airs of a royal mistress, never letting Iyenari forget that she had once been the late Emperor's favorite and arrogantly telling him to hold his tongue.
Iyenari had had his fill of such reminders. He ceased to remind Yasuko of the past, when she was Ruriko's age and he had arranged the liaison between her and the amorous Emperor, for she remembered too well that the monarch in return had seen to Iyenari's promotion at Court, had rewarded him generously with additional acres to his manor, and lavished many other gifts on him. Yasuko had long looked upon Iyenari's wealth as in part her own, and even after her marriage to Tadamori often came to the Nakamikado to demand whatever she wished.
A misfortune of his own making had returned to plague Iyenari. Lately his palate for pleasure had become dulled. Yasuko, on the other hand, was full of gaiety as an unending stream of visitors came to call on her in the east wing, stayed to play dice-games, burned incense, and practiced on various musical instruments. Even Iyenari's old friend at cockfights deserted him for Yasuko and was now one of her intimates.
Iyenari's mansion, like the fashionable dwellings of other aristocrats, was a spacious building with an east and a west wing. A long, covered gallery, running the entire length of the main house, connected the two wings, from which roofed passages projected at right angles to form the sides of an inner court. Elegant enclosed pavilions at the end of the passages commanded a full view of the court, its miniature landscape of island, lake, and flowing stream.
Yasuko's influence over Ruriko troubled Iyenari, for the young girl was now a complete captive to the older woman's charms and spent all her time in the east wing—some distance from the family apartments on the opposite side of the court. Iyenari ceaselessly cautioned Ruriko not to spend so much time there, warning her that nothing good would come of these visits. But his authority in his own house had collapsed. He ordered the servants to keep a watch on Ruriko, but in vain, for they now went about in fear of Yasuko.
So this was why even the stout-hearted warrior Tadamori had withered in his youth, Iyenari reflected wryly. This was why Tadamori had been called eccentric; and this was the doubtful legacy that the late Emperor had bequeathed him. Iyenari saw his hair turning gray in the brief space of two months, and marveled at Tadamori, who had endured this burden for twenty years.
Ruriko had spent another night in the east wing, and Iyenari was beside himself this morning with helpless rage. He had just finished arranging some irises in a vase, placed a helmet adorned with wistarias on a helmet-stand, prepared the sweet-flag wine and set out the cups with which to toast the May Festival, and then sent a servant to fetch Ruriko, only to be told that she and Yasuko were in the bathhouse—had been there for some time.
He turned accusingly to his wife and complained: "Now you shall see what happens to her one of these days! We shall have another Yasuko on our hands, mark my words!" But the sight of the azure skies and the brilliant sunlight quickly made him regret his petulance. "Ah, let us forget all this, for today is the Fifth of May!" he exclaimed. "Bring me my court robes; it's about time for me to go," he said, though he rose listlessly as he spoke.
Today was the day of the Kamo races. By now the paddocks were surely boiling over with the surging throngs. Iyenari, as in previous years, was a member of the committee in charge of the festivities following the races. He toyed with the idea of a feigned illness, thought better of it, put on his ceremonial robes, and placed the flower-decked helmet on his head. While his wife secured its cords under his lifted chin, he gave some orders to a servant.
"Bring out the carriage—the new one, mind you!"
The messenger hurried off to the servants' quarters, but soon was back with the
Iyenari had had his fill of such reminders. He ceased to remind Yasuko of the past, when she was Ruriko's age and he had arranged the liaison between her and the amorous Emperor, for she remembered too well that the monarch in return had seen to Iyenari's promotion at Court, had rewarded him generously with additional acres to his manor, and lavished many other gifts on him. Yasuko had long looked upon Iyenari's wealth as in part her own, and even after her marriage to Tadamori often came to the Nakamikado to demand whatever she wished.
A misfortune of his own making had returned to plague Iyenari. Lately his palate for pleasure had become dulled. Yasuko, on the other hand, was full of gaiety as an unending stream of visitors came to call on her in the east wing, stayed to play dice-games, burned incense, and practiced on various musical instruments. Even Iyenari's old friend at cockfights deserted him for Yasuko and was now one of her intimates.
Iyenari's mansion, like the fashionable dwellings of other aristocrats, was a spacious building with an east and a west wing. A long, covered gallery, running the entire length of the main house, connected the two wings, from which roofed passages projected at right angles to form the sides of an inner court. Elegant enclosed pavilions at the end of the passages commanded a full view of the court, its miniature landscape of island, lake, and flowing stream.
Yasuko's influence over Ruriko troubled Iyenari, for the young girl was now a complete captive to the older woman's charms and spent all her time in the east wing—some distance from the family apartments on the opposite side of the court. Iyenari ceaselessly cautioned Ruriko not to spend so much time there, warning her that nothing good would come of these visits. But his authority in his own house had collapsed. He ordered the servants to keep a watch on Ruriko, but in vain, for they now went about in fear of Yasuko.
So this was why even the stout-hearted warrior Tadamori had withered in his youth, Iyenari reflected wryly. This was why Tadamori had been called eccentric; and this was the doubtful legacy that the late Emperor had bequeathed him. Iyenari saw his hair turning gray in the brief space of two months, and marveled at Tadamori, who had endured this burden for twenty years.
Ruriko had spent another night in the east wing, and Iyenari was beside himself this morning with helpless rage. He had just finished arranging some irises in a vase, placed a helmet adorned with wistarias on a helmet-stand, prepared the sweet-flag wine and set out the cups with which to toast the May Festival, and then sent a servant to fetch Ruriko, only to be told that she and Yasuko were in the bathhouse—had been there for some time.
He turned accusingly to his wife and complained: "Now you shall see what happens to her one of these days! We shall have another Yasuko on our hands, mark my words!" But the sight of the azure skies and the brilliant sunlight quickly made him regret his petulance. "Ah, let us forget all this, for today is the Fifth of May!" he exclaimed. "Bring me my court robes; it's about time for me to go," he said, though he rose listlessly as he spoke.
Today was the day of the Kamo races. By now the paddocks were surely boiling over with the surging throngs. Iyenari, as in previous years, was a member of the committee in charge of the festivities following the races. He toyed with the idea of a feigned illness, thought better of it, put on his ceremonial robes, and placed the flower-decked helmet on his head. While his wife secured its cords under his lifted chin, he gave some orders to a servant.
"Bring out the carriage—the new one, mind you!"
The messenger hurried off to the servants' quarters, but soon was back with the
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