Kinjiro considered this. “The blind singer from the market? The one that got knifed? And you joined the gang because you thought Kata killed her?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, you’re wrong about that. Kata didn’t do it. She was his good luck. Since she’s been murdered, he’s been complaining how nothing turns out right any more. I bet he thinks your getting away is just the final blow.”
Tora remembered Kata’s astonishment that Tora should suspect him. Perhaps Kinjiro was right. He frowned. “So maybe he’s out of it, but that still leaves the others. What about Matsue? You said Matsue didn’t like Tomoe.”
Kinjiro thought about it. “I don’t know. I don’t see high and mighty Matsue Sensei sneaking after a street singer. He’d send somebody else.”
“I think you’re wrong. He’d do it himself so Kata wouldn’t find out.”
The boy considered it. “Maybe. But you can’t go back there. It’s too dangerous. Let the police figure out who killed the blind woman.”
“We have another problem. They’ve got some poor bastard locked up in the storehouse.”
Kinjiro looked puzzled. “Are you sure? He isn’t one of us and I would’ve heard if they’d been in a fight with another gang.”
“I’m sure. I think it’s an old man, and he may be sick. He called out for Buntaro.”
“Buntaro?” Kinjiro’s face lengthened. “Oh, my,” he said. “It may be his uncle. Oh, Buddha! He told us the old man had gone to visit relatives in the country. And they did have a bad quarrel the day before.”
Tora was shocked. “Why would he lock up his own uncle in a dark, hot, airless place like that?” Buntaro was the Scarecrow. He remembered the man’s anger when he had found Tora tampering with the storehouse lock. And then he had pounded on the door and shouted a warning about not making trouble or it would be the end of him. It had been meant for the old man inside as well. “What was the quarrel about?” he asked the boy.
“Oh, the same old thing. It’s the uncle’s place and he didn’t want us there. When the old man fetched the police, he scared the wits out of us, but all the constables did was order us to leave. Kata was in a terrible temper. He made us stay away for a day, but then Buntaro said his uncle had left for the country and we went back. I guess the old man never left.”
“Do you know where they keep the key?”
“I know where there are some keys.”
“Good. Come. We’re wasting time,” Tora said. “We’ve got to get him out before his nephew gets rid of him permanently.”
Kinjiro caught his sleeve. “You can’t. They’ll be checking the place. Matsue keeps his stuff there.”
“They’ll do more than check if we don’t hurry.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kosehira was not the only one of Akitada’s friends who was puzzled by his monogamous state. The fact that Akitada had resisted taking secondary wives to make certain of a large number of sons-hedges against the many diseases and mishaps that killed young children-fascinated Kosehira. He enjoyed all of his wives and his large brood of children and considered Akitada’s arrangement not much better than monkish abstinence.
He thinks me a dull dog, mused Akitada as he walked homeward. The beautiful profile of Lady Yasugi leapt into his mind, and he wondered what it would be like to make love to her. To his shame, he felt a surge of desire. Except for a single lapse, he had been faithful to Tamako, but lately he missed the easy friendly companionship they used to have. People grew apart after several years of marriage, and certainly that was when some men took secondary wives. Often such an arrangement was welcomed by the first wife because it meant that she was no longer plagued by her husband’s physical demands or continuous pregnancies. In fact, had Tamako not voiced that very thought only this morning, even though he had not been unduly demanding in his visits to her room? Her rejection had felt both cruel and disloyal. The breach between them was intolerably painful, and he tried to ease the hurt with angry resentment.
The truth was that he wanted affection, not many children. He wanted to come home and lose himself in some gentle cosseting, some laughter, and only afterward in the arms of a pretty wife.
As he left the Greater Palace enclosure, he saw a small silent group gathered around the notice board and went to see what had happened. It turned out to be the first official warning by the Great Council of State about the smallpox epidemic. A little late, thought Akitada bitterly, when half the officials and a good portion of the populace had already fled. The notice advised against contact with those who were suspected to have the disease. It also listed symptoms and recommended treatments. Such announcements were, of course, intended for those who could read. It was assumed that they would explain matters to the rest of the populace.
A young official, rumored to be both capable and ambitious, recognized Akitada and came over. “Ah, Sugawara,” he said with a smile, “I hear you’ve taken on Soga’s job. How exciting for you. Is he still alive?”
“Certainly he is,” said Akitada coldly, “and expected back any day.”
The younger man looked amused. “You don’t know Soga then.” He gestured at the proclamation. “All this good advice about taking boiled onions and ginseng when we all know that doesn’t work. Soga, like many others, has taken to his heels to save himself, leaving those of us behind who are willing to risk our lives in hopes of benefiting from the flight of others.” He gave a barking laugh, slapped Akitada’s back, and walked away.
Akitada stared angrily after him. Was that what people thought of him? That he had remained because he hoped for promotion-as if he had the glimmer of a chance at Soga’s rank and title. He turned away from the proclamation and walked home in a glum mood. Not far from his house, he encountered a funeral, an important one to judge by the long and solemn procession, on its way to the cremation grounds at Toribeno. It was not yet dark, and that meant that the fires at Toribeno must be burning day and night. Apparently the nobles who had remained for whatever personal reasons were paying a heavy price for their decision, and so were the ordinary people who had no choice in the matter.
He could risk his own life-the possibility of dying of smallpox still did not strike Akitada as very likely-and he must do so because of Soga’s absence, but he had no right to endanger others. Tamako and Yori must leave the city. If Tora had returned, he could take them to Akitada’s sister. Or if Lady Yasugi had left for her husband’s home, Genba could do so. If neither was available, he must go himself. He shook his head at the problems that would cause at the ministry.
Yori opened the gate for him, proud of his new role as gatekeeper, and Akitada’s heart lifted. Swinging the boy up in his arms, he said, “I see you’re making yourself useful. That’s a very good thing. I may have to rely on you to look after the whole family.”
Yori clung to him. “That’s what Mother said. She said you didn’t have time for us anymore.”
Akitada put the boy down abruptly. “That’s not true,” he said harshly.
Yori gave him a frightened look. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.
Akitada tried to control his anger. Apparently Tamako had wasted no time letting the child know his father cared more for others than his family. Then he saw Yori’s eyes fill with tears, and something twisted inside him. Crouching down to bring his face level with his son’s, Akitada said, “No, Yori. I am sorry. I know I haven’t had much time for you lately, but there have been so many worries. Seimei is sick. Tora’s in danger of going to prison. A lady was attacked by evil men and I had to send Genba to watch over her. People are falling ill and dying everywhere in the city. I’ve had a great deal of work. You do understand, don’t you?”