But his voice sounded less certain. Akitada asked, “You checked for tracks?”

“Yes. But it snowed that night, and later the prince and the old man searched for her. They both say they saw no tracks.”

“Ah. Not even hers. The snow was expected?”

“Perhaps it was, but I still don’t see how that matters.”

“Come, Kobe, what do you really think?”

Kobe shook his head. “That it’s far too dangerous to investigate this case. Think of all the people we would offend. The emperor first of all. Then Lady Masako’s father and her family. And Prince Atsuhira. And finally whoever was behind it.” He added quickly, “If someone did, in fact, stage it.”

“Yes,” said Akitada. He felt an inner satisfaction. So Kobe had some doubts after all.

Kobe gave him a look, and silence fell.

“But that doesn’t make it right,” Akitada said.

“No.”

“Then you’re with me on this?”

Kobe glared. “Let’s say I’m dissatisfied with the whole situation.” He paused. “And I’m resentful that I’ve been dragged into it by your friend.” Throwing up his hands, he protested, “What good is it to expect me to investigate and tell me that no one must know about it?”

“Yes, that’s a problem. What did you do with Lady Masako?”

“We—the prince and I—carried her to a nearby monastery. The monks are very holy, and it’s a small community. They prayed and read sutras over her. The prince attended the services, while I hurried back to the capital and sent an overnight messenger to her father. Minamoto Masaie arrived immediately in a state of grief and fury. He and the prince huddled behind closed doors. In the end, Lord Masaie took Lady Masako’s body home to Sagami with him. End of story.”

“I see. But it isn’t really the end, is it? I wish I knew more about the relationship between Masaie and Prince Atsuhira. The prince seems to have calmed down the father’s anger. I wonder how.” Akitada got up. “Thank you, my friend. I’ll try to find out what the prince thinks of all this.”

Kobe frowned. “He won’t talk to you. They say he’s in retreat, preparing to forsake the world. Whatever you do, will you keep me informed?”

Akitada smiled at him. “Certainly. You may wish to reopen the case of Lady Masako’s death after all.”

Kobe just shook his head and looked unnerved.

Akitada left the compound of the kebiishi-cho with a lighter step. He had managed to shake Kobe’s conviction that he was dealing with a simple, if dangerously scandalous, suicide. The thought that it must have been a murder was strangely energizing. It seemed better than such a pathetic end to the love affair.

He had also worked up a great anger at what had been done to the poor young woman and her unborn child. He burned to find out who and what was behind all of it.

Murder in the Willow Quarter

Genba did not sleep well that night. He kept seeing Ohiro’s bruised face. By morning he had decided he must take Tora into his confidence, even if it would bring him more mockery.

He found Tora in his quarters with his wife Hanae and their little son. They greeted him and offered to share their breakfast gruel, but Genba had no appetite. He sat down, glanced at Tora’s full bowl, swallowed down a bout of nausea, and said, “Thanks, no. But please finish. I’ll wait to talk with Tora.” He saw Hanae’s surprise and had an idea. “And you, Hanae.”

Now they both looked at him with concern, but they finished their meal without comment and sent Yuki out to play.

“So, what is it, Brother?” Tora asked when they were alone.

“You know I’ve met someone.” Genba felt himself blushing.

To his relief, Tora did not grin or mock him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look upset.”

Genba shot Hanae a glance. “It’s as wrong as it can be. I, well, I met Ohiro. Ohiro’s a working girl.” He blushed more deeply. “She works for a bastard called Tokuzo. He owns a wine house in the Willow Quarter. His waitresses … well, they do whatever the customers pay for. Yesterday Tokuzo beat Ohiro brutally, and then he raped her. He’d found out she’d been seeing me.” He paused to swallow again. “Ohiro and I, we’ve been saving for six months to buy out her contract, but we still don’t have enough. I almost killed the swine last night. Please tell me what I should do.” Against his will, tears rose to his eyes. He blinked them away. “Tora, Hanae, I love this girl. She’s a good, gentle girl. I want her to be my wife. You two know how it is.”

Clearly shocked, they looked at each other.

Hanae said, “Tokuzo? That’s bad. I know of him.”

“How much money do you need?” Tora asked. “We have some saved.”

“Thanks, Brother. It’s too much. Twenty pieces of gold.”

Tora made a face. “We can scrape together ten. Maybe.” He and Hanae looked at each other again.

“Tokuzo will raise the price,” Hanae said.

Genba stared at her. “How can he do that? It’s in the contract.”

“He’ll find ways to charge her for things she’s used over the years. Maybe he’ll fine her for not having collected from you.”

“Amida!” Genba clenched his fists and hung his head. Then he looked up. “I’d go to the master, but you know how he is about women like Ohiro.”

They nodded gravely.

“I don’t know what to do. And even if I could buy her out, how can we be together?” Now the tears started again, and Genba choked up. “I’ll have to leave here. Maybe Ohiro and I should just run away together and hide out some place.”

“You can’t do that,” Tora said. “The master would be hurt. You’d better tell him about it.”

Hanae put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Wait. Tora, can’t you do something first? Maybe you and Saburo and Genba could go and frighten the man into being cooperative?”

“Saburo?” Genba looked shocked.

“He’s one of us.” Tora smiled at his wife. “If I have your permission to go to the Willow Quarter, we’ll do it.”

“Anytime,” she said with an airy wave and got up to remove the bowls. “Though maybe you’d better go in the daytime. Before he gets busy with his customers and the girls.”

Tora nodded. “Good thinking. Come, brother, let’s talk to Saburo.”

Genba and Saburo shared quarters in a spacious room adjoining the stable. Saburo had been offered Seimei’s room in the main house, but had humbly declined.

When they walked in, Saburo was getting ready for his duties in the main house. He had dressed as usual in a neat blue robe with a black sash. He had also taken pains with his hair, making sure the knot and loop were perfectly centered on top of his head and tied with the black silk ribbon. His disfigured face looked even more incongruous with his very neat and proper appearance.

Saburo heard Genba’s story without much surprise, but he glanced at Genba as if reassessing his character in light of this new information. When Tora and Genba had finished, he was matter-of-fact. “You said you changed your mind about killing this man. Was that because you’re opposed to killing on principle, or for some other reason?”

Genba frowned. “Does it matter?

Saburo made one of his unreadable grimaces. “I like to know how other people solve their problems. It’s been useful in the past.”

Genba thought about it. Saburo was an ex-spy and an ex-monk. That made him a far more unpredictable and mysterious person than Genba knew himself to be. On the other hand, his curiosity was probably part of his training. The spy wanted no surprises from allies or opponents, and the monk was opposed to killing. Suddenly curious himself, he asked. “Have you ever killed anyone, Saburo?”

Saburo scowled. “Don’t ask me such things.”

“Well, I have,” Genba said heavily. “I swore to myself that I would never do such a thing again. It’s not because I’m very religious. It’s because I felt sick and dirty and because it almost destroyed me. If the master hadn’t taken us on, me and my best friend Hitomaro, I’d be dead today. We were both wanted for murder. But yesterday was different. Yesterday it was because someone hurt the woman I love. I felt like killing the man.”