Black Arrow

by I. J. Parker

  Hitomaro sincerely hoped so. “I could never compare myself to a great mind like yours,” he said. “Indeed, I feel that I am in the presence of an intellect like that of... of Master Confucius. In your presence I am ashamed of my lack of education. I managed to qualify for the imperial university in the capital, but family matters prevented my going. Now the best I can hope for is to become a tutor to merchants’ sons.”

  A brief silence fell. Hisamatsu continued to stare at him. “You qualified for the imperial university, you say?” he finally asked. “And you are looking for work?”

  Hitomaro bowed humbly.

  “People become rather touchingly dependent on someone like me,” Hisamatsu said. “It pleases me to help them better their lot in life. Perhaps you could assist me. Mind you, I expect complete loyalty, and no doubt you have much to learn.” He sighed. “But I suppose we must expect to train our future officials.”

  Hitomaro expressed himself overwhelmed with gratitude and then pointed to the books on the shelves. “Is that a complete set of the Chinese masters, I see?” he asked. “I’m afraid, Excellency, my Chinese is not fluent.”

  Hisamatsu waved the objection away with a pudgy hand. “Never mind that. I don’t bother with Chinese. The locals are not able to grasp it. Those are translations.”

  “In that case, how soon may I start? I hope with your guidance ...”

  Hisamatsu interrupted, “I am a very busy man. But come tomorrow anyway. No sense in wasting time.” He looked at the door.

  Recognizing dismissal, Hitomaro made several deep bows and murmured, “Thank you, Excellency. I am most grateful for the opportunity,” as he backed out of the room.

  He almost fell over the old man crouching in the dark hallway.

  “I’m leaving,” he told the servant, unnecessarily since he had clearly been eavesdropping.

  The servant scowled. “Your horse is in the stable. Get it yourself. Do you think I have nothing better to do than wait on every fellow who calls?”

  “I suppose,” Hitomaro said, “your master has many visitors since he has become such an important person.”

  “Pah,” said the old man.

  “Looking after all those important guests must be a chore for an elderly person like yourself. I assume they stay here? Perhaps even families with children?”

  “Are you mad? He hates children, and nobody stays here. What is it to you?”

  “I am to be his assistant.”

  The old man made a sound that might have been a grunt or another “pah” and shuffled off down a dark hallway.

  ♦

  By this time, dusk had fallen. Hitomaro got on his horse and glanced back at the villa huddling under the bare willows. No sane man would conceive of the scheme Hisamatsu had proposed. Merely mentioning such matters was high treason. But here in the north, so close to the barbarians, many things were not as they should be. Hitomaro debated for a moment whether to return to the tribunal to make his report. But he had another promise to keep, and there was no longer any urgency. Toneo was certainly not hidden in Hisamatsu’s house. The ill-tempered servant would have complained, had he been asked to look after a small boy. On the other hand, there might be other secrets, secrets connected with the mutilated corpse. How fortunate that the mad judge had offered him a job. All in all, it had been a very productive day, and Hitomaro felt he had earned a night of pleasure.

  Spurring his horse, he hummed, “Ofumi, my love, loosen your sash and soothe my troubled heart.”

  The sharp-nosed woman—he knew by now her name was Mrs. Omeya and that she claimed to be a respectable lute teacher, though, in fact, she was a procuress who purchased the services of young women by paying money to their parents— opened to his knock and helped him off with his wet straw cape and boots.

  “You are later than usual, Lieutenant,” she gushed. “The pretty flower is waiting anxiously.” She accepted her usual fee, gave him a coy wink, and led him to the customary room, closing the sliding doors after him.

  After the cold and stormy darkness outside, the room embraced him with perfumed warmth, soft light, and the gentle chords of music. He stood for a moment and drank in the scene, feeling, as always, the hot blood starting to pound in his temples and groin.

  Silken bedding had been spread on the mats. Ofumi reclined on it, idly moving an ivory plectrum over the strings of a lute. She wore only the thinnest white silk robe, and her thick, long hair fell over her shoulders, framing her beautiful face.

  Her resemblance to his late wife always moved him profoundly. Lost in the momentary memory of the dead past, he whispered, “Mitsuko,” then winced at the jarring sound from the lute.

  She sat up, her beautiful face angry. “I have told you not to call me that.” Her loose robe had slipped, revealing pink-tipped breasts and a softly rounded belly. Hitomaro’s eyes greedily searched lower, but she snatched at the silk and covered herself.

  He was instantly contrite. Falling to his knees beside her, he begged, “Forgive me, my beloved. Your beauty has bewitched me until I no longer know who or where I am.”

  “Tell me that I am more beautiful than that dead wife of yours,” she demanded.

  His heart rebelled, but his eyes wandered over her body, lingering where warm skin shimmered through the silk. “You are more beautiful than any woman living or dead,” he murmured, lightly touching a breast and then cupping it in his hand.

  She shuddered and moved away. “How cold your hands are. Where have you been?”

  His eyes fell on the lute. Even to his inexperienced eye this was a rare instrument. It was made of sandalwood and the front and back of the oval body were covered with an intricate floral design of inlaid amber, mother-of-pearl, and tortoiseshell. Such an instrument was worth a fortune. The bitter bile of jealousy rose in his throat. She had another lover.

  “Who gave you this?” he asked hoarsely.

  “The lute? Oh, I borrowed it. Isn’t it beautiful? An antique dealer saw me admiring it and let me try it out. When I told him how much I liked it, he insisted I take it home for a while. He said a beautiful lute must feel the touch of a beautiful woman to stay in tune. Wasn’t that charming?” She smiled up at him. “Will you buy it for me, Hito?”

  “Anything, my beloved.” Hitomaro reached for her again.

  “No, Hito! Your hands are like ice. I asked you where you have been.”

  “An assignment outside the city. The wind is very cold.” He held his hands over the brazier of glowing coals and rubbed them briskly.

  “Outside the city? Where?”

  “The judge’s place.”

  She cried, “You went to see Hisamatsu? Why?” Seeing his surprise, she added, “Surely a judge is beyond reproach.”

  Hitomaro saw a flask of warm wine and two cups, and went to pour himself some with the idea of speeding up the warming process. “Not this one. He hired our former sergeant, a thorough scoundrel if ever there was one. I was sent to check him out, and what do you think I found? His honor is plotting some mad scheme of rebellion against the emperor.”

  She stared. “You must be joking. Hisamatsu is a bit eccentric. Better not take it seriously or you’ll look a fine fool.” She held her breath, but when Hitomaro chuckled, she changed the subject. “There was some rumor about a murder in the market.”

  Hitomaro disrobed, folding his clothes neatly. “A merchant killed a vagrant. He claims the man attacked him. I had to let him go.”

  “What will happen in court tomorrow?” she asked as he stretched out beside her.

  “Oh, I expect...”—he brushed back her hair, revealing a dainty ear and a soft white neck, and kissed both—”I expect his Excellency will announce the findings of this murder and report on the other pending cases.” He bent to breathe in the warm scent of her body, caressing her neck and shoulder with his lips.

  She purred softly and turned toward him. Nuzzling his ear, she murmured, “What other cases?” Her fingers traced a design on his bare chest. “Is there new evi
dence? Will he pronounce any sentences?”

  “Ofumi!” Hitomaro drew back. “What is the matter with you? Why all the questions? You know I come here to forget my work, and you want to do nothing but talk.”

  “Oh.” She pouted. “How rude you are! You men are all the same. You only want to use our bodies. You care nothing for us as persons. I was trying to show you that I take an interest in what you do and that I think about you all day long.” Her soft lower lip quivered and tears gathered in her eyes. “To you I am just another whore,” she sobbed.

  “No. Oh, no.” Hitomaro flushed with contrition. “Please don’t cry. You know how deeply I care for you. I want you to marry me, Ofumi.”

  “Truly? Oh, Hito! If only it were possible! If only we could be together day and night! All our lives! It would be paradise.” She gave him a melting look, then turned away with a little sob. “It will never be. Too much money is owed to Mrs. Omeya. You said you did not have enough to buy me out.”

  He reached for her with a soft laugh and pulled her into his arms. “I have a surprise, little one. See!” Reaching into his bundle of clothes, he extracted the small package. “Take it! There is enough to buy your freedom.”

  She lifted the package. “It is small.”

  “I changed the silver bars into gold. Now will you marry me?”

  She unwrapped the gold and sat looking at it with a rapt expression.

  “Well?”

  “Oh, Hito,” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “You are the most generous, the kindest, the strongest of men.”

  Her arms slid over his muscular shoulders and her fingers moved lightly across his chest and down to his loin cloth. Hitomaro drew a shuddering breath.

  She smiled up at him, her pink tongue slowly licking her lips. Her practiced hands undid the cloth and, shaking with desire, Hitomaro pushed aside the folds of her robe. She sank back into the silken quilts and parted her thighs.

  * * * *

  THIRTEEN

  RAISING THE DEAD

  S

  oon after Hitomaro left to visit Judge Hisamatsu, Akitada walked across the tribunal compound to the jail. He had explored in vain every conceivable step he could take to locate the boy without endangering the child’s life. If Toneo knew something about his grandfather’s murder, any further attempt to locate him might bring about his death.

  If, indeed, Toneo was still alive.

  Akitada was convinced by now that the answer to the servant’s murder must lie in the master’s death. And that made the demise of the late Lord of Takata suspicious.

  Ducking through an icy blast of air which whipped the skirts of his quilted robe about his legs, he pushed open the door to the jail.

  Five men sat around a large brazier on the dirt floor of the main room. Kaoru, his new sergeant of constables, and Dr. Oyoshi were bent over the black and white playing pieces on a go board, while the prisoners Takagi, Okano, and Umehara watched.

  Seeing the three prisoners reminded Akitada that he had made no progress in the case of the innkeeper’s murder. He was convinced of their innocence but could not let them go until he arrested the real killer, or at least had a notion of what had happened at the inn that day. Meanwhile Sato’s widow was agitating against him. He consoled himself with the thought that getting to the bottom of the conspiracy would more than likely clear up the Sato case also, and both Genba and Hitomaro were working on that.

  “Excellency!” Kaoru jumped up and stood to attention. The three prisoners knelt, their heads touching the floor.

  “A very pleasant day,” Oyoshi said, inclining his head. “Outside the wind howls, but here we are warm and at peace. Will you join us, Excellency?”

  “Thank you.” Akitada lowered himself to one of the thin straw mats and held his hands toward the brazier. “Please be seated again. I must move my office here. It is as drafty as a hermit’s cave.”

  Kaoru chuckled. “I doubt that, sir. Those caves are actually quite comfortable. Rock keeps out the cold much better than wood and paper. Can I pour you a cup of wine?”

  “No, thank you, Sergeant. You seem to know something about such religious retreats. I remember hearing in the capital about extraordinary feats of self-discipline. For example, yamabushi are said to stand for hours under icy waterfalls in the middle of winter. Is there any truth to such tales?”

  Kaoru looked uncomfortable. “It has been known to happen. Would your Excellency like to inspect the cells? We have a new prisoner.”

  “Ah, yes. The fishmonger Goto.” Akitada glanced at Takagi, Umehara, and Okano, who were watching him nervously, and wondered why they had special privileges but decided not to ask. Instead he said, “No, Sergeant. I came to speak with the doctor, but will have a word with you also before I leave. I have an assignment for you.”

  Kaoru bowed and turned to the three prisoners. “Come, you fellows. To the kitchen with you. It’s time to start the evening rice.”

  The three odd characters brightened instantly and jumped up to scramble after Kaoru.

  Oyoshi chuckled. “Umehara makes a superb fish stew with cabbage and Okano has his mother’s touch when it comes to tofu. It melts on your tongue. Takagi keeps the fire going.”

  Akitada hid his astonishment. “I see. They look well and contented. I had not expected such a change.”

  “No?” Oyoshi regarded him with a twinkle in his eyes. “You thought they were languishing in chains in freezing cells and blamed yourself for not having proved their innocence yet? Do not worry. Your new sergeant is a kind man, and I, too, am grateful. I know of no better place to relax and share an occasional meal.”

  Akitada smiled, but he disliked having his mind read so easily. “Have you had a look at the body from the market?”

  Oyoshi nodded. “You keep your coroner busy. The person, a male about thirty years old, was healthy except for numerous old flogging scars on his back and legs.”

  “I am told he was a small-time crook called Koichi. He has been arrested for assorted crimes and usually punished with the customary number of lashes.”

  “I see. The calluses on his hands and shoulders suggest that he may have worked as a porter.”

  “You are right again. When he was not robbing people, that is. What about the cause of death?”

  Oyoshi placed a finger on the left side of his chest. “A single stab wound here. Lieutenant Hitomaro showed me a silver-hilted knife. The blade is consistent with the wound. I understand Sunada did it in self-defense?”

  “So he claims.”

  Oyoshi pondered this, then asked, “Any news about the boy?”

  “No. I meant to speak to you about something else. Yesterday, in Lord Maro’s room, you asked Kaibara about the old lord’s symptoms before he died. Why?”

  Oyoshi met Akitada’s eyes and looked away. “Just professional curiosity,” he said blandly. “Why?”

  “I have an extraordinary favor to ask of you. You may wish to decline. I want you to accompany me to Takata after dark. The trip is likely to be uncomfortable in this weather, but there is another reason why you may decide to refuse.” He hesitated. “You will need your instruments.”

  The older man tensed. “An unpleasant business involving sacrilege, I take it? I am at your service.”

  Akitada released his breath. “Thank you.”

  A door slammed and firm footsteps brought Kaoru back. “Will you stay for the evening meal, Doctor?” he asked. “A soup of rice, red beans, vegetables, and eggs, I’m told. Umehara says it’s a specialty of the mountain villages in Shimosa province.” He gave Akitada an uncertain look. “Perhaps your Excellency would also like to sample it?”

  Akitada was hungry. “Thank you, Sergeant. Soup sounds excellent in this weather. I accept with gratitude.”

  “Oh.” Kaoru looked both pleased and embarrassed. “It will take another hour or two. Will you eat here or . .. ?”

  “Here. It’s warmer. I will come back and tell you about your assignment. I’m afraid it will mean
riding back to your village tonight to make an arrest.”

  Kaoru stiffened. “Sir?”

  Akitada sighed, then said, “I am aware that your people have given shelter to fugitives and I do not approve. Still I am willing to overlook the matter for now, but this particular man has committed another crime against your people since you took him in, and his testimony is needed in tomorrow’s hearing. Can I rely on you in this?”

  Kaoru bowed. “I know the man, sir, and he shall be here.”

  ♦

  The darkness in the woods was so dense that the three men rode close together, trusting to the sure-footedness of Oyoshi’s donkey to keep them on the narrow path. It was not safe to light lanterns, for even though the woods offered cover, there was always the chance that someone might be looking out across the landscape from the galleries, as Akitada had done on his first, ill-omened visit to the manor.