the dinner,” Akitada went on. “Everyone said that you ate only

Toshito’s stew and the dishes served by Sakamoto’s servants.”

“I have been in the habit of preparing my own fugu for

years. It has certain properties which ease pain and produce a

pleasant sense of well-being. That evening I brought a small

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amount of the so-called poison with me in my sleeve. Nobody

noticed my adding it to the stew.”

Heavy steps sounded in the hall beyond the screen, then a

dull thump. After a moment Tora appeared and asked, “Where

do you want him?”

Before Akitada could answer there was a shout, and then a

slight figure in fluttering white robes slipped past Tora. Ribata.

A few steps into the dim room she stopped uncertainly. Her eyes

found Okisada. She cried, “Cousin! It is true. You are alive. A

miracle! Oh, praise the Buddha!” She went to him, knelt, bowed

deeply, and then raised her shining face, taking his hands in

hers. “Oh, my dear. How happy I am to find you alive after all! I

was lonely for you, my almost-brother.”

Ribata’s being another member of the imperial family

was no complete surprise to Akitada. After all, Kumo’s grand-

mother, the senile Lady Saisho, had addressed her as Naka no

Kimi, Princess. But if anything, Ribata’s imperial blood made

her presence on this island of exiles an even greater mystery.

Okisada leaned forward to embrace Ribata. “Dearest cousin.

It is not a happy occasion, I am afraid. Is it true that Kumo

is dead?”

Ribata’s face lost some of its joy. “Yes. His body is outside.

The soldiers said you wished to pay your last respects.”

With her help, Okisada struggled to his feet. Together they

walked to the front of the hall, followed by Akitada, Taira,

and Tora.

Kumo had been dropped carelessly on the wooden planks,

one arm flung over his face and a leg bent awkwardly at the

knee. Ribata knelt and gently rearranged the body. Dark blood

disfigured his brilliant armor, but he was handsome in death.

Okisada made a face, then bent to peer at him. When he

straightened, he said, “A pity. He was a great man. And he could

have been an even greater one under my rule.” Taira also took a

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385

long look and nodded. They stood for a moment in silence.

Then Okisada reached into his fine robe and handed Akitada

something before turning to take Taira’s arm. Together they

went back to the room they had left.

Akitada looked down at what he had been given and saw

that the prince had returned his imperial mandate. It had been

done without explanation or apology for the theft. Of course, as

the present emperor’s brother and, in his own opinion, the

rightful emperor himself, he probably felt that he had a right to

the documents. But Okisada’s voluntary surrender of the papers

meant that he had accepted defeat. He had allowed Akitada to

complete his assignment. He heaved a deep breath and turned

to Tora. “Stay with them. They are to see or speak to no one

without my permission.”

Ribata still knelt beside Kumo’s corpse. She was praying, her

beads moving through her thin fingers with soft clicks. Akitada

waited. When she finished and rose, he said, “Forgive me for

troubling you, but I gather that you, too, are a member of the

imperial family.”

She bowed her head. After a moment, she said, “Only a

handful of people know why I am here. I ask that you keep

my secret.”

Akitada hesitated. “It may become relevant to the case

against your cousin.”

“No. I swear to you, it has nothing to do with poor Okisada’s

case. It is my story alone. Nothing but tragedy will come to in-

nocent people if it becomes known in the capital that I am here.”

“Very well. If what you say is true, I promise to keep your

secret.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “I am . . . was the third daughter

of Emperor Kazan. He died when I was only eight. Okisada’s

mother and mine were sisters, married to different emperors.

My cousin and I grew up together until my marriage to a high

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court noble was being arranged. But I was sixteen and in love

with a low-ranking officer of the guards. We were found out,

and he was sent here into exile. I followed him, disguised as a

nun.” She fell silent, as if that explained all.

Perhaps it did, but Akitada was not content. After a mo-

ment’s silence, he said, “You must both have loved very deeply

to give up so much. And Toshito?”

Now she smiled. “How very perceptive of you, my lord. I

suppose you saw the resemblance?”

“Yes. And your . . . husband?”

The sadness returned. “There was no future for us. They

would have killed him if I had become his wife. After my son’s

birth, I shaved my head and took the nun’s habit for good.

Toshito was formally adopted by Mutobe.”

So Mutobe had been the lover? It explained his permanent

appointment. No doubt the emperor who had sent him to

Sadoshima had made him its governor on condition he stay

there. And she had become a nun rather than bring down the

wrath of the emperor on the man she loved. Young Toshito

probably knew or suspected that she was his mother. No won-

der his bearing was haughty. The imperial lineage was in

his blood, though it would hardly make him welcome at court.

“Thank you, Princess. Your confidence honors me,” said

Akitada, bowing deeply. And, even though he still had his

doubts about her, he added, “I ask your pardon for having

suspected you of supporting Kumo.”

She gave him a very sweet smile. “Call me Ribata. I am an

old woman now and a nun. And you were wise to be suspi-

cious.” She turned to look down at Kumo’s corpse. “I knew him

when he was a mere boy. In those days I could not visit my own

son, and Sanetomo became like my own. We used to talk about

his love for the Buddha’s teachings and for all who suffered

injustice in this life. I loved him dearly, but even then I feared

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387

and distrusted him. He was . . . too passionate. I often wonder if this place makes some men pursue grand schemes because their

world has become as small as a grain of sand.” She turned back

to Akitada. “You are a good man and a man of honor. May you

find happiness in the small things.”

Akitada bowed deeply. As he left the hall and the temple

compound to walk back to the farmhouse, he thought about

Okisada, Kumo, and even Mutobe. All three were weak men,

and all three had become obsessed with dreams of power.

Even little Jisei had bargained his life for an impossible dream.

Akitada suddenly felt a great need to be with Haseo, who had

been his friend and protector. Without him he would not have

survived. He remembered his face again, shining with the

happiness of being free—for too short a time. Haseo had fought

joyfully against their enemies and been a better man than any

Akitada had met on Sadoshima.

The sky was clouding up a little, and the brightness of the

afternoon sun had become like light shining through gossamer

silk. The sea, instead of brilliant silver and blue, now stretched

before him faintly green, pale celadon fading to the color of

wisteria. He looked at the softened greens of the mountains,

themselves turning to a bluish lavender, and at the russet houses

below, and found the world both sadder and more beautiful

than before.