"Tamako is a most charming person," cried his younger sister Yoshiko. Remembering her brother's ill-fated courtship, she blushed a little and added, "She stayed quite late with us and promised to return soon. We were delighted to have her company."

Akitada's heart sank. He had no wish to face any more embarrassing encounters with Tamako. "I am glad you had a pleasant day," he said and glanced at his mother.

"It appears the young woman gardens," Lady Sugawara informed him. "She had a number of helpful suggestions for us. As you can see," she waved a careless hand towards the lush growth surrounding her new terrace, "this place is overgrown like an abandoned ruin. It is too bad that I must rely on chance encounters to get things done."

"I thought you liked the garden this way," said Akitada, hurt in spite of the fact that he knew his mother was still angry with him for other reasons. "All you have to do is ask, and I will have Tora see to some trimming and replanting."

"Hmph! That fellow is gone more than he is here," grumbled his mother.

"Last night he did not come home at all," volunteered his sister Akiko.

Akitada's mother cast her eyes to heaven and sighed deeply. "No doubt he is in jail at this very moment," she said. "To think what I have come to. A dilapidated home and a bandit for a servant! This was once a great house, bustling with well-trained servants. Now we exist like exiles condemned to the wilderness of a distant province."

"I am sorry you are so downcast today, Mother." Akitada rose and bowed. I shall visit again when you are feeling more cheerful."

Lady Sugawara did not bother to reply.

• • •

The university was nearly deserted today because there were no classes or lectures. Akitada stopped by Hirata's room, but found it empty. The holiday was causing problems. He was anxious to get their meeting with Oe and Ishikawa over with, but could do nothing without Hirata.

In his own room a stack of student papers lay on his desk. He wondered whether he was obligated to read them before leaving, or if he should spend his last day gathering up his belongings. Postponing the decision, he took a stroll over to the students' dormitories with the vague idea of asking Ishikawa a few questions.

Things were a bit livelier here. Some of the youngest boys were gathered in a grove of pine trees where they were noisily occupied with large sheets of colored paper. Akitada approached curiously and realized that they were building kites.

He glanced up at the clear sky. Fluffy clouds travelled quickly on the breeze. It was perfect kite flying weather. Watching the boys, he saw the first trial kite rising from the line of a madly dashing youngster. It soared briefly, then made a sudden plunge, and became entangled in the top of one of the pines.

Akitada walked over. The pine looked like a good climbing tree. On an impulse, he took off his robe and fastened the legs of his full trousers around his knees. Pulling himself up to the lowest branch, he began to climb. But the kite was too far up. The weaker branches near the top would not hold his weight. As he paused to ponder the situation, something plucked at his trousers.

"Excuse me, sir," said one of the boys, peering up at him. "Would you mind if I passed you? My kite is stuck up there."

Akitada moved aside and watched as the agile little monkey reached the kite, plucked it loose, and let it down to his waiting comrades.

"Excuse me, sir," said the boy again, passing him on the way down.

Feeling foolish, Akitada watched him scramble quickly back to the ground. Had the boys not realized that he had been trying to get the kite? What had gone through the child's mind when he saw one of the masters climbing a tree? Humbled, Akitada descended more slowly and put his robe back on. Climbing trees after kites was clearly no longer proper at his age.

At one of the dormitories he found an older student sitting on the steps, mending his shoes. Akitada asked him, "Can you tell me where I might find Ishikawa?"

The young man stood politely and bowed. "He is not here today, sir. I saw him leave before dawn. He was carrying a bundle, so I assumed he was going on a short trip."

More delays! Ishikawa would not be back till late. Akitada strolled back towards the boys with their kites. Suddenly his eyes fell on the small figure of young Minamoto, sitting quietly on the veranda outside his dormitory room. He appeared engrossed in a book, but stole surreptitious glances at the other boys. For a moment Akitada wondered why he was not with them; then he remembered that rank and recent bereavement probably prevented him from joining in games that should have been a natural part of his young life. The young lord's continued isolation from the other children pained Akitada.

Shaking his head helplessly, he left the enclosure by its north gate and crossed the street to the school of music. Sato must be in, for he could hear the sounds of his lute. This time the melody was even more lilting than on the last occasion. As Akitada walked towards the music, a second lute joined in. Another student? No. From the delightful harmony which ensued, it was clear that two master musicians had met.

Akitada approached quietly and seated himself on the veranda outside Sato's room to listen. He wished, not for the first time, that he could play like that. It was wonderful to become lost in music. All one's cares seemed to drop away. As a youngster he had briefly practiced the flute, and he had had some lessons as a student, but then more important matters had taken up his time and he had neglected his practice and given up.

After a little, the music ended and there was some subdued talk. Embarrassed, Akitada rose, cleared his throat and went to greet the music teacher.

Sato was again with a woman, this one older and more elegant than the murdered girl. They had not heard him, and this time surely there was no doubt that the teacher and his visitor were lovers. Both were seated cross-legged, their lutes resting in their laps, and their heads inclined towards each other. But it was more than their physical proximity to each other. They exchanged soft glances and the woman reached out to caress Sato's cheek.

Taken aback, Akitada retreated, but he had already been seen. The couple jerked apart, staring at him. Making a bow, Akitada apologized for his intrusion. The woman blushed and assumed a more decorous kneeling posture. Her beauty, though mature, was poignant. Akitada explained lamely, "I heard the music and could not resist it."

"It's a holiday," snapped Sato angrily. "Don't you have a private life?"

The woman got up with her lute and slipped out without a word or gesture to either of them.

"I am sorry," Akitada said again, looking after her. "Believe me, if you are worried about my complaining about your private lessons, your secret is safe with me. But this lady played so well that she can hardly be your pupil." He flushed, thinking how this must sound to Sato.

Sato looked at him without expression. "She is a fellow musician and acquaintance who dropped by for a chat," he said. When Akitada made a move to leave also, Sato became hospitable. "Will you take some wine?"

Somewhat surprised, Akitada accepted readily. Sato was an interesting enigma. Akitada sipped his wine and said, "I assume the police captain has talked to you about the girl who was murdered in the park. Could you provide him with a name?"

"Yes. Her name's Omaki. I had to go and identify her body. Poor little wench!" Sato took a big gulp of his wine. "I suppose I've got you to thank for the police interest?"