"No. I must talk to you."

Akitada sent Tora along to the kitchen quarters and explained the reason for their delay.

Tamako stood, her head lowered, swinging the lantern a little. "Oh," she said when they were alone. "Please forgive me! How terrible! The poor girl. I did not know."

"How could you have known? What is wrong?"

"Oh, Akitada!" It was a mere breath. She was standing close to him in the darkness, both of them enveloped by the fragrance of wisteria, peonies and a thousand nameless other blossoms. She was trembling, and he felt a powerful urge to touch her. But when he put his hand on her shoulder, she stepped away from him quickly.

"Please!" Her voice was tight and urgent. "I know that Father has spoken to you about marriage. But you must not do it. I beg you, if you care for me at all… like the sister you said I was to you… do not make an offer tonight, or ever! Oh, Akitada, I am so sorry, but I simply cannot marry you."

"But why not?" Aghast, he stepped closer but she flinched away again.

"Do not ask me why. I beg you to make this easy for me, and I shall always be grateful."

The rest of that evening would always hold a vaguely nightmarish quality for Akitada. He had informed Hirata that there would be no marriage, taking the blame upon himself by claiming the uncertainty of his future and his obligation to his family. Hirata had accepted his refusal without comment.

The subsequent dinner was a dismal affair. Tamako sat beside Akitada with downcast eyes, pushing her food around and eating very little, while her father looked sadly at them, sighing deeply from time to time.

At home another confrontation awaited him. His mother was still up and received the news as a personal insult.

"May I ask who broke off the engagement? And why?" she snapped.

Akitada's heart sank. He foresaw problems when his family met Tamako on the occasion of the Kamo procession. "I presumed on our friendship," he said. "It was completely my mistake."

"I see. Then your offer was rejected. What an affront! And to think that a Sugawara consented to marry a mere Hirata!" His mother's eyes flashed with anger.

"It was not like that," Akitada protested. Fear for Tamako caused him to add more sharply, "And I hope you and my sisters will remember tomorrow to treat Tamako with the respect due to a friend of the family."

His mother drew herself up stiffly. "Do not take it upon yourself to teach me manners! My grandfather was a direct descendant of Emperor Itoku, and I have served in the palace. I shall always know what is due our guests. You may leave! It is past my bedtime."

The morning of the Kamo procession dawned splendidly. It was a holiday, dedicated to the guardian spirit of the capital city, and an excuse for high and low to enjoy the final days of spring. Tora had rented the high-wheeled ox cart at sunrise and was now backing it up to the veranda of the main house so that the Sugawara ladies could enter it without dirtying their skirts in the courtyard.

Akitada's sisters emerged first, preening in their prettiest gowns and chattering excitedly. They were not twenty yet, and a mystery to Akitada who had spend many years away from home and only remembered them as a couple of round-faced children who seemed to follow him everywhere. Since his return he had decided that they had become silly but good-hearted girls. Today he met their exuberance without so much as a smile. The sight of their brother's joyless face caused them to fall abruptly silent and climb into the carriage without further ado.

Not so Lady Sugawara. She arrived dressed in a gorgeous rose-colored Chinese robe embroidered with peonies, a part of her dowry, but came to an abrupt halt when she saw the plain, woven carriage.

"You do not expect me to ride in this, do you?" she asked Akitada icily. "We have never attended a public affair in a rented conveyance. Our own family carriage with our crest was always drawn up behind our viewing stand."

"We no longer have the privilege of a private carriage, mother," Akitada pointed out wearily.

"And it appears my son no longer has friends who will oblige him with theirs," his mother shot back nastily.

Akitada sighed inwardly. He had offended and would have to soothe his mother's temper. "My sisters have looked forward to this treat for years," he reminded her, "and without you neither they nor our guest will be able to attend the procession."

Lady Sugawara tossed her head, but entered the carriage without further protest.

Akitada saw his family off before turning his own steps towards the Hirata residence.

The weather, poised between spring and summer, made the Kamo festival an occasion for romance. Even the most strictly raised young ladies were permitted light flirtations with young gentlemen without incurring censure. As Akitada walked, he saw young couples strolling towards First Avenue, where the procession would pass on its way from the emperor's palace to the Kamo shrines outside the city. They were dressed in their best finery and wore hollyhock blossoms, sacred to the Kamo virgin, on their hats and in their hair.

Akitada wished he had arranged for a sedan chair. Until last night he had looked forward to the privilege of walking beside Tamako as her acknowledged suitor. Now the arrangement was awkward for both of them, but all the chair bearers were long since committed.

Tamako was ready when he arrived at the Hirata house. She had never looked more beautiful. The many-layered silk robes, reds and pinks under shades of gradually darkening greens, suited her slender, elegant beauty. In her hand, she carried the straw hat with the veil worn by all women of good family when walking in public, and her glossy black hair brought out golden tones in her face. Akitada recalled that Tamako spent much time in the sun, tending to her garden. It was unfashionable, but he admired the healthy glow of her skin. Then their eyes met, and both looked away simultaneously.

"Good morning, Akitada," Tamako said, bowing formally. "It's very kind of you to come. Are you certain you don't mind taking me along?"

"Of course not." He managed a smile. "You look very elegant. I am sorry but I did not get a chair. Will you mind walking?"

"Not at all. It is a beautiful day. Shall we go?"

In the willow above them, a bird burst into song, and behind her the garden shimmered in the morning sun.

Akitada nodded miserably. They had never spoken to each other like strangers.

Tamako paused at the gate and bent to an earthenware pot which held bunches of flowering hollyhocks.

"I did not know what color your robe would be," she said, "so I cut some of each color. I think this white one will look well. What do you think?"

"Yes. It was kind of you to remember. I forgot that also."

"Don't be silly. I have a whole garden full of hollyhocks!"

She reached up and fastened the white blossoms and green leaves to his court hat while he bent his head. Tamako was tall for a woman, and her face, intent on the task of arranging the blooms, was close to his. Akitada's eyes were on her lips, very pretty lips, slightly open so that he could just see a tip of her tongue between the white teeth. A subtle fragrance escaped from her sleeves and Akitada closed his eyes. A fierce wave of despair seized him and he stepped back abruptly.

"Oh," she breathed, her eyes flying to his.

He bent and caught up a cluster of pale pink blossoms. Uncertainly he looked at her hair, gleaming bluish-black in the sun and caught on her back with a broad white silk bow. "Where should I…?"

"I think in my sash. The hat would crush them in my hair. Here, I can do it." She took the hollyhocks from his nerveless fingers and tucked them in her sash. Putting on the hat and tying it, she arranged the veil and said, "All ready."