The Crane Pavilion (3 page)

Or perhaps not. His grief was his own private world, but its effects were felt by his household. He had no right to it. A wave of self-pity washed over him. He had nothing; not even the right to grieve for Tamako’s death.

Kobe cleared his throat. “Don’t look so dismal. It will get better. I know. For a while you think nothing will ever be right again and then one day you find yourself laughing, and a bit later you will feel happy about something, and in the end the person you’ve lost will be a treasured memory of your youth.”

Akitada turned his head away. “You mean well, Kobe. I thank you for it, but telling me that the pain will pass will not speed up my recovery. Your reminder that I have obligations forces me to face the world when I lack the strength to do so.”

Kobe gave him a searching look. “You have always lived for your obligations, Akitada. Even at times when it was foolish to do so. I think you will do so again, and soon.” He touched Akitada’s arm. “I must go now, but you only have to send for me if there’s something I can do.”

Akitada remained in the garden a while longer. Then he went in search of the children. He found them outside Tamako’s pavilion and had to steel himself to go closer. Yoshi sat on the veranda, dangling his feet and watching his sister. His daughter had wrapped one of her mother’s gowns about her and paraded back and forth on the veranda, waving a fan and reciting something.

Akitada recognized the gown and felt a stab of pain. He was furious with his daughter. “Yasuko, take that off immediately,” he shouted. “How dare you dirty up your mother’s things in your silly games?”

Yasuko spun around and froze when she saw her father. Her eyes grew large and her chin trembled. Then, with a sob, she ran inside.

Yoshi was pleased. He jumped up and ran to embrace his father’s knees. “I told her not to do it, Father,” he cried. “She’s a bad girl.”

Akitada detached him. He stared at the pavilion in the summer sunshine. There on the veranda they had sat together, watching the children at play, looking at the garden, talking. It had been a regular occurrence every time he had spent the night with his wife.

No more. Not ever again.

He would not weep before his children. He would be strong and walk up the veranda steps. He would go inside, into the room where they had been together, and he would speak to his daughter calmly, explaining to her that her mother deserved respect even after her death.

But before he could do so, a woman appeared in the doorway. Tamako’s maid Oyuki. Yasuko’s tear-stained face peered out from behind her with frightened eyes.

“Sir? Is it you?” the maid said, bowing to him. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The fact that they had apparently made themselves at home in Tamako’s pavilion angered him again. “Why should you be informed about my plans?” he snapped. “And what are you and the children doing here?”

“We live here.”

“You live here? By whose permission?” Akitada started toward them with a face like thunder.

The maid fell to her knees. “I’m sorry, sir. I only did as I was told. We’ll leave this moment. Please forgive the mistake.” She started knocking her forehead against the boards of the veranda floor. Yasuko burst into a wail, and behind him Yoshi began to cry as well.

Akitada stopped. He should not make his children cry. No matter how he felt himself, they were innocent of wrong doing. “Please get up, Oyuki,” he said more calmly. “Nobody told me. Who suggested that you and the children live here?”

Yoshi cried, “I don’t live here, Father. I have my own room.”

“Good,” said his father. “You must show me later.”

Oyuki, who was also weeping by now, got to her feet. “Lady Akiko thought it was best if Lady Yasuko took her mother’s room. Lady Akiko said I was to be Lady Yasuko’s maid now.”

Lady Akiko! His sister. Meddlesome as always. “Well,” he said, “I’m sorry if I spoke harshly to you. I didn’t know. I suppose this is a practical arrangement. Only my daughter seems rather young to take possession of my wife’s things.”

“We asked permission of Lady Akiko because Hanae said you weren’t to be bothered. Lady Akiko and I looked through Lady Tamako’s things and chose two gowns that could be shortened for Lady Yasuko. Lady Yasuko was trying on the gown, sir.”

And so he had been put in the wrong. He always seemed to become the ogre in his children’s eyes. A flash of another memory crossed his mind: Yori looking up at him with frightened eyes after a reprimand. Yori, who had died shortly afterward of smallpox. And his father had spent the years that had passed wishing he could take back his harshness, wishing he had instead held his son and told him that he loved him.

He raised his hands to his face and groaned. Then he lowered them, turned to his son and held out his hand, and said, “Come, Yoshi. Let us go up to your mother’s pavilion and see your sister’s room.”

Yoshi came reluctantly. “You will come and see mine also? I have a picture of a very fierce tiger.”

“I will come and see it.”

They climbed the steps together. Oyuki stepped aside, and Akitada looked down at his daughter’s tear-stained face. “I’m very sorry, Yasuko,” he said. “It’s been a very hard time for me. I miss your mother very much, you see.”

She burst into new tears and flung herself into his arms. He ended up kneeling on the veranda and holding his weeping children.

And weeping with them.

Oyuki sniffled and withdrew.

3
A Conspiracy

Later that day another visitor arrived. This time, Akitada made an effort to be hospitable.

The gentleman announced by Tora was Nakatoshi, formerly his clerk in the Ministry of Justice, but now senior secretary at the Ministry of Ceremonial. Nakatoshi had called before to express his condolences, but he had seen how deeply wounded Akitada was and left again quickly.

Nakatoshi was one of the few friends who had never asked Akitada for anything, while Akitada had gone to him on numerous occasions for assistance that always been freely given. He had obligations to Nakatoshi.

Nakatoshi came into Akitada’s study almost timidly. “Forgive me,” he said, just as if he were still his clerk. “I hate to intrude. You must tell me to go if it’s an imposition.”

It was an imposition, but Akitada would never say so. He rose to his feet, fixed a smile on his face, and went to greet Nakatoshi with an embrace. “Welcome, my friend,” he said, “and I hope I never hear you call me ‘sir’ again. I think by now you outrank me.” He grimaced. “If we give it another month, I’ll be lucky if they’ll let me serve as a junior clerk in your office.”

It was a feeble joke. Akitada expected a very serious reprimand for deserting his post.

Nakatoshi looked anxious. “Have you heard anything from the Central Affairs Office?”

Akitada shook his head. “Come, let us sit. You’ll take some wine?”

With their cups filled and tasted, they fell into an awkward silence. Akitada did not know what to say. He thought that Nakatoshi probably wondered how he was handling his loss but could not ask such a question. Clearly word was out that he was handling it poorly. But to his surprise, Nakatoshi had something very different on his mind.

“I’ve come to beg a favor, Akitada,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I know I shouldn’t burden you with this, but I cannot talk about it to anyone else.”

Oh yes, there were obligations! Obligations had a way of stepping in your path and forcing you to go in another direction whether you wanted to or not.

Akitada nodded and said, “As you know, my friend, I’m very much in your debt. Please tell me what I can do.”

Nakatoshi flushed deeply. “No, no,” he said quickly, “you mustn’t feel like that, Akitada. I’ve done nothing. I’m the one who always benefitted from your assistance.”

Akitada shook his head and smiled a little. “Please speak freely.”

Nakatoshi took a gulp of wine. “I think you may remember the Abbot Genshin of the Daiun-ji near Mount Hiei?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He used to be Takashina Tasuku. You were at the university together, I heard.”

“Tasuku? Yes. I know Tasuku. And I did know that he took the tonsure many years ago. He’s an abbot now?”

Nakatoshi nodded.

Tasuku, the handsome heir of a powerful and wealthy family, had been blessed with extraordinary looks and the attention of the most beautiful women at court. But he had engaged in secret trysts with an imperial concubine who was murdered on her way back to the palace. In remorse or to escape punishment, Tasuku had become the monk Genshin. Tasuku an abbot of a monastery?

“Not surprising, given his family’s influence. What about him?” Akitada said, curious in spite of himself.

“Someone living in his mansion, a woman, was found hanged a week ago. It’s being called a suicide, but Abbot Genshin is uneasy about the matter. He came to me and asked if I would speak to you.”

Akitada frowned. He did not like the fact that a man who had once been his friend had taken such a roundabout way to approach him. True, Tasuku knew that Akitada had strongly disapproved of him in the past and held him responsible for the concubine’s death. And now he was apparently again involved in some scandal with a woman, and this woman had also died. But perhaps Nakatoshi owed him a favor much as Akitada owed many to Nakatoshi. It was the way of the world. Never mind that he had meant to escape it.

“What was this woman to the abbot?” he asked, his voice cold.

Nakatoshi looked startled. “Nothing. Or rather, she found refuge on his estate. A matter of charity.”

Akitada snorted.

“Have I touched on a sore subject? You must forgive me. I know very little about Abbot Genshin and nothing whatsoever about the lady.”

Akitada saw no reason to beat about the bush. “The reverend abbot was a great philanderer before he took the tonsure. I believe he did so only because he was involved in a scandal. The other woman also died.”

“Dear heaven. Can it be so? He has the reputation of being a truly holy man. There’s talk he will be made a bishop soon. Do you believe he is responsible for this lady’s suicide?”

Akitada did not answer this. “Did the police investigate?”

“Yes. Apparently there was no doubt. She was alone in her pavilion, pushed one of her trunks under a rafter, climbed up, and tied a length of silk around the rafter and her neck, then jumped off the trunk. Two children who lived in the neighborhood and sometimes visited her found her the next morning.” Nakatoshi paused, then added, “Abbot Genshin was on Mount Hiei with his monks. He hadn’t been in the capital for many months.”

Akitada sat in silence, thinking about it. “I don’t like it,” he said finally. “What is it that he expects me to do?”

Nakatoshi flushed again. “I hardly dare propose it, but could you take a look at the place, and maybe talk to the people who live there?”

“Other people live there? In the Takashina mansion?”

“Yes. A nun, a student, and a retired professor. All absolutely respectable people who have fallen on very hard times. There’s also a caretaker and some artist, and Genshin has people from the city make repairs and trim the gardens.”

“How very odd! I recall the place. It used to be quite big, covering a whole city block on Tsuchimikado.”

“Yes, that’s it. Badly overgrown these days, but as I said, it’s kept in fairly decent shape. The main house is empty, since Genshin doesn’t use it, but some of the rooms in the wings and pavilions are occupied by the people I mentioned. Will you look into it?”

Akitada had been home for months now and had not left the house in all this time. He was aware of the fact that he was becoming a burden to his people who felt the need to hover protectively over him. Perhaps it was time to emerge from this self-imposed confinement and escape their supervision for a day. He nodded. “Don’t expect much. Only that I’ll visit the mansion and perhaps talk to the people who live there on Tasuku’s charity.” He shook his head at the notion of a charitable Tasuku. “It’s the oddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he muttered.

Nakatoshi smiled his relief and jumped up, thanking him profusely. The next moment he was gone.

Akitada also got up and stretched. He was wearing his old house robe and had torn slippers on his feet. The robe was badly worn and stained. He did not care about such things, but he could not go among strangers like this. He headed out of the house to find Tora.

When he reached the front veranda, he saw Nakatoshi and Tora in the courtyard below. They were in conversation, and Tora was grinning broadly. When they parted, Tora called after Nakatoshi, “I knew you could do it! Thank you, sir.” And then he did a little dance while Nakatoshi could be heard chuckling on his way out the gate.

Akitada waited until the gate had closed behind his visitor, then he called down to Tora, “Come in for a moment.”

Tora rearranged his face and bounded up the steps. “What a nice gentleman Secretary Nakatoshi is! I’m very glad you received him, sir.”

Akitada looked at him, decided to say nothing, and requested a change of clothes.

Formal attire, which was what was called for in this instance, was by no means easy to put on. And Akitada had not bothered with it for months now. Tora dug around in one of the trunks, the one for summer clothing, and brought forth white silk trousers and a short coat and robe of matching dark blue, figured silk. “Will this do, sir?”

Akitada looked at them. They were wrinkled. Tamako used to look after his wardrobe. “Hmm.” He reached for them.

“Maybe the women could do something about the wrinkles,” Tora said dubiously.

“No time,” muttered his master, stepping into the trousers and tying them at his waist. Tora held out the blue coat for him and then the outer robe. Reaching back into the trunk, he brought out a somewhat battered hat of stiffened black gauze, a pair of black slippers, and a blue sash. The sash he wound tightly around his master’s waist, folding over the ends in front. Akitada slipped on the shoes and tied the hat under his chin as Tora held up the big round silver mirror.

Tora stepped back, cocked his head critically, and remarked, “You’re getting as thin as a stork, sir. Shall I come with you?”