Tora swung his head around to stare at him. “Otomi? Hidesato’s not looking at Otomi. It’s Ayako he’s after, curse him!”

“Ayako?” Akitada blinked, then laughed. “Heavens,” he said. “I forgot. They are both masters at stick fighting. No doubt they found much to talk about. Relax, Tora. I’m glad Hidesato is staying there. Otomi is in real danger now that Joto has seen the dragon scroll. I’m convinced he sent his people to cause the death of Lady Tachibana and her nurse, and there is nothing to prevent him from doing the same with Otomi. With Hidesato there, at least they will think twice before attacking her.”

Tora got to his feet. “Hidesato’s not there. He and Ayako went off to the bathhouse this morning.” As soon as he said it, he flushed crimson. “That is, he went to the bathhouse. I don’t know where she went.” He took a deep breath. “If you don’t need me,” he said, “I guess I’d better get over there quick,” and ran out.

The room seemed to dim, as if a large cloud had passed over the sun. Akitada sat back up. For a long time he just stayed there, hunched over, twisting his hands. What was it that Seimei had said? “More fearful than a tiger is the scarlet silk of a woman’s undergown.” He had been warning him against Lady Tachibana at the time. Ayako was not the type to wear a scarlet undergown. She was no pampered, perfumed seductress. Ayako was clean and natural as life itself. But Ayako had betrayed him.

When the pain hit, it was sharp as a sword thrust into his belly. He cried out and doubled over, hugging himself and rocking back and forth.

“Sir? Sir? What’s wrong?”

Seimei’s voice, frantic with worry, penetrated the fog of grief and pain. Akitada opened his eyes and willed himself to relax his body and unclench his hands. “Nothing,” he croaked. “A cramp. My empty stomach rebelling.”

Relief washed over Seimei’s anxious face. “Is that all? I brought the gruel. Boiled it with herbs. That’s what took so long.” He pressed a bowl into Akitada’s hands and watched him as he sipped the thin gruel. It tasted like bile. “You don’t look well,” he said dubiously.

Somehow Akitada managed to force the food down and, surprisingly, felt slightly better. He lay down and closed his eyes. “I’m tired, Seimei,” he said listlessly.

“Yes, yes. You sleep a little. Later I will bring you more food, some nourishing fish broth with noodles perhaps.” Seimei quietly gathered the dishes and tiptoed from the room.

The pain returned. Not so sharply perhaps, but as a dull soreness seeping from his belly into his head, like thick black ink soaked up by a sponge. And with it came a sense of profound loss—as if he himself had been swallowed up by this dark flood.

Too much had happened. He was no longer the same man who had relished this ill-omened assignment in hopes of serving his emperor well and finally fulfilling his mother’s expectations. It seemed to him now that that Akitada had been a foolish dreamer, that nothing was as he had thought, least of all himself.

This made him angry, but his anger was not directed at Ayako or, he thought, at the scruffy sergeant. Would not any sane man take such a gift if it were offered? And why should not Ayako, for whatever reasons motivated her—pity, curiosity, or affinity—offer herself to Hidesato as readily and naturally as she had given herself to him? No doubt Akitada, too, had aroused feelings of pity or curiosity in her. She had probably thought him a pathetic weakling, much like Tora once had. Or perhaps she had taken him to the bathhouse to find out how noblemen from the capital made love.

Ayako had always lived by her own rules and never promised him anything. It was he, in his arrogance, who had believed that she must feel for him what he had felt, no, was still feeling, for her. Ayako belonged to no one, not even Hidesato.

This thought made him feel a little better until it occurred to him that Hidesato might like such an arrangement. What if this rough soldier took his pleasure with Ayako and afterward simply walked away without another thought, treating casually that which had been offered casually? He pictured the two of them on the grass mat together, and a desperate rage seized him.

There was a scratching at the door.

“Are you awake, my dear Akitada?” asked Motosuke, peering through the opening.

“Yes,” said Akitada, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Please come in.”

“I brought Akinobu and Yukinari. You do not mind?”

“No, no. Come in and sit down.”

Yukinari and Akinobu filed in slowly, bowing and casting dubious glances at him. Yukinari’s head was without its bandage, but a thick scab had formed near his hairline and most of his forehead bore a purple bruise.

“I think there is some tea left,” said Akitada, “or would you prefer wine?”

Nobody wanted anything. They seated themselves. Yukinari and Akinobu asked politely about his health, then fell silent.

“The governor told me that you are filling in for Ikeda,” Akitada said to Akinobu, trying to banish the image of the lovers from his mind. “It will be difficult to carry out both responsibilities, especially since the matter of the tax conspiracy is complex and time-consuming.”

Akinobu bowed. “I was fortunate in finding a number of bright and reliable people in the prefecture,” he said in his dry voice. “Once order was established, the normal routine could be resumed. I expect to leave prefectural matters in the capable hands of the head clerk when I have other duties. Just now I have given him full instructions about the criminals named by Your Excellency. A special team of constables familiar with the local underworld is searching for the three men, and I hope to report their arrests by tonight.”

“Thank you. Well,” said Akitada, looking at the others, “arresting Joto and his supporters during the temple festival will be more difficult. We must at all costs avoid bloodshed. Our man has proven again and again that he can act swiftly and decisively, and that human lives mean nothing to him. The temple enclosure will be packed with townspeople and pilgrims, and his monks are trained fighters who have an armory of halberds in one of the storehouses. No doubt other weapons are hidden elsewhere on the grounds. We have only the element of surprise on our side.”

Yukinari spoke up. “What sorts of weapons and how many?”

“I only know about the naginata, but in the capital there were rumors of weapon shipments to the east. On the journey here, I had occasion to see the barrier logs at Hakone. They showed an unusual number of religious objects passing along the eastern road in this direction. It is likely that those objects were, in fact, arms destined for the Temple of Fourfold Wisdom. A man like Joto would have little compunction about causing a bloodbath on the temple grounds or of plunging the province into civil war to preserve himself.”

Akitada looked at the three men and wondered how each would act under the stress of the coming days. Yukinari’s fists were clenched. He muttered something under his breath, but Akitada judged him to be above average in courage. Besides, his conscience would spur him on to give his life, if necessary, to atone for his affair with Lady Tachibana.