They managed to keep their worries from the women. Akitada shared his evening meal with Tamako and mentioned casually that he wanted to do some work on their accounts and would sleep in his study.

By the end of the hour of the boar, the household had retired. It was fully dark outside, and the lights inside the house had been extinguished. Akitada and Genba took turns walking the grounds. Because of the overcast skies, the darkness was intense.

Akitada finished the first watch and was relieved by Genba. Sitting down beside Seimei, he said softly, ‘I’m very sorry for putting you and the others through this. You must be tired. Why don’t you go to bed? The three of us can manage.’

‘The old need little sleep, sir.’

Seimei sounded alert, and Akitada was grateful for the company. He leaned back against the porch railing, looking up at the dark sky and the even blacker outlines of trees and roofs. ‘Do you think that murder can ever be a moral option for a man? That it would be not only cowardly but also wrong to go on living without killing?’

After a moment, Seimei’s voice came from the darkness. ‘Master K’ung Fu-tzu says, “To see what is right and not do it is cowardly.” Do you plan to kill someone, sir?’

‘No. But I have met such a man: a man who has killed. It troubles me, and I wonder what to do.’

‘Ah. When a frightened bird hides in his sleeve, even the hunter does not kill it. You feel pity for this murderer. That is like you, sir.’

‘But what shall I do, old friend? If I act the way I have been taught by my ancestors, and by the rules of the ancients and by the law I must serve, I will bring tragedy to the innocent along with the guilty. What does your Master K’ung Fu-tzu have to say about that?’

Seimei chuckled softly. ‘They say the master was quite free of words like “shall”, “must”… or “I”.’

‘Lucky man!’

They fell silent. Akitada thought about Fuhito. Something nagged at him: something that did not fit, was still not explained. From the far distance came the sound of the palace bell marking the next hour. If they came tonight, it would be soon. Restlessly, he got up to check Tamako’s pavilion. She had left its doors open to the coolness of the night breeze. He wanted to close them, but was afraid to wake her. Instead, he went to sit on her veranda steps and listened to the night sounds and his daughter’s soft mewling in her sleep.

He thought he heard Genba’s step at one point. A little later, there were the sibilant sounds of a whispered exchange. Who was he talking to?

The whispering troubled him enough to get up and check. He found nothing and returned to Seimei. After a while, Genba emerged from the darkness like a large shadow.

‘Nothing so far, sir,’ he muttered, sitting down.

‘Did you talk to someone just now?’ Akitada asked.

‘No. You said “no talking”.’ Genba sounded astonished.

‘I thought I heard whispering.’

Genba got to his feet again. ‘Where? I’ll go have a look.’

‘No, you rest. I’ve already checked. I must have imagined it.’

Akitada started his second round. He trod the familiar paths of his garden and listened for unusual sounds, but heard nothing. The same silence prevailed in the front courtyard and behind the stable. Only the restless moving of the horses could be heard. Akitada climbed the ladder and raised his face above the roof edge. Tora crouched near the ridge, his head lifted slightly. When he recognized Akitada, he shifted closer.

‘All’s quiet, sir,’ he hissed.

‘Good.’ Akitada climbed back down and resumed his circuit. He hoped Tora did not think he was checking up on him. A moment later, he passed behind Tora’s house and thought he smelled burning again. But the odor was very faint; probably a remnant of last night’s cooking fire.

Near Tamako’s pavilion he heard a rustling in the shrubbery and seized his sword, but it turned out to be the neighbor’s cat. He chased it to the wall and saw it momentarily outlined against the faintly lighter sky before it dropped down. Suddenly, the night seemed full of unfamiliar noises. He peered up to the top of the wall again. There was a slight reddish tinge in the sky towards the west. He decided to climb up to Tora’s rooftop again to get a better view of the city.

But as he retraced his steps, Tora’s warning shout came, and a moment later Seimei’s gong sounded. He broke into a run and heard another cry – this time from behind him, from Tamako’s pavilion.

A woman’s scream.

Seized with terror, he turned back, flew up the steps to the veranda, and burst into Tamako’s room, cursing the fact that he had not made sure her doors were locked. It was pitch dark. The baby whimpered and someone sobbed. Tamako? A paler shape moved in the room.

A young male voice, filled with hate, said, ‘Don’t come any closer or they die.’

Akitada froze. He still could not see, but the baby’s whimper turned into a wail, and Tamako’s anguished crying filled the darkness. He was seized with a helpless rage. He heard sounds of struggle and the man’s curse and moved towards them, afraid that his action was all wrong, that it was exactly what their attacker had expected and would repay with death, but there was no alternative. Death had always been part of the plan.

He held the sword close to his body for fear of hurting his wife or child. Groping forward with his free hand, he touched Tamako’s silky hair (a deeper darkness against her pale under-gown) and grasped her shoulder to pull her away and to the side. She cried out, ‘He has Yasuko.’

The dark shape of their attacker moved farther away. ‘Yeah, I’ve got the kid – so stay away, dog official.’

Yasuko’s crying became a heart-wrenching bawling at the top of her small lungs.

‘Light a lamp,’ Akitada called out to Tamako. Then, forcing himself to speak calmly, he said, ‘Don’t hurt her. She’s only just been born. Who are you?’

‘None of your business.’

Behind Akitada, light sprang up. He saw a skinny youth in a bright red jacket, his back against the wall, a knife in one hand, and the bawling child pressed against his chest with the other.

‘No closer,’ he hissed and put the knife’s point against the baby’s neck.

Tamako pleaded, ‘Please, please, please…’

Akitada clenched the sword to his side. ‘You’re Takeo,’ he said, still trying to keep his voice steady. ‘What do you want?’

When he heard his name, surprise flickered in the other’s eyes. ‘I want the bastard that got my family arrested.’

‘Your family tried to kill me.’

‘I thought it was you. You know what they do to them in jail? I know. They beat you until your blood soaks through your clothes and you lose consciousness. Then they let the flies and ants feed on you.’

Yasuko squirmed and bellowed. Akitada kept his eyes on her. Dear heaven, don’t let her be injured. ‘Better than drowning a man in a pit,’ he said.

Takeo flared up, ‘They didn’t know that. They would’ve let you go after a bit – only, by then the police were all over the place.’ He glanced over at Tamako, who was kneeling on the floor, her hands raised towards the baby. ‘You took my family, and now I’ll take yours… and you get to watch.’ With a cruel smile, he looked down at the squirming child in his arms.

Akitada saw the knuckles of the hand that held the knife whiten. ‘Wait,’ he cried. ‘Your quarrel is with me. Let them go.’

Takeo nodded at Akitada’s sword. ‘You think I’m stupid? A knife against a sword? You nobles are all alike. You think we’re nothing. You think we have no brains or courage or fighting skill.’

‘Then show me your courage. I’ll throw away my sword and take you and your knife on bare-handed, and I’ll still win,’ Akitada boasted.

The youth hesitated. Akitada saw the temptation in his eyes and held his breath. Except for the baby’s hiccuping whimpers, the room had gone still.