Akitada felt a moment’s foolish resentment and said coldly, ‘Since I don’t seem to be able to make a convincing defense to you, I must rely on my good name to speak for my character.’

The minister sighed. He reached for a sheaf of documents and passed them across the desk. Akitada bit his lip. They were the annual evaluations of his performance under the previous minister, probably complete and going back to the year when he had started as a very junior clerk. Most accused him of neglecting his duties to meddle in outside affairs in direct disobedience to orders and had haunted him before.

He said bitterly, ‘These mean nothing. Your predecessor took every opportunity to attack me. His Excellency, the chancellor, and other high-ranking officials know of my service. I have received several high commendations and promotions for my work.’

‘But in this case …’ began the minister.

Akitada, very angry by now, rose. ‘I absolutely deny those ridiculous charges. Perhaps you will consult further about my moral character with those who can speak to it. It will be best if I await your decision at home.’ He bowed and walked out.

He stormed home and rushed into the courtyard at such a pace that the dozing Trouble thought it a new game and joined him, bouncing up and down and around him with a noisy welcome. Akitada cursed and pushed the dog away roughly, but Trouble simply increased his efforts and responded by taking small nips of Akitada’s good robe.

‘Tora!’ shouted Akitada.

Tora and Genba appeared simultaneously and flung themselves into the fray.

The dog yipped with joy. A free-for-all! A chase! Three humans against one splendid dog.

Akitada withdrew from the contest and stood glowering on the steps until Tura collared his dog. Then he said, ‘Get rid of him!’ and stalked into the house.

He had been going to see Tamako to tell her of his dilemma, but decided to take off his torn and dirty robe first. Perhaps he would never have need for his formal clothes again. Slipping on his house robe, he tied its sash and went to give his wife the bad news.

Tora intercepted him in the hall. He looked upset. ‘Sir, about the dog—’

‘Not now,’ Akitada snapped and brushed past him.

Tamako and Seimei were bent over the bird scroll. They looked up.

‘Is something wrong?’ Tamako asked. ‘We heard Trouble.’

The dog’s name seemed ominously appropriate. ‘Tora should never have brought that miserable cur here,’ Akitada said angrily. ‘And yes, there is something wrong, though it has nothing to do with the dog. It seems I am under official investigation for the Otsu incident.’

Seimei sucked in his breath, but Tamako merely said coolly, ‘Surely that was always a possibility?’

He glowered and sat down. ‘I rather thought my credit was good enough to speak for my character.’

She sighed. ‘Yes, I know. It’s very disappointing. I don’t blame you for being angry. It’s really too bad that it had to happen just now.’

‘Why?’ he asked, surprised.

She blushed. ‘I just meant … You were so calm and … content earlier. So eager to take up your responsibilities again.’ She bit her lip, and lowered her eyes.

Akitada stared at her. His wife was positively glowing with embarrassment.

Seimei got up. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, My Lady, but I was about to go and check on the poison.’ He hurried from the room.

Akitada frowned after him. ‘What poison?’

‘Monkshood. It’s a very poisonous plant,’ Tamako explained. ‘We wondered what could have made the young man so sick.’

‘Oh.’ Having come back down to earth so painfully in the minister’s office, Akitada had trouble refocusing for a moment. But really, if he was no longer wanted in his official function, nothing prevented him from using his free time as he wished. He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, of course. I suspected warabi dumplings. According to one of his wives, they were a favorite of his.’

‘Fern fiddle heads?’ Tamako shook her head. ‘They can make you sick, but surely not deathly ill. People eat them all the time. You yourself have found them tasty. What we need is something much more deadly. Seimei thought monkshood would fit what the doctor observed.’

Akitada frowned. ‘If he had been given such a well-known poison, surely Inabe would have known.’

‘Perhaps not, if the young man was already ill from something else and being treated. His symptoms from the treatment might have been indistinguishable from the poison.’

Akitada looked at his wife with admiration. ‘How clever you are,’ he said. ‘What is daiou root prescribed for, and what happens after a few doses of the stuff?’

‘Rhubarb root,’ Tamako said with a smile. ‘It cures constipation. You may imagine the effect for yourself.’

‘Ah.’ Akitada brightened more. ‘The warden said young Masuda died from the flux.’

Tamako unrolled the scroll and reread the pasted pages. ‘The doctor should have suspected something. But there is nothing. Unless—’

Akitada moved closer so that he could look at the scroll with her. ‘Unless what?’

‘Unless this note about Yue-Sun’s gruel means something.’

‘Some Chinese medicine?’

‘I don’t think so, and neither does Seimei.’

‘It may just be a scribble. Like the one about love-sickness. Inabe liked to jot down stories. Whatever he saw reminded him of something else. The bird scroll is full of bird tales.’

‘Yes. I noticed that too.’ Tamako gave him a sidelong glance. ‘I suppose there was opportunity for lovesickness in the Masuda household. Two wives and a mistress? And the mistress had been deserted at one point?’

‘True. What about this Yue-Sun?’

‘She’s a character in a Chinese tale. Yue-Sun poisoned someone with a bowl of gruel. I forgot the details, but the victim died.’

‘What? Old Lord Masuda believes that Peony killed his son. Who was the victim in the story?’

‘Some very important person, and she was a servant or his handmaiden.’

‘Hah!’ Akitada jumped up and started to pace. ‘So it was murder. Young Masuda was poisoned. By a woman. But Peony had no motive. He had returned to her, and she and her son depended on him. No, someone else killed him. I think a woman brought a certain food to the patient, and Inabe remembered that later when he became suspicious.’

‘Very likely. Did Masuda’s wives visit him at Peony’s house?’

‘Hardly. But Mrs Ishikawa admitted going there. She could have been sent by them.’ Akitada sat down again. ‘But there’s no proof, and I’m afraid it doesn’t explain what happened later.’

They were sitting close to each other, and he became aware of his wife’s scent. Feeling suddenly awkward, he stole a glance at Tamako’s profile, a shell-like ear, and graceful neck. He wanted to trace that elegant hairline with his finger, to bury his face in the hollow between that soft and fragrant neck and her shoulder. He wanted to make love to his wife.

Caught between fear and daring, he was struck by the ridiculousness of his hesitation. They were alone. They were married. He had every right to caress her.

His hand was half raised when Tamako turned her head. Their eyes met, and her lips parted. Tender, moist, and welcoming lips. Eyes that became soft and warm. His hand found the warmth of her skin just above her collar, smooth as silk, strange and yet familiar. He felt an intense pleasure at her response, at the way she leaned into his hand and raised her face to him. Murmuring her name, he was about to reach for her with his other hand when the door opened and Seimei returned.

The old man stopped. ‘Oh,’ he said and started to back out again.

The spell broke. They moved apart and were again Akitada and Tamako, husband and wife with years of marital familiarity and distance between them. Tamako sighed softly.

Suppressing his frustration, Akitada said, ‘Come in, come in. Did you find anything?’