“Be careful,” he said. “The fewer people know, the better.”

♦

When he returned to his rooms, Seimei was watching Tora, who was pacing the floor impatiently.

“There you are,” Tora greeted Akitada. “I found a man who knows where Hidesato eats and sent him a message. Can we go right away? It’s getting late.”

Akitada raised his hands. “Slowly, Tora. I have just come from the governor. There may be more urgent work.”

“You’d better read this first.” Seimei took a curious object from Akitada’s desk and held it up: a bare branch with a slip of mulberry paper tied to it with crimson silk. “The boy who brought it is waiting for an answer.”

Akitada reached for the letter, then pulled back his hand as if bitten by a snake. He knew the sender. Unfortunately, he could not avoid it. Reluctantly, he untied the note, dropping silk and branch carelessly on the floor. The paper was expensive and heavily perfumed. He read: “How sad the barren branch, the blasted flower, when friendship cools, and deadly frost kills budding love.” It was a poor poetic effort, too stilted and lacking in subtlety, but she had reason to complain. He had not kept his promise because of Ayako. For a moment he stood undecided.

“What’s a fornicator?” asked Tora.

Akitada started. “What?”

Seimei, always the mentor, explained, but Tora shook his head. “You must be wrong, old man. There are no women there. Was the old monk crazy, sir?”

Understanding dawned belatedly. Tora and Seimei had discussed the incident at the temple while his own mind wandered along the twisted paths of love. “No, Tora,” he said with a grimace. “I expect the old monk spoke the truth. It is a practice among some monks to enjoy the love of boys.”

“Swine!” Tora shook his head, then asked, “Now will you come talk to Hidesato, sir?”

Akitada let Lady Tachibana’s note drop to the floor. “Yes, Tora. Lead the way.”

♦

The Inn of the Eight Immortals was a ramshackle two-storied building in the brothel quarter. From its upper story eight garish banners with the figures of the sages fluttered dispiritedly in the cold wind. Tora gave his master an uneasy look.

“Go on,” said Akitada, pointing at the narrow doorway covered with strips of dingy brown grass cloth. His peers in the capital would have shunned this place like a smallpox-infected house, and he wondered what Motosuke would think of his “elder brother” now.

The restaurant was large and instantly enveloped them in raucous noise and pungent smells. Four cooks, stripped to the waist and wearing checked towels around their heads, worked over the bamboo steamers, while some fifty customers were busy eating, drinking, and chattering.

Akitada’s eyes followed a tray of succulent shrimp, balanced precariously on the shoulder of a youngster who stepped nimbly between the seated parties to serve a group of men.

“There he is,” Tora cried. “Hidesato!”

Near the steaming cauldrons, a tall, bearded man rose, looking as if he wished he were elsewhere. He gave Tora a tight smile and bowed to Akitada.

Tora embraced him and slapped his back. “We’ve searched for you everywhere, Hito. Why did you run off like that?”

Hidesato’s eyes went to Akitada. “Later, brother.”

Akitada liked the sergeant’s open face and soldierly manner, even though the feeling was not mutual. Hidesato was openly hostile. Akitada’s heart sank, but for Tora’s sake he would try. “I’m hungry,” he said, sitting down. “Come, let’s order.”

Hidesato cleared his throat. “They serve only common fare here,” he said.

Akitada ignored this comment and ordered three large servings of shrimp and a pitcher of wine, then said, “Tora can tell you what we ate on our journey here. This is a feast.”

Hidesato muttered, “Oh.” His eyes kept wandering toward the entrance.

“Are you expecting someone?” Akitada asked.

“No. That is...sometimes a friend stops by.”

When the food and wine appeared, Akitada reached for his bowl, shelling his shrimp nimbly. Tora did the same and after a moment Hidesato joined them. Silence prevailed until the bowls were empty. Tora wiped his hands on his old robe, and Hidesato did likewise, then watched Akitada.

“Excellent,” Akitada said with a sigh of satisfaction and fished a paper tissue from his sleeve to clean his hands. “Now for some wine.” He filled their cups. Tora bit his lip and looked down at his clenched hands. Akitada urged, “Why don’t you give your friend the good news?”

Tora looked up. “Oh. Looks like you’ll be in the money again, Hito. The garrison’s been looking for you. They need another experienced sergeant.”

Hidesato’s face lit up. “Truly? I’d given up hope. I suppose I should have gone back after I lost my lodging.” His eyes went to the entrance again.

“Well,” said Akitada, waving to the waitress to bring more wine, “drink up! You have something to celebrate after all. By the way, I am obliged to you. Tora has been teaching me the art of stick fighting. He tells me you taught him.”

Hidesato stared at him, then at Tora, who said quickly, “He’s good, Hito. I’m at the end of my tricks. Bet you’d make a better teacher.”

Hidesato shot Akitada an angry glance and snapped, “You shouldn’t have done that, Tora. Your master’s not one of us. What need has a nobleman for the simple skills of poor people? Fighting sticks are for those who aren’t allowed to wear swords.”

There was a pregnant silence, then Akitada said, “Please don’t blame Tora. No man could ask for a more loyal friend than you have in him. As for myself, I cannot help my birth any more than you can yours. In fact, I’ve had little cause to consider myself more fortunate than other men. I wished to learn your skills because I might need them someday and because I believe a man should have many skills.”

Hidesato glowered silently.

“I am sorry you will not accept me,” Akitada said heavily after a moment. “Tora wanted to leave my service when he found out how you felt, but I would not let him go without talking to you first. He was honor-bound to an agreement we made when we met. I mention this so you will know that he deserves your friendship. But he is free now. I won’t stand between you.” He fished a string of coppers from his sash and rose. “It’s been a long day, and I am weary. Use the coppers to pay the bill, Tora.”

“I’m tired also,” Tora said, dropping the money on the mat and getting to his feet. “Let’s be on our way. Good luck, Hidesato.”

Akitada stopped, dismayed. He had not intended to force a choice on Tora. Before he could speak, Hidesato said, “Sit down, little brother. You, too, sir, if you wouldn’t mind. It’s hard to believe you find Tora at all satisfactory, but I’ll take your word for it.” He reached for the pitcher and filled their cups. “Now that I’m to be employed again, I look forward to returning your hospitality, sir.”