“This time it will be different,” Shigeko assured him.  “Kiyomori will make certain of that.”

Anger at Kiyomori’s manipulations resurfaced.  The emperor looked at his consort and saw that she was content, even triumphant.  She knew that her elevation to empress was a foregone conclusion, and that Kiyomori would become regent for his nephew.  Her face shone with the achievement.  This was what all his women had wanted.  Perhaps Kiyomori’s hand had been in it from the very start and he had arranged for Shigeko to seduce him — in the same way that he had brought him Toshiko now.

Kiyomori, the pimp.

And what was he but a puppet in their hands, seduced by his lust into obeying their wishes?

He suppressed self-disgust and wondered why she had come to him with enough attendants and baggage for a long stay.  Did she expect to share his bed again so she could bear him more children?  In all decency and out of courtesy, he must oblige, of course.  The notion dismayed him, but he had no time to analyze this feeling because they brought the new crown prince son to him.

The boy was lively and tore away from his nurse’s hand to run to them.  For his five years, Norihito was well grown and handsome.  Like all children at this age, he looked adorable in his miniature court costume and with his thick hair tied into loops above each ear.  The Emperor was fond of children but awkward in their company.  He had no wish to hurt his own children the way his own father had hurt him, but he did not trust them either.

So now the Retired Emperor received the handsome, laughing child warily.

“Bow to His Majesty,” reminded the boy’s mother, and Norihito bowed charmingly.

“Come here,” said his father.  “Let me see you better.”

The boy climbed up onto the raised dais and sat down between his mother and father.

“I’m very well.  How are you?” he said, looking up at his father.  Shigeko raised a hand to hide her smile.  No doubt, the nurse would later tell everyone what a happy picture they made.

The Emperor looked at his son and saw, as always, with a sense of wonder the smooth, clear skin, the glossy hair, the bright eyes and soft red lips.  Children were so perfectly made that no adult, no matter how beautiful, could equal them.  It was a pity that, the older they became, the more they lost that perfection, that inner light which seemed to fill their bodies and made them resemble gods.  His son was as pleasing to his eyes as the finest work done by the artists he employed.

For a while, the little prince bore the scrutiny with patience but he could not contain his excitement long.  “They say I’m to be emperor,” he informed his father.  “Just like you.  They say when that happens they will all lie down before me and nobody will dare look at my face.  Is that true?”

The consort clicked her tongue, but his father chuckled.  “It is true if you become emperor, but that may not be for some time and maybe never.  The present emperor is younger than you and may rule for many years until he himself has sons to succeed him.”

The boy frowned.  “They say he may die because babies die quite often.”

His mother gasped and cried, “Oh, do not say such things!  They will bring you very bad luck.  It is quite horrible and forbidden to speak of His Majesty’s death.”

Prince Norihito looked stunned by her outburst.  “Why?  All the women and also some of the men say so.  Will we all have bad luck now?”

Shigeko gave the Emperor a helpless glance.  While amused, he was uncomfortable with the topic.  True, forecasting an emperor’s death was a treasonable act and punished severely, and Norihito’s naïve comment might be called a forecast, but the child, and those he listened to, spoke no more than the truth in everyone’s mind.  Small children were frail and subject to sudden death.  In any case, the question was moot because very soon the little emperor would abdicate.  He said rather vaguely, “Let us see what the future brings.  You must wish His Majesty a long life and a peaceful reign.  Meanwhile, you have much to learn before you can be a good emperor.”  He turned to Shigeko.  “He must have a new tutor immediately.  How is his calligraphy?”

Instead of answering, Shigeko signaled to the child’s nurse.  The woman came forward on her knees and extended a small scroll to the emperor.

It was tied with crimson silk and made of fine mulberry paper.  When he unrolled it, he saw that someone had taught the child a series of signatures.  They were certainly not wasting any time.  He suppressed a sigh and praised his son, adding, “But there are many, many other things to learn still.  So run along now, and practice with your brush.”

He was thoughtful as he looked after the boy, who scampered off, holding his nurse’s hand.  Norihito was still very young, but what did that matter?  An emperor’s duties were almost exclusively ceremonial.  Norihito would be dressed up like a doll and he would be coached about what to do and what to recite for the many hundreds of annual devotions to the gods.  He remembered those dull chores very well.  The ruling emperor had the ear of the gods and must perform all the rituals assuring good harvests.  Everything else lay in the hands of his ministers and the senior retired emperor.  That was why emperors agreed to resign.  It had been that way for many generations now.

Silk rustled.  Shigeko was reminding him of her presence.  He turned a smile on her.  “He will do very well.  And you?  Will you be even more distant when your son is on the throne?”

She raised her fan as if to hide a blush. “It is you who are distant, sire,” she murmured.  For a moment she sounded almost flirtatious, but then she said, “Naturally, I shall remain close to Norihito until he is old enough to be on his own.  I love my son and will do my duty as his mother.”

It was simply said, and he liked her for it, but the moment’s coyness in her manner had made him curious.  He decided to test the waters.  “But you are here now,” he said suggestively, taking her hand.

Her eyes flew to his.  “Now?”

Had that been shock, dismay, or — dared he hope — lust?

He laughed lightly and caressed her hand.  “Not here and not now, my dear.  We might be surprised.  Though surely it is customary between a man and his wife.”  He noted with satisfaction the slight flush on her skin where the white paste did not cover it completely and felt a certain warmth himself.

She bowed, her eyes lowered.  “Of course, sire.  As you wish.”

*

Late that night he went to his Consort’s quarters.  He walked so softly that he startled one of her women who sat up with a little cry, then recognized him in the light of his lantern and scurried away with a warning whisper to the others.  He approached the curtained dais and set down his light.  All was silent and dark inside.  Behind him, the attendants left with a soft rustling of their gowns.  Taking off his outer robe and slippers, he lifted the draperies and ducked inside.

Shigeko lay under a mound of silken covers.  When he knelt and felt for her, she started up.

“Sssh,” he said, unnecessarily.  Her women would not dare to spy on their love-making.

Shigeko made room for him, and he busied himself with peeling back her gown.  Apparently she had expected him; she wore only a thin gauze under gown.  The lamp outside the silk drapes cast a soft and diffuse light over her breasts.  Her lips were slightly open, her eyes closed.  He touched the firm curves of her body, fuller now that she had borne children and familiar to his hands in the near darkness. He murmured an endearment, and she sighed, then gasped at a caress.  He was pleased with this and his own response.  The duty visit would be accomplished pleasantly enough.  He reminded himself that intercourse was healthy, that the woman’s body was a source of the essential life force, and that he had abstained too long.