This was the first time Kosehira had voiced a complaint. Akitada looked at his friend with new eyes. He wanted to know more about his life but could not ask with Tora and Saburo present, so he only said, “I hope I haven’t caused trouble for you. Tora thinks the man will talk when confronted by local witnesses.”

Tora nodded. “Those tough-looking bastards with tattoos always end up being cowards.”

“Well then, tell me everything that happened,” Kosehira said.

They complied, taking turns. At one point, Kosehira was shocked to hear that the monks had taken Tora’s horse.

“Can’t have monks stealing horses,” he muttered.

Saburo, who had been fairly quiet, said, “They do so already and have been doing it for years. They claim shipments of horses for the temple even though they come from private estates and are intended for the market in the capital.”

Kosehira looked astonished. “You know this for a fact?”

Akitada said, “Saburo was once one of them. Or rather, he was a sohei who spent some interesting time on Mount Hiei.”

Kosehira’s eyes widened again. “Really? Is that … I mean did they …?” His eyes were searching Saburo’s face.

Saburo looked away. “Yes, sir.”

“Dear gods!” Kosehira fell silent. After a while, he got out of the bath. “I think I have enough to occupy my mind for a while,” he said, sounding dejected.

Akitada joined him. “I’m sorry, Kosehira,” he said softly. “I did not mean to spoil your well-deserved relaxation.”

“No, no,” said Kosehira, wrapping a cotton gown around his paunch. “Will you join us for dinner?”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of your ladies.”

Kosehira smiled. “It’s among his family that a man finds true happiness, Akitada. Remember that.”

∞

It was still raining steadily later when Akitada made his way along the covered gallery toward the pavilion of Kosehira’s ladies. The garden lay in a green haze, the leaves glistening and the blooms on the azaleas drooping with moisture. A warm scent of wet earth, moss, and growing things came from the ground and, as he passed an azalea growing close to the gallery, its heady scent filled the moist air with an almost intoxicating power. He stopped to breathe more deeply and was filled with a great longing for Tamako.

Her scent had been orange blossoms, but he recalled her vividly in their own spring garden, bending over a flowering azalea to breathe in its fragrance. Kosehira had been right. His true happiness had been then, with her and the children in their garden. And he had lost it.

“Akitada?”

He returned from his dream of happier times and saw that Yukiko had come from the pavilion, perhaps to fetch him or to greet him. She had paused a little distance away, looking like a spring flower herself in her pink robe.

“I’m sorry, Lady Yukiko,” he said, taking a guilty pleasure in seeing her pretty face, that graceful figure in pale rosy silks. Had not his wife favored this color? She had been quite different from this charming girl. Tamako had worn her clothes with a quiet grace; Yukiko had the quick movements of a young deer. Emotion suddenly constricted his throat.

But Yukiko came toward him slowly, almost shyly. “I’m the one who is sorry. I interrupted your thoughts. You looked happy.”

“A delightful interruption. Am I late for dinner?”

“No. I came out to smell the rain. The garden always smells quite wonderful at this time.” She chuckled softly. “Do you smell it, too? The azaleas. I love the scent. It’s always especially intense in a slow rain.”

“I had the same thought a moment ago. Your garden is beautiful in all kinds of weather.”

“You will always be welcome here.”

It was a strange thing to say. He was a guest, a temporary visitor who must leave, perhaps never to return. “Thank you.” He looked out over the garden once more, and she came to stand beside him.

“You are lonely, I think,” she said softly. “I know all about loneliness.”

He was startled and upset by her comment. “How can you be lonely here amidst your family. I would think you would never wish to leave them.”

She looked up at him, her eyes sad. “One can be lonely in a crowd. I love my family, but I feel they have their own lives, that I am somehow apart.” She turned away. “And adrift.”

She said this last in a voice filled with such sorrow that Akitada reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She made a small sound, turned toward him, and came into his arms, laying her head against his chest.

Akitada’s thoughts were in turmoil. What had happened to her to cause such sadness? How could he make things better? And then: what was he doing, standing here, holding Kosehira’s daughter in his arms? Someone might come at any moment. Yet he drew her a little closer. The top of her head almost reached his eyes. Her hair gleamed a beautiful bluish black, and he could see part of her neck, just below a dainty ear. It was a neck he wanted to kiss so very much that he felt his hands trembling with the effort not to do so.

All around them, the rain fell with a soft music of its own, and the scent of spring flowers and warm, moist earth filled the air. At that moment, Akitada knew he was lost.

Somehow they parted, neither speaking, and walked slowly toward the pavilion.

Akitada did not know how he managed to get through the cheerful family meal on this occasion. He ate automatically, answered absent-mindedly, and tried not to look at Yukiko. He failed miserably. A few times their eyes met and both looked away quickly.

He lay awake for a long time that night, torn by longing and ashamed. Somewhere among the muddle of thoughts and dreams and fears, he wondered what she would do if he asked her father for her.

It was conceivable that she would accept. She had spoken of her admiration for him. Mistaken though she was about his past, it might be enough for her to agree to marry a man who could be her father.

But he could not, would not do that to her. He would never ruin a young woman’s future simply because he had fallen in love with her. She deserved better than an elderly and low-ranking official without prospects, but with a family and a past. Kosehira’s oldest daughter could become an imperial consort, and if not that, the wife of a prince of the blood or a chancellor.

No, he could not do that to her. Especially not when he loved her.

And that meant his life here in Otsu, in Kosehira’s household, had become unbearable.

Chapter Seventeen

Raid on the Tribunal

Akitada was woken by one of Kosehira’s servants. When he felt the gentle touch on his shoulder, he turned toward it, thinking in his half-awake state that it was Yukiko. Perhaps … Yukiko in his bed … ready to come into his arms. He muttered something.

“Wake up, sir! There’s news from the tribunal.”

It was night, and he had some excuse for his confusion. Blinking, Akitada sat up. “What?” he asked. What happened?”

“There’s been an attack on the tribunal, sir. His Excellency said to get you up. He’s leaving for town now.”

“An attack?” Akitada scrambled up. The servant, a dimly seen figure by the light of the single oil lamp he must have brought and set down near the door, held out his trousers for him.

“Yes. On the tribunal. In the middle of the night. There are many dead.”

Akitada asked no more questions. With the man’s help, he threw on his clothes, stepped into his boots, and ran outside.

“In the courtyard, sir,” the servant shouted after him. “They’re waiting for you.”

It was still dark outside. Impossible to tell the time. The rain had stopped, but there was a thick cloud cover. The courtyard was lit by torches. By their light, Akitada saw some eight mounted men and a group of others on foot.