The Hell Screen by I. J. Parker Page A

Nagaoka’s wife.
     
    “It was foolish,” he said, when he was done, “to become so angry with Kobe for refusing what I considered a courteous request, but I have become used to being obeyed. No one has spoken to me in that manner for a long time now.” He added with a smile, “It will take some patience before I will become properly humble again.”
     
    Yoshiko did not smile. She was sitting very still. He was dismayed to see her so pale, her eyes large with shock. Cursing himself for frightening her with his gory tale of murder and nightmare, he apologized.
     
    “No, no,” she said, smiling a little tremulously. “It is nothing. But what will happen now? Who will help that poor man? Oh, Akitada, can you not do something? You could use your rank, perhaps. Or get some of your powerful friends to intercede.”
     
    He looked at her in astonishment. “Of course not. My arrogance is not quite that great. Besides, it is by no means clear that the man is innocent.”
     
    “Oh, but he is. He must be. You said yourself that you were not convinced of his guilt.”
     
    Akitada sighed. “Yes, my dear. But that is not the same as believing him innocent. I am not satisfied that he had a motive, and the fact that Nagaoka’s wife was strangled before being hacked about suggests that she was not murdered by a drunken maniac. It is not logical. That is all.”
     
    “Anybody could have done it. What about the husband? He must have been angry with his brother, if he suspected him of being his wife’s lover. Perhaps it was he who killed her and made it look as if his brother had done it. It would be the perfect revenge, wouldn’t it?”
     
    She had spoken fervently, leaning forward a little, her eyes pleading with him to agree, and he was amused. Of course, she was quite right about Nagaoka’s motive, and he told her so. “But,” he said, “my hands are tied. Kobe will not let me speak to his prisoner, and I must do so before I can get any idea of what happened at the temple and of the relationship between the two brothers and Nagaoka’s wife.” He paused, and gave Yoshiko a glance of concern. “Are you quite well? You look a little feverish. Perhaps we had better not talk about the matter anymore. Do you think I should go to see Mother?”
     
    His sister looked down at her hands and took a moment to calm herself. “Perhaps tomorrow. I am afraid that she may excite herself too much and bring up more blood.”
     
    Akitada nodded. No doubt Yoshiko thought the sight of him would be so abhorrent to his mother that it might hasten her death. “I think I shall read a little,” he said, and watched his sister rise and leave without another word.
     
    He spent the rest of the day depressed by his inability to cope with the assorted miseries he had found on his return. His mother’s hatred for him, even in her present condition, was sufficiently demoralizing, but then there was the matter of Toshikage, potentially dangerous not only to Toshikage but also to Akiko and their unborn child. Yoshiko’s unhappiness and his own pending report to the great men who held his future and that of his people in their hands also weighed heavily on his mind.
     
    He missed his wife and son. Tamako and Yori, short for Yorinaga, had been his whole life until now. He hoped they were safe. Yori was only three, and by no means safe from the many illnesses which could strike young children so quickly and often fatally. And they might encounter highwaymen. He reminded himself that Tora and Genba rode with them and were both strong and experienced fighters. Besides, there were the bearers and some hired horsemen. Seimei, Akitada’s secretary, was too old, of course, to be much use against robbers, but his wisdom would keep them well advised. Still...
     
    Akitada eventually went to bed. He spent a restless night, tossing and turning as he revolved all his troubles in his mind. Outside, the monks’ droning chants continued their unabated