The abbot nodded. “We have taken note of this person. He’s not been here long. The first reports reached us a few weeks ago. He received his training in the north. But I must tell you he doesn’t seem to be an assassin. A shinobi, yes, but he hasn’t killed anyone to our knowledge.”
“Do you think it’s possible he killed Tokuzo?”
The abbot spread his hands. “All things are possible. I wish I could be more helpful.”
Saburo bowed. “Thank you, Reverence. I think I’ll take a closer look at him.”
Raishin said, “It’s a difficult issue, this question of justice. I don’t envy you.”
Saburo nodded and got to his feet. He was almost out of the room, when he heard the abbot say softly, “Most likely the killer has a very troubled conscience himself.”
The Journal
The ride to Koryu-ji had been more than Akitada should have undertaken so soon after his fall. When they reached his home, he slid from the saddle and clung to it while waves of pain washed over him. The worst of it was that he would not have been in condition to fight off another attack or protect his sister.
“What’s wrong?” asked Akiko, sounding irritatingly chipper as she got down from her horse.
“Nothing. I’ll be all right in a moment.”
“Here comes help,” she said. “I’ll run in and see Tamako.”
Tora appeared by his side, and then, to his surprise, Genba. They also wanted to know what was wrong. Akitada pushed himself away from the horse and took a deep breath.
“It’s just some soreness from the fall. Genba? I’m so glad to see you, but what happened?”
Genba regarded him with moist eyes. “Superintendent Kobe let us go, sir. I expect we owe you our thanks.” He bowed.
“It wasn’t my doing. We haven’t found the killer yet. Saburo is working on it. Kobe must have decided his case against you wasn’t strong enough.” Akitada embraced Genba. “Welcome home,” he said, then stepped back to look him over.
Genba wiped his eyes and smiled, speechless at this reception.
“Well,” said Tora, clearly embarrassed by all this emotion, “I think it was high time the superintendent realized you’re innocent. And what about all those floggings?”
Akitada said, “Yes, I’m sorry about all you’ve had to suffer. How are you?”
Genba grinned. “It was nothing, sir. I’m very well. But what about you? Tora told me what happened.”
“I’m also very well… now that you’re back,” Akitada said happily, patting Genba’s shoulder. “We really missed you.”
“Thank you, sir. Let us help you into the house.”
Akitada walked leaning on Genba’s strong arm. In his study, he got behind his desk. “Sit down, both of you. Genba, what about Ohiro? Is she free, too?”
“Yes, sir. She’s gone to stay with Shokichi.” Genba shot Tora a glance.
“But I thought you and she… I was under the impression…” Uncertain, Akitada stopped.
“Well…” Genba looked to Tora for help.
“Genba thinks it will be best if he visits her in the city.” Tora was clearly uncomfortable.
“Oh.” Akitada looked from one to the other and frowned.
Tora bit his lip. “We thought you wouldn’t want another woman from the amusement quarter under your roof.”
“What nonsense! Another woman? You mean Hanae?” Tora nodded, and Akitada snapped, “You were wrong. Hanae is part of my family, as are both of you. You are like brothers to me. How could I deny either of you the joy of raising a family? My fortunes aren’t great and my future isn’t promising either, but if you’ll settle for what we can offer, Genba, and if you wish to take a wife, I will welcome her and your future children into my house. The same goes for Saburo. If I have given you a different impression in the past, I’m sorry. I tend to worry about the company you keep, but you’re both grown men, and I have no right to interfere in your lives as long as you respect my family.”
They both gaped at him.
When nobody said anything, Akitada smiled. “Are you happy here, Genba?”
“Yes, sir, but… are you sure? Ohiro… I love her dearly and she’s a sweet and good woman, sir, but she did work in a brothel. Hanae never did.”
“I’ve learned a few things lately about how young women end up in places they shouldn’t be, sold by their parents to men who mistreat them. Ohiro’s not to blame for what her life was like in the past, as long as she will be a devoted wife to you.” Seeing Tears well up in Genba’s eyes again, Akitada added quickly, “And now you two had better go and see about living quarters for Genba and his bride.”
They left grinning, with Genba muttering his thanks over and over again.
Having thus arranged his household to his entire satisfaction, Akitada stepped out on his veranda and stretched. The garden was peaceful in the afternoon sun. Sighing with pleasure, he drew Lady Masako’s journal from his sleeve and went back inside.
It was tastefully bound in pale green brocade with a pattern of golden shells and white cherry blossoms. He undid the darker green silk ribbon and opened it. The paper was of the finest quality, and the lady’s brush strokes proved she had a good education. The journal was short and tended to skip days.
He settled down at his desk and started reading.
The entries were dated by the year and month, and it appeared she had started the diary soon after she had entered the palace. As was customary, she referred to herself in the third person and never by name. This device made the diary read like a tale about an imaginary character and was, no doubt, meant to protect the author’s identity.
It occurred to Akitada that he had no proof this was Lady Masako’s journal except for Lady Hiroko’s word. He would have to read the entries carefully, looking for internal evidence of the author’s identity.
The first pages described the season-it was spring, and the writer grieved at not seeing the cherry blossoms of her former home-but soon she mentioned incidents: visits from a father, then from a brother, court festivities, seasonal observations, more parental visits. Interjected poems began to suggest first melancholy, and then sadness: “Alas, each day brought deeper grief; each week another lament,” and “In sorrow her days passed without comfort.”
After the initial introduction to His Majesty, which dwelled in detail on the lady’s gowns, there were no more references to the emperor. To Akitada this implied that her hurt at being rejected by the young monarch was too great to allow her to make the slightest reference to Him.
Akitada had progressed this far, when quick steps approached. Then the door opened, admitting Akiko and his wife. The ladies were wide-eyed with curiosity.
“There you are,” said Akiko. “And you’re reading it. Why didn’t you wait for us?”
Akitada frowned. “I intend to absorb the contents in peace and quiet. I can’t think when women chatter in my ears.”
Akiko hissed. “Shameful! When I was the one who got the journal for you. You are the most ungrateful creature.”
Tamako smiled and came to sit across from him. “You look tired, Akitada. I had the water heated for your bath. It will soothe your aches and pains.”
He looked at her gratefully. “Thank you. I’ll bathe as soon as I’ve had a look at this.”
“What about us?” demanded his sister. “You cannot keep it to yourself.”
Tamako said, “She has a point, Akitada.”
Akiko sat down beside her, her chin in the air. “I’m not leaving until I’ve read the journal.”
Akitada sighed. “Very well. I’ll read it out loud. But don’t interrupt constantly.”
The ladies smiled triumphantly and settled themselves comfortably on their cushions. Akitada turned to the beginning and started reading. They listened, sometimes exchanging glances and nods, but remained quiet. It was not until he was well past the middle of the diary and had reached a passage where a page arrived and passed a branch of flowering orange to the lady that his sister spoke.
“A note from Prince Tametaka? Who is that? There is no Prince Tametaka.”