew that you have been forbidden access.’ He turned to his mother. ‘This concerns the death of His Lordship. We will talk in my room.’

Her smile faded, and she looked quickly from her son to Akitada. ‘Of course,’ she said softly. With a bow to Akitada, she walked quickly away.

Fuhito took Akitada into the main house. It was not only of modest size, but also sparsely furnished and nearly dark. In a corner room, he lit an oil lamp. Akitada saw that many unmatched old shelves and stands held books. Whatever former wealth the books represented was disproved by the bare wood floor and the flimsy, scratched desk and cheap writing set. There were not even cushions to sit on.

Akitada nodded towards the books and said, ‘What a very fine library you have.’ He hoped that Fuhito would unbend just a little. He was disappointed.

Fuhito’s expression did not change. ‘A few books are about gardening; the rest are what is left of my grandfather’s and father’s libraries. I found I could not sell them, or only for a negligible sum.’

Akitada asked, ‘What happened?’ then saw the other man’s face and wished he had not asked. ‘Forgive me. It’s none of my business.’

Fuhito turned away. ‘It doesn’t matter. My father was disgraced. It was not a criminal matter, but he lost his rank and position. He committed suicide. I had to leave the university and find employment.’

‘I am very sorry. The shadow of karma follows us everywhere.’ Akitada was himself all too well aware of the precarious nature of an official post, but at least his misfortune had not yet reached the level of destroying his family. Fuhito’s story made him more determined than ever to fight for his future.

Fuhito hunched his shoulders and said, ‘I wouldn’t have minded so much as long as… if my daughter had lived.’

Akitada did not know what to say to that. He felt very sorry for the other man, but there was still the matter of murder. He sighed and asked, ‘Could you answer a few more questions about your master?’ Determined to stay until he had learned what he needed to know, he sat down on the bare floor.

Fuhito made a helpless gesture with his hands and sat down across from him. ‘I apologize for the lack of comforts,’ he said miserably.

‘I’m quite comfortable. I take it from what you said earlier that Lady Kiyowara expects me to continue with the case in spite of the police?’

‘Yes, I think so. She will be very angry with the superintendent.’

The way of heaven was just. Let Kobe deal with Lady Kiyowara’s fury. The lady might well make him cease his opposition. She was quite formidable, and then there was her relationship to the regent’s wife. Encouraged, Akitada began his quest anew. ‘Have you found out anything else useful from the servants?’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘No disgruntled members of the household? No dismissed and angry servants?’

Fuhito looked surprised by the notion. ‘Hardly. Servants do not lift their hands against their masters.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that. Even the mildest and most obedient man can be pressed too hard and lose his self control.’

The major-domo shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

‘Let’s go back to the scene you found when you entered your master’s room that afternoon. It’s strange that there shouldn’t have been a weapon that might have dealt the fatal wound. While it is barely possible that the murderer entered and left the room without being noticed, surely that becomes highly unlikely if he was carrying a weapon.’

‘I’m afraid I cannot help you. It is, as you say, inconceivable.’

‘If he or she entered from the garden-’ Akitada paused to let the image of that sun-drenched landscape flash across his memory. The poet had been there, walking along the stream. And yes, it would have been easy enough to pick up one of the large stones that followed that waterway, slip into Kiyowara’s room and kill him, then slip back out to replace it. Oh, if only he could go back there. There might still be traces of blood, or some hair, perhaps, on that fatal stone.