The Fires of the Gods by I. J. Parker

returned home – to hear a monk chanting. Monks were generally called only if someone was seriously ill or near death. Akitada rushed into the house and burst into his study, where Seimei was bent over paperwork.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ he gasped.
    Seimei looked up. ‘Nothing. When the pains started, Her Ladyship thought it was time. She sent for the doctor, but the pains subsided again. The doctor left a draught for her fever.’ Seimei shook his head. ‘Some unusual concoction. I could not find anything about it in my herbals. I hope the man knows what he is doing.’
    Fear had drenched Akitada in cold perspiration. He loosened his collar. ‘But how is she now? Never mind. I’ll go see for myself.’ He turned on his heel and dashed off, bursting into Tamako’s room without announcing himself. His wife was resting on her bedding with a picture scroll open beside her. The monk’s chanting was so loud that he must be sitting outside her lowered shades. ‘I heard you were unwell,’ Akitada shouted. He was relieved that all seemed normal, but was becoming angry with himself for his unwarranted panic.
    Tamako rolled up the picture scroll. ‘It was nothing. I was a little feverish, and there were some pains, but they stopped. I’m very sorry to disappoint you.’
    Weak with relief, Akitada sat down abruptly and brushed the film of moisture from his face. ‘I was afraid,’ he said. ‘The chanting and the doctor… I suppose I… I keep rememberinglast year.’ He heaved a deep breath to steady himself. ‘Never mind. All is well? The pains are gone? You’re feeling quite… all right?’
    She smiled a little and nodded. ‘Poor Akitada. This is harder for you than for me. Be patient. The child will be born, and the gods will protect it.’
    They had to raise their voices.
    ‘Yes… but must we have the monk? It’s impossible to talk with that howling going on.’ He glared at the shades.
    She hesitated. ‘They won’t like it if we send him back so quickly.’
    He recalled that it was customary to have the sutras chanted to protect mother and child during birth, but they had not done so in Echigo when Yori was born because the heavy snows had prevented it. Akitada had experienced chanting only for the deaths that had occurred in his family. He shuddered. ‘If it makes you feel better, let him stay,’ he decided.
    She reached for his hand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Let him go. He makes me nervous, too.’
    Back in his study, Seimei waited with his house robe.
    ‘How much is in the money box?’ Akitada asked, taking off his robe and untying his full silk trousers.
    ‘Apart from Tora’s gold, fifteen pieces of gold, about thirty of silver, and twenty strings of copper cash.’
    So little.
    ‘Tell the monk he’s not needed quite yet and give him what you think is adequate for his work.’
    ‘Very well. But perhaps we should speak to a yin-yang master, sir. To cast the child’s fortune and to perform proper purification rites.’
    Akitada stared at the old man, appalled. ‘Another expense? Purification rites? Next you’ll suggest we build a birthing hut out in the garden so the house won’t become polluted.’
    Seimei did not look at him. ‘Such things are customary, sir. The empresses leave the palace when their time comes. The gods are offended by pollution.’
    ‘I’m not the emperor,’ thundered Akitada. ‘I simply cannot afford all that expense. Besides, I can’t imagine that Tamako would be more comfortable in a hut.’
    Seimei folded his hands in his sleeves and raised his chin. ‘It is meant to protect your lady’s life and that of the child, sir. Weshould also have someone twanging a bowstring to drive the evil spirits away.’ He paused a moment. ‘And a medium to pray to the gods.’
    ‘Are you mad?’ Seimei knew very well his master’s aversion to anything that smacked of superstition.
    Seimei fidgeted a moment, then said softly, ‘Better to lean on a stick than to fall down.’
    That