But then Tora had arrived and had wept and grieved, and because he had not wanted to be recalled after starting on his journey, he had tried to speak.
After Tora left, he attempted to resume his voyage to the other side and found it hard going. Tamako’s image faded quickly when he managed to recall it. Instead, Tora’s face crowded in, and the faces of his children. No, he thought. This is wrong. I should be thinking of Tamako and Yori. They are my family now. I must go with them. With great effort, he remembered his little son, his firstborn, as he had been before his death, all bright eyes and trusting hand thrust into his own. He felt the guilt again of having exposed his child to the disease that had swept through the city. He had been too stubborn to give in to panic. He also recalled that he had been too harsh a father to this child, and that Yori had gone to his death having had few joys in life to balance against the darkness. Yes, he must get to Yori in that other world and make it up to him.
Then the lights came and voices. And someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him over, and all went black.
28
Twilight before the Dark
They carried him home on a litter. By then the sun had risen and the mist dissipated enough for Tora, who walked beside the litter, to see clearly the white, still face and the traces of blood on his master’s lips. He had seen enough battle casualties to know that things were very bad and was tempted from time to time to make the bearers stop so he could check to see if his master was still alive. But he controlled himself. Getting him home was the most important thing now.
The bearers were constables from the Sixth Ward. He had also sent someone to the Sugawara family’s physician. Tora hoped he would meet them at the house.
Genba answered their pounding, gasped, and threw wide the gates. They brought in the litter, hesitated for directions, then followed Tora into the main house.
In Akitada’s room, Tora unrolled the bedding. “Where’s the doctor?” he snapped at Genba.
Genba, his eyes wide with shock and his face pale, came to help. “Doctor? How bad is it?”
“Bad. Go see about getting the doctor here. Send the boy. Tell him to hurry.”
Tora pushed a bearer aside and put his hands under Akitada’s torso to lift him. “Careful!” he hissed as they laid his master down on his back. Akitada did not open his eyes, but a slight twitch passed across his face.
“Sorry, sir,” Tora muttered, kneeling beside him.
The bearers stood around the litter, until Tora looked up. “You can go,” he said, adding belatedly, “Thanks.”
Then he looked at his hands and saw they were covered with blood.
The next space of time was among the worst Tora had ever passed. As the morning light made its way into the room, he saw that blood had soaked into the dark silk of his master’s robe. There was too much of it, mostly toward the back, and perhaps the bleeding had not stopped. Tora was afraid to move his master again to see. Where was the cursed doctor?
The doctor who came was a new man. Their previous physician had died. This one was irritated and only half dressed, having been pulled from his bed by the boy. He bustled in, glanced at the patient and told Tora, “Open those shutters. I need light.”
After a brief check of Akitada’s pulse and appearance, he asked, “Where’s the wound? I see some blood but no wound.”
An irrational thought passed through Tora’s mind. Perhaps there was no wound. Perhaps this was someone else’s blood, someone his master had fought with. Common sense rejected it. “Probably in his back,” he said dully.
“Why didn’t you say so? Help me take his clothes off and turn him over.”
Genba had tiptoed into the room with the doctor. Together, they undressed Akitada. They were as gentle as they could, removing layers of clothing with shaking hands, and then turning him on his stomach. His back was covered with blood.
“Water!” barked the doctor.
Genba ran.
Meanwhile the doctor probed for wounds. “Knife thrusts,” he muttered. “Two. Maybe more.”
Genba returned with Hanae, who carried a basin of warm water. It was she who cleaned away the blood.
The doctor shook his head and tsked. “Only two, but deep. Not much bleeding now, but that may mean it’s all but over.”
Hanae cried out in protest, and Genba sucked in his breath.
Tora seized the doctor by the neck of his robe and snarled, “You bastard! You’ve done nothing for him yet. Don’t you dare say it’s over. He’s still breathing. Get busy, and if you don’t do a good job, I’ll personally help you to hell.” He released him with a push.
The doctor muttered something, but he scurried to his bamboo case. There he unearthed ointments, plasters, bandages, and various herbal medicines. He busied himself with applying a yellow paste to the wounds, then covering them with large plasters. While Tora and Genba held Akitada, he bandaged his torso then indicated that they could lay him down again.
After cleaning away more blood, Hanae covered their master with a quilt. Then they all looked at the patient.
“He’s breathing,” said Tora.
“Barely,” said the doctor spitefully.
“I wish he’d open his eyes. Is he in pain, do you think?” Hanae asked.
The doctor growled, “No. He’s already where you cannot feel pain anymore.” Tora clenched his fists and hissed. The doctor scooted away a few steps. “I’ve served noble families for many years,” he said angrily. “It grieves me to find Lord Sugawara like this, but threatening me isn’t going to save his life.”
Tora looked away. “Just do the best you can,” he muttered.
“I’m done for the time being. Those packets contain some herbs. If he lives long enough to get the fever, boil them in some water and try to make him swallow the liquid. You can send for me, if there’s a change.”
And with that, he turned to leave.
“Your fee, doctor,” cried Hanae.
“You can send it later.” And he was gone.
They knelt beside their master without speaking. Genba brushed silent tears from his face. After a while, Hanae said, “The children! I should bring them.”
They all knew what she meant. Their father was dying, and they had a right to be by his side.
Tora nodded. “The children first, then the others.”
*
The journey into the darkness was very painful. Akitada thought for a while that he had arrived in one of the many hells, the one inhabited by the devils with the long knives. He knew he must run to escape them, but his feet were heavy … so heavy … and he needed sleep. He had not slept for so long and now his eyes would no longer stay open. And so one of the devils caught him and he felt the pain of his knife plunging deep into his back and fell.
Much later he thought about being in hell. There would be no Tamako there. Nor his small son Yori. He hoped they knew he had tried to reach them, had tried very hard and had failed.
He had failed them in so many ways.
Tora’s face appeared before him. He looked angry, as well he might. He had let them all down. Even at the very end. There had been something. Something urgent and important he had had to do. But it was gone. Failed again. He had given them grief instead of joy, poverty instead of comfort, abandonment instead of protection. No wonder they were angry. No wonder they wept. The weeping troubled him a good deal.
What of his other children? They too would be abandoned, now that he was taking this dark road to a place from which none returned. He had abandoned them just as his own father had abandoned him. No, that wasn’t right. It was he who had abandoned his father. He had chosen Seimei instead. And now he was choosing to be with Seimei in death. We die to repeat our mistakes and sins.