I. Parker: The Old Men of Omi

Fortunately, Akitada had other, more pleasant, things to occupy his mind. As soon as the procession had passed, Kosehira and his sons joined it on horseback. The crowd of onlookers dispersed to follow. Akitada remained to look after the women and children.

He found that Kosehira’s wives wanted to return home, and Akitada saw them safely into one of the carriages. Yukiko and the children were to stay with him and return later in the other carriage.

He left his horse with the servants, and they walked the rest of the way to the lake shore. The children, both Kosehira’s and his own and Yuki, skipped ahead excitedly. He and Yukiko followed.

His wife looked very fetching in a pink gown with a white embroidered Chinese jacket. She was dressed for the outing and her long hair was gathered and tied with a white silk bow in back. He thought her enchanting and told her she resembled the cherry blossoms on the trees that lined the road. She thanked him and blushed.

The ceremony of carrying the mikoshi on board a barge festooned with straw ropes and colorful bunting was nearly complete by the time they reached the lake. Crowds had converged here, and they had to slip in between people to find a place where the children could see.

What with all the pushing of the crowd, Akitada was afraid of losing one of the children, though Yukiko had told them to hold hands with each other so they would not get separated. Then he almost lost Yukiko as a fat man pushed past him, followed by an equally large family. He looked about frantically and finally found her. After this incident, he kept his arm around her for the rest of the ceremony.

By the time, the barge had been rowed out into the lake, the crowd was headed back toward the fair. They were still all together, for which Akitada gave silent thanks, but he now worried about the fair; It was much larger than the last one where they had temporarily misplaced young Arimitsu. And now they had three additional children to watch.

The fair presented a cheerful picture with its many-colored awnings of fabric stretched between bamboo poles. Kites flew overhead, causing the boys to point and plead. Paper lanterns swung in the breeze, and music came from all sides. Delicious food smells hung in the air, and everywhere vendors shouted their wares.

They were very busy for the next hour and blessedly lost not a single child. Coppers passed from the children to vendors of sweets, more coppers from Akitada to the children. There was a puppet show, but its master had a regular stand for his stage, and he did not limp. A story teller enthralled the children for a while, until they discovered dancers in elaborate lion and dragon costumes dancing on a stage. Akitada took every opportunity to draw Yukiko close, or at least hold her hand. They laughed a good deal, and he was as deeply happy as he had been in many years.

And then he saw the man.

He was ordinary looking, gray-haired and deeply tanned, and he stood watching the puppet show. Something about his expression had caught Akitada’s attention, a sort of sneering intentness. As if he could feel his stare, the man suddenly turned his head and looked at him. For a moment their eyes locked, and Akitada knew he was looking at the killer. Then the man turned abruptly and disappeared into the crowd.

Akitada was shaken by the encounter. Instinct told him to follow the man, but he could not leave Yukiko and the children. He scanned the crowd and eventually thought he recognized one of the constables. Waving him over, he described the man and sent him after him.

He was beginning to tire of the entertainment and long for a peaceful rest on Yukiko’s veranda, when he saw the man again. This time he was walking away from them with a pronounced limp.

Akitada decided to take the risk. “Yukiko,” he said to his wife, “can you manage the children for a little? There is something I have to do.”

She raised her brows and giggled. “Certainly, my husband.”

He did not correct her mistake and dashed after the limping man.

“Stop!” he shouted, and when this brought no results, “Stop that man!” Of course, people ignored this, scattering instead in panic. Where were the constables when you needed them? Akitada was hindered by his clothing which, while not the paralyzing court dress, was still not made for running after fugitives. He also had no weapon.

The man was getting away from him in spite of his limp.

Stubbornly, Akitada persisted. His prey vanished from sight once or twice, and eventually Akitada found himself lost, confused and out of breath behind the vendors’ tents. He retraced his way to his family, hoping he had not lost them, too.

Then he found the man again in the crowd and simultaneously saw Yukiko and the children, still waiting near the spot where he had left them. He debated his priorities for only an instant, then ran to them. He must make sure they were safe before he could hunt for the killer.

Arriving somewhat out of breath, he told Yukiko, “Come! We must leave. It isn’t safe for you or the children.” He saw a flash of understanding in her eyes, and took her arm. Turning to gather the children, he found himself once again making eye contact with the killer.

Akitada was certain now that this was the killer. It was also clear that the man knew he had been unmasked. His face was filled with a hate so intense that Akitada was shaken by it. “Come, children,” he said. “Hold hands. We must hurry.”

They obeyed for once, though Arimitsu protested, “But we haven’t seen everything, yet.”

Yukiko took her brother’s hand. “You have seen enough.”

They were headed back to their waiting carriage, but Akitada had reckoned without the killer. Instead of fleeing, Hatta rushed after them, flinging himself between Akitada and Yukiko to seize her by her hair, pulling her head back. He placed the point of a knife against her throat.

“If anyone lays hands on me, she dies,” he snarled at Akitada.

Akitada froze. All around him the scene exploded into chaos. The children shrieked, people cried out in fear and scattered, but for Akitada time stood still. He saw only the knife at his wife’s throat.

Finally and too late, two red-coated constables appeared, and Akitada knew the danger had just escalated. The madman’s mind would snap completely if he was attacked.

With every fiber of his body Akitada wanted to snatch Yukiko from him, but that knifepoint at her throat stopped him. The tip was placed where even a slight cut would prove deadly. He had seen a soldier die in a few moments when a sword had nicked him in that precise spot. His blood had gushed forth and it had been all over.

His voice trembling, he asked, “Are you Hatta Takashi?”

“So you know my name. No matter. She dies unless I leave a free man.”

Akitada caught sight of the constables closing in and shouted at them, “Stay back! Don’t touch him.”

Dear God, he thought, not Yukiko. Not Yukiko also, his just-found love, his poor, dear young wife. She was as pale as snow and her eyes were tightly closed, but tears escaped from under her lashes. A bead of blood formed where the blade pressed into her neck. If she dies, he thought, I shall also die.

“Don’t do this,” he begged in a shaking voice. “I promise to try to help you. What Taira Sukenori did to you and your family was abhorrent. I understand your wish for revenge, but my wife has done nothing to you.”

“You think I care about you courtiers and your spoiled wives? You’re all alike. You cheat everyone, and when you’re found out, you kill and make some other poor man pay for it. If you know who I am and what Taira Sukenori did to us, you know I could not forget or ever trust one of you again.”