“Oh, come,” he protested. “Men aren’t incapable of knowing women. I know you.”
She smiled.
He did not want to pursue the argument in case it led to a quarrel he wanted to avoid at all cost. “Besides, how am I to approach women who knew her?”
“You must try. I’ll speak to your sister Akiko. She knows some of the attendants in the palace. And perhaps you should let it be known you’re investigating Lady Masako’s death?”
His first thought was that this could bring the combined forces of the palace, the regent’s family, and of the irate Masaie and his son down upon him. But word of his interest in the case was probably already out. He could see Tamako was right. It was the logical next move, and the risk could not be avoided in any case..
He reached for her hand again. “Thank you,” he said. “I have married a wise woman… and a very desirable one.”
That pleased her, and she did not object when he pulled her into an embrace and led her to the bedding her maid had spread out.
Tora and the Cook
Early the next morning, dressed neatly but in ordinary clothes, Tora walked to Minamoto Masaie’s house. He glanced in through the open gates, noting the armed guards without pausing in his walk. At the next corner, he paused and watched the street for a while, but he saw nobody entering the compound. No doubt, the forbidding presence of Masaie’s soldiers discouraged social calls.
He continued along the compound’s walls to the rear of the property. Here, in a small side street, the back gate stood open as well, but there were no guards. Instead a large handcart had stopped, and an elderly man unloaded crates and baskets of food from it. These he set down in the dust of the street as a short, round woman berated him.
She gestured at the unloaded goods and pointed inside the compound. The old man shook his head and went on unloading. As soon as the cart’s contents were piled on the ground, he took his empty cart and trotted away. The round woman ran after him, shaking her fist.
Tora grinned. Perfect.
The delivery man from the market had refused to carry the goods all the way to the kitchen, and the woman, probably Maseie’s cook, had no help at hand. Now she stood there, staring at the pile and muttering to herself.
Putting on his best smile, Tora approached. “Good morning, dear lady. Why so glum on such a pretty spring day?”
She glowered at him, then at the new green leaves on the trees and the pale blue sky above. “It may be a good day for you,” she said bitterly, “but some of us have to work.” She bent for a bundle, but straightened up again to give him a sharp once-over. “Never mind. Move on. You’re in my way.”
Her accent sounded familiar to Tora. If he was right, luck was indeed with him. “I think you need to carry all those things inside,” he said, “and you don’t want to leave them in the street for thieves. Allow me to help. My name’s Tora.”
She still hesitated, but relaxed a little after giving him another careful look. Tora’s handsome face and neat clothing clearly impressed her. Here was a courteous, friendly young man who was certainly strong enough to carry all the abandoned cabbages and turnips, bags of rice and beans, and kegs of sake and oil. Well,” she said dubiously.
Tora put on one of his dazzling smiles.
She blushed, smoothed her hair back, and straightened the cloth apron covering her blue gown. She was middle-aged, near the same age as the Sugawara’s cook, but unlike that shrew she had a pleasant face with apple cheeks and laugh lines at the corners of her eyes.
Tora said, “Look, dear lady, I have some time on my hands, and you cannot be expected to do such rough work. That’s for men. I’ll gladly give you a hand.” He reached for a large basket of vegetables with one arm and scooped up a heavy bundle with the other. “Lead the way, my dear.”
“Well, if you’d just take the big stuff inside the gate, that would be a big help. The master doesn’t allow strangers inside and makes us keep the gates closed. I’d hate to leave all this outside. There are a lot of thieves in this city.”
“It wouldn’t last long enough for you to take one basket to the kitchen and come for the next.” Tora deposited his vegetables inside the gate in what appeared to be a service yard and turned back for another load.
With both of them moving parcels and bags inside, it was done quickly. Tora had identified the kitchen by the fact that smoke came from the one-story building. “Well,” he said, glancing at it, “I think that’s still a long way for you to carry all these heavy things.”
“It’s all right,” she said, holding the gate open for him to leave. “I can manage now.”
He hung his head. “I see you still don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. My guess is you’re not from here yourself.”
She blushed and hesitated. “It’s true. I’m from Sagami.”
“What if I told you a bit about myself?”
“Well…”
“You see, I work for a man called Juntaro. He’s a dealer in grass mats and cushions in the fourth ward. This morning, he sent me to drum up some business from your master. He heard his lordship had come to town and he told me to ask the steward if they needed any mats. I tried at the main gate, but they wouldn’t let me in.”
She nodded. “It’s not a good time to sell anything.”
“You sound a bit like my people back home. I was born and raised in Shimosa province. My people were farmers.”
Her round face lit up. “You’re from Shimosa? So am I, from near the coast. Near Chiba. My people were fishermen.”
“You don’t say! Have you been to Asakusa?”
“Oh, yes. When I was young girl. We went to the beautiful temple there.”
They regarded each other happily for a moment, then Tora asked, “So, what do you say? Since our people were practically neighbors, maybe cousins? Back home a dainty female didn’t have to lug around heavy things.”
She giggled at that “dainty female,” then cast a look around. There was no one in sight. “All right, then. But we must hurry so nobody sees us, or I’ll be in trouble for letting you in. You’re very nice to offer, Tora.” She slammed the gate shut.
Tora chuckled. “Least I can do. You remind me of home. I miss it a lot. It was beautiful there. All green woods and fields and the blue sea.”
“Yes, not like this big dirty city.” She glared at the gate as if it kept out all the filth of the great city. “Let’s get everything inside the kitchen over there. I’m Hanishi, the cook. We’re short-staffed, because the master rushed up here and left all the servants behind. He only brought soldiers.”
“A bit strange, that.” Tora loaded up again and started toward the kitchen.
“You’d think he was about to start a war,” she grumbled, following him. “And me having to feed the big louts all by myself.” They reached the kitchen, and she pointed. “Put those vegetables over there.”
Tora sniffed the air. A large iron pot simmered over the open fire, filling the room with the aroma of seafood. He gave her another smile. “I bet you’re a great cook, Hanishi. That smell reminds me of my mother. I miss her cooking something terrible.” He tried to look hungry as he said this.
She laughed. “When we’re done, I’ll let you sample my fish stew.”
“Fish stew?” Tora, smacked his lips and dashed back outside.
When all the supplies had been brought in and put away, Hanishi found a bowl and ladled stew into it. She gestured at the earthenware ovens that heated two rice cookers. “Sorry, the rice isn’t done. Ran out of wood after making this fire.”
Tora tasted the stew. It was good. He did not have to pretend pleasure, and started gobbling it. “Who needs rice with something like this,” he said with a full mouth. “Oh, that brings back memories. You’re a wonderful cook, Hanishi.”
She preened herself a little. “Well, I like to feed hungry men like you. Do you have a wife, Tora?”