Behind him, the curio dealer said to Oyoshi, “Sit down, Doctor. Have you been in a fight?”

“It’s nothing. I slipped on the ice.”

“Ah. I thought it was your new job. Your master is younger than I expected. Do you find him a sensible man?”

Akitada turned. Surely he could not have been recognized by this old relic.

Oyoshi shot him a glance and cleared his throat. “Oh, yes.”

“Well, that makes a change,” chuckled the dealer. “A flute player, eh? They are either fools or wise men. Not like zither players. Zither players like to show off. Never offend a zither player. His sense of his own importance won’t bear it.”

Akitada flushed and pretended to examine the wares on the shelves. He recognized fine craftsmanship in every item on display. Shops in the capital had a larger selection, but hardly finer than Shikata’s. Incense guessing games, several versions of the shell-matching game, a backgammon board made of several kinds of rare woods, two sets of lacquered writing implements, a handsome silver mirror, several lutes, another zither, assorted figures of Buddhist and Shinto divinities—they were all, in their own way, quite beautiful.

Meanwhile, Shikata played another tune with three picks worn on the fingers of his right hand. When he was done, he said, “Lutes are different. They are for lovers and beautiful women. One of my best lutes is being played by a local beauty. Her protector is a very wealthy man. It is so rare, he was the only man in the province who could afford my price.”

Oyoshi said, “Then you have become a wealthy man yourself, Shikata. No wonder you are rude to your friends and betters.”

The curio dealer thought this funny and heaved with wheezing laughter.

Akitada said loudly, “There are no flutes here, only games and a few other instruments.”

“Never mind,” said the old man, turning a toothless grin his way. “You don’t want a flute anyway. Better get something for your wife instead.”

“A lute?” Akitada smiled.

“Hah,” cried the curio dealer with another wheezing chuckle. “For your sake, I hope not. Beauties are all very well, but they make terrible wives.” For a moment, his face became serious. “Terrible wives!” he repeated, and shoved the zither aside. “Better give her a shell game. A suitable gift from a young husband to a faithful wife.”

The old one had no manners, but he was amusing and the idea appealed to Akitada. The game had been on his mind only recently. It was a traditional gift to brides because only two shells made a perfect match, like a husband and wife. But Akitada had thought of it as a symbol of the hidden relationships between people in this province. Still, the game would give Tamako pleasure during the coming months of a long winter and the waiting for the birth of their child.

He looked at the elegant sets and the hand-painted shells inside them and then chose the older one for its special beauty. Finely detailed golden chrysanthemums bloomed among silver grasses on the container’s brilliant red lacquer background.

Shikata nodded when he saw Akitada’s choice. “You have good taste. I ordered that forty years ago as a gift for one of the Uesugi ladies. It was specially made, very fine work, very costly. It took all my savings then, and I’ve kept it as a warning to myself not to rely on young men’s promises nor on young women’s lives, but you shall have it.”

“Oh.” Akitada hesitated. Their finances were still severely strained after the expensive journey here. “How much is it?” he asked anxiously.

“A silver bar? It is worth much more, but I wish to be rid of it. It depresses me.”

Akitada agreed quickly and arranged to have the game delivered to the tribunal as soon as Shikata’s boy returned from the wrestling tournament.

“For which we are very late,” urged Oyoshi, getting to his feet. “If I am not mistaken, those drumrolls mark the beginning of the final matches.”

♦

The contest was staged in the main courtyard of the temple. Brown-robed monks greeted them and directed them to a space where the crowd was not as dense as elsewhere.

Akitada was familiar with the annual wrestling tournament at the imperial palace and liked the elaborate ritual. It involved musical performances, religious rites to the ancient gods, and colorful decorations, but he had not expected anything like it in this remote northern province. To his surprise, there was little difference in the arrangements.

In spite of the cold, the abbot, surrounded by assistant priests and guests, watched from the broad veranda of the great hall, much as the emperor did in the capital. Below the abbot sat the orchestra members with two great drums, two gongs, and assorted smaller instruments. Across from him, the provincial guard stood at attention under gaily fluttering banners. To one side, the contestants sat on cushions. Each man had stripped to his loincloth and placed his outer clothing neatly folded beside him. The referees, in formal white robes, and black hats, quivers slung across their backs and bows in their hands, stood near them, watching the ongoing match. It all looked quite proper and professional.

Akitada, who was taller than those in front of him, saw that two contenders had just entered the ring, marked out by thick straw ropes buried in a thick layer of white beach sand. Their loincloths formed short aprons in the front and disappeared between their huge haunches in the back to emerge in an elaborate bow at the waistband. Steam rose from their bodies in spite of the chilly air. When the closest referee raised his hand, they stamped their feet, raised their arms to show they had no concealed weapons, clapped their hands, rinsed their mouths with a sip from a dipper on the water barrel, and spat. Then they took their places on either side of the dividing line in the center of the ring. At another signal from the referee, they began to circle, then grasped each other, striving mightily to push each other across the ropes of straw and out of the ring.

The crowd began to stir, at first only muttering, but soon moaning or shouting their distress or triumph.

One of the wrestlers was as hairy as an animal, with a shaggy mane and ragged beard; the other, by comparison, looked like a very large pale baby. Man against beast, thought Akitada, amused, and what a weak, naked, and vulnerable creature man was! A clearly uneven match. Only, suddenly the baby seized the animal by his hairy middle and tossed him out of the ring with one mighty heave. A tremendous cheer went up from the crowd, and the big baby bowed, grinning from ear to ear.

Akitada blinked. The baby was Genba. When he had last laid eyes on his third lieutenant, they had parted company outside the city. Genba had always been tall and broad. With his healthy appetite, he had gained weight rapidly after his lean years in the capital, but this clean-shaven mountain of rosy flesh looked nothing like the thick-haired, bearded man he had parted from.