Island of Exiles (46 page)

Akitada snapped, “Well, he could receive a reprimand and warning. Or he could be arrested and tried and sent to jail. Or he could be sent back to the capital as unsuitable. I gather you took none of these options. Wada was working for Kumo when he waylaid me. He had me beaten half to death by his constables, and when Kumo interfered he took me to a gold mine where I was left to die.”

The two men stared at him.

“A gold mine?” asked Mutobe.

“My mistake. I meant to say silver mine.”

“Terrible,” cried Yamada. “My dear Taketsuna, I wish I had known. Oh, dear! Forgive me. Lord Sugawara, I mean. You will have to do something about that man, Governor.” Mutobe stiffened his back. “Certainly. I will have him arrested immediately. I had no idea. Up until now there were just a few concerns about his rough treatment of criminals and vagrants or prostitutes. . . .” Seeing Akitada’s expression, he flushed again. “Well. I tried to discipline him, but Kumo stepped in to stop me. Then this business with Toshito happened.” He faltered miserably. An uncomfortable silence fell.

Mutobe asked diffidently, “I trust we can settle my son’s affairs once and for all now, my lord? It was suicide, not murder?” Akitada did not think much of the way Mutobe had carried out his duties, but there were extenuating circumstances. At least now that his son’s name would be cleared, the man should have the time to tend to business, and Akitada needed his cooperation. He started to explain Okisada’s death when he had second thoughts.

From what everyone had said about
fugu
poison, such a death was painful. Would a spoiled prince like Okisada really choose this method to end his life? Especially when his reason was to avoid the pain of a stomach disorder? How ill had Okisada really been? He had been well enough to travel and attend the gathering at Professor Sakamoto’s house. And had not his fellow conspirators, with the exception of the alcoholic professor, been rather complacent about his death and the failure of their enterprise? Only the professor had been truly upset. And perhaps Shunsei. The monk’s faith in his beloved’s achieving Buddhahood might have overcome his grief. But Kumo, Taira, and the physician had only been concerned with getting young Mutobe convicted.

And then there were Kumo’s strange final words. Something about making a sacrifice for his emperor.

Mutobe cleared his throat. “May I ask, my lord, what it is that you found out?”

Akitada was spared an answer. From outside came the sound of voices, and then the door flew open and revealed one of Mutobe’s men trying to bar Tora’s way.

“Let him in!” Akitada snapped.

Mutobe gave him a reproachful glance and nodded to his guard. The small incident reminded Akitada of his awkward position. He no longer had his imperial orders and had to depend on Mutobe’s cooperation.

Tora looked slightly shaken. He bowed to them, then addressed Akitada. “I went back for Turtle and that swine Wada.” Akitada nodded. “I hope you tied up Wada. He is under arrest.”

Tora shook his head. “He’s dead, sir.” Akitada gave him a sharp look. “How?” Tora hesitated. “Er, it wasn’t me, sir. I found him dead when I got there, sir. Turtle claims the soldiers did it.”

“Nonsense! We would have seen them stop. Kumo was in such a hurry to catch up with us that he did not bother to slow down.” Akitada frowned. And that was strange. Wada must have been dead already or unconscious, or he would surely have cried out to Kumo. Getting to his feet, he said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. I think I’ll have a word with my lieutenant’s servant.

Come, Tora.”

Outside, he found a grinning and whistling Turtle holding the reins of the three horses. One of them had the corpse of Wada slung over its saddle. Blood dripped slowly into the dust. Akitada lifted the dead man’s head and saw that his throat had been slit. It did not look like a sword wound, and his eyes went to the servant’s waist. There was a bulge under his jacket.

“Show me your knife!” he ordered.

The smug expression on the small cripple’s face changed to unease. After a moment, he reached into his jacket and produced a small, sharp knife.

Akitada inspected it. The blade was clean, but traces of blood still clung to the joint between blade and hilt. “Did he give you trouble?” he asked mildly, gesturing toward the corpse.

A nod and a small cringing wiggle were his answer.

“You thought he might alert the soldiers?” Akitada was rewarded with a more energetic nod and a tentative grin.

“That took courage. The soldiers might have caught you.” Turtle cried, “I was quick, your honor. He was sitting up and looking at the soldiers coming toward us. I could tell he was glad to see them. I pulled my knife and reached around him like so.” He gestured vividly. “Then I jumped behind a bush like my master told me to.” Turtle straightened his shoulders proudly and gave Tora a wide smile. When Tora remained impassive, Turtle turned back to Akitada. “I did right, didn’t I, your honor?”

“You did right.” Akitada returned the knife. “Put Wada with the other corpses, Tora. I’m glad your servant spared you the trouble.”

Tora growled. “He deprived me of the satisfaction. The bastard should’ve died before he was born.” And with that peculiar logic, Tora slung the corpse of Wada, once the most feared man on Sadoshima, over his shoulder and walked away.

Akitada looked after him with affection and then retraced his steps to the passage where he had fought Kumo. The body was gone, though large bloodstains still marked where it and the other slain men had lain. How quickly it had been over! All those weeks in the mine he had thought of what he would say and do to Kumo when they finally met face to face. It had turned out very differently. They had exchanged few words, and those had been mostly Kumo’s, accusing Akitada of bloodlust.

He knew now that Kumo had been wrong, that a man may feel a certain exhilaration in fighting for his life or for a righteous cause, but that he would never kill for mere pleasure.

Surely Kumo must have known that he might die. He had simply not been a sword fighter. Akitada did not pride himself on special expertise and he had been exhausted, yet he had known immediately and with astonishing disappointment that the man was not much of an adversary. Kumo had talked about sacrifice and bowed with great reverence-as if he were about to carry out a sacred duty. Strange! The puzzle nagged at him.

Akitada went where Kumo had stood. As he recalled, the man had turned slightly toward his right. All that could be seen in that direction were two of the farm buildings and between them a narrow slice of the sparkling bay. No temple. No small shrine. No flying banners. Just a bit of water with a few fishing boats, some gulls, and that ship at anchor.

It was odd that there should be such a large ship outside a fishing harbor. What was it doing here? Why was it not at Mano?

He walked back up to the highway and looked across the houses of this small town. There was nothing of any significance on the waterfront. All the more substantial buildings-a temple and a few large farms like this one-were on higher ground. He shook his head in confusion and decided that he did not want to talk to Mutobe yet, not until he settled some of his uncertainties, some of the niggling suspicions in the back of his mind. And so he started walking along the road.

Something about the way Okisada had died still dissatisfied him. Shunsei had told him that Okisada habitually consumed
fugu
and had done so the night of the dinner because he had claimed to get relief from his constant pain by eating a small amount of the poison. It was Shunsei’s testimony which had convinced Akitada that the prince had died by his own hand.

Sakamoto had also thought that Okisada poisoned himself and that he had done so in order to throw suspicion on Toshito.

But Sakamoto had not been in the others’ confidence. No, Akitada was convinced the true conspirators were Kumo, Taira, and Nakatomi.

According to Haru, the expert in matters pertaining both to
fugu
and to men, the poison could make a man feel as though he had entered heaven and give him back his sexual strength. What was more likely than that the self-indulgent Okisada had also become an expert in those properties of the
fugu
poison? Would such a man kill himself with it, intentionally or accidentally?

Akitada became transfixed in the middle of the roadway, much to the consternation of a group of peasants who had to pass him in order to visit the site of the battle. They eyed him with fear, this bearded, gaunt creature in silk robe and trousers but with bare feet and a scowl on his face. Wondering perhaps if he was some supernatural creature, they kept to the shoulder of the road, bobbing deep bows as they edged past him.

Akitada had been seized by an awful suspicion. He swung around suddenly to look past the peasants to the ship in the harbor and cried, “Hah, they think they have been clever, the scoundrels. But by heaven, they shall not get away with it!” The peasants squawked and took off running.

Akitada walked back to the farmhouse, turning matters over in his mind before speaking to Mutobe. Nakatomi’s role had been crucial. And Taira had had a very good reason to refuse visitors at the manor. But he could not make out Shunsei. The monk had seemed too simpleminded for such an enormous deception. Amazingly, the clever plot had almost worked.

And then another thought came. Kumo and his men had worn their finest armor and ridden silk-trimmed horses. Their bows and arrows had been purely ceremonial. They had never been meant to be used in combat. Kumo was not chasing a couple of convicts, even if one of them was an imperial official. He had come here to serve “his” emperor and had only attacked because Akitada got in his way. That was why Kumo had faced battle with Akitada, claiming that he was sacrificing his Buddhahood for his emperor. He had been willing to kill Akitada even though that would prevent his salvation.

Whatever the true state of affairs, no time was to be lost.

Mutobe must board the ship immediately. They must search the town. Akitada glanced again at the substantial roofs of the temple. That was where he would start.

Full of purpose again, he strode into the farmhouse and confronted the others with his suspicions.

“You cannot be serious!” gasped the governor, turning pale.

“But how is this possible? And after all that time!” He rose and paced. “What will I do if it is as you say? How can I arrest him?

What do I charge him with? I have no such authority. And you have lost your documents.” He stopped and stared accusingly at Akitada. “What will we do? This is a very delicate matter.”

“Delicate?” Mutobe’s continuing self-interest appalled Akitada. Did the man not know that there were duties he could not shirk? It was obvious that he could not expect much help from the man. But Mutobe was quite right about one thing.

Without his papers, Akitada had no authority whatsoever and was dependent on Mutobe’s support. He took a deep breath. A shouting match would solve nothing. “It seems the ship in the harbor is a pirate craft. If you will board it and arrest the captain and crew, I will do the rest. I will need a few of your men. Please instruct them to obey Tora’s commands.”

Mutobe nodded reluctantly. “You will take the responsibility, then?”

“Yes.”

Mutobe still looked unhappy, but he agreed. “Very well. Let us go and get it over with.”

Akitada took eight of the soldiers and Mutobe the rest.

Then they set off, Mutobe with his banner carried before him, Akitada without such marks of authority, though he pushed Kumo’s gilded sword through the silken sash of Mutobe’s spare robe, and smoothed his hair a little. Tora put on a little show of snapping commands at his troops, and they were off, followed by a gaggle of curious peasants.

The temple was a very modest one. It had no pagoda and only one main hall and some low buildings to house the local priest and visiting monks. An old man was sweeping the courtyard, but otherwise the scene was peaceful. Doubts began to stir in Akitada’s mind. How Toshito would mock if it turned out that Akitada was wrong again. And he could offer nothing but a far-fetched argument based on a fishwife’s tale! Sending a detailed report about Akitada’s activities to the emperor would be the perfect revenge for the governor’s son.

The old man stopped his sweeping, stared at them, then bowed. Perhaps he thought they were expected. Akitada took it for a hopeful sign. He made straight for the hall and took the stairs to the double doors, Tora and the soldiers at his heels. Throwing wide the doors on empty space, he shouted, “Is anyone here?”

The light was dim inside. Across from him was a long dais, and on the dais rested a Buddha figure. Behind the statue a lath screen extended across the hall. Lights flickered beyond and a shadow moved behind the screen.

His heart pounding, Akitada quickly crossed the hall and passed around the end of the screen. Here grass mats had been spread and more screens placed to create a series of smaller chambers. The first of these was empty, though a candle burned in a tall holder. Two silken cushions still held imprints.

Akitada flung aside a flimsy screen, saw that the next enclosure was also empty, and rushed across it to tear aside the final screen.

Two old men huddled in the center of this room, their arms about each other and their eyes looking fearfully his way. Tora and the soldiers quickly surrounded them.

One of the two was Taira of the snow-white hair and beetling black eyebrows.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he quavered, hugging the other man to him.

Akitada’s eyes were on his companion. At first glance this man had appeared as senile as Taira, but Akitada now saw that he was only slightly past middle age. He looked much older because his skull was shaven, he was fat, and he had the unhealthy pallor of a sick person. He had changed greatly with the years, but there was no doubt in Akitada’s mind that this was Okisada, the Second Prince, formerly crown prince and heir to the imperial throne. Not dead, but very much alive.