But as he retraced his steps, Tora’s warning shout came, and a moment later Seimei’s gong sounded. He broke into a run and heard another cry – this time from behind him, from Tamako’s pavilion.
A woman’s scream.
Seized with terror, he turned back, flew up the steps to the veranda, and burst into Tamako’s room, cursing the fact that he had not made sure her doors were locked. It was pitch dark. The baby whimpered and someone sobbed. Tamako? A paler shape moved in the room.
A young male voice, filled with hate, said, ‘Don’t come any closer or they die.’
Akitada froze. He still could not see, but the baby’s whimper turned into a wail, and Tamako’s anguished crying filled the darkness. He was seized with a helpless rage. He heard sounds of struggle and the man’s curse and moved towards them, afraid that his action was all wrong, that it was exactly what their attacker had expected and would repay with death, but there was no alternative. Death had always been part of the plan.
He held the sword close to his body for fear of hurting his wife or child. Groping forward with his free hand, he touched Tamako’s silky hair (a deeper darkness against her pale under-gown) and grasped her shoulder to pull her away and to the side. She cried out, ‘He has Yasuko.’
The dark shape of their attacker moved farther away. ‘Yeah, I’ve got the kid – so stay away, dog official.’
Yasuko’s crying became a heart-wrenching bawling at the top of her small lungs.
‘Light a lamp,’ Akitada called out to Tamako. Then, forcing himself to speak calmly, he said, ‘Don’t hurt her. She’s only just been born. Who are you?’
‘None of your business.’
Behind Akitada, light sprang up. He saw a skinny youth in a bright red jacket, his back against the wall, a knife in one hand, and the bawling child pressed against his chest with the other.
‘No closer,’ he hissed and put the knife’s point against the baby’s neck.
Tamako pleaded, ‘Please, please, please…’
Akitada clenched the sword to his side. ‘You’re Takeo,’ he said, still trying to keep his voice steady. ‘What do you want?’
When he heard his name, surprise flickered in the other’s eyes. ‘I want the bastard that got my family arrested.’
‘Your family tried to kill me.’
‘I thought it was you. You know what they do to them in jail? I know. They beat you until your blood soaks through your clothes and you lose consciousness. Then they let the flies and ants feed on you.’
Yasuko squirmed and bellowed. Akitada kept his eyes on her. Dear heaven, don’t let her be injured. ‘Better than drowning a man in a pit,’ he said.
Takeo flared up, ‘They didn’t know that. They would’ve let you go after a bit – only, by then the police were all over the place.’ He glanced over at Tamako, who was kneeling on the floor, her hands raised towards the baby. ‘You took my family, and now I’ll take yours… and you get to watch.’ With a cruel smile, he looked down at the squirming child in his arms.
Akitada saw the knuckles of the hand that held the knife whiten. ‘Wait,’ he cried. ‘Your quarrel is with me. Let them go.’
Takeo nodded at Akitada’s sword. ‘You think I’m stupid? A knife against a sword? You nobles are all alike. You think we’re nothing. You think we have no brains or courage or fighting skill.’
‘Then show me your courage. I’ll throw away my sword and take you and your knife on bare-handed, and I’ll still win,’ Akitada boasted.
The youth hesitated. Akitada saw the temptation in his eyes and held his breath. Except for the baby’s hiccuping whimpers, the room had gone still.
Takeo measured him. ‘Throw it out into the garden.’
‘First you let them go.’
‘No.’
Tamako got to her feet and took the few steps to Takeo, her hands outstretched for her child.
Akitada walked to the door of the pavilion. ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Are you an honorable man?’
Takeo sneered, ‘Are you?’
There was nothing to be gained by arguing any longer. Akitada flung the sword away as far as he could. At the same moment, Tamako snatched the baby and rushed to him. He stepped aside to let her pass, and she ran into the garden.
They were alone now, he and the youth with the wicked-looking blade. Akitada moved to block the doorway and saw Takeo’s face. Yes, he had just been tricked. Letting Tamako escape meant that she would give the alarm. He would have to be quick.
The cries of ‘fire’ and the sound of the gong still sounded in the distance. He heard the frightened sounds of horses. Tora and Genba had their hands full fighting the fire.
Takeo came with a shout, the hand with the knife raised, his eyes on Akitada’s throat.
Akitada could not move aside. His family was in the garden. He had no choice but to meet his attacker and knock the knife aside.
But the youth was agile and ready for the maneuver. He danced sideways, lowering the knife. When he came again, he slashed upward towards Akitada’s belly. Akitada reacted almost too late. As it was, the knife cut neatly through his sash. It dropped to the floor, and his robe swung open in front, hampering his movements. But it also gave him an idea. He pivoted, swinging the robe wide and forcing Takeo back. Akitada now had enough space to slip the robe off and use it like a whip to lash out at his foe.
Takeo laughed at this move and skipped nimbly aside. When he rushed him again, Akitada caught the slashing blade in the folds of his robe. A swift kick and a jerk of the robe, and Takeo sprawled disarmed on the floorboards.
As Akitada snatched up the knife, a woman’s voice shouted outside. His heart skipped. He turned to look, saw a reddish glow of flames from the stable roof, and had his feet pulled from under him.
The back of Akitada’s head hit the floor and the world turned black. He felt Takeo’s weight on his chest and his hands on his throat. He could not breathe. Struggling for air, he bucked and rolled, found the knife still in his hand and shoved it hard into his attacker.
The hands around his throat went slack. Akitada pushed Takeo off. They got to their feet together, Akitada coughing and Takeo bent over with both hands pressed against his belly, his face pale in the flickering fire light. Dazed, Akitada looked at the bloody blade in his hand and then back at the youth. Takeo had not moved, but now his knees slowly buckled. The expression on his face changed to surprise. On his knees, he vomited a stream of blood. He tried to stagger up again, but fell and rolled, his body going into spasms. He vomited again – a great fountain of blood all over Tamako’s polished floor – and then lay still.
Akitada paused only to make sure he was dead, then ran outside, shouting, ‘Tamako?’
‘Here.’ She came from underneath the veranda, holding the child. Her eyes were anxious. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No.’ She had stayed close, he thought, when every instinct should have driven her away. The baby was quiet now, and a new fear seized him. ‘The child?’
‘She was only frightened.’
He suddenly felt like laughing out. ‘So was I,’ he said and took them both tenderly in his arms.
For a moment, Tamako allowed it, then she said, ‘Akitada, the fire. Hanae and Yuki.’
He released her and took her hand. ‘I’m sure they’re fine. Come. I cannot leave you here.’ He looked around and found his sword, and they walked together towards the fire.
Tora’s house and the stables were fully aflame. In the firelight and smoke, shadows moved eerily about the buildings.
‘The horses,’ Tamako moaned.
‘Genba will have got them out,’ Akitada said and hoped he was right.
At that moment, a figure rushed at him. They collided, gasping, and moved apart. In the red light of the flames, Akitada saw the youth Tojiro with a cudgel in his hand. He pushed Tamako behind him and raised his sword.
ANOTHER CONFESSION