The Convict's Sword (16 page)

The coroner came forward next and spoke of the multiple stab wounds and of the slashed palms of the victim, suggesting that she had attempted to defend herself against her assailant. He also testified that the body had shown evidence of recent sexual intercourse. The nun put her face into her hands.

Even Masakane looked shocked at the coroner’s report. He wanted to know if the dead woman had been raped, but the coroner could not confirm this. The crowd muttered angrily—or perhaps salaciously.

Tora was kneeling, hunched into himself, but Akitada saw that his fists were clenched on his knees until the knuckles showed white against the brown skin.

Masakane next called the witnesses. The testimony of the stonemason and his wife was as Akitada had expected. The crucial witness was, of course, the wife. She wore a clean robe today and her hair was twisted neatly in back and tied with a white ribbon. She presented the image of a respectable housewife and mother. When it was her turn, she knelt and prostrated herself, reciting, “This insignificant person is called Yuzuki, wife of the stonemason Shigehiro, of the eighth ward.”

Masakane regarded her benevolently. “You know that you must speak the truth or suffer a beating,” he warned. “Now, take a look at the defendant. Have you seen him before?”

She sat up on her heels and eyed Tora. “Yes, Your Honor. He was the lover of the dead woman Tomoe, the one who killed her.”

“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. You saw him kill her?”

She giggled nervously. “Well,” she said, “I’ve seen him when he went to her, and then I saw him later with the bloody knife in his hand, standing over her lifeless body.”

The judge frowned. “And between the time that you saw him arrive and the time you saw him standing over her dead body, what happened?”

She flushed. “Why, I’m not sure. I’ve got my household to look after and my children to tend. We’re poor and work hard. I can’t watch all the time. And I couldn’t know he was going to do her in, could I?”

“No, of course not.” Masakane pursed his lips. “So you say you had no reason to suspect him. Tell me, had he visited the woman Tomoe before?”

“Yes. At least three times. She was the type.”

“Ah. What type is that?” asked the judge, smiling thinly.

“Why, the kind of slut who brings men home and lies with them.”

There was a gasp of protest from the nun, but when people turned to look at her, she ducked her head and pulled the veil across her face.

“You say she was a prostitute?” Masakane liked his testimony clear.

The stonemason’s wife fidgeted. “Well, not that exactly. Not regular. She was too ugly for that.”

Tora lost his temper. “You’re a filthy liar, woman,” he roared, “and I shall make you eat your words.”

“Silence!” shouted Masakane, slapping down his baton. This time the whip caught Tora across the back. He gritted his teeth against the pain and resumed his rigid self-control.

When Masakane turned back to the woman, he studied her for a moment, pushing his thin lips in and out. Then he asked, “On the night of the murder, where were you when you saw the defendant arrive?”

She looked up quickly and then back down. “I was in the yard,” she said in a rush, “taking in laundry. It was already dark and he didn’t see me. He knocked on her door, and she let him in.”

Tora made a derisive noise and caught another stroke of the whip. Masakane eyed him sourly. “Well, since you cannot keep your mouth shut, did you or did you not enter the dead woman’s room from the yard that night?”

Tora said, “I did, but Tomoe did not let me in. The door was open. Tomoe was already dead.” He turned and pointed a finger at the stonemason’s wife. “That one’s a liar. I don’t believe she was in the yard. I think she and her coward of a husband were hiding from the real killer. Or maybe they did it themselves.”

The woman burst into angry denial at this, the crowd muttered, and Tora got whipped again. But this time Masakane glowered at Tora’s guard. “How dare you use your whip when the prisoner merely answered my question!” The guard knelt and muttered an apology.

Masakane asked Tora, “Did you kill the woman Tomoe or not?”

Tora looked him squarely in the eyes. “I did not, Your Honor.”

Masakane turned to Akitada, “Since you are his master, do you believe him?”

Akitada was a bit startled but managed to say, “Of course. I have known Tora for many years. He is a courageous fighter but incapable of killing a helpless blind woman in such a cowardly fashion. On the contrary, Tora was trying to protect her.”

Masakane raised his brows. “Protect her? From whom?”

“She had told him she feared for her life because she had overheard plans of a crime. He went to see her that night to attempt once again to get her to tell him the details of the plan and the names of the criminals.”

“Hmmph.” Masakane stared at Akitada, then at Tora, who stared back at the judge defiantly. Akitada held his breath.

Masakane heaved a sigh. “Lieutenant Ihara?”

Ihara stepped forward.

“It seems that the case is far from clear. Do I understand that you are still investigating it?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Very well. In that case, I shall remand the defendant into his master’s custody until you have completed your investigation.” The judge turned to Akitada. “Perhaps you can be of assistance? I am told you take an interest in crime.”

Akitada bowed. “Yes. Thank you, Your Honor.”

“You understand, of course, that you are responsible for the defendant’s behavior during this time and that you will produce him for trial if that becomes necessary?”

“I do.”

It was over. Akitada barely waited to see the chains taken off Tora. He turned to Kobe. “There’s a nun in the audience who seems to take a strong interest in the case. I want to have a word with her before she leaves.”

Kobe nodded. “I saw her, too. Go on! I’ll look after Tora.”

But when Akitada searched the crowd for the nun, she was gone. He pushed past people and started running. Outside in the courtyard he saw only the usual redcoats and a few people arriving for the next case. No sign of a nun anywhere. He was about to curse himself for not having kept a better eye on her, when he caught a bit of white disappearing beyond the gate, and rushed after it.

Too late he realized that he had not even thanked Kobe.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE NUN

 

 

 

At first Akitada had no difficulty following the slender figure in white. She moved at a quick but steady pace, walking first toward the west and then turning south. In the heat of the afternoon there were few other people about, and she evidently knew her way.

This area, like Akitada’s own quarter on the opposite side of the city, had been intended for public offices and the homes of court officials. Building plots were generous and the streets broad. Numerous canals carried fresh water from the river and fed into the many gardens of the area. Behind high bamboo fences or mud walls, earlier generations had laid out fanciful landscapes with bubbling streams and small lakes and built their homes among them. But the early hopes of the city planners had never been fulfilled in the western city. The decline was less noticeable in this quarter, close to the Greater Palace enclosure, but even here Akitada saw empty spaces, open fields, and groves of tangled brush and trees where villas or large compounds once had stood. But many homes, substantial and in good repair, remained and were occupied by officials or wealthy country gentry who kept a residence in the capital.

Akitada cast a knowledgeable eye around. Wherever she was going, it was not to a temple or nunnery. There were none here. She must be visiting one of the families who had held on to their family plots and maintained their homes with sufficient funds to guard against the bands of thieves who roamed the streets at night.

When she turned a corner, he increased his speed. He did not want to frighten her, but looked for a chance to catch up or see where she lived.

She was halfway up the street, walking along a plain whitewashed wall without gates. On the other side of the street, three young louts lounged against a broken fence, but straightened up with interest when they saw the nun. Akitada did not like the way they looked at her, and neither did she apparently, for she walked more quickly. The three conferred briefly, then crossed the street to cut her off.

Upper-class residential quarters were generally quiet and peaceful in this part of town. Akitada’s father-in-law had lived here, and Tamako still owned the land and maintained a garden where her childhood home had stood. But lately, the good people lived within walled compounds with massive, barred gates, and women emerged only in the company of male servants. Perhaps an elderly nun could have passed without attracting the attention of three hoodlums, but this one was a young and attractive woman, and the street was empty. She was about a hundred yards ahead of Akitada, who cursed his voluminous white silk trousers and the stiff, heavy robe, clothes that were not only hot but cumbersome.

Up ahead, the hoodlums stopped the nun, one barring her way and the other two closing in from behind. She backed against the earthen wall and seemed to make entreaties, which they greeted with bursts of laughter. When they began to manhandle her, Akitada started to run, shouting, “Leave her alone!”

He fell almost instantly over the loose folds of his trousers. Scrambling up, he fully expected to see the bullies take to their heels. Not only was he an awkward witness—they probably intended to rape their victim—but his formal court robe and hat marked him as an imperial official of rank and should have put fear into their cowardly hearts.

But nothing of the sort happened. They turned their heads to look at him and burst into laughter. Furious, Akitada gathered up the legs of his trousers before continuing. They laughed even harder at this and, after a brief exchange, two of them started toward Akitada. The third stayed with the nun.

Akitada stopped. The two rascals sauntering toward him with grins on their faces were not about to make a humble apology. They looked as if they expected to have some fun with this official in his stiff robe, ballooning trousers, and elaborate headgear. Akitada was in excellent condition and trained in wrestling, but a confrontation with two robbers was unwise at this juncture. He was unarmed and hampered by his ridiculous clothing. And, besides being a nuisance in a fight, his robe had cost him many months of salary and he was hardly in a position to sacrifice it to a couple of hoodlums at this time in his career. He considered slipping off the outer robe, but when he began to undo his sash, the two changed their deliberate saunter to a fast walk. There was no time.

Beyond them, their companion was now struggling with the nun. Akitada scanned the ground for something he could use for a weapon. There was nothing. Hereabout, the streets were kept clean. He shouted again for help, this time for constables, but all remained silent. Then the nun screamed, and Akitada resigned himself to a fight and crouched.

The two thugs stopped a few feet away, looked him over, and laughed some more. The taller one, who was missing his front teeth and whose nose had been broken a few times, sneered, “Look at that. The puffed-up little toad wants to fight.”

“He, he, he,” snickered his companion.

The nun screamed again. Akitada kept his eyes on the face of the big ruffian. “All three of you will be in trouble, if you don’t stop your friend this instant,” he announced through gritted teeth.

“What kind of trouble?” asked the big fellow, raising his brows. “You’ll make us wear those big trousers of yours, maybe? Or tickle us with the ribbon on that silly hat?”

“He, he, he, he,” sniggered his companion, flexing beefy hands. Apparently he lacked the gift of witticisms. Possibly—with that vacant look in his small eyes—he lacked any wit at all. But Akitada did him an injustice, because he suddenly asked in a high voice, “He looks like a puffball. You wanna play ball with him, Jiro?” They laughed.

“What business do you have, bothering your betters?” Akitada demanded, casting a hopeful glance down the street behind him. It remained empty, but he now saw that it led to a bridge over one of the canals. He decided to make a quick retreat that way.

While his would-be tormentors were still laughing at his question, he managed to cover half the distance before the big man shouted, “Hey, stop!”

Naturally, Akitada ignored him and kept backing away as fast as he could while stumbling over his trousers. They broke into a run and caught up with him at the bridge. He sidestepped the smaller and quicker of the two, who pelted full speed onto the center of the bridge, where he came to a halt.

The other man slowed in time, narrowing his eyes specula tively. There were no handy sticks or rocks lying about, but a cedar seedling grew just at the edge of the canal. Akitada reached down and pulled it up. The big man snorted with derision and jumped forward, reaching for Akitada’s left arm. Akitada twisted away and shoved the bristly cedar plant straight into the other man’s eyes. The bully screamed and staggered onto the bridge, holding his face. Here he collided with his companion, who had collected his few wits and was rushing to his assistance. Akitada made quick work of tipping both into the canal below by kicking their feet out from under them.