Authors: I. J. Parker
Tags: #Thrillers, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Historical, #Fiction
The priest raised both hands in refusal. “No.” He smiled a little and said, “I have met your lady and saw that she is with child. When you become downcast again over what cannot be changed, remember: To have her is like having the sun and the moon in your sleeve and holding the universe in your hand. You will need to think of that often in the future.”
Barefoot and bare-headed, his lean black frame covered by the rough hemp and skins, the
yamabushi
bowed with a nobleman’s grace and softly padded out of the room.
Akitada sank down on his pillow still holding the box. Weariness overwhelmed him, and he looked toward the bedding Tamako had spread for him in the corner. The blankets looked strangely tangled and lumpy. He put the game down and went to investigate.
When he peeled back the layers of quilted silk, he uncovered two soft brushes of glossy black hair, each tied with red silk cord, and a small boy’s rosy cheek and silken lashes. Toneo was fast asleep, his round childish hand curled about Akitada’s flute.
He covered the child again, and looked about the room. Where was he to sleep? Then his eyes fell on the game.
When he slipped into Tamako’s room, she was huddled under the bedding. But he knew she was awake and sighed. She sat bolt upright, looking at him, her eyes large and tragic in the light of his candle.
“Tamako?” His voice encompassed all his grief, and guilt, and pain, and utter, utter weariness.
Wordlessly she reached out to him, the paleness of her skin touched by the golden candlelight—and he went into her arms.