Seimei nodded with a smile. Akitada did not go back through the house but through the garden again. He found his son waiting in the courtyard.
The following day, Akitada dealt with paperwork at the ministry. The claimants in the front hall were few these days, a very good thing because most of the scribes were absent. Sakae continued in Akitada’s old capacity-no doubt in hopes of promotion, like that other ambitious young man at the notice board-and Nakatoshi was Akitada’s usual faithful attendant. By midday he had finished most of his work and decided to check on Genba.
The Yasugi mansion lay silent and somnolent in the warm sun. Here the troubles which had befallen the city seemed remote, and Akitada inhaled deeply the scent of flowers drifting over the wall. His heart started beating faster and he wished foolishly that he could hear the sounds of the zither again. He pictured her, seated under the fragrant blossoms of the wisteria, slender, graceful, her oval face bent over the instrument, lips curving into a smile.
And then, as if by magic, he did hear the zither and stopped. He knew the tune, had played it himself not too long ago on his flute. It was “Dream of the Night,” and the words expressed a woman’s yearning for the lover who had just left her bed. When the music ended, he swallowed hard and went to knock on the gate.
Genba peered out, then opened the small door. He looked guilty, but that had become Genba’s ordinary expression lately. And he was eating again. When Akitada stepped through, he saw Lady Yasugi’s unpleasant maid standing there with a silly smirk on her round face. Two folding chairs had been set up against the wall of the gatehouse, and a basket filled with food and wine flasks stood between them.
“Hmm,” Akitada said pointedly, giving Genba a frown. “Anything to report?”
Genba gulped down a mouthful of food and croaked, “Nothing, sir. All quiet.”
Akitada turned to the maid. “And your lady rested well?”
“Yes, sir. She’s in the garden.” She shot Genba a glance, then led the way. As soon as they stepped out into the sunshine of the garden, she pointed, “Over there,” and left to continue her tryst with Genba. Akitada decided to forgive Genba, and walked toward the woman who had so quickly taken possession of his thoughts.
She was leaning over the railing of the small bridge, tossing bits of food to the fish below, making a charming picture in spite of her severe gown of dark grey brocade and the fact that her hair was looped up at her neck in a rather matronly fashion.
When she heard his steps on the gravel, she jerked around, her face pale and her eyes wide with fright. The fear passed quickly into a rosy blush. She had not painted her face today and looked more delicate.
Perhaps his surprise at her appearance showed, for her hands flew to her face and hair, and she gasped, “Oh. I did not expect to see you again, my lord.”
“I’m sorry I startled you. I only came to make certain all was well.” His eyes drank her in hungrily.
“Thank you. I expect my husband any moment.” An expression almost of despair passed over her face and she looked down. “You must want Genba back. There is no need for him to stay any longer.”
“I have not missed him at all,” lied Akitada. She looked up then, and he became lost in the faint pink flush just beneath her pale skin. Before he could stop himself, he said, “This morning you are as lovely as the roses.” To his delight the color deepened and her eyes widened with pleasure.
Instinctively they moved closer to each other. “You have been very kind to me,” she said softly, her eyes searching his face as if she were trying to memorize it. “I had almost forgotten how kind a man can be.” Her eyes filled with tears. She turned and started walking away from him.
“Wait,” he cried, his voice hoarse and the words tumbling out without thought. “I came to speak to you, to ask you to trust me. I know you fear your husband. I saw the look in your face when you thought I was he. There is a way for you to escape that bond… if you wish.”
She stopped, but did not turn around. Shaking her head, she said, “No. Please do not press me. I cannot leave my marriage, and you must not speak to me this way.”
He went to take her by the shoulders and turn her toward him. “Why not?” he asked. “I’m only a senior secretary in the Ministry of Justice, and not at all wealthy like your husband, but my family is old and respected. I offer you my protection. My love.” He felt strangely lightheaded at having spoken words he never intended to say. He marveled how suddenly he had made this drastic change in his household arrangements, in his life, and in the lives of his family. And he waited, holding his breath, for her answer.
She stared up at him, frozen in surprise. Then her color deepened again and her eyes softened. “Oh,” she whispered, “if only I could.” Her hand crept up to touch his cheek.
Feeling triumphant, he pulled her against him. “It’s simple. Just say ‘yes,’ ” he murmured against her hair, thinking how much he liked her scent, the feel of her body against his, her caressing hand on his face.
For a moment they clung together, then she began to fight free. He saw that tears were running down her face and released her. “What’s the matter?” he asked anxiously. “A woman may leave her husband in the same way in which a man may divorce his wife. You need not even see him again. Come with me now. You can write to him, and I can see to it that everything is made legal. I’m quite good at law,” he added with a smile.
But she shook her head and looked at him through her tears. “It cannot be. Now or ever.” She snatched his hand and pressed it against her wet cheek. “My dear Akitada, you have given me the strength to go on, and for that I shall always be deeply grateful. If you care for my well-being, please do not ask again.” She released his hand gently.
He opened his mouth to protest, to argue, but such an expression of intense pain came into her face-still so beautiful even with tears glistening in her eyelashes and sliding down her cheeks-that he could say nothing.
“Please give me your word,” she insisted.
He hesitated. “If you promise to call on me when you need help.”
She nodded. “But,” she said, “we must not meet again. It is dangerous for you to be here now. My husband may arrive at any moment.”
“What could he do? Surely he doesn’t beat you?” demanded Akitada angrily.
She sighed. “Sometimes. But he has better ways to punish me.”
“How can you stay with a man like that?” he raged.
She gave him a reproachful look and he relented, consoling himself with the conviction that she would soon enough be driven into his arms. He knew now that she was not indifferent to him.
He could not take his eyes off her, and after a moment he realized that she wanted him to go. Casting about in his mind for ways to prolong the meeting, he recalled that other matter, her relationship with the murdered blind woman, her sister. But he did not know how to question her about their parents and asked instead, “Will you miss the capital?”
Her eyes softened. “I was once very happy here as a child, but that was a long time ago. I married and moved away, and for a short while I was happy then also. Now there is only grief.”
“Yasugi’s estate is in the Tzusuki district, I think?”
She looked a little taken aback. “You are well-informed.”
“I care about you. And I’m not convinced you’ll be safe with him.”
Her face paled. “Oh. You must not follow me. Promise you won’t!”
“I cannot promise. You may need me.”
She stamped her foot, eyes flashing. “No. I forbid it. I shall deny knowing you.”
She was very beautiful in her temper, and he laughed. “Very well,” he said. “When we meet again, I shall not admit knowing you unless you give me permission.”
She relaxed. “Thank you,” she murmured with a look that was almost flirtatious.
He stood gazing at her, wanting her, and trying to think of something else to say. But there was no more time. The maid came rushing down the path, shouting and waving her arms.