As the last contestant finished his verse, Fujiwara returned to his seat, dabbing at his cheek with the sleeve of his robe. He was bleeding from a large scratch.

Unfortunately the bloodied cheek could not be glossed over, for when the prince called the name of the winner, Fujiwara had to rise. Prince Atsuakira himself walked over to congratulate him and present him with a fine silk robe. As Fujiwara knelt and bowed, blood dripped into his beard. The prince murmured something, but Fujiwara smiled, saying, "Just a clumsy collision with a branch, Your Highness."

After another dance interlude, the boats were launched into the lake, their lanterns sparkling on the dark water like the stars in the sky above. Other lights blinked on along the lakeshore, among the trees, and even on the island. It was a magical scene, in its own way more splendid than the brilliant colors of the afternoon.

Now the servants passed along the veranda with lighted lanterns and attached them to the eaves with long poles. Across the way, where the nobles sat, the lantern bearers had not yet begun, and the darkness had turned the colorful cushions of the nobles, abandoned for boat rides or strolls in the park, a uniform black. Akitada remembered how the stacked cushions had all seemed the same color to him the evening before. They had been in the shadow of the veranda. He had assumed they were all blue, because one blue cushion had caught some light. Of course! The same thing must have happened the night the blackmailer delivered his note. Blue and green would have been indistinguishable, and both Oe's and Hirata's robes had had white designs around the sleeves. That must have been how Ishikawa had made his mistake.

Already completely out of tune with the beauty of the evening, Akitada had no desire to hear the next segment of the competition. He felt too heartsore to listen to love poems, and was on the point of leaving when Hirata returned, looking upset.

"What happened?" Akitada asked him.

"A terrible scene. Oe attacked Fujiwara with his bare hands and would have hurt him seriously if we had not all thrown ourselves on him." Hirata shook his head. "I never realized how strong a man can be when he is out of his mind. It was a serious insult to Fujiwara who was only trying to help. We finally calmed Oe down enough for Ono and Ishikawa to take him home, but I fear he is completely unbalanced. He was weeping when I left. I never imagined wine could do this to a man."

"Not wine, but guilt- and the knowledge that he is in the power of an unscrupulous man who plans to ruin him."

"What?"

"The note was intended for Oe. In the dark there is little difference between green and blue."

"Are you sure?" cried Hirata. He thought it over. "If that is the case, what shall we do?"

"We will confront them both as soon as possible. Once their guilt is established, you can take whatever action you please."

"Oh, let us wait and think about this first."

Akitada rose. "No. I am anxious to be done with the whole affair. After tomorrow I shall consider the matter closed as far as I am concerned. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going home. Good night."

Akitada walked away, leaving Hirata to stare blindly at the gaily lit scene on the lake.

The next day was also a holiday because it was the day when the Kamo virgin returned from the shrine to her palace. Akitada called on his mother, as he did most mornings. He found her at breakfast with his sisters and asked how they had enjoyed their outing the previous day.

"Tamako is a most charming person," cried his younger sister Yoshiko. Remembering her brother's ill-fated courtship, she blushed a little and added, "She stayed quite late with us and promised to return soon. We were delighted to have her company."

Akitada's heart sank. He had no wish to face any more embarrassing encounters with Tamako. "I am glad you had a pleasant day," he said and glanced at his mother.

"It appears the young woman gardens," Lady Sugawara informed him. "She had a number of helpful suggestions for us. As you can see," she waved a careless hand towards the lush growth surrounding her new terrace, "this place is overgrown like an abandoned ruin. It is too bad that I must rely on chance encounters to get things done."

"I thought you liked the garden this way," said Akitada, hurt in spite of the fact that he knew his mother was still angry with him for other reasons. "All you have to do is ask, and I will have Tora see to some trimming and replanting."

"Hmph! That fellow is gone more than he is here," grumbled his mother.

"Last night he did not come home at all," volunteered his sister Akiko.

Akitada's mother cast her eyes to heaven and sighed deeply. "No doubt he is in jail at this very moment," she said. "To think what I have come to. A dilapidated home and a bandit for a servant! This was once a great house, bustling with well-trained servants. Now we exist like exiles condemned to the wilderness of a distant province."

"I am sorry you are so downcast today, Mother." Akitada rose and bowed. I shall visit again when you are feeling more cheerful."

Lady Sugawara did not bother to reply.

The university was nearly deserted today because there were no classes or lectures. Akitada stopped by Hirata's room, but found it empty. The holiday was causing problems. He was anxious to get their meeting with Oe and Ishikawa over with, but could do nothing without Hirata.

In his own room a stack of student papers lay on his desk. He wondered whether he was obligated to read them before leaving, or if he should spend his last day gathering up his belongings. Postponing the decision, he took a stroll over to the students' dormitories with the vague idea of asking Ishikawa a few questions.

Things were a bit livelier here. Some of the youngest boys were gathered in a grove of pine trees where they were noisily occupied with large sheets of colored paper. Akitada approached curiously and realized that they were building kites.

He glanced up at the clear sky. Fluffy clouds travelled quickly on the breeze. It was perfect kite flying weather. Watching the boys, he saw the first trial kite rising from the line of a madly dashing youngster. It soared briefly, then made a sudden plunge, and became entangled in the top of one of the pines.

Akitada walked over. The pine looked like a good climbing tree. On an impulse, he took off his robe and fastened the legs of his full trousers around his knees. Pulling himself up to the lowest branch, he began to climb. But the kite was too far up. The weaker branches near the top would not hold his weight. As he paused to ponder the situation, something plucked at his trousers.

"Excuse me, sir," said one of the boys, peering up at him. "Would you mind if I passed you? My kite is stuck up there."

Akitada moved aside and watched as the agile little monkey reached the kite, plucked it loose, and let it down to his waiting comrades.

"Excuse me, sir," said the boy again, passing him on the way down.

Feeling foolish, Akitada watched him scramble quickly back to the ground. Had the boys not realized that he had been trying to get the kite? What had gone through the child's mind when he saw one of the masters climbing a tree? Humbled, Akitada descended more slowly and put his robe back on. Climbing trees after kites was clearly no longer proper at his age.

At one of the dormitories he found an older student sitting on the steps, mending his shoes. Akitada asked him, "Can you tell me where I might find Ishikawa?"

The young man stood politely and bowed. "He is not here today, sir. I saw him leave before dawn. He was carrying a bundle, so I assumed he was going on a short trip."