It was Akiko who broke the happy mood. “By the way, Mother looks dreadful,” she suddenly informed him in a tone which was almost accusatory, though whether she held him accountable for his mother’s decline or blamed him for her unpleasant experience was not immediately clear to him. “She cannot last the night. You had better think of the arrangements, Brother.”

He sighed. “Don’t worry. The arrangements have been made. How are you feeling, Akiko?”

This distracted her. She gave Toshikage a coy smile and patted her stomach. “We are very well, my son and I,” she said proudly. “And Toshikage is quite charmed with your Yori, so he will take enormous care of us. Won’t you, Honorable Husband and Father of our Son?”

Toshikage smiled broadly and bowed to her. “The most tender care, my Beloved Wife and Mother of our Child.” He turned to Akitada and said, “You are blessed with a delightful family, my Brother, and I count myself the luckiest man alive to be a part of it.”

Akitada was touched and made a suitable and affectionate reply, but thought privately of that unhappy young man who was Toshikage’s oldest son. These thoughts led inescapably to the problem of the thefts from the Imperial Treasury, and he would have taken Toshikage aside to discuss the matter if the door had not opened to admit Tamako’s maid with the evening rice.

Genba had outdone himself. There were platters of pickles, bowls of fragrant fish soup, mountains of soba noodles, and piles of stuffed dumplings. These delicacies were accompanied by rice and steamed vegetables from the cook’s own kitchen. Dinner was another pleasant interlude, but finally Yori became tired and fretful. The women rose together to put him to bed.

On her way out Akiko had to pass Akitada and paused briefly. “By the way, Brother, it is the strangest thing, but that little figurine of the floating fairy you were so interested in? It has floated away again, and Toshikage swears he knows nothing about it. Have him tell you about it.”

Akitada’s eyes flew to Toshikage and he saw the other man flush to the roots of his hair. He waited till the door had closed behind the women before he asked, “So you recognized the figurine?

Toshikage raised his hands. “I never saw it. I remembered what you said about instructing Akiko about the history of the little treasures and went to visit her room the very next day. She told me about the figurine, but when we looked for it, it was gone.” He gulped down a cup of wine and sighed.

“And?”

Toshikage said miserably, “Akiko described it. Your sister has an excellent memory. It sounds like the floating fairy from the treasury. I don’t think there could be two of them. I swear to you, Akitada, I did not put it there!”

“I believe you, but someone in your household must have done so.”

“Impossible. Who would do such a thing? For what purpose?”

“I wonder why it was left in Akiko’s room, and where it is now.”

“Why leave it at all?”

“Perhaps as a warning to you?”

Toshikage looked absolutely confused. “A warning? About what? I don’t understand.”

Akitada sighed and thought.

After a moment Toshikage said, “It’s a miracle the director did not see it. Remember the unpleasant visit I had from my superior?”

Akitada nodded.

“I had meant to show him the screen in Akiko’s room and would have done so if you had not called to see your sister. Can you imagine what would have happened if the director had seen the thing?”

“Yes. But I thought you said the director was there to reprimand you. Why would you show him around under the circumstances?”

“Oh, it was not like that. I had mentioned the screen to him a few days earlier at the office and invited him over. In fact, at first I thought that was why he had come.” Toshikage subsided into a misery of sighs and head shakings. “What can it all mean?” he muttered.

Akitada was beginning to have an idea. But it was hardly one he could share with Toshikage. If he was right, the truth would be a far bigger blow to his brother-in-law than a mere dismissal from office, no matter how embarrassing the circumstances.

TEN

The Dark Path

Lady Sugawara died the next morning.

It was Tamako who brought the news to Akitada. He was in his father’s room, remote from the women’s quarters, and thus unaware of the event. Rising early, he had slipped from under the covers gently so as not to disturb his sleeping wife and had walked softly to the kitchen to fetch a brazier and some hot water for tea, and then to his new study.

The room still depressed him. He lit as many candles and oil lamps as he could find against the darkness of closed shutters, but still a clammy, unpleasant aura remained. For a while he walked around rearranging his things where once his father’s had stood. In the process he found the old flute he had bought from the curio dealer and decided to cheer himself up with some music.

He was badly out of practice but found some old scores and soon became immersed in the intricacies of fingering and timing the notes.

He was not aware of his wife until she walked up quickly and took the flute from his lips.

“What is the matter?” he asked blankly. “It was not all that bad, was it?”

Tamako looked down at him sadly. “No, Akitada. But you must not play anymore just now. It is your mother.”

He rose abruptly. “Heavens! Am I not even permitted such a small pleasure in my own house? That is intolerable, and I shall not allow her to dictate my life any longer.”

Tamako looked at him with tragic eyes and sighed. “Yes, I know. Your mother is dead.”

He gaped at her. Dead? His first reaction was relief that it was finally over, the long dying, the dreadful pall which had lain over this house so long. The relief immediately made way for shame, and then depression. Perversely, the event, so long expected, now seemed sudden, badly timed, too soon. “When?” he asked, and felt his heart contracting.

Tamako put a hand on his arm. He had not realized that his fists were clenched at his sides. His right hand hurt and when he raised it, he saw that it still held the antique flute, broken now; a splinter of bamboo had cut one of his fingers. Tamako gave a soft cry and took the pieces, laying them on his desk. Pulling the splinter from his hand, she said, “A short while ago. Another hemorrhage. Your sister was feeding her the morning gruel. I found Yoshiko covered with blood and incoherent with shock and took her away. The doctor has already seen your mother, and the maid and I have tended to her.” She hesitated. “Do you want to go to her now?”

So Tamako had spared him the sight of his mother’s blood-covered corpse. With a shudder he recalled the terrible scene when his mother had cursed him, the gaunt, distorted face, the sunken eyes blazing with hate, heard again the hoarse voice spitting out her vilifications until the words had drowned in a flood of gore.

Tamako gently stroked his arm. “Don’t look so. You knew it was going to happen. It was time.”

Akitada turned away from her sympathy. How could she understand that he felt mostly hatred for his own mother? Anger, regret, hopelessness, pain, but above all hatred. “Yes. I knew,” he said harshly. “I even wished it. And, oh, yes, it was time! She poisoned everything she touched. My life, Yoshiko’s, Akiko’s also! She would have poisoned yours, too, and our son’s! I am glad it is over!” He laughed. “Finally it is over!” Looking around at his father’s room, he shouted, “They are both gone! Gone! The house is ours! Our lives are our own! We can finally find peace and happiness….” He collapsed on his cushion and covered his face with his hands.

“Shh! Akitada!” Tamako came to kneel beside him and touched his arm. “Don’t! The servants will hear you! Please, you must not!” She saw that his face was wet with tears and, with a small moan of pity, took him into her arms.