Dismayed, they all looked atAkitada.
He frowned. “You exaggerate thedanger, Seimei, but to satisfy everyone I shall wear ordinary clothes and watchwith the crowd. I feel much stronger. This is only a small excursion, theweather is pleasant, and I need fresh air.” He raised his hand to stop furtherremonstrance. “Enough! I have made up my mind.”
In order to attract no undue attention, Akitada wore no cap and only a plain darkgray jacket over his old blue lined silk robe. Oyoshi had calmed everyone’sworries about his health by offering to accompany him.
They left the tribunal by theback gate. The street outside was empty except for a few stragglers hurryingahead of them. The shops were closed and shuttered, and the town seemeddeserted. From the distance came the muffled sound of drums.
“Extraordinary,” mutteredAkitada, striding along and looking about him. “Not even the Kamo festival inthe capital attracts such total support.”
Oyoshi, being shorter andolder, had trouble keeping pace. “You have much to learn about the customshereabouts,” he gasped.
“Yes, and going about like an ordinary person seems a good way to keep myself informed,” Akitada said. “Imust do this more often.” He was enjoying himself.
They had almost reached the endof the street. The curving roofs of the temple loomed ahead through thebranches of bare trees. A shrill whistle sounded in the distance, followed by aroar of applause and more drumbeats. The sweet sound of zither music came from the door of a small curio shop. It mingled pleasantly with the drumbeats from the temple. Akitada stopped.
“Ah. Shikata is playing,” said Oyoshi.
Akitada listened for a moment,then entered the shop. Oyoshi followed, mopping his face with a sleeve.
The shop was very small,consisting only of a four-mat platform normally open to the street entrance onone side, with shelves on two other walls and a shuttered window on the fourth.The shelves held a collection of musical instruments, lacquer ware, carvedfigures, games, and dolls. An ancient man sat on the platform with abeautifully decorated koto zither before him. He looked at them, thenstopped playing and bowed deeply.
“Welcome.” His voice was very soft and sounded as if it came from far away.
“I heard your music,” Akitadasaid, slipping off his shoes and stepping up on the platform. “It is very fine,but why aren’t you at the wrestling match?”
The old man smiled. “My legs won’t carry me any longer. And what is your reason?”
Akitada was pleased with theold-timer’s lack of ceremony. Apparently his disguise was good. “I’m in nohurry,” he said, looking at the zither curiously. “When I heard you playingthis fine instrument, I decided to have a look.”
“Do you play?”
“I play the flute. Do you haveany good ones in stock?”
“See for yourself.” The curiodealer pointed a clawlike hand toward the shelves. “I’m alone here. The boy’sat the match.”
Akitada went to look.
Behind him, the curio dealersaid to Oyoshi, “Sit down, Doctor. Have you been in a fight?”
“It’s nothing. I slipped on theice.”
“Ah. I thought it was your newjob. Your master is younger than I expected. Do you find him a sensible man?”
Akitada turned. Surely he couldnot have been recognized by this old relic.
Oyoshi shot him a glance andcleared 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 zitherplayer. His sense of his own importance won’t bear it.”
Akitada flushed and pretendedto examine the wares on the shelves. He recognized fine craftsmanship in everyitem on display. Shops in the capital had a larger selection, but hardly finerthan Shikata’s. Incense guessing games, several versions of the shell-matchinggame, a backgammon board made of several kinds of rare woods, two sets oflacquered writing implements, a handsome silver mirror, several lutes, anotherzither, assorted figures of Buddhist and Shinto divinities-they were all, intheir own way, quite beautiful.
Meanwhile, Shikata playedanother tune with three picks worn on the fingers of his right hand. When hewas done, he said, “Lutes are different. They are for lovers and beautifulwomen. One of my best lutes is being played by a local beauty. Her protector isa very wealthy man. It is so rare, he was the only man in the province whocould 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 a reno 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, buthe was amusing and the idea appealed to Akitada. The game had been on his mindonly 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 asymbol 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 silvergrasses on the container’s brilliant red lacquer background.
Shikata nodded when he saw Akitada’schoice. “You have good taste. I ordered that forty years ago as a gift for oneof 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 relyon 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 muchmore, 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 monksgreeted them and directed them to a space where the crowd was not as dense aselsewhere.
Akitada was familiar with theannual wrestling tournament at the imperial palace and liked the elaborateritual. It involved musical performances, religious rites to the ancient gods,and colorful decorations, but he had not expected anything like it in thisremote northern province. To his surprise, there was little difference in thearrangements.
In spite of the cold, theabbot, surrounded by assistant priests and guests, watched from the broadveranda 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 attentionunder gaily fluttering banners. To one side, the contestants sat on cushions.Each man had stripped to his loincloth and placed his outer clothing neatlyfolded 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.