The Old Men of Omi (17 page)

This last item had merely symbolic significance; private estates could still hire men to protect themselves. In fact, the largest landowners maintained standing armies. And since many of the estates existed under the protection of temples in order to avoid taxes, it was merely a matter of calling up support when needed.

But there was no sign of the escaped
sohei
.

Still, Kosehira regained his sunny mood and congratulated Akitada on having struck a major blow against that pesky Enryaku-ji. It helped that the wounded tribunal guards made excellent progress. Even Lieutenant Okura was out of danger. This greatly pleased Tora who had spent most of his time by his bedside.

Throughout this time, more delegations from Enryaku-ji arrived, often led by the prior himself. Their intention was to declare their peacefulness and their complete support for the emperor and his representative, the governor. They also renewed apologies to Akitada, making him a present of a very fine horse. Akitada refused the gift, which struck him as close to being a bribe.

In this manner, nearly two weeks passed. During the entire time, both Akitada and Kosehira were so busy that they only spent the nights at the villa. Akitada slept the sleep of the exhausted and was relieved that his dreams did not involve Lady Yukiko. He saw her a few times from a distance. Once or twice she was standing on the veranda as they arrived or departed. He avoided the garden for fear of surprising her there.

Only one other thing troubled Akitada from time to time. He worried that, for all his bravado and cheerfulness, Tora had suffered some lingering physical damage. His movements had become slower and there were times when he grimaced at some exertion, such as getting on his horse or rising up from the floor. After nearly a week, he and Tora took up their sword practice again, but Tora seemed listless uncomfortable. They practiced behind the kitchen building where no one saw them except the cook and his staff.

After their second bout since Tora’s stay on the mountain, Akitada asked, “Are you sure you are feeling all right? Should you be checked out by Kimura?”

“I’m fine, sir,” Tora said, turning away. “Forget it. I’m just getting old and useless.”

Sorry that he had spoken, Akitada said, “Nonsense,” and did not mention it again. But he sent Tora home for a while to look after things and rest.

He saw Takechi several times. The prisoner had been identified by temple authorities as Kojo and said to be an ex-soldier who had taken vows. On the governor’s orders, wanted posters were put up all over Otsu and along the highways east and west. So far there had been no results.

Among the gestures of apology extended by Enryaku-ji was also the promise to help in the conviction of the criminal
sohei
and mercenaries. The temple wished to disassociate itself completely from the incident. A delegation of monks paid a visit to Kosehira to inform him that Kojo had been officially dismissed and would be unwelcome on Enryaku-ji if he should seek assistance there..

Kinzaburo had been returned to his small farm. Reunited with his family, he still faced a legal battle for his freedom. The noble lord who held sway over Kinzaburo’s farm had turned over his authority to the temple to avoid taxes. Kinzaburo’s small portion of land had somehow become part of the great estate.

But on the whole, Tora’s adventure with the
sohei
had ended well.

Chief Takechi said as much to Akitada, adding, “I wish I could report progress for the two murders. However, a strange story’s just come to my ears.”

Akitada, who had not given Takechi’s murders much attention, said, “Really? Something to do with the judge?”

“Not the judge. Or the jailer for that matter. No, it’s about that Jizo figurine. Something happened in the Echi district east of here. They had two unexplained, and so far unsolved, deaths. Two elderly peasants, best friends, were found dead within days of each other. They interrogated the families but found no motive, though in the first case, which was clearly a murder, they briefly arrested the man’s daughter-in-law. In the end they couldn’t prove anything. But when they were searching the area where it happened—the old-timer was drunk and on his way home when someone struck him from behind—they found one of those carvings among the weeds beside the road.”

Akitada sat up and stared at the chief. “You don’t say? The same carving? The same sort of figurine as the one in the judge’s room and on the body of the jailer? And both men were old, you say?”

Takechi nodded. “Yes, it’s very strange.”

A silence fell as Akitada tried to understand how a cheap and common little thing like the Jizo carving could suddenly appear near the bodies of murdered men in distant locales.

Takechi scratched his head. “It could be a coincidence. Those Jizo figures are common enough along the great highway. Many travelers buy them. And besides, it may have been lying there for days before the murder.”

“I don’t like this, Takechi,” Akitada said. “We have to look into it. When were those two men killed?”

Takechi reached for a document. “More than a month ago. The peasant called Wakiya died on the night between the twelfth and thirteenth day of the second month, his friend Juro three days later, on the evening of the fifteenth day. Mind you, they found no Jizo with the second man. And his death may have been an accident. He was drunk and fell into a gorge.”

“For purpose of discussion, let’s include him. The judge died … let’s see, that was this month, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. On the second day. And Tokuno died on the fifth day of this month.”

Another silence fell. Finally Takechi asked, “What are you thinking?”

“It seems inconceivable, but it looks as if someone is going around killing elderly men and leaving small Jizo carvings near their bodies.”

“But why?”

“If we knew that, we’d know how long it has been happening and how many more will die. It may be significant that they are all old and all men.”

Takechi shook his head. “But to kill people just because they are old? That’s terrible.”

“Yes. And if it is their age that makes him kill them, it will go on. This person won’t be satisfied with the deaths of the four men we know about. Since you have only just heard about the two peasants, there could have been other deaths. Perhaps they remained unsolved, or worse, an innocent person was convicted.”

“We must find out, but where to begin?”

“The connection between Nakano and the jailer is weak. Now we have two more deaths that may be linked to each other but don’t connect to the ones here. The best solution would be if there were a connection because then we might know why they were killed and by whom.”

“The two from Okuni were ordinary peasants, sir. They’ve lived in the village all their lives. What could link them to Otsu and a judge?

Akitada got up. “I suppose for the answer we must go to that village and find out, don’t you think?”

Neither Akitada nor Takechi could drop everything to travel to a small village called Okuni at a time when both were extremely busy. They merely agreed that they would have to go as soon as a chance offered.

Takechi returned to his regular duties, and Akitada immersed himself in the paperwork for Onjo-ji and Enryaku-ji.

One morning Akitada found another poem. It had also been slipped it under his door, but he found it before the servants could.

It was from Yukiko and the contents were upsetting enough.

“In the garden, the cuckoo called, but when I looked, I only saw the moon,” she had written, then added, “Why have you grown distant?”

He sighed in exasperation. What was he to do? Speaking to her would merely worsen things. Besides, he did not really trust himself. He could not write her. Exchanging love letters with his friend’s daughter under his own roof was reprehensible. For the first time, he considered taking flight and returning to the capital. In the end, he did nothing, knowing it was cowardly.

Kosehira had kept his promise of having his staff search the archives for cases handled by Judge Nakano during his years of service. These documents arrived in Akitada’s room at the tribunal the day after his conversation with Takechi. He regarded the number of boxes resting on his desk with a frown, then sighed and started on the first one.

By midday, he had only covered half of Nakano’s trials. If anything of note was in those documents, it suggested that Nakano was an indifferent judge who frequently ignored witnesses produced by the defendant and rushed to judgment without much regard to due process. But the cases were old, the defendants who had been found guilty were either patently guilty or most likely long since dead. From the dubious cases, Akitada made a small list of names. This included one where a woman was charged with drowning her newborn child. She confessed readily enough, saying that she and her husband were too poor to feed another child. A sad case, especially since her sentence of a public lashing was so brutal that it was fatal. Still, he made a note of it because it might account for the Jizo. The little god protected children who had died before hearing of Buddha.

The other cases concerned men who might have claimed mitigating circumstances, particularly where death was the result of a brawl. There was a lot of fighting in a harbor town.

He stopped at noon and decided to invite Takechi to a bowl of noodle soup. It would give them a chance to discuss the murders.

Takechi was at police headquarters, looking distracted as he sifted through the day’s new paperwork. He accepted the invitation eagerly, and they walked the short distance to the large and popular restaurant.

When they had given the waiter their order, Takechi asked, “Have you had any news of Kojo since the raid?”

“No. By all accounts, he’s an ugly customer. He took his fury out on his guards at the tribunal. I’m almost sorry that we no longer have the same customs Tokuno enjoyed.”

Takechi grinned. “Me, too. Too bad we don’t have a confession.”

“What about the witnesses? They can identify him, can’t they?”

Takechi nodded. “Yes, but without the four men, we don’t have enough to go to trial. Still, the governor will be glad to be rid of the fellow. Those
sohei
make dangerous enemies.”

The waiter returned with two large bowls of noodles and smaller bowls of pickled radish. The noodles were in an appetizing broth, and several large slices of fish rested on top. They began to eat. The soup was delicious.

Takechi lowered his half-empty bowl first. “If they catch Kojo or the others, we’ll have to bring Kinzaburo back for the trial. The aged neighbor woman got a good look at Kojo. She was positive he was the ringleader of the four who abducted Kinzaburo. She was pretty sure he was also with the three that returned to take their turns raping his wife. Unfortunately, the wife will not testify. She’s frightened and ashamed.”

“Given what a brute he is, it’s amazingly courageous of the neighbor,” Akitada said, setting down his empty bowl.

“Yes. I wish they were all like that. Mind you, she was filled with a righteous anger. I got the feeling she was more upset about the rapes than about the abduction.”

Akitada pondered this. Surely rape wasn’t as bad as murder or a severe beating. Women got raped all the time because some men had a notion that the woman’s resistance was merely a token sign of propriety and that the woman in the end enjoyed it as much as the man. He knew this was not always true. Some women really were forced—and surely Kinzaburo’s wife was one of them—against their will. But did they receive any lasting damage?

He voiced the thought to Takechi who considered the idea before saying, “A wife would fear that her husband will reject her after another man has misused her.”

“Perhaps, but surely then the blame falls on the husband. That is, if she was in fact a helpless victim.”

“Yes, but there’s a problem. What if he doesn’t believe her?”

Akitada sighed. “Well, in this case at least we know she’s innocent and those men behaved like animals.”

“Worse. I don’t believe animals engage in group rape.”

They had finished their soup and exchanged a glance. “Another?” Akitada suggested.

Takechi nodded. “It
is
very good.” He asked, “Did you find out anything about the judge and the jailer?”

“I’ve been going through Nakano’s cases all morning. There was little that stood out.” Akitada told him about the sentences he recalled as being harsher or more undeserved than the rest.

Takechi shook his head at the child-drowning. “I know the family,” he said. “A sad story. She had five children in six years and her husband beat her regularly. He drank and gambled. After her death, he took in a number of loose women. Beat them, too, but they had the good sense to leave him. He died in a brawl, I believe. To everyone’s amazement, the children turned out well. Hard-working, all of them. The girls married good husbands, and the boys have trades they made a success of. You never know, do you?”

Akitada shook his head. “Any chance one of the children would avenge their mother?”

“I’d say none.”

“Well, I’ll keep looking. So far there’s nothing on Tokuno but the fact that their years of service must have overlapped.”

“Yes. But what does that mean? Judges and jailers never meet. The judge hears the case and pronounces sentence, and the jailer looks after the prisoners before and after the trial, at least until they are sent into exile.”

“That poor woman who drowned her child. She died after a brutal sentence of whipping. Could Tokuno have swung the whip?”

“Maybe, but usually there’s a special man for the public punishments.”

They had finished their second bowls of soup more glumly than the first. Takechi was the first to find his smile again. “Thank you for this excellent meal. I hope you’ll allow me to reciprocate soon?”

“Certainly. I enjoyed this very much. Perhaps I’ll have a more useful report next time.”

As they parted in front of police headquarters, Akitada thought again how much he liked Takechi. Their backgrounds were too different to allow the sort of friendship that existed between him and Kosehira, but if things had been otherwise, Akitada would have liked to count Takechi among his close friends.