Akitada forced himself to reply. "Uncharacteristic behavior is always suggestive. Something happened to change their relationship. Was this around the time of the examinations? Perhaps Ishikawa learned that Oe had helped a student cheat."

"Oe?" Hirata looked stunned. "Surely you are wrong. Oe is too highly thought of to do such a dangerous thing. Ishikawa is another matter. He has always been arrogant and might well engage in blackmail. But not Oe. You said yourself that Oe's blue gown could not possibly have been confused with my green one."

"Perhaps Ishikawa is colorblind."

But Akitada did not think so. He had a feeling that there was a much simpler explanation for the mistake, but his mind was growing fuzzy.

Below the first lanterns glimmered on in the blue dusk. They raised sudden flashes of jewel tones from the robes of poets and musicians and made rainbows of the painted boats. The sky still retained the faintest tinge of lilac, and a thin line of gold rimmed the dark mass of the western mountains.

The mood of the company had changed. Loud laughter and shouts accompanied verses celebrating inebriety. But all became quiet when Fujiwara stepped forward and bowed towards the dais. The crowd was expectant.

Fujiwara's voice sounded deep and compelling. Syllables rolled off his tongue like distant thunder. The poem was long and spoke of human needs beyond fame and fortune, of friendship between men which becomes most tender when wine loosens the tongue and true feelings break down the barriers of social convention. And it was far and above the most moving verse Akitada had ever heard. As he listened, his thoughts recalled lost friends, and tears rose to his eyes. The crippled giant Higekuro and his daughter Ayako, once so close to his heart and now lost forever; the handsome Tasuku who had left the world because it had become a place of sorrow; all those who had been his childhood friends and were gone, either through death or distance. Tamako, too, was quickly slipping away from him. In life there was a great need to hold on to friends.

A brief silence fell when Fujiwara finished. All that could be heard for a moment was the rustle of paper lanterns in the evening breeze and the distant voices of waterfowl on the lake. Even the servants had fallen quiet in the hush of the audience. Then the applause came, general and thunderous. Soon every man was on his feet. People were bowing to Fujiwara, shouting their approval, even walking over to embrace him.

Suddenly a single shrill voice rose over the rest. Oe was standing, waving his arms about, shouting, "Stop this vulgar display! Sit down, everybody! This rudeness must stop immediately. The rules do not permit it, and the contestant who invited this rude outburst by his unseemly subject must be disqualified. His lack of decorum is more suited to the revels of derelicts and whores!"

The crowd gasped. All eyes were on Oe and Fujiwara. Hirata jumped to his feet, muttering, "I must stop the fool," and started toward Oe. But it was already too late. Everyone, from His Imperial Highness to the lowest ranking official, had heard the insulting words. Hirata and Ono between them managed to pull Oe down on his cushion, but he continued to struggle and shout unintelligibly.

Fujiwara surprised everyone. In his booming voice he made a clever joke about the potency of wine and poetry. It set everyone laughing and calling for refills.

With peace thus reestablished, another contestant took his turn, and Fujiwara walked over to the small group gathered about Oe, which by now included Nishioka. The tall, broad-shouldered Fujiwara leaned down, put his arm around Oe's shoulders, and lifted him to his feet. Ono took the other side, and between them they walked the babbling Oe away from the gathering, Hirata going ahead to make way and Nishioka following behind with Oe's belongings. When the group had disappeared around the corner of the pavilion, Akitada saw Ishikawa rising to follow.

As the last contestant finished his verse, Fujiwara returned to his seat, dabbing at his cheek with the sleeve of his robe. He was bleeding from a large scratch.

Unfortunately the bloodied cheek could not be glossed over, for when the prince called the name of the winner, Fujiwara had to rise. Prince Atsuakira himself walked over to congratulate him and present him with a fine silk robe. As Fujiwara knelt and bowed, blood dripped into his beard. The prince murmured something, but Fujiwara smiled, saying, "Just a clumsy collision with a branch, Your Highness."

After another dance interlude, the boats were launched into the lake, their lanterns sparkling on the dark water like the stars in the sky above. Other lights blinked on along the lakeshore, among the trees, and even on the island. It was a magical scene, in its own way more splendid than the brilliant colors of the afternoon.

Now the servants passed along the veranda with lighted lanterns and attached them to the eaves with long poles. Across the way, where the nobles sat, the lantern bearers had not yet begun, and the darkness had turned the colorful cushions of the nobles, abandoned for boat rides or strolls in the park, a uniform black. Akitada remembered how the stacked cushions had all seemed the same color to him the evening before. They had been in the shadow of the veranda. He had assumed they were all blue, because one blue cushion had caught some light. Of course! The same thing must have happened the night the blackmailer delivered his note. Blue and green would have been indistinguishable, and both Oe's and Hirata's robes had had white designs around the sleeves. That must have been how Ishikawa had made his mistake.

Already completely out of tune with the beauty of the evening, Akitada had no desire to hear the next segment of the competition. He felt too heartsore to listen to love poems, and was on the point of leaving when Hirata returned, looking upset.

"What happened?" Akitada asked him.

"A terrible scene. Oe attacked Fujiwara with his bare hands and would have hurt him seriously if we had not all thrown ourselves on him." Hirata shook his head. "I never realized how strong a man can be when he is out of his mind. It was a serious insult to Fujiwara who was only trying to help. We finally calmed Oe down enough for Ono and Ishikawa to take him home, but I fear he is completely unbalanced. He was weeping when I left. I never imagined wine could do this to a man."

"Not wine, but guilt— and the knowledge that he is in the power of an unscrupulous man who plans to ruin him."

"What?"

"The note was intended for Oe. In the dark there is little difference between green and blue."

"Are you sure?" cried Hirata. He thought it over. "If that is the case, what shall we do?"

"We will confront them both as soon as possible. Once their guilt is established, you can take whatever action you please."

"Oh, let us wait and think about this first."

Akitada rose. "No. I am anxious to be done with the whole affair. After tomorrow I shall consider the matter closed as far as I am concerned. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going home. Good night."

Akitada walked away, leaving Hirata to stare blindly at the gaily lit scene on the lake.

Nine

Tear-Drenched Sleeves

The next day was also a holiday because it was the day when the Kamo virgin returned from the shrine to her palace. Akitada called on his mother, as he did most mornings. He found her at breakfast with his sisters and asked how they had enjoyed their outing the previous day.