"You want me to go ask more questions about the kid?"Tora offered eagerly.

But Akitada's mind was again on the scandal involving the university and on vague suspicions that he did not yet dare admit to himself. "No," he muttered. "Go on home for now. I have to think about all this."

Four

Scholars and Others

Akitada sat for a long time wondering what to do. For all its stern lessons he loved this university, and he had loved and idolized most of his professors. Now he wondered if his youthful hero worship had not been a form of self-delusion. It made more sense that a few human beings should be flawed than that the whole university with its solid, ancient virtues should have changed so completely in so short a time.

Clearly he should expose immediately the fact that university staff was engaged in making book on the outcome of the yearly examinations. But this must reveal to the world that someone had altered the examination results, either to manipulate the odds or in response to a hefty bribe. How many innocent people would be hurt by the scandal? What about the suspicion that must fall on Hirata and his colleagues? On the other hand, what about the student who had been cheated of his just reward? What of the guilty individual? Only one of the faculty, an examiner, could have altered the outcome of the most important examination in the country. Could this be allowed to happen again? Akitada's spirit rebelled at the betrayal of trust.

But the true cause of his distress was even more personal. If he was right, and the switch of winners was indeed the reason for the blackmail letter, then Hirata must have known, or at least guessed. Why had he withheld this fact from Akitada? If he had hoped to protect the reputation of the university, then Akitada must assume that Hirata had not trusted him. Why ask his help at all? Was he to find a cover-up for the scandal because he was in Hirata's debt? The thought was extraordinarily painful, and raised an even more dismal possibility. What if the blackmail note had been intended for Hirata all along?

In his anger and distress, Akitada thought of withdrawing from the case. His duty to his family demanded that he guard his reputation carefully, and being involved in covering up a former professor's misdeeds would certainly ruin his own career. But in his heart, Akitada knew he could not take this step. The past would forever shape his present; his duty to his mother and sisters was surpassed by his long and deep gratitude to this man, and by his affection for Tamako.

He recalled his first sight of her. Tamako had been a shy nine-year-old when he had walked into the Hirata household, a lost and confused boy on the verge of manhood. "I brought a house guest," her father had announced. "Make him welcome like a brother!" They had both made him welcome, and in time he had felt he was a part of them in a way he had never felt in his own family. He had been loved and comforted, a new sensation for him, who had been raised by servants, ignored by his beautiful and haughty mother, and systematically humiliated and thrashed by his father.

At fifteen he had done the unforgivable. He had turned on the man he was duty-bound to honor and respect, had snatched the bamboo cane out of his father's raised hand, and had threatened him with it. They had been in his father's study, a room which held such terror for him that he refused to use it to this day. The towering form of his father had loomed over him in the light of flickering candles, the handsome, cold features distorted by a rage caused by no more than an innocent remark by Akitada about his father's lack of military service, and he had experienced the sudden, overwhelming conviction that he could no longer bear the vicious beating he was about to receive. He had raised his hand and twisted the bamboo cane from his father's grip, shouting furiously about the intolerable injustice. When his father had backed away in total surprise, he had followed with the raised cane and stated his ultimatum. If his father ever touched him again, he would return the punishment tenfold. Then he had broken the cane and tossed it at Lord Sugawara's feet.

The outcome was predictable, though Akitada had not really thought about it at the time. His father had called in his wife and daughters, as well as the senior servants as witnesses, and had informed them that, since Akitada had raised his hand and his voice against him, he would henceforth no longer be a member of the family.

Dazed with despair, Akitada had walked out of his home and to the university, the only other world he had known. There Professor Hirata had found him, sitting on the steps of the law school, and had listened to his tale and taken him into his own household.

The memory of that time was still a wrenching pain in Akitada's belly, and it reminded him of the little Lord Minamoto. The Minamoto boy was younger and orphaned but, whatever the cause of the suffering, their experiences were similar. They had been abandoned to strangers, lost and friendless. Young as the Minamoto boy was, he had received an excellent education and could hold his own with the older students, but his mind was not on his work, and his eyes were red-rimmed. Probably he also grieved deeply for his grandfather. Why was there no other family member to care for him? What of this uncle, this Lord Sakanoue, who apparently could not even wait a decent time before getting rid of the boy? To judge by his name, the man must be related by marriage. Where was the rest of the Minamoto clan?

The boy had imperial blood in his veins, and it was clear from his reserve that he had been raised in the imperial tradition. Such an upbringing forbade familiarity and had made it impossible for Akitada to approach the youngster. His every effort at sympathy had been rejected courteously but firmly, yet still Akitada's heart went out to the lonely child. He wished he could be another Hirata to the young lord.

At that moment, Hirata himself came in to announce that Oe had called a special meeting. While he busied himself adjusting his cap before the mirror, Akitada asked casually about the results of the last examination. When there was no reply, he turned. Hirata had turned pale and was looking at him helplessly. Akitada asked, "Are you quite well, sir?

Slowly the older man nodded. "Yes, I . . . I see you have heard." He sighed. "Oh, dear! I am afraid it is quite true. A very mediocre student placed first. The young man who was expected to win had to accept second place."

"Were you not suspicious?" Akitada asked, surprised.

Hirata turned away. "Of course I was suspicious, but my hands were tied."

Akitada's disbelief turned to righteous shock. "Your hands were tied? How so?"

Hirata faced him. "You are young. You cannot understand." His voice was shaking.

Akitada steeled himself. He would have the truth now, even if it meant a breach in their relationship. "Since the matter touches on the blackmail, I think you owe me an explanation, sir," he said.

Hirata ran a shaking hand over his face, then nodded slowly. "Yes. Of course. I owe you that and an apology. I should have told you. Could we sit down?"

Akitada flushed a little at the humble request and gestured to a cushion. When they were seated, he said, "I need to know the extent of your involvement. Did you read the winner's composition and sit in on his orals?"

"I read his paper. It was superb. But, no, I was not invited to attend his orals. They were conducted by a mixed panel of senior professors and four high-ranking nobles appointed by the emperor. Oe, Fujiwara, and Tanabe represented the university."