“Dear heaven,” breathed Lady Yasugi and looked around frantically. “My husband is here. He must not see you. What shall we do?”
They had no chance to discuss the matter, for the maid arrived and poured out her excited report. From the gate building came the sounds of horses and the shouts of men.
“I must go,” Lady Yasugi cried, and before Akitada could stop her, she had gathered up her skirts and was running back toward her room. At that moment, her husband set foot in the garden and took in the scene with a sweeping glance.
He gave a single roar. “Hiroko!”
She faltered and stopped as abruptly as a deer hit by an arrow, then walked slowly toward her husband, her head lowered and her hands folded against her breast. When she reached him, she knelt. Akitada could not hear what they said to each other, but he knew from her husband’s gestures that he was angry, and from the way she hunched her shoulders that she was desperately afraid.
Enough! Seeing her like this was unbearable. Setting his face, Akitada went to meet the man whom he already hated with every fiber of his being.
Yasugi, a short, squat figure in a fine blue hunting robe and white silk trousers, awaited him, his broad face flushed with anger. He was said to be in his early sixties, but age had not been kind. He had too much soft, lax flesh: a misshapen belly, small hands with fingers like fat white worms, and heavy jowls that pulled down the corners of his mouth before joining a triple chin. He straddled the narrow path and scowled, as if to signify that the master of the mansion had returned and caught the adulterers red-handed.
Bristling inwardly, Akitada bowed. “Do I have the honor of making the acquaintance of Lord Yasugi?”
Yasugi glared. “What are you doing here? And what have you and my wife been up to?” His voice was loud and insulting.
Akitada was offended and decided to show it. His own pedigree was much better than this man’s, and money was not everything. He drew himself up and said coldly, “I beg your pardon. I must have made a mistake. Please direct me to your master.”
Yasugi stared for a moment. Then he growled, “I’m Yasugi. Your man says your name is Sugawara. That does not explain what business you have with my wife and in my home.”
“Ah,” said Akitada, raising his brows. He let his eyes travel over the figure of his host, then remarked coldly, “You really should take better care of your property. I had the good fortune to protect your valuables and your lady from an attack by bandits yesterday. I came back today to make sure the villains had not returned, but now that you have finally found the time to see to matters yourself, I shall be glad to be on my way.” He nodded to Yasugi, whose eyes had narrowed, then bowed to his still kneeling wife. “I wish you a safe journey, my lady.”
Without raising her head, she murmured, “Thank you, my lord.”
Apparently her husband had second thoughts. “Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. I’ve had a long and thirsty ride. Will you join me in a cup of wine?”
Akitada said stiffly. “Thank you, sir, but I have neglected my own affairs too long and shall not trouble you further. Your maid will explain what happened.” He brushed past Yasugi, who had to move aside, and walked quickly back to the gate, where Genba was helping with the horses.
“Leave that!” he shouted, glowering at Yasugi’s men, and stalked out through the gate.
When Genba caught up, his face was anxious. “Is something wrong, sir?”
“That man’s an unmannered brute,” Akitada raged. “We’re well rid of him and his people.”
But not all of his people. Not the slender woman who had knelt on the gravel path before her monster of a husband and trembled at the brutal punishment awaiting her for having entertained a man in his absence. Akitada clenched his fists in impotent fury. Why had the cursed man arrived just then? Another few minutes and she would have agreed to come with him or he would have been gone.
Perhaps fate was punishing him for the sins of a past life-though he had enough fresh ones to choose from. If he had not pursued her for his own pleasure, she would not have to suffer now. Instead of protecting her, he had exposed her to even more vicious treatment.
Genba trotted behind him, puzzled by his master’s mood. After a while, he said timidly, “I hope I haven’t done wrong in striking up a friendship with the maid, sir. I thought she might have some information.”
Akitada stopped and turned. “Really? That was good thinking. I owe you an apology. What did you learn?”
Genba flushed. “No need to apologize, sir. I enjoyed the food she offered. Her name’s Anju and she’s worked for Lord Yasugi all her life. Her grandmother was his wet nurse. She’s very loyal to him, but
…” Genba paused, giving Akitada an uncertain glance, “she doesn’t like her mistress much.”
“I gathered as much. Come, let’s walk on while you report. Did she reveal any private matters between her master and mistress?”
Genba’s color deepened. “Matters of the bedchamber, you mean?”
“No, of course not,” Akitada snapped, though he had meant that also. “I refer to their daily life together. Her position in the household. Do they live together like a normal couple?”
It was badly put and Genba said instantly, “I wouldn’t know how normal couples behave to each other, but according to the maid, this lady is disliked by everyone in the household, and her husband is often angry with her. The servants think she’s either been unfaithful or refuses to… give him a child. Anju says the lady drives her husband crazy with her bad moods. Sometimes she makes him so angry that he shouts and beats her.”
Genba paused when he saw his master’s bleak face.
“Go on.”
“That’s all. It must be a terrible life for both of them, sir. Why do you think they are still together? Why doesn’t he divorce her?”
Akitada said bitterly, “More to the point, since the man beats her, why doesn’t she leave him?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Akitada sighed. “I don’t know either, Genba. I was hoping you could explain it.”
He was in an impossible situation: She would or could not leave an abusive marriage, and he had promised not to interfere unless she asked for help. He could only hope for a future when she would change her mind and come to him.
They were approaching a private home, when its gate opened suddenly, and a harried servant appeared. “There you are, doctor,” he cried. “Come in quickly. The master’s having the bloody flux, and the third lady is covered with boils.”
Akitada said quickly, “I’m no doctor,” and pulled Genba away.
“This smallpox is a terrible disease,” offered Genba, looking back at the servant who stood wringing his hands and looking up and down the street.
“Yes. Tomorrow you will take the family to my sister’s country place.”
“People have been leaving in droves. I hope they have wagons and oxen left at the rental stable.”
Akitada had not thought of that. “Do the best you can, but be careful whom you deal with. If you see someone in ill health, leave quickly and go elsewhere. Tora’s not back yet, and I’m worried about him.” He stopped at the corner of Suzako Avenue. “I have another errand, but will be home soon.”
Akitada’s errand concerned Lady Yasugi’s parents and took him to the administrative offices of the capital, where he asked to see records of families with the surname Murata. Since he now knew that Hiroko had been raised in the capital, he planned to contact her parents for information about her sister Tomoe. He also hoped to get their support in a more personal matter: to free their other daughter from a hateful marriage and to take her as his wife.
But when he finally located the information, he faced a more disturbing problem than he could have imagined. Her father was the late Murata Senko, hereditary master of yin-yang and one of the scholars who devised the annual calendar that listed all the taboo days, directional prohibitions, auspicious days, and planetary conjunctions that governed most people’s lives. He had been a middle-rank official and had worked for the Bureau of Divination in the Greater Palace, so Kosehira had been quite right. Murata had sired only two children, a son and a daughter. The son had died in infancy. The daughter’s name was listed as Hiroko. Since by marriage she had passed out of the Murata family, the records did not bother to give her husband’s name. Her mother was also dead. The Murata family had ceased to exist.