Akitada strolled over to the wisteria, so pregnant with significance for their marriage, and studied it attentively. Tamako was right. A good omen.
He had presented her with a blossom from the ancestor of this plant on the morning after their marriage night. It had come from her own home which had been destroyed by the fire that took her father’s life. Years later, when they lost Yori, their first son, to smallpox and grew apart and bitter, the transplanted wisteria had declined and stopped blooming. Since then, both Tamako and Akitada had checked it every spring for signs of new life on the gnarled old trunk.
Whistling softly to himself, Akitada walked to his study, where Saburo awaited him with tea and hot rice gruel. Saburo, a disfigured ex-monk, had taken over many of Seimei’s functions after the old man had died.
Akitada thanked him and received in return the grotesque grimace that was Saburo’s smile. Saburo was indefatigable in his efforts to make himself useful and to prove a faithful servant. In spite of his unsavory past, Akitada had not regretted taking him on.
When his workday at the ministry began, Akitada was still in an excellent mood. He managed to finish a thick stack of dossiers before he was called to the minister’s office. Gathering them up, he went to see Fujiwara Kaneie.
Kaneie was a privileged member of the ruling clan and had managed to obtain his lucrative assignment without much effort or talent for it. The upper positions in the government were riddled with such men, while the actual work of the government was carried out by underlings or a few career officials in the lower ranks. Kaneie was one of the better senior officials in that he readily admitted his shortcomings and left the work to abler people like Akitada. He was also a friendly and affable man.
This day he seemed abstracted. He signed and stamped the last document with his seal, then handed the sheaf of papers back to Akitada. “Have you heard the news about Prince Atsuhira?” he asked.
Akitada searched his memory for Atsuhira and found, hazy by the distance of years, a rather pleasant young man he had met at one of his friend Kosehira’s parties. But, no, there had been a more recent incident. It had involved the prince’s love affair and a case of blackmail. He said, “I haven’t heard anything recently. I believe we met many years ago.” He paused, adding a little doubtfully, “I liked him then.”
The minister nodded. “Yes, he’s a very pleasant man. Married to one of the Fujiwara daughters. I cannot believe the tale. Nobody thought he had it in him.”
“Had what in him?”
“The kind of ambition that makes men overreach themselves. We all assumed he’d given up any hopes of succession, but here his name is linked to a very unsavory business. It may also involve his wife’s father and uncle. And several other high-ranking men as well. A major conspiracy, if one can believe it.”
Akitada tried to recall what he knew of the prince’s marriages. As a potential heir, he had taken one of the daughters of the present chancellor to wife. He said, “He seemed unambitious when I first knew him. But that was a long time ago, and his name has come up once before. Is he in serious trouble?”
It had been six years ago when the prince’s uncle, Bishop Sesshin, had contacted Akitada because he had feared one of the prince’s love letters had fallen into the wrong hands. The letter had contained some very incautious remarks about His Majesty.
The minister said, “Oh, yes. Exile perhaps. And he won’t be going alone.” The minister shook his head. “There are always the innocent who suffer along with the schemers.” He looked at Akitada. “I should hate to lose this post.”
Akitada was startled. “But surely not you, sir? Did you know the prince well?”
The minister gave a weak chuckle. “No, not really. But I do know his wife. The way these things go, once the censors have their teeth into a conspiracy, they make a wide sweep. I recently attended a party with him.” He paused. “Speaking of parties, I think you know Fujiwara Kosehira.”
“Yes, he’s my friend.” Akitada smiled. “And you’re right. He used to give some famous parties, but Kosehira hasn’t been in the capital for years. He has estates in Yamato and has been serving as governor of Omi Province for two years now.”
“Oh, then I regret to tell you he has been recalled to explain his role in the affair. It seems there was correspondence between him and the prince.”
“Kosehira is involved? I cannot believe it. He’s the most apolitical of men. It must be a mistake.”
“Possibly. But they used to say the same of the prince. Perhaps they kept their intentions from the world?”
“No. Kosehira would never do such a thing.” But that would not matter to his enemies. Akitada clutched the documents to his chest. “Forgive me, sir, but I think I should go to him. I hope I can give you more reassuring news when I get back.”
“I don’t think that’s very wise, Akitada.”
Akitada did not wait for any more. He rushed from the minister’s room to his own and flung the documents on the desk, telling his clerk, “Please have these delivered to the appropriate persons.” Then he dashed from the building.
What puzzled him was that Kosehira had not contacted him. That did not bode well. Perhaps he had already been arrested and was under guard somewhere.
Hurrying through the palace grounds, he was soon out of breath and a sharp pain in his side forced him to slow down. Years of paperwork had made him an old man.
He felt miserable and helpless about Kosehira. What could he do in a case of high treason? Guilt for not keeping up with the friend who had stood by him all his life shamed him. Kosehira had defended Akitada in his university days, when the unpopular Sugawara heir had been mocked by the sons of high-ranking nobles. Later, throughout Akitada’s career, whenever trouble had befallen him, he had interceded for him. And what had he done in return? Less than nothing. He had forgotten his friend, or very nearly so. Since the odd memory had invariably brought uncomfortable guilt feelings, he had banished thoughts of Kosehira quickly.
And now Kosehira was in serious trouble.
Fujiwara Kosehira’s residence occupied a large corner in the best quarter of the capital and was impressive enough to have served on two occasions as the temporary home of an empress and a crown prince. Kosehira was generous, and the house had never really been closed during the years he was absent. Akitada, still out of breath, was relieved to find no soldiers at the open gates or in the courtyard. All looked quiet enough in the spring sunshine.
His arrival was noted, however. A servant appeared, bowed, and asked his purpose.
“I understand Lord Kosehira is in residence. Please let him know that Sugawara Akitada has come to see him.”
The servant bowed again and left, Akitada following more slowly. He saw now that there were a few people about. The stables seemed unusually quiet, though. His heart grew heavy again. Surely such a lack of activity was unnatural with Kosehira in residence.
He had reached the steps to the main residence when the servant reappeared, followed by Kosehira himself.
“Akitada,” his friend cried. “I’m so glad to see you. How did you know? It’s very good of you to come so quickly when I’ve only just arrived myself.” The smile was the old Kosehira’s, but there was something drawn and tense about him. His slightly corpulent figure seemed to have shrunk, become less buoyant and bouncy.
Akitada ran up the steps and they embraced. For a moment emotion nearly choked Akitada. He made up for it by clasping Kosehira very tightly to himself. They hugged, laughed a little, and patted backs, then finally parted to study each other’s faces.
Kosehira had lost weight and looked older. There were lines in his face and a few gray hairs in his mustache. Akitada felt a surge of affection for him, stronger perhaps because of having neglected him.
“How is the family?” he asked.
Kosehira chuckled. “Thriving. There seem to be more children running around every year. Mind you, I’m very fond of them all, but I’ve been known to mix up their names. And their mothers.” He rolled his eyes. “Not advisable, my friend. You’re lucky you have only one wife to worry about.”