“Ah, I see. My salary is paid by the superintendent, so there is no charge.”
“Nonsense. You will receive ten pieces of silver for a month’s work. If the superintendent can spare you for two hours a day, I would be grateful.”
The young man flushed with pleasure and bowed very deeply. “Thank you, sir. I could start now, if it’s convenient” he offered.
Akitada rose. “Very well. After their lessons, I hope you will set them work to do until the next day. Now let me introduce you to the children.”
They took the east gallery to Tamako’s pavilion. It was still a very difficult journey for Akitada. The knowledge that she would never again be found in her room or garden twisted his stomach.
Oyuki was inside with some sewing. Perhaps it was another gown for Yasuko. Akitada tried not to look at the fabric. If it was one of Tamako’s gowns, it would bring back memories. The children were outside, kicking a kemari ball around. He called them in. Yuki had grown remarkably tall in the past months. Akitada explained about the lessons and made the introductions.
The children looked aghast. Yuki said quickly, “Well, that leaves me out. Bye.” He was almost out the door, when Akitada said, “No, Yuki. You, too. It’s time you stopped wasting your days with play.”
Yuki looked offended. “I help in the stables, sir.”
“Yes, I know, but I also want you to learn to read and write. So come back here. Master Motonari has kindly offered to start teaching all of you. He also teaches the sons of Superintendent Kobe so you must work really hard to make a good impression. Will you do this?”
The children nodded. Yoshi stared at the tutor. He had evidently become speechless at the notion of lessons, but Yasuko smiled and made a little bow to the young man. “Welcome, Master Motonari,” she said. “Will you teach me also?”
The tutor smiled. “Yes, Lady Yasuko. Your father wishes it.”
Reassured, she glanced up at her father. “I will work extra hard, Father. For Mother’s sake.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Akitada choked on his own grief, briefly touched her head, and turned to flee. His escape was preempted by the arrival of his sister, who had three of her children with her.
Akitada’s irritation served to stifle the sickness that had seized him. He took a deep breath. “Akiko,” he said sharply, “You must let me know your plans in the future. This is Master Motonari who has come to start the children’s lessons. As they are here, your brood may benefit by joining them. You and I will go to my room.”
Akiko opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind. She greeted the tutor politely, instructed her three, two boys and a girl, to behave themselves and be quiet, and then left with Akitada.
“Well,” she said as they walked along the gallery, “that was a very rude greeting when I’m doing my best to help your children cope. And I find you making things worse for them. The loss of their mother is much too recent to start their lessons again. You have always been too strict in that regard. I hope you aren’t making another mistake.”
Akitada stopped. His sister’s lackadaisical attitude toward her own brood inspired no confidence in him. On the other hand, she had touched a very painful memory. Just before his firstborn, Yori, fell ill with smallpox, he and Tamako had had a serious disagreement over his excessive strictness with the boy’s studies. This had added to his guilt after the child died. Now it also added to his grief of having lost the boy’s mother.
Akiko’s eyes widened when she saw his face.
He said in an unsteady voice, “You’ve been very kind to look after the children so far. I am grateful. Now I’m trying to do my best to take over. Perhaps it’s too soon, but Kobe didn’t think so. You must let me do the best I can, Akiko. Believe me, I’d much rather leave all of this—he gestured vaguely around—to you and others.”
His sister reached for his hand. “I know,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ve been worried about you. You must not give in.” She squeezed his hand. “Never give in, Akitada. She would not have wished it.”
He felt the tears well up and turned away to walk to his room, her hand still in his.
It had started to rain. In the courtyard below, a woman passed, Genba’s wife Ohiro, with one hand resting protectively on her belly while the other pulled her skirt over her head. He had noticed that she was pregnant, but neither Genba nor Ohiro had come to tell him. They were probably afraid to share their happiness while he was grieving for Tamako.
The tides of life, he thought. Death and birth, an end and a new beginning. It went on and on. He was so weary of the struggle.
And outside the rain fell as if the heavens grieved the coming death of the year.
10
The Moneylenders
The next day, Saburo found the Nakamura house easily. It shared a street with similar merchants’ houses, ample in size and well-kept, with shops in front and living quarters in back and above. In this case, the shop was closed. No wonder, since the family had just been informed of the owner’s murder.
Saburo went closer and peered through the shutters at a dim interior. He made out shelves with assorted objects, many of them ceramics and wooden boxes. He decided to pound on the shop door. Nothing happened, and he pounded again.
Finally, he heard a voice. “Go away! We’re closed.”
He shouted, “I take it, the police have informed you. I have some additional information about Nakamura-san’s death.”
After a moment, he heard a rattle, and then the door opened a crack. A young man with somewhat bulbous eyes and a mustache peered out. “Who are you?”
“Saburo. I’m an investigator and work for Secretary Sugawara of the Ministry of Justice. I was in the Daikoku-yu after your father’s murder and questioned people. You can’t always take the word of a constable for what happened.”
The bulbous eyes narrowed, and the door opened far enough to admit him.
“It was a terrible shock,” the young man said mournfully. “You cannot imagine. Come back with me. My sister and my father’s partner are at wits’ ends.”
They passed through the dim shop. Saburo glanced at it. It struck him that the shelves held only a small selection of objects, though these might, of course, be very rare and expensive. Still, it confirmed his impression that the curio shop was merely a front for a thriving money-lending business, which Nakamura had carried out not here but on his daily visits to the business and amusement quarters.
The main room behind the shop was hardly luxurious. Perhaps the son and daughter lived elsewhere. As it turned out, this was the case.
Nakamura’s daughter was a hard-featured, silent woman with the same protruding eyes as her brother. She barely nodded to Saburo. He was more interested in the partner who turned out to be a grossly fat man with the name Yasohachi Saito.
After explaining Saburo’s presence and asking him to sit down, the son said, “My uncle has met us here because we’re trying to go through my father’s accounts. It has all been very upsetting, as you may guess.”
“Your uncle?” Saburo asked, eyeing the fat man.
“My grandfather adopted him. He prefers to use his own name. What is it exactly that you can tell us?”
“As I said, I’m an investigator and happened to be in the Daikoku-yu just after Nakamura-san was found dead. Perhaps you have been told that your father was killed by a blind shampoo girl?”
They all nodded, looking at him intently.
“Well, there’s quite a bit of doubt about that. Nobody saw what happened, and the blind woman says she found him dead. It struck me that in such a case the victim’s family might be anxious to make certain that the real killer isn’t still free. Of course, I have no idea what your involvement in Nakamura-san’s business may have been, but if someone had a grudge against him …”