To his dismay, he found he was not the only one who had come to see the sunrise. She was there already, a slender figure with her back to him. He could not retreat without making a sound, and she would surely hate to see him flee like coward. He cleared his throat.
She turned. He could not see her face because the light was behind her. His heart was beating in his throat and he barely managed a whisper: “Forgive me. I didn’t know anyone would be here so early. Shall I go away?”
“No, of course not. I was just about to leave myself.” She sounded tense.
He did not believe her. “I came to see the sun rise and expect you did, too. Could we watch together?”
She hesitated, then stepped aside to make room for him. “If you wish.”
He came to stand beside her at the railing. She was quite close; he could smell her scent but was afraid to look at her.
The view was lovely, much more beautiful than in the daytime, he thought. The colors were softer. All those greens and blues and browns of land, mountains, and city had a silvery sheen—mist perhaps?—and the sky, a much brighter, iridescent silver, was reflected by the lake’s surface as if in a mirror. A thin line of gold had appeared along the ridge of the eastern mountains.
There would not be much time. In a little while, the sun would appear, and they would part. He finally turned his head to look at her.
She had come directly from her bed. A blue silk gown was loosely draped around her. It had caught her long hair, still slightly disordered from sleep, underneath, and one heavy strand half covered her cheek. She held the blue silk together with her hands at the waist, and he guessed that she only wore her thin undergown beneath. She was totally desirable, but only a husband should be allowed to see her like this. The blood pounded behind his temples, and he clenched his hands to keep them from touching her.
In his agitation, he burst out, “I hear you are to marry the chancellor’s son.”
She stared at him. “Did my father tell you?”
“No. Is it a secret?”
“It was meant to be. Who told you?”
“Lord Nakahara. I assumed it was common knowledge in the capital.”
She covered her face with her hands, and the blue gown fell open. He had been right. She was in her bedclothes. A part of him reminded him of the impropriety of his being there, but he could not leave.
“Is it not true, then?” he asked, half hopefully.
She lowered her hands. “He is my cousin. We grew up together. Our parents talked about how well suited we were for each other. I think the idea has been raised again. My father has asked me about it.”
“And will you marry him?”
She turned her face away. “I suppose so.”
Neither had noticed the sun come up, but at that moment, Yukiko was bathed in gold: a golden daughter promised to the heir of the most powerful man in the land.
He found nothing to say. Wishes of good fortune and happiness would have been a lie. After a painfully long silence, he said, rather hoarsely, “You are very beautiful, Yukiko. I shall always remember you this way.”
Then he bowed and left.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Old Man on the Mountain
The day after Tora and Saburo came to their decision to hunt down Kojo and as many of his cohorts as possible, Saburo claimed that he needed to visit the Sugawara farm to look into some problems with their bookkeeping. He departed on horseback early in the morning.
Tora knew he had gone into the Hiei Mountains and worried himself nearly sick. He did not want Saburo’s life on his conscience; he feared Akitada’s fury when he discovered their disobedience and dismissed Saburo again; and he felt guilty because the knowledge of his previous, ill-considered adventure rested heavily upon him.
Even while he knew he should rise above his mistake and bear his humiliation at the hands of the sohei as fair punishment, he could not rest. If Kojo were killed or rearrested, then the bastard would at least be punished, the dead could rest more easily, and the injured could take some satisfaction from it. He had a duty to himself and to others.
Still, there was Saburo. He claimed to be acting on his own behalf, but he had not made any effort before, and his torture on the mountain was by now many years old.
In the end, he tried to concentrate on what he must do. It was important that no one find out about their plan or they would be stopped. They would leave after dark, and Tora hoped their venture would be finished the same night. He fidgeted and paced restlessly, until Hanae was in the main house and Yuki was with the master’s children at their lessons. Then he hurried to secrete his half armor, sword, short sword, and boots under some straw in the stable. After that he could do little but wait.
Saburo did not return by nightfall, but Hanae confronted him.
“What are you up to?” she demanded.
He tried to look innocent. “Nothing, my love. You look very charming when you put your hands on your hips like that and raise your pretty chin.”
“Don’t lie to me. I’m your wife and I know you’re up to something. First you come home all beaten up and sit around looking miserable, and then you’re suddenly different, nervous like a cat in heat. For days, I haven’t been able to get a word out of you and you barely looked at your son when he showed you proudly what the schoolmaster had written on his essay. You’ve been neither a husband nor a father!”
Her words wounded him; she confirmed what he had thought to himself: he was no good to them any longer. He tried a smile and failed. With a sigh, he said, “I’m sorry, love,” hanging his head and hoping she would not probe further. To his relief, she came, stood on her tiptoes, and put her arms around his neck.
“Oh, Tora, I didn’t mean it. We love you. Don’t look like that. Tell me what’s wrong. We’ll find a way.”
He was so deeply moved by her words and her embrace that he almost burst out with the whole story, but he had promised Saburo who feared for his job. So he took his wife in his arms, lifting her slight body, and nuzzling her neck. “I love you, too. More than anything, both of you. It hurts me to have you doubt me.” Good! Counter complaints might distract her.
Not so.
Hanae released herself. “So what’s wrong, husband?” she demanded again.
He sighed. It would have to be lies. He didn’t like lies. Hanae had a way of seeing through them. Perhaps a half truth might work. “It’s just that I’m such a failure,” he muttered. “I let them capture me, and the master saw how useless I was and sent me home.”
“Oh.” She was taken aback. “But that’s silly. You couldn’t help it, and you’re wrong about the master.”
What did women know about male pride?
Tora nodded. “I just realized it myself. I’ll be all right. And where’s Yuki? I’ll take him into town and buy him a new kite to show how proud I am of him.”
Hanae brightened. “Oh, he’ll like that. And there’s a nice breeze. Maybe you can find an open space and fly it? You’ll both enjoy that.”
And so Tora and his son spent the afternoon together, shopping for the most gorgeous dragon kite and then flying it on the shore of the Kamo River. It was most enjoyable and Tora decided that he would spend more time with Yuki, who was growing up so fast and was already taller than his dainty mother—and much smarter than his father.
But he did not forget about Saburo and what lay ahead in the immediate future.
∞
Night came and with it rain. Saburo had not returned. Tora kept watching the gate anxiously. Eventually, he joined his family for their evening rice, but he kept an ear out for any sounds of Saburo. Before they went to bed, he made one more round to look for him, claiming that he was checking that all was secure for the night. Alone in bed with Hanae, who was more than usually affectionate, he thought of their plan and somehow found that he needed to make love to her before it was too late. Afterward he held her until she was asleep. But he lay awake and fearful, listening to the rain.