The Hell Screen (23 page)

Akitada had planned to speak to Kobe as soon as possible, but now there were other things to be done. It would have to wait. He told Tora, “First we must get the family settled.”

Tora waved a dismissive hand as they headed out of the stable. “Done in no time!”

It was nearly dark outside. Akitada glanced across the dim courtyard at the looming shapes of the residence and felt another pang of regret that in his absence little had been done to take care of it. “There are also the repairs to the house and gardens.”

Tora’s eyes opened wide. “But winter is coming, sir. It’ll be best to wait until spring.”

They walked to the well to wash their hands. The water in the bucket was icy, and the night air bit their wet skin painfully.

“Well,” said Akitada, grimacing as he hurriedly dried his hands on the fabric of his trousers, “if you do have some spare time, you might ask around about those actors. They seem to have roamed all over the monastery that night. One of them may have seen something. And try to find out if any of their women were outside around the hour of the rat. They call themselves the Dragon Dancers and work for an old man by the name of Uemon.”

“The easiest thing in the world,” cried Tora, rubbing his hands. “A man like myself knows all the wine shops along the river where the actors usually spend their money—” He broke off as Seimei joined them.

“Beware of letting the tiger loose in the market,” Seimei said to Akitada, with a meaningful nod toward the grinning Tora. Tora meant “tiger” and he had lived up nobly to the name since he adopted it. But he fancied himself as an assistant investigator of crimes, and he had had some success, though his methods involved copious drinking bouts and bedding material witnesses, much to the disapproval of Seimei.

“Thank you, Seimei. The advice is well taken.” Akitada chuckled. “But you did not come for that, I am sure.”

“Oh, no. Lord Toshikage and his lady have arrived. They are in her ladyship’s room.”

Akitada hesitated. He had no wish to see his mother. But Seimei corrected himself. “I meant
your
lady’s room, sir.” After another moment’s confusion, Akitada realized that Seimei referred to his own room, or rather his former room.

Shaking his head at the changes wrought in a few hours, he headed that way. Yori’s giggles and women’s laughter came from behind the door, and he braced himself for a scene of chaos, with the women excitedly digging through Tamako’s wardrobe, which would be flowing from innumerable trunks and covering every available surface, while his son romped about freely amid the general upheaval. He opened the door, hoping to extricate his brother-in-law from the chatter of women and children, but found to his surprise a tidy room with a happy family seated decorously on cushions around his desk.

All the trunks were closed and placed neatly against the walls, and a small painted screen and several handsome curtain stands stood around the gathering to protect them from the cold air coming from the doors. The faces turned toward him shone with laughter and good cheer in the light of candles. Tamako sat near the teapot; Yoshiko was holding Yori on her lap; Akiko, all smiles, had placed a hand protectively on her stomach; and Toshikage, next to his wife, rose to greet him. It suddenly struck Akitada that an extraordinary change had come over this house which, until most recently, had been filled with nothing but the mournful chants of the monks and nervous whispers of servants in the corridors.

The most profound change had nothing to do with his mother’s illness. He could not recall ever hearing laughter in this house, or the shouts of children, or indeed seeing a happy gathering of family all under one roof. Feeling a surge of gladness, he greeted Toshikage with a hearty embrace.

The women were drinking tea, but Toshikage had a flask of warm wine, and Akitada accepted a cup of that, warming his frozen fingers on the bowl before letting the warm liquid spread a glow through his stomach. The two braziers, together with the screens, kept the chill at bay, and he relaxed into blissful leisure. Tamako informed him that she had entertained everyone with stories of the far north, and that now it was his turn. He obliged, and as they listened, asked questions, and chattered, they passed a giggling Yori from hand to hand. It was a more pleasurable time than Akitada could have imagined.

It was Akiko who broke the happy mood. “By the way, Mother looks dreadful,” she suddenly informed him in a tone which was almost accusatory, though whether she held him accountable for his mother’s decline or blamed him for her unpleasant experience was not immediately clear to him. “She cannot last the night. You had better think of the arrangements, Brother.”

He sighed. “Don’t worry. The arrangements have been made. How are you feeling, Akiko?”

This distracted her. She gave Toshikage a coy smile and patted her stomach. “We are very well, my son and I,” she said proudly. “And Toshikage is quite charmed with your Yori, so he will take enormous care of us. Won’t you, Honorable Husband and Father of our Son?”

Toshikage smiled broadly and bowed to her. “The most tender care, my Beloved Wife and Mother of our Child.” He turned to Akitada and said, “You are blessed with a delightful family, my Brother, and I count myself the luckiest man alive to be a part of it.”

Akitada was touched and made a suitable and affectionate reply, but thought privately of that unhappy young man who was Toshikage’s oldest son. These thoughts led inescapably to the problem of the thefts from the Imperial Treasury, and he would have taken Toshikage aside to discuss the matter if the door had not opened to admit Tamako’s maid with the evening rice.

Genba had outdone himself. There were platters of pickles, bowls of fragrant fish soup, mountains of soba noodles, and piles of stuffed dumplings. These delicacies were accompanied by rice and steamed vegetables from the cook’s own kitchen. Dinner was another pleasant interlude, but finally Yori became tired and fretful. The women rose together to put him to bed.

On her way out Akiko had to pass Akitada and paused briefly. “By the way, Brother, it is the strangest thing, but that little figurine of the floating fairy you were so interested in? It has floated away again, and Toshikage swears he knows nothing about it. Have him tell you about it.”

Akitada’s eyes flew to Toshikage and he saw the other man flush to the roots of his hair. He waited till the door had closed behind the women before he asked, “So you recognized the figurine?

Toshikage raised his hands. “I never saw it. I remembered what you said about instructing Akiko about the history of the little treasures and went to visit her room the very next day. She told me about the figurine, but when we looked for it, it was gone.” He gulped down a cup of wine and sighed.

“And?”

Toshikage said miserably, “Akiko described it. Your sister has an excellent memory. It sounds like the floating fairy from the treasury. I don’t think there could be two of them. I swear to you, Akitada, I did not put it there!”

“I believe you, but someone in your household must have done so.”

“Impossible. Who would do such a thing? For what purpose?”

“I wonder why it was left in Akiko’s room, and where it is now.”

“Why leave it at all?”

“Perhaps as a warning to you?”

Toshikage looked absolutely confused. “A warning? About what? I don’t understand.”

Akitada sighed and thought.

After a moment Toshikage said, “It’s a miracle the director did not see it. Remember the unpleasant visit I had from my superior?”

Akitada nodded.

“I had meant to show him the screen in Akiko’s room and would have done so if you had not called to see your sister. Can you imagine what would have happened if the director had seen the thing?”

“Yes. But I thought you said the director was there to reprimand you. Why would you show him around under the circumstances?”

“Oh, it was not like that. I had mentioned the screen to him a few days earlier at the office and invited him over. In fact, at first I thought that was why he had come.” Toshikage subsided into a misery of sighs and head shakings. “What can it all mean?” he muttered.

Akitada was beginning to have an idea. But it was hardly one he could share with Toshikage. If he was right, the truth would be a far bigger blow to his brother-in-law than a mere dismissal from office, no matter how embarrassing the circumstances.

* * * *

The Dark Path

Lady Sugawara died the next morning.

It was Tamako who brought the news to Akitada. He was in his father’s room, remote from the women’s quarters, and thus unaware of the event. Rising early, he had slipped from under the covers gently so as not to disturb his sleeping wife and had walked softly to the kitchen to fetch a brazier and some hot water for tea, and then to his new study.

The room still depressed him. He lit as many candles and oil lamps as he could find against the darkness of closed shutters, but still a clammy, unpleasant aura remained. For a while he walked around rearranging his things where once his father’s had stood. In the process he found the old flute he had bought from the curio dealer and decided to cheer himself up with some music.

He was badly out of practice but found some old scores and soon became immersed in the intricacies of fingering and timing the notes.

He was not aware of his wife until she walked up quickly and took the flute from his lips.

“What is the matter?” he asked blankly. “It was not all that bad, was it?”

Tamako looked down at him sadly. “No, Akitada. But you must not play anymore just now. It is your mother.”

He rose abruptly. “Heavens! Am I not even permitted such a small pleasure in my own house? That is intolerable, and I shall not allow her to dictate my life any longer.”

Tamako looked at him with tragic eyes and sighed. “Yes, I know. Your mother is dead.”

He gaped at her. Dead? His first reaction was relief that it was finally over, the long dying, the dreadful pall which had lain over this house so long. The relief immediately made way for shame, and then depression. Perversely, the event, so long expected, now seemed sudden, badly timed, too soon. “When?” he asked, and felt his heart contracting.

Tamako put a hand on his arm. He had not realized that his fists were clenched at his sides. His right hand hurt and when he raised it, he saw that it still held the antique flute, broken now; a splinter of bamboo had cut one of his fingers. Tamako gave a soft cry and took the pieces, laying them on his desk. Pulling the splinter from his hand, she said, “A short while ago. Another hemorrhage. Your sister was feeding her the morning gruel. I found Yoshiko covered with blood and incoherent with shock and took her away. The doctor has already seen your mother, and the maid and I have tended to her.” She hesitated. “Do you want to go to her now?”

So Tamako had spared him the sight of his mother’s blood-covered corpse. With a shudder he recalled the terrible scene when his mother had cursed him, the gaunt, distorted face, the sunken eyes blazing with hate, heard again the hoarse voice spitting out her vilifications until the words had drowned in a flood of gore.

Tamako gently stroked his arm. “Don’t look so. You knew it was going to happen. It was time.”

Akitada turned away from her sympathy. How could she understand that he felt mostly hatred for his own mother? Anger, regret, hopelessness, pain, but above all hatred. “Yes. I knew,” he said harshly. “I even wished it. And, oh, yes, it was time! She poisoned everything she touched. My life, Yoshiko’s, Akiko’s also! She would have poisoned yours, too, and our son’s! I am glad it is over!” He laughed. “Finally it is over!” Looking around at his father’s room, he shouted, “They are both gone! Gone! The house is ours! Our lives are our own! We can finally find peace and happiness....” He collapsed on his cushion and covered his face with his hands.

“Shh! Akitada!” Tamako came to kneel beside him and touched his arm. “Don’t! The servants will hear you! Please, you must not!” She saw that his face was wet with tears and, with a small moan of pity, took him into her arms.