The Fires of the Gods (18 page)

FAMILY MATTERS

A
kitada had taken to sleeping in Tamako’s room after spending that pleasant night with her. He did so for the companionship, not for sexual gratification. Perhaps he had also hoped to be there when the child came.

The first warning came sometime in the middle of the night. He woke because Tamako moaned beside him and then clutched his arm. Her fingers dug almost painfully into his skin.

‘What? What is it?’ he asked, coming awake slowly, then finding himself immediately in a panic. He had pent up his fears over the past days, pushing them aside, telling himself that Tamako looked and felt much better, and that all was quite well. Childbirth was a natural process. Women had children all the time and came through it very well. Tamako had survived the first birth in spite of some difficulties.

Yes, there had been difficulties, even beyond the immense snows that had isolated them. But then there had been Doctor Oyoshi, that kind and gentle man who had helped her through it and, more importantly, helped him as well. He had been a gibbering idiot by the time Yori was born.

And now it was about to happen again.

Tamako’s grip on his arm gradually relaxed. ‘The child,’ she said, after the pain had passed away. ‘It’s coming this time. I’ve been feeling the pains for a while now. I’m sorry, Akitada, but could you wake Hanae and the others?’

The others were her maid Oyuki and Seimei.

Akitada scrambled out of the bedding. ‘Yes, of course. Right away. Can I do anything? Are you thirsty? Do you want screens put up around you? What about lights?’

‘No, Akitada. The women will see to it. You’d better make yourself a bed in your study. This will take a while.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be right here.’

‘Thank you, but there’s no point to it. I’ll be well looked after.’ She bit her lips and closed her eyes, clutching at the bedding as another pain started. ‘Now please go!’ she gasped.

Akitada grabbed his robe and ran.

The maid was the first he shook awake. She slept in the eave chamber of Tamako’s pavilion and knew immediately what was happening. Then he hurried barefoot across the compound to Tora’s quarters and pounded on the door. Tora appeared, sleepy-eyed and clutching his bandaged arm.

‘Sorry, Tora. Where’s Hanae? The child is coming.’

Tora’s eyes widened and he turned, but Hanae had heard and was already there, tying the sash on her gown and then twisting her hair back.

‘Perhaps Tora had better go for the doctor,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it’s quicker the second time around.’

Akitada saw the way Tora cradled his arm and shook his head. ‘No. Seimei said he was to rest. That was a very nasty cut. I’ll go myself. Just as soon as I wake Seimei and put on my boots.’ Tora protested, but Akitada overruled him. ‘I’ll be glad to have something to do,’ he said. ‘You rest that arm and look after your son.’

Seimei was awake and gathering his herbal remedies. He greeted Akitada with a smile. ‘A happy day, sir. And perhaps another son.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Akitada, too distracted to contemplate it. ‘Hanae said it would be quicker than last time. That’s good, isn’t it?’

Seimei chuckled. ‘I am sure Her Ladyship will think so. You are getting a doctor?’

Akitada nodded. ‘I’m going myself. And I’d better get a monk, I suppose, if it’s really urgent.’

‘It is always best to take an umbrella before the rain starts. Don’t forget that you will need some money, sir.’

Akitada hurried back to Tamako’s room to make sure she was being looked after. He arrived just in time to hear her moaning again. He shuddered and was tempted to leave, but made himself creep closer. The women had set up screens around Tamako and covered them with white cloth. He peered over and saw that the bedding had been changed to white hemp, and that Tamako was draped in a tent-like white hemp gown. Her eyes were closed, and her face was flushed and covered with moisture. Oyuki knelt beside her, mopping sweat from her face, and Hanae was on the other side, holding her hand and murmuring encouragement. Tamako writhed and tossed her head from side to side. Her long hair was spread all over the bedding and the floor. Akitada fought rising nausea as he watched her agony, and he swallowed convulsively. He felt utterly helpless and unwanted.

When the pain passed, she relaxed. Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes and looked up at Akitada blearily.

‘Go away,’ she said.

She sounded almost angry, and a shocked Akitada retreated to the door. ‘Is… is everything going well?’ he asked.

Hanae called out, ‘Yes, sir. But it will be best if you see to the arrangements. It may not take long now.’

Akitada obeyed gladly. In his room he found money and his boots. He put them on with shaking hands. Then he left, running all the way to the doctor’s small house half a mile away. He was out of breath as he rang the bell. Nothing happened, and he pounded on the door until the doctor’s servant appeared.

‘Quick,’ Akitada said. ‘Your master’s needed.’

The servant seemed unsurprised. He asked the honored name of the caller and the nature of the emergency, then left to inform the doctor. Akitada paced anxiously until the physician appeared, followed by his servant carrying his satchel. He dispatched them to his home and breathed a sigh of relief.

At a more moderate pace, Akitada next proceeded to the small temple where they had made arrangements for a monk to chant sutras during the birth and later to say an appropriate prayer to the Buddhas of the three worlds for the child. He had little faith in this having any practical effect, but now that the time had come, he decided to engage three monks instead of the one who had been requested. He told himself that Tamako would be able to hear the chants of three monks better and feel reassured. Then he paid an additional three pieces of gold to have sutras recited in the temple.

Having made such an efficient start, he decided to invite also the neighborhood Shinto priest to say prayers and scatter rice for good luck. The priest was a pleasant older man who was unsurprised by the sudden urgency of the request. While Akitada waited impatiently, he donned a striking black and red robe and gilded head dress and took up a spear and a shield. Then he called an assistant to carry a hamper with other paraphernalia. They walked back together and arrived to the solemn chanting and bell ringing of the three monks, who had positioned themselves on Tamako’s veranda.

The Shinto priest inspected the premises, then performed a ritual perambulation around Tamako’s pavilion, reciting spells, scattering rice grains, and holding up an amulet against
potentially lurking evil spirits at the four corners. Afterwards he took up his station in the courtyard, where he laid out a thick straw rope in a circle. In this circle, he danced and chanted while beating on the shield with his spear. His assistant accompanied him on a drum and occasionally twanged the string on a catalpa bow.

As Akitada observed these performances, dawn was breaking over the rooftops, and somewhere a cock crowed: a new day and a new life were beginning. He smiled to himself, content at having carried out his duties with such success, and went to see how his wife was progressing.

But when he crossed the threshold into Tamako’s room, he was greeted by an atmosphere of heat, sweat, blood, and anxious activity. When Tamako screamed, Akitada grasped the door frame for support and stared at the rectangle of white-enshrouded screens, behind which heads bobbed up and down and tense voices muttered. Some crisis was at hand. It sounded as if things had gone very wrong. Perhaps Tamako was on the point of death.

Afraid to move closer, he called out, ‘What is happening? How is my wife?’

The doctor bustled out from behind the screens, making shooing motions as if Akitada were a small child or pet dog who had wandered where he was not allowed. ‘You must have patience, sir,’ he cried. ‘There’s nothing you can do. Now go away, please.’

Akitada would have stood his ground for answers, but at this point loud shouting broke out in the garden. He turned and ran out. Some fifteen or twenty strange men were jumping about waving assorted weapons and screaming unintelligible words at the tops of their voices.

He gasped, ‘What the devil—?’

Tora joined him, grinning. ‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ he shouted over the noise.

He looked so proud that Akitada was speechless. Tora roared to the men, ‘Louder, brothers. Put your hearts in it. Don’t let them get anywhere near.’

It dawned on Akitada that Tora had taken it upon himself to provide and drill a troop of helpers to scare away demons lying in wait to possess mother and child in their weakest moments.

The chanting of the monks on the other side of the building combined with the shouts of the demon-repelling warriors and
the noise made by the Shinto priest and his helper in the courtyard. All of it nearly drowned out another scream from inside.

Nearly, but not quite.

The whole scene filled Akitada with sudden terror and revulsion. Tamako was dying – he was sure of it – dying in agony, and this horrible noise was her death chant. There had been chanting when Yori lay dying. The whole horror was repeating itself.

He turned away and staggered to his study, where he sat down, shivering with fear.

Seimei found him a little later. ‘Come, sir,’ he called from the doorway. ‘The doctor said to call you.’

Akitada stared at Seimei’s smiling face. ‘Call me?’ he asked dully.

‘You’re a father again,’ crowed Seimei and shuffled away happily.

A father again!

And Tamako was alive? She must be. Seimei had been smiling. Akitada got to his feet and started for the door. Then he remembered. A father always welcomed his son with a sword. He took the Sugawara sword from its stand and, carrying it reverently in both hands before him, walked to Tamako’s pavilion.

Outside, the shouting and chanting continued, but it made a happy sound now. Akitada was filled with joy and gratitude. The door to Tamako’s room opened just as he got there – conveniently, since his hands were full and laying down the sword might have been a bad omen. He walked in, a broad smile on his face for the moment when he would see his son.

He was met by several gasps. The screens around Tamako’s bedding had been moved aside so that he could see her lying there, looking pale and exhausted.

Someone snatched the sword from his hands. Akitada turned his head and saw that Seimei seemed to be hiding it behind his frail body. The old man looked apologetic and bowed immediately. ‘Your pardon, sir. I should have mentioned… Please forgive an old man. It was the joy that overwhelmed me. It’s a little girl, sir.’

A little girl?

Akitada was surprised and turned back to Tamako for
clarification. To his dismay, she had started crying. Now she rolled on her side with a wail.

‘What…?’ Akitada looked around at shocked faces, then strode to her side, knelt, and took her hand. ‘Tamako, what is it? Are you in pain?’ She snatched her hand away, but did not respond, and the sobbing increased. He looked for the doctor. ‘Come here. Something’s wrong. Help my wife.’

The doctor crept closer, looking a little uncomfortable, but he continued to smile. ‘Nothing is wrong, sir. I’m afraid Her Ladyship thinks you’re disappointed.’

Akitada was no wiser, but now Hanae came to place a small silk-wrapped bundle in his arms. ‘Welcome your daughter, sir,’ she told him.

He looked down at a tiny red face and moist dark hair. The baby’s eyes were closed, the nose a mere button, and the rosy lips a flower bud. As he watched, the mouth opened slightly, and lips and tongue made wet sucking noises. Then a minuscule hand emerged from the folds of fabric. His heart contracted with a great surge of love. ‘Oh,’ he said, and ‘oh’ again, then he bent over the child and kissed her small head. ‘A daughter.’ He looked at Tamako with tears in his eyes.

His wife had stopped sobbing and looked back. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘A daughter, Akitada. Do you mind so very much?’

He smiled, rocking the baby gently. ‘Look, a daughter. Isn’t she beautiful?’ he said to the others. ‘Who would have thought we’d have a daughter?’

Relieved laughter filled the room. They called out their well-wishes for the child’s future health and happiness.

Through Akitada’s head danced visions of a pretty little creature in colorful clothing skipping through his house, tugging on his hand, begging to be picked up, bringing her dear Papa small gifts of flowers and stones from the garden.

He muttered endearments and stroked the child’s silky hair with a finger, admiring the perfect little hand. ‘I have a daughter,’ he said again, with such evident joy and satisfaction that Tamako laughed aloud.

‘A little girl,’ she said, her voice still thick from weeping. ‘A little girl who will steal all your love from me.’

‘Never,’ he said fervently and reached for her hand.

FLOATING CLOUDS

T
ora’s wound worsened overnight. He had ignored it in the excitement of the birth, and the others had been too busy. He woke feverish and in pain. Hanae was spending the night in Tamako’s pavilion to look after her and the newborn, and Yuki was with his mother.

Tora got up with a groan and went to their small kitchen to quench his thirst with some water. Then he unwrapped his arm and saw that the wound was oozing and surrounded by a swollen and angry redness. He soaked some rags in cold water and laid them on his arm. This soothed the pain a little, but did nothing to clear his fuzzy head. He needed Seimei to take a look and work some of his magic with herbs or salves or whatever, but he did not want to draw attention to himself at a time when the household was exhausted and when any extra care should be devoted to its mistress and the little baby girl.

Eventually, he rewrapped his arm as best he could and ventured outside to sweep the courtyard and clean up the garden. The sweeping proved impossible with only one arm, so he confined himself to whatever he could do in terms of tidying up. But even that was exhausting. He could not remember when he had felt so weak and tired. Eventually, he sat down on the steps to Akitada’s study, leaned his head against a post, and closed his eyes.

Seimei found him there. ‘What are you doing?’ he scolded. ‘Sleeping when so much is to be done? The courtyard looks terrible. Go and sweep it immediately. We will have company.’

Tora opened his eyes blearily. ‘Can’t,’ he said.

‘What? Did you drink yourself into a stupor?’

Tora sighed and got to his feet. He felt awful. ‘What do you need me to do, old man?’

Seimei peered at him. ‘What is the matter with that bandage?’ He came closer, looked at Tora’s face, then reached up to touch it. ‘Amida,’ he murmured. ‘Here, sit down again. You have a fever.’

Tora obeyed gratefully. Seimei undid the bandage, pursed his
lips, and shook his head. ‘That looks bad. It may have to be cut again.’

Tora’s heart sank. ‘Not that. Can’t you wrap some of your herbs around it, or dab on that stinking paste that draws out the poison?’

Seimei sighed. ‘I can try, but we had better call the doctor. Now, back to bed with you.’

Tora would have preferred to doze fitfully through the morning but, true to his word, Seimei came to treat him with evil-smelling ointments, bitter infusions, and painful squeezing of the oozing wound. He was followed by an anxious Hanae, who hid her panic behind anger. She accused him of wanton carelessness in seeking out trouble, of allowing himself to get stabbed, of not caring for his injury, of not caring about her or his baby son.

Just when the worst storm had blown over, and he was trying to find a comfortable position to rest in, Seimei returned with the doctor. The bandages came off again; there was more painful poking and squeezing, much head-shaking and pursing of lips, and then the doctor left, promising to send a good barber along to cut into the festering wound.

They left, and Akitada took their place. Here at last, Tora found some sympathy.

‘Does it hurt a lot?’ his master asked, looking worried. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? You did far too much yesterday. I blame myself. I should have known that you needed to rest, but my head was full with preparations. I’m sorry, Tora.’

That brought tears to Tora’s eyes, and he turned his head away. ‘No, no, sir,’ he muttered thickly. ‘It’s nothing. It doesn’t even hurt.’ That was a lie, of course. ‘And I had a lot fun.’ That was true enough. The memory dried his tears, and he turned back to Akitada with a grin. ‘They were great, those fellows, weren’t they? Oh, the racket we made! I swear we made the roof shake over Her Ladyship.’

‘There wasn’t an evil spirit anywhere near our place. I expect they’ll keep their distance in the future, now that you’ve taught them some respect.’

‘Right.’ Tora chuckled weakly. ‘And how’s your lady today? And the little one? What will you name her?’

His master’s face broke into one of his rare smiles. ‘Both are well. You saw her. Isn’t she the most exquisite little creature?
It’s miraculous that we should have produced something so very beautiful. I don’t believe there’s ever been an imperial child to compare with her. We’ve decided to call her Yasuko. It’s one of the names approved by the doctor of divination. What do you think?’

‘It’s a fine name, sir. And your daughter is as beautiful as her parents.’

Akitada laughed happily. ‘As her mother, perhaps, but certainly not anything like the long-faced, scowling old dog who is her father.’

‘Well, perhaps girls aren’t supposed to take after their fathers.’

His master seemed to think this very funny also. ‘Her mother tells me that she has an enormous appetite. Surely that means she’s a strong child.’

He sounded a little uncertain about this. Tora knew that he would always fear losing another child. ‘I could hear her voice all the way into the garden,’ he said. ‘I think she screamed louder even than Yuki did when he was born.’

‘Really? Yes, she does have a very strong voice.’ His master chuckled again.

Seeing so much happiness where there had been none for so long, Tora almost forgot the pain in his arm and the fierce headache that had developed over the past hour, and smiled back.

His master patted his good arm and said, ‘You must rest now. Genba will be home soon, and meanwhile we’ll manage quite well. I’m perfectly capable of raking the courtyard, and the women are busy sweeping the reception room and preparing festive delicacies for the guests. I’ll stop in again a little later.’

Akitada had almost finished raking the courtyard. He liked the activity; it allowed him to think of his little daughter and of having once again a family. One of the first things he had done this day was to send a courier to the farm to inform his people there of the birth of the child and to call Genba home. In his joy, expense was nothing to him. The following days would bring many visitors.

There would be many happy times ahead: playtime with Yasuko, excursions into the countryside with Tamako once she was recovered, shared books, time spent on the veranda to admire Tamako’s garden in its summer greenery as the baby played between them. He would play his flute for them…

Hanae broke into his daydreams. ‘Sir? Sir, we have no foods to offer visitors, and the cushions in the reception room look very worn and dirty to me. Also, perhaps there should be more wine – and candles, in case some of your friends stay past dusk. Do you want me to go into the city?’

Akitada set aside his bamboo rake. ‘No, you’re needed here to help look after our patients and the two little babies. I’ll see to it that provisions are delivered.’

Hanae did not argue. Poor girl, he thought, watching her run back into the house: we ask far too much of her and give her little credit.

He, too, went inside, changed into a decent robe, and helped himself to more gold from the money chest. Seimei was absent, most probably looking after Tora.

It was a glorious morning as he strode down the street outside his residence. A neighbor saw him and came running from his house to congratulate him. The good news had spread. Akitada was happy. He felt as though he were walking on clouds. The willows lining the canals on Suzako Avenue swayed gently in a light breeze. Children splashed in the water, and a pair of guards officers in their bright tunics trotted by on their fine horses.

When he reached Rokujo Avenue, he decided to simplify his chores by seeking out a few of the best food merchants, placing his orders, and having them delivered immediately. A silk merchant displayed handsome cushions in festive colors of rose and yellow. He purchased these on the spot. The merchant was very pleased to send his clerk with them to the Sugawara residence. All of this naturally involved a generous infusion of gold, but in Akitada’s present mood that did not matter. What mattered was speeding up the process so that he could return quickly and look in on mother and child. In the market, he found young men offering their services to carry purchases or messages. Choosing the cleanest and most polite of these, he hired him for the rest of the day to answer the gate and perform other services. Loading the young man down with a number of other purchases, Akitada returned home, pleased that he had discharged his duties so quickly and efficiently.

He found Tamako in good spirits and his daughter asleep. Hanae, drawn and worried, reported that the doctor had looked in on Tora and sent his assistant for a man skilled in surgery. Between them, they had cut open Tora’s swollen arm and removed
a good deal of blood and poison. Tora had not been cooperative, but was sleeping now.

Tamako said, ‘Make her go and tend to her husband, Akitada. It isn’t right that she should spend all her time here when I feel perfectly well.’

Hanae protested that Tora was sleeping, and so was Yuki, who was with him. She needed to see to the preparations for the afternoon’s callers.

‘All is in good hands,’ Akitada assured her. ‘The food will be delivered already prepared. And so will the cushions and gifts for well-wishers.’

Hanae looked doubtful, but left.

Akitada felt a pang of concern for Tora. But being relieved of visiting him immediately, he spent a pleasant hour admiring his sleeping daughter and chatting with his wife about his purchases in the city.

‘It must have cost a good deal,’ she said at one point when he had regaled her with a description of the delicacies he had selected and the excellent wine he had tasted and ordered to be delivered in ten large jars.

He waved her concern aside with a light heart and, seeing that the baby was awake, he leaned over her to make faces and funny sounds.

Yasuko looked back at him with wide eyes and no change of expression whatsoever.

‘She doesn’t smile,’ he complained. ‘Possibly she’s astonished or sadly disappointed, but I cannot help my face. Do you think I frighten her?’

Tamako laughed. ‘She’s much too young to smile.’

‘Oh.’

He tickled the baby’s neck and was thrilled when she seized his finger with her tiny hand and attempted to suck on it. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘she’s really very strong for such a little thing. Is she hungry?’

‘She’ll cry when she is hungry.’

‘Oh.’ He looked at his wife and saw the amusement on her face. ‘I must have forgotten how it is with babies,’ he said, abashed.

Seimei interrupted this blissful moment with the report that deliveries were arriving, and that the merchants expected to be paid. Akitada parted reluctantly from his family.

In his study, he sat behind his desk, opened the account book, and rubbed some ink. Seimei showed the first claimant in.

She was a Mrs Kameyama, a middle-aged woman of portly stature in formal black silk. Her business catered for the parties given by court nobles and specialized in such choice delicacies as honey-glazed chestnuts, fried fish cakes, shrimp-filled steamed buns, pickled watermelon, and a variety of rice dishes. She recited a long list of items delivered by her men and ended with an exorbitant figure that made Seimei draw in his breath sharply. He hid the sound by clearing his throat with a little cough, but Akitada knew guiltily that he had been carried away with his order.

Seimei went to the money chest and counted out an amazing stack of gold pieces, bringing them to Akitada, who entered the expenditure in his book and paid the woman. She smiled and bowed her way out backwards as if he were an imperial prince.

As well she might, thought Akitada, when she carried away such a princely sum of money.

And so it went, as bill after bill was presented, and when the last merchant had left, Seimei reported the amount of gold and silver that remained. It was shockingly small. Not only had Akitada spent lavishly on this day, but the expenses of the previous one had also been costly.

Akitada and Seimei looked at each other. Akitada said, ‘I had no idea that having a daughter would be so expensive.’

Seimei smiled. ‘I am told it gets worse when they take husbands.’

‘This gold I spent… I have not earned it yet. I have neither found Lord Kiyowara’s murderer nor the abbot’s disciple. I feel as if I had stolen the money.’

‘Nonsense, sir. You will solve those cases quickly enough.’

Akitada was not convinced. He was forbidden to meddle in the Kiyowara affair, and the abbot’s case had been in Tora’s hands, but Tora was lying in his bed with an infected wound and a worrisome fever. He said, trying for a light tone, ‘There is an appropriate proverb for this situation. I am surprised you haven’t remembered it.’

Seimei raised his brows. ‘Proverb, sir?’

‘Yes. “Unjustly gained wealth disperses like floating clouds.” I have been strangely out of touch with reality.’

Seimei shook his head. ‘The gold cannot be said to be unjustly gained when you are working to earn it.’

Akitada sighed. Like the rest of his household, Seimei expected more from him than he felt able to produce.

What was worse, he could not make a start when there would be visitors who must be received and entertained, and Tora was far too ill to take up his duties.

The day passed slowly with social duties and frequent visits to Tamako and Tora. Tamako looked and felt well, but Tora was very feverish. When he saw Akitada, he asked what day it was, and when told, he tried to get out of bed to take up his duties. Akitada calmed him down with difficulty.

The stream of neighbors and friends bringing their best wishes continued throughout the afternoon and evening. Both humble and great, they came in their best clothes carrying gifts, some modest and others generous, and sat to chat a little about riots in the city and about Michinaga’s resignation of all his posts to his sons. Most thought it very unfair that Michinaga should be blamed for the fires when the gods might be upset about any number of other matters. They looked forward to the many new appointments that would surely follow in due course. New people would rise to power suddenly. But they all avoided asking about Akitada’s future.

Sometime towards evening, Seimei brought in a little package, wrapped carefully in rose-colored silk and tied with pale floss silk. He said with great emphasis and satisfaction, ‘Compliments of the superintendent of police, sir, and his apologies for not being able to deliver it in person. He seemed in a great hurry.’