“You should get another doctor,” Tora said angrily. “I don’ trust this one any longer.”

“I’m in your hands, brother.” Akitada smiled at him. He knew he was getting better. His desperate attempt to join Tamako and Yori on the other side had failed. He had not reached the end of the bridge of dreams that spanned the two worlds.

Strangely, this failure no longer pained him. He had seen the faces of his family, had known their joy that he was still with them, and realized he should never have wished for death.

Akiko and Toshikage arrived soon after, happy to find him better. His sister suppressed her joy after the first, uncharacteristically emotional, embrace, and said, “Well, that was a very stupid thing to do. You could have been killed! And then what would have become of our case?”

Toshikage protested, “What a thing to say, Akiko! You must forgive her, Brother. She’s just a silly woman.”

This amused Akitada so much that he chortled.

Akiko had the good sense to see the humor and laugh. “Seriously, Akitada,” she said, “are you feeling better? Tora said something about the doctor being dissatisfied.”

“Tora and I have decided that we need another doctor.”

“But he comes most highly recommended. Fujiwara Moronaga uses him, and he was most helpful when Lady Kumoi fell into fits.”

Akitada grimaced. “More reasons for making a change.”

Her husband said soothingly, “Of course you shall have another doctor, Brother. We’ll find you a good one, one who’s gentle and very, very clever.”

His sister sighed. “Well, never mind. You do sound more like yourself. Contradictory and obstinate.” She settled herself beside him. “I don’t have much time,” she said. “”Toshikage is giving a little party. I’ve promised to see to the refreshments. Though when it comes to men, they don’t want much beyond a supply of good wine and a platter of salted vegetables.”

“Very good wine!” nodded Toshikage. “And that reminds me. I’m on my way to buy that wine, so forgive me if I dash away.”

When her husband had departed, Akiko asked, “Are you up to talking about Lady Ogata?”

He felt surprisingly tolerant of Akiko. Perhaps he had been too hard on her. His sister, for all her interest in high society, was both intelligent and supportive. “Why not?” he said. “Though I haven’t really thought about her at all and I still tire easily.” This last was true, but he mentioned it mainly because it was a perfect excuse for getting rid of her.

“You recall our last conversation?” she asked, giving him an anxious look

“Yes. At your house, and you were on your way to court in a stunning robe.”

She smiled and touched his cheek. “Thank you, Akitada. It was stunning, wasn’t it? I attended the empress that day. Her Majesty looks a good deal thinner since the birth of the child. And much older.” She shook her head.

The empress was several years older than the young emperor, who had initially taken no interest in bedding her. Akiko went on to say that there was already gossip that His Majesty had turned elsewhere, having done his duty.

Akitada, always impatient with court gossip, interrupted her. “You were going to ask them about Lady Ogata.”

She frowned. “You see? You pay no attention to important news. When an emperor discards one female for another, he can set the entire government on its ears. However, I did pick up one piece of interesting gossip and confirmed everything we had found out so far. Secretary Soga’s daughter Sadako married Minamoto Masakane and disappeared from court at the time of his arrest. Until then, she’d been serving as one of the emperor’s handmaidens, having been chosen for the post after the gosechi dancing. What do you think of that?”

“Are you suggesting that His Majesty was enamored of her, and that this is what caused Masakane to strike him?”

She smiled and nodded. “Ah, you have paid attention. Well, it’s likely that Masakane objected to his new wife finding favor in His Majesty’s eyes.”

Akitada snapped, “That is utterly repulsive. Even emperors should respect other men’s wives.”

Akiko laughed.

“You cannot be suggesting the emperor himself is behind her murder?” her brother protested. “That she was killed because she was an embarrassment?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly. But if her father had known that the emperor was interested, he could have seen to it that her husband disappeared.”

“Indeed! And so he did!”

Akiko stared at her brother. “The trouble is the story of that attack wasn’t trumped up as a reason to send Masakane into exile. There were witnesses. It really happened.”

Akitada sighed. “You’re right. There was that nun’s robe among her clothes. I thought she had kept it for a pilgrimage, but it seems more likely that Lady Ogata, or Lady Sadako, to use her own name, probably did become a nun when her husband was convicted. It would have been customary and what her father would have wished. But it doesn’t explain the rest of it. Why did she leave the nunnery to live in a shack beside the river?”

“Perhaps she became deranged. From all accounts she loved Masakane madly.”

“Hmm. She didn’t sound deranged from what others said about her. The nun spoke of her deep faith, and Genshin suggested the same thing.”

“Two people who have taken their vows.”

Akitada sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it. And I can’t think. I’m too tired.”

Akiko’s face softened. “Then rest, brother. Maybe I can find out. We’ll solve the mystery tomorrow.” She embraced him and was gone.

Akitada smiled—there were advantages to being wounded—and fell asleep.

32

A Lotus Flower in the Mud

Akitada healed surprisingly fast after this, but he still spent a great deal of time resting and kept standing and walking to the barest minimum. A number of physicians made their appearance, inspected the wounds, and listened to explanations. Most seemed to think his lordship’s survival was due to a miracle, but they agreed that he seemed likely to survive if he did not move too much.

In the end, there was only one doctor left. He was a somewhat rough-looking individual, a warrior in the east in his younger years, and blunt in his speech to the point of rudeness. He stared at the scars a long time, then probed with his fingers, and finally said, “Well, you were lucky.”

Akitada liked him for his plain speech, but he was a little surprised. “Lucky? Surely not. I nearly died.”

“Lucky that only one knife thrust passed through the rib cage. That one fortunately did no serious damage. The other slipped off the shoulder blade and was deflected into the muscles for your arm. And that’s not your sword arm, I think. Lucky again.”

Somewhat irritated that his sufferings were being dismissed as rather minor complaints, Akitada said, “I lost a great deal of blood.”

“Yes,” said the physician, “but no doubt you had some to spare. In any case, you have no need of me. You should get up and start moving about or you’ll end up a cripple from laziness.”

Handing him his fee, Akitada said, “You don’t have much of a bedside manner, you know.”

The other man snorted and picked up his medicine case. “No time for it. I have patients waiting.” And with that he left.

Akitada fell back on his bedding and started to laugh. It hurt, but he felt a great deal better already. It struck him that this man had experience with wounds and was most likely right. He should get up and be about his business.

*

The next day turned out to be rather busy because of visitors. Nakatoshi was the first to arrive. He was overjoyed to find Akitada dressed and sitting up. They shared a cup of wine, and Akitada regaled his friend with the tale of the doctor’s visit.

They laughed together, but Nakatoshi said, “You mustn’t overdo it, you know. People have been known to get up too early only to collapse again.”