I Parker - The Masuda Affair

‘Ask him yourself. Tora seems to get all the attention here.’ As soon as he said it, Akitada was sorry. He felt resentful and was taking it out on Seimei. Dear heaven, what had happened to him?

‘You look very tired, sir. Drink some of your tea.’

Wine was what Akitada wanted. A great deal of very strong wine to drown his misery. He said, ‘I’m sorry, Seimei. I’m concerned about Tora, but this has not been a very good day for me.’ He reached for his teacup with his left hand and drank.

‘What is wrong with your right arm, sir?’

And that, of course, brought out the whole story of his disastrous visit to Otsu. Seimei got his case of medicines and listened.

Seimei’s ministrations soothed Akitada’s feelings more than they did the pain. Seimei clucked as he searched through his case of powders and ointments. It was not clear if he reacted to the tale of troubles or to the swollen arm, but it did not matter. Someone cared. Mollified, Akitada asked about Tamako.

‘She is visiting your sister, sir.’

Akiko?’ Silly question. Only Akiko, the older of his two younger sisters, lived in the capital. She had married a wealthy, much older nobleman and was the proud mother of a small son. Akitada wondered how Tamako could bear to visit there and be reminded of her own loss, but then he remembered how he had held the lost boy and felt whole again. Perhaps it was the same for Tamako.

Seimei also thought of the boy. After applying a soothing salve to Akitada’s swollen and bruised forearm and wrapping it, he gave Akitada a sharp look. ‘This boy must be very special for you to take such trouble, sir.’

No doubt they all wondered about this. Hardly anyone but Akitada would find him an attractive child, let alone lovable. He was skinny, dirty, and silent – a boy who could not communicate because he was mute, and possibly deaf. But to Akitada he had become special because no one seemed to want him. ‘I think I have grown very fond of the child,’ he said. Only, the child had turned his back on him.

Seimei nodded. ‘I’m sure that is quite natural. The child needed protection, and you needed someone to protect. But such a suggestion of misconduct is really outrageous.’

Akitada correctly took this to refer to the charges brought against him. ‘The charge is ridiculous, but it can do some real damage if it reaches the right ears. I’m convinced the whole thing is a form of blackmail. The Mimuras want money, a great deal of it, and I refuse to pay them for tormenting the child.’

Seimei refilled his teacup and pursed his lips. ‘I wish Tora were here. He would find a way to snatch the child and bring him here.’

Akitada pointed out that this was what had got him in trouble in the first place.

‘Your lady would be so pleased to have a child in the house again,’ Seimei said wistfully.

That seemed doubtful. Akitada recalled Tamako’s shock when he had proposed adopting the child. No doubt she had felt obliged to acquiesce. They all tried to appease his moods and only managed to irritate him even more. But in any case, Tora was gone, perhaps for good. He asked, ‘Have you ever heard Tora mention a woman called Hanae?’

‘Hanae? I don’t think so, but I may not have listened. Tora is always talking about girls.’

‘Exactly. And the wrong kind, the kind that gets a man into trouble. Why can’t he find a well-brought-up young woman?’

‘It’s a mystery. I’ve tried my best with him. Our Oyuki would have been much more suitable than the loose women in the quarter. But that’s where he spends all his time lately. As they say, the barley at the neighbor’s tastes better to him than the rice at home.’ Seimei expressed his disapproval of Tora’s lifestyle more often, and more sententiously, than anyone else, but now he regarded Akitada very pointedly, as if the proverb had a more personal application.

The list of Tora’s shortcomings would this time – Akitada strongly suspected – be followed by a lecture on his own neglect of Tamako, including a reminder that it was high time he produced more children of his own instead of running around stealing those of other, most unsuitable, people. When Seimei cleared his throat, Akitada said quickly, ‘My arm feels a little better, but I’m very tired. I’ll try to get some sleep. Wake me when Tamako returns. Or Tora, of course.’

Foiled, Seimei left, and Akitada stretched out and tried to rest. Seimei had stirred up unpleasant thoughts. They all considered him remiss in his responsibilities. He had not visited his wife’s room since their quarrel early in the year. He had neglected the accounts, which had shown poor returns from their farms, and then had left nearly all of his funds in the hands of Judge Nakano. It was not likely that he would get anything back. No doubt, Nakano would bestow most of the gold on the Mimuras and keep the rest for ‘expenses’.

As he lay on his back with his eyes on the ceiling, Akitada added another dereliction of duty to the list. Telltale black water stains had appeared on the wooden boards. The roof they lived under was probably close to falling down on top of them.

With a sigh, he got up again and unlocked the iron-bound chest that stood against one wall. As expected, only three gold bars and a little silver remained: hardly enough to begin large building projects. But he could at least see what needed to be done. He changed into his old robe and began an inspection tour.

Some time later, he had found enough urgent repairs to require double the money he had. Over the main hall, where guests were entertained and the family and friends gathered for celebrations, the cedar-bark shingles needed replacing. In summer the rains would finish the damage, and in winter the snow would melt and make its devious way into the house. Damaged railings, loose boards, and broken shutters were everywhere. In one gallery, the rain had come through and rotted out the flooring.

Akitada put off visiting Tamako’s room until last, and then he knocked to make sure it was empty. It was. His wife had taken her maid on her visit to Akiko. He wondered what they were talking about – no doubt how difficult Akitada had become to live with.

He found more water damage. And when he raised the woven reed blinds to let more light in, the entire contraption fell with a loud crash and a cloud of dust. He muttered to himself. This sort of thing was dangerous. On closer inspection, the blind was not worth remounting; the reed strands were so dry and brittle, they had disintegrated when they fell. He wondered how Tamako had managed to use it.

Angry at himself and his family for not keeping an eye on things until it was too late, he kicked the blind aside and strode out on to the veranda to inspect the outside of the pavilion. The boards sagged alarmingly. Such repairs should have been done by Tora and Genba. He growled and looked up at the eaves. At that moment, the board he stood on decided to give way, and he plunged downward, ending up in a splintered hole.

He cursed at length.

A swallow had built a nest on one of the eave brackets. Swallows’ nests were a good omen, but this nest was empty and long since abandoned by the bird family. He was still staring upward, bemused by this new symbol of the decline of his fortunes, when Tamako appeared in the doorway.

Her eyes widened when she saw her husband, oddly foreshortened by his fall. ‘Are you hurt?’ she cried.

Akitada’s injured arm hurt because he had used it to break his fall, and one of his ankles had been jarred. But mostly he felt ridiculous. He snapped, ‘No.’

Tamako raised a hand to her mouth and giggled.

He scowled and made an attempt to extricate himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘If I had known that you were coming to my room, I would have warned you.’