by I. J. Parker
Akitada had already expressed his condolences to Makio before lending his official presence to the ceremony. He was not expected to attend the burial, but out of respect he could not rush off before the mourners.
He stood near the corner of the great temple hall and watched the milling crowd. A spirited black horse was led forward and Makio climbed onto its back—not without some difficulties, Akitada noted with secret satisfaction. It took three men to control the beast and lead it to its proper place in the line.
Someone tugged at his sleeve.
It was the small boy. He asked, “Is it true that you are the governor?”
“Yes. What can I do for you?”
“Will you help me find Grandfather?”
For a moment Akitada was confused. His heart contracted and he looked at the coffin which had been placed inside an elaborate palanquin and was being hoisted onto the shoulders of strong bearers. “Your grandfather?” he asked uncertainly.
“Grandfather did not come back from Lord Maro’s room the night the great lord died. I looked everywhere and asked everybody. Nobody could tell me. Then Kaibara-san told me Grandfather had gone into the mountains to mourn his master. But Grandfather would have said good-bye to me.”
The boy’s eyes filled with tears and his lip quivered, but he controlled himself well. How old could he be, eight or nine? He looked frail, but his large mourning robe had something to do with that.
“What is your grandfather’s name and position?”
“He’s called Hideo, sir. He served the old lord. Grandfather was the only one to take care of him. Grandfather loved the great lord. He was very sad he was dying, but he would never, never have gone away without me. Please, sir, you must believe me.” A sob escaped the boy.
Akitada bent down to put his arm around the narrow shoulders, but another arm intervened and snatched the boy up. Kaibara.
“Sorry, Excellency,” said the Uesugi steward. “The youngster is a nuisance. I hope he has not troubled you?”
“Not at all, Kaibara. I am very fond of children,” said Akitada with a smile—which slowly faded as he stood looking after them.
♦
Tora and Hitomaro looked surprised to be called to Akitada’s office as soon as he returned from the funeral. Hitomaro’s bruises had darkened, but he seemed otherwise fit again. Akitada had changed from his official court robe into a hunting coat and boots and told them to saddle three horses.
“Where are we going?” Tora asked.
“To Takata. Hurry. There isn’t much time.”
The sun was bright in the cold blue sky, and the earth beneath the horses’ hooves so hard that they made good time. When they approached the stronghold, they caught sight of the tail end of the funeral cortege in the distance as it entered the village below.
“Come,” Akitada called to his lieutenants. “Let’s strike out across the fields. I want to have a look at the back of Uesugi’s place. The woods will be our cover.”
Tora and Hitomaro exchanged glances and felt for their swords.
Once they entered the trees, they had to slow their horses. Here the snow still lay in drifts and obscured pathways and fallen branches. In a short while they were lost.
“We’d better lead the horses, sir,” Hitomaro said. “It’ll be faster and safer.”
Akitada agreed, and they moved forward cautiously, guessing at the direction and looking for a thinning of the trees.
Tora stumbled over a root and cursed. “You’d think there would be some roads or paths through this forest. We must be getting close.”
“I expect in times of war, guards patrolled the area,” Akitada said, “but the province has been peaceful for generations. I hope we don’t come across any tracks.”
This was too much for Tora, who had been bursting with curiosity since they left the city. “Why not? What’s this all about?”
“Patience. Ah, I can see the sky over there. We must be coming out of the forest.”
They emerged on the rugged edge of a deep ravine separating the forest from the steep hillside and saw above them the north side of Takata manor.
“Amida,” breathed Tora. “That’s steep. Only a spider could get up there, and it’d have to learn to fly across this ravine first.”
“Do you see the roof jutting out over there?” Akitada pointed. “That is the north pavilion. I want to get close enough to see if anything has been tossed from the gallery above, but we will stay in the cover of the trees as long as possible.”
Hitomaro said, “I doubt anybody’s looking down. They’ll all be at the interment, sir.”
Akitada looked anxiously at the sky. It was clouding over. “I hope so,” he muttered, “but we have lost too much time in the forest. Come on.”
When they reached the area just below the north pavilion, they saw only heavy, undisturbed mounds of snow in the shade of the steep cliff, and the ravine was even wider here.
“I don’t see a thing,” Tora said. “Do you want us to climb down and find a way up the other side?” He did not sound enthusiastic.
Akitada hesitated, looking up at the sky again and studying the gallery above. There was no sign of movement.
He was just about to call off the search when there was a whirring sound followed by a sudden rush of something white among the trees behind them. They took immediate cover behind their horses, and loosened their swords.
A whistle sounded, and some branches cracked. Then silence.
“We are trapped here,” muttered Akitada. “The ravine is behind us.”
“And swords aren’t much use against arrows,” Hitomaro added. “If I’m not much mistaken, that was an arrow we heard.”
They tried to keep their horses quiet and waited.
Suddenly the shrubbery near them parted and a fierce shaggy animal appeared, its ears laid back, and its nose slowly wrinkling up to reveal ferocious teeth. It growled and crouched. The horses backed nervously.
“A white wolf,” Tora gasped. He drew his sword and fumbled for his amulet. Dropping the reins, he jumped forward.
“No, brother!” cried Hitomaro, snatching at the reins as Tora’s horse reared. “It’s a dog. It’s White Bear.” He called to the dog, then shouted, “Ho, Kaoru!” The dog raised its ears, then looked back over its shoulder.
They heard a shout from the forest, and then a tall young man dressed in furs appeared. He was carrying a longbow and a dead rabbit, and he grinned at Hitomaro. “It’s you again, is it?” Taking in their defensive posture, he chuckled. “I see you were expecting hostilities, but it was just me shooting a rabbit.” He held it up.
“This is Kaoru,” said Hitomaro to Akitada.
Akitada nodded. “Yes, I gathered that. I am Sugawara Akitada, the governor, and this is Tora, my other lieutenant. We are grateful for the assistance you gave Hitomaro.”
Kaoru’s teeth flashed. Tossing back his long hair, he bowed. “It was nothing, Excellency. Are you lost?”
“Not really. I have reason to suspect that something was thrown from that gallery above, but there doesn’t seem to be a way to get to the other side.”
“Some object?” Kaoru stared at Akitada, then looked up at the pavilion. He muttered, “By the Buddha!” then said, “Follow me. I know a path.”
They tied up their horses, leaving Kaoru’s dog to guard them, and climbed down into the ravine. As Akitada picked his way among the loose rubble, he scrutinized the ground, following Kaoru, who had found a rough trail leading up the other side.
Once there, they moved slowly along the foot of the massive rocks, poking at the snow piles with their swords. Kaoru was slightly ahead when he suddenly stopped beside a small mound. Akitada compressed his lips. He joined him and bent to brush away the snow. Clothing appeared, stiffened by frost, and then the snow turned red, and there was a thin, aged hand, made rigid by death and the cold, with frozen blood caking the fingers and palm.
“Amida! A corpse!” gasped Tora. “Wonder how long it’s been there
.”
“Since the night of the banquet,” Akitada said, cleaning more blood-soaked snow away with Kaoru’s help. The body belonged to an old man. His thin white hair was encrusted with ice and blood, as was the face except for patches of skin discolored by purplish-blue bruises. The eyes stared sightlessly at the sky above, and the mouth gaped in a permanent silent scream. His limbs lay at odd angles and the body had twisted unnaturally. A pool of blood had frozen to the earth under the corpse.
“It’s old Hideo,” said Kaoru, bowing his head. “Poor old man. He was the old lord’s personal attendant.”
Tora stared up the looming gallery above them, and said accusingly to Akitada, “You expected to find him, didn’t you? Did he fall or jump?”
“Neither, I suspect, though we cannot be certain it wasn’t an accident.”
Tora frowned. “He could’ve jumped. If he was a faithful servant to the old man all his life, he might want to kill himself after his master died. It would bring honor to his family and makes more sense than an accident. He’s lived here all his life. How could he tumble over that high balustrade?”
Kaoru fidgeted, and Akitada did not answer immediately. He cleaned off the old man’s face with gentle fingers. The skin was broken and puffy about the jaw and cheekbones. And the bruising suggested a systematic beating rather than the sort of haphazard damage done by a fall. Akitada bent to inspect both hands. Bloody crystals had formed around the fingertips. He breathed on a thumb until the ice melted.
“Ah!” he murmured and removed a small sliver from under the fingernail.
“What is it?” Tora leaned forward curiously.
Akitada dabbed at the fragment with a bit of saliva. “Wood.”
“What’s it doing under his nails?” Tora bent closer. “There’s blood under the other fingernails, too. Holy Amida! When I was a soldier, they caught a fellow spying. They drove bamboo slivers under the nails of his fingers and toes to make him talk. You think this poor guy’s been tortured?”
Akitada straightened up, looking puzzled. “Perhaps, but not the way you think. The nails are broken and torn, and so is the skin of his fingers and palms. I believe he was questioned and beaten, but he hurt his hands when he was heaved over the balustrade and tried in vain to grasp at something. I wonder what he knew. And if he talked, and to whom.”
They all stood and stared down at the contorted face of the dead man. There was terror in its expression, but also something else, stubbornness, even a sort of exultation.
“He didn’t talk,” said Hitomaro. “Not this one.” He asked Akitada, “Do you think Makio did this?”
“Who knows? But we must leave him here. This is Uesugi territory. I have no jurisdiction in Takata.”
Hitomaro and Tora protested, and Akitada raised a hand. “Wait. Perhaps there is a way.” He turned to Kaoru, who had remained silent. He looked grim now, and the cheerful smile was gone.
“You knew and liked this man?” Akitada asked him.
Kaoru nodded.
“I believe he was murdered. If you want to see justice done, I will need your help.”
“I want justice. What do you want me to do?”
“You would have to bring the body into the city, ring the bell outside the tribunal to report a crime, and later testify in a court hearing. Think before you agree, because the murderer may be someone close to the Lord of Takata and will almost certainly try to prevent this. He may even turn on your family. And I shall be unable to protect you or them.”
The woodsman met his eyes. “I’m no friend to the Lord of Takata, and a man’s life is useless unless he can be of service to his people.”
“Good,” said Akitada. “I am grateful for your help. But you will need a horse, and we cannot offer you one of ours.”
“I can borrow one.”
Akitada reached into his belt for some silver, but the woodsman held up a hand. “No money is needed among friends.”
Akitada nodded. “Forgive me. Hitomaro tells me that you might be willing to serve as sergeant of constables?”
A strange, almost mocking smile passed over the young man’s face, but he said quite humbly, “I would welcome the opportunity if you think me capable.”
Akitada nodded. “Well, let’s see how you handle your first assignment.” He glanced up at the sky. “We must return now, but you had better start your journey after dark.”
Kaoru bowed, and they parted. When they reached the other side of the ravine, Akitada looked back. The woodcutter had removed his fur vest and was laying it gently over the corpse’s face before covering him again with snow.
When they reached their horses, the white dog wagged its tail, then perked up its ears and dashed off.
“Kaoru must’ve called him,” Hitomaro said. “They say dogs have much finer hearing than men.”
They had put some distance between themselves and Takata when Tora brought his horse up to Akitada’s. “You could’ve told us from the start what we were looking for,” he complained.
“I wasn’t sure myself.”
“But you knew where to look. I bet you knew whose body it was, too.”
“I suspected.”
“Well, it wasn’t fair. Sometimes you ask a lot, sir.”
Akitada felt a pang of guilt. “I am sorry,” he said humbly. “I should have trusted you, Tora.”
“I only mention it because we can help much better if we know what you’re thinking. How did you know we would find the old man at the bottom of that wall?”
“You remember the night of the banquet? I had occasion to leave the company twice to use the convenience. On the first trip I glanced out of the gallery and saw the north pavilion. On my second visit I heard a scream from that direction. A servant heard it, too, but he said it was a wild animal in the woods, so I put it from my mind. Then, today, at Lord Maro’s funeral, a small boy asked me to find his grandfather. He said his grandfather was the old lord’s servant and did not return the night of his master’s death. I could see the boy was sick with worry, but Kaibara, the Uesugi steward, snatched him away before I could ask questions. That was when I remembered the scream and decided to have a look.”
“Poor kid,” said Tora, shaking his head.
“What did you think of Kaoru?” Hitomaro asked, bringing his horse alongside.
“Very capable.” Akitada frowned, then added, “But surely he is a man with secrets.”
“Yes, I noticed that, too,” Tora said. “Let him explain that fine bow! No outcast ever carried a weapon like that. It looks like those the young lords in the capital use for their archery contests. And like Hito said, he talks like one of us. Like he’s been educated.”
Akitada suppressed a smile. “You’re right, Tora. That bow is unquestionably a special one. You’re becoming a very good observer.”
Tora glanced at Hitomaro to see the effect of this, then said importantly, “That’s what made me suspicious, sir. He must be a thief and a liar. We shouldn’t have trusted him.”
“Wait a moment,” cried Hitomaro angrily. “The man saved my life. And as for being a thief, I can tell you he’s much too good at using that bow to have stolen it. He let me try it, but it takes a stronger and better arm than mine to bend it. Kaoru is very modest about his ability as an archer, but he’s superb. He says he was taught by his grandfather when he was just four years old.”
“Don’t argue,” Akitada said. “Remember, we need help badly. It is true that our new friend is not all he pretends to be, but the outcasts are at odds with the Uesugi and he did protect Hitomaro’s life.” Akitada paused as a vague memory crossed his mind. Someone else had said something similar recently. Something about pretending to be someone else, he thought, but he could not recall the details or the speaker.
“Sorry, brother,” Tora apologized. “I tell you what. Let’s wait up for your friend tonight and take him out for a nice late dinner at that good noodle restaurant. Make him feel welcome.”
But Hitomaro said stiffly, “Not toni
ght. I’m busy.”
* * * *
NINE
A CORPSE AT THE
TRIBUNAL GATE
T
here was another, heavier snowfall during the night. Akitada rose later than usual. As they had gone to bed, Tamako had expressed her first fears. She had talked about the bitter winter to come and the birth of their first child. Neither had touched on the dangerous situation in the province. He had lain awake for a long time after she went to sleep beside him. The thought of losing her terrified him far more than any personal danger. He finally slept, but woke late and, though he felt more optimistic, he spent some time considering how he might at least increase her comfort and safety in the tribunal.
