Of the “others” there was so far only one, and she arrived wailing in the arms of her mother Ohiro. Genba, all smiles and solicitude these days, walked behind. His first words typically concerned his daughter. “Tamiko’s cutting another tooth,” he said proudly. “What do you think of that?”

Tora thought it an unfortunate nuisance when they were to have a family council, but Genba’s joy in his child was so great that he did not have the heart. Genba was in his early fifties and had not expected to have a family. His changed life struck him as miraculous, and he assumed others shared his feelings.

Saburo trailed in, looking more dejected than before.

“What’s this about?” asked Ohiro, jiggling the baby.

“Saburo’s mother,” Tora told her.

“Oh!” Her face fell.

An uncomfortable silence ensued, then Hanae said brightly, “She’s a very helpful lady.”

Saburo snorted.

“Saburo’s afraid the master won’t like it,” said Tora.

Another silence fell.

Saburo sighed. “My mother makes trouble. She’s not your usual mother.”

“Well,” said Hanae practically, “I don’t think she means to make trouble. It’s just her way. She wants to make things better.”

Saburo snorted again.

“He can’t tell her to go away,” pointed out Tora.

“I can go with her,” said Saburo.

There was an immediate outcry against this. Genba said stoutly, “I think she’s a fine woman. You have to make allowances. She comes from a family with money. Now she’s fallen on hard times. It must be dreadful to have your own children dislike you.” He glanced worriedly at his own offspring.

Hanae looked at her husband. “I think Tora should go back and tell the master about Mrs. Kuruda. When he hears that she has no other place to go, he’ll welcome her. We can manage.”

Saburo shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Hanae. I cannot inflict my mother’s tongue on anyone else. A fast tongue is sharper than a fast sword. The gods know how I fear it myself. She’ll tell a praying monk he’s doing it wrong.”

“I’m surprised at you, Saburo,” Tora said with a frown. “Filial piety demands that we honor our parents and serve them all their lives. This is your duty. Really, brother, I’m shocked.”

The others nodded their agreement.

Saburo hung his head again. “I said I’d take her with me. It’s my problem.”

Ohiro, who had been occupied with amusing the baby, now asked, “If you’ll forgive me, Saburo, what has she done to you and your sister that you hate her so much?”

Saburo flicked a glance at her. “You wouldn’t understand. And my sister doesn’t hate her. I imagine mother has spent every waking hour telling her that she’s a bad wife and a bad mother and doesn’t keep the house clean enough or cook the right food. That can make even the strongest person break down after a while. And besides there’s my brother-in-law.” He sighed. “No, it’s better she’s with me. I don’t have a wife and children.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Hanae. “She stays.”

Saburo looked at her. “You’ll be sorry when she starts in on you.”

“Oh, she has already. I don’t mind. I smile and thank her for her concern and go about my business. Of course, there’s cook.” She frowned.

Tora asked, “What about cook?”

“Cook is leaving.”

Saburo said, “I told Mother not to meddle, but she will go to the kitchen and criticize. And she’s started cooking for me.”

“I’ll speak to cook.” Tora rose.

This was the signal for them all to return to their duties. Tora reached for Hanae again.

Chapter Eleven

The Shrine Fair

Akitada was unhappy and worried about Tora’s tale. The incident had been shocking, especially when carried out by sohei, and those members of the Enryaku-ji monastery. He considered the custom of great temples to train some of their younger monks to defend their community against marauding robbers deplorable. Yet while he disliked it intensely, he could understand such a move when the government was apparently unable to control criminal gangs.

What was unforgiveable, however, was the use of soldier monks against another temple. It was this sort of warfare which had led Enryaku-ji and Onjo-ji to strengthen their forces by hiring mercenaries, declaring them lay monks, and providing shelter, food, and pay for them. Both local temples had standing armies of sohei, and clearly their mercenaries were criminals who had begun to prey on the local population.

In fact, his own assignment was intended to settle a dangerous disagreement between the two temples in order to avoid another war and bloodshed. Yet his knowledge of the hostilities between presumably peaceful disciples of the Buddha made him increasingly afraid that a mere legal judgment would not prevent such a disaster.

He had been short with Tora, but the situation was too delicate to cloud the issues with charges against the four sohei. No doubt these would be rejected anyway, the rapes denied, and the kidnapping explained as the legitimate capture of a run-away peasant.

But even more upsetting had been Tora’s manner. Akitada feared that Tora was thinking of doing something foolish.

He pondered the situation most of that night and rose the next morning without having found a solution. For the time being, Tora was safely at home in the arms of his wife. It might remind him that he had responsibilities these days. At least he hoped so. The four sohei were another matter. The incident troubled him enough that he sought out the peace of Kosehira’s garden in an attempt to settle his mind.

His feet carried him to the koi pond, and there he came across Lady Yukiko again. Like last time she was kneeling on the mossy ground, feeding grains of rice to the fish. She wore pale green silk, like the earliest leaves of spring, and the sheen of her long hair made him want to touch it. He stopped and turned to leave, but she had already heard him and was rising to her feet.

Embarrassment caused her to flush. She said softly, “Oh! It’s you.”

And he said, “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

For a long moment they just looked at each other. Akitada was aware of a powerful desire to capture her image as she stood there, sun-dappled in the morning light, a perfect image of the world’s beauty in spring.

He caught himself eventually, feeling strangely sad that this beauty was no part of him. Not for him such freshness or a new beginning. He was middle-aged, her father’s age to be precise, and a father himself. He controlled his heart and said, “And how are Black Dragon and Setting Sun today?”

She smiled and set his heart racing again. “Very well. Come and see, my lord.”

The formality of “my lord” put him in his place. He wished she had used his name and yet was glad she did not. He came closer and inspected the koi. “I’m afraid I said something to offend you last time,” he said. “Will you please forgive me?” He dared a sideways glance and saw the delicious color on her cheeks again.

“It wasn’t you. It was my forwardness. I had no right to pry into your life. I’m ashamed.”

That moved him, and he reached out a hand. “Never be ashamed of a kindness,” he said. “I was flattered. You see, I’m not much used to admiration and it took my words away.”

She put her hand in his. The smile returned. “You needn’t tell me. It’s enough to have met you in person.”

Her hand was small and warm. Holding it reminded him of cradling a young bird. He felt a great affection for her, a protective, fatherly affection. “We’ve met before, you know. You were about six or seven, I think.”

She took her hand from his and turned away. “Oh. Did we? I don’t recall. I was a mere child then.”

The loss of that hand was strangely painful and that realization made him push both of his hands deep into his sleeves. “You were a charming child even then,” he said lightly. And then added, “All of you children impressed me as delightful.”