As Akitada read the trial records, he felt the cold finger of death touching the back of his neck. Haseo’s fate was sealed from the start. He never had a chance at escape. The evidence against him looked unshakable.
The nurse, Yasura, testified that a quarrel had taken place between father and son, one of many, because the elder Tomonari had forbidden his only son Haseo to leave for the capital. The son had become angry and demanded control of the estate. Outraged, the father had berated the son, who had then drawn his sword and killed the father.
The noise of the quarrel had brought Haseo’s mother to the scene, and when she screamed and cursed him, he had killed her also. At this point, the nurse fled in fear for her life.
Akitada raised his eyes from the crabby script of the court clerk to stare at the shelves of documents. To his shame, he knew only too well that a son could come to hate a parent so bitterly that he wished him-or her-to die. But to make the leap from wish to deed a man would need not only anger but such self-importance that all other considerations vanished. The man he had met five years ago in Sadoshima was nothing like that. In fact, it seemed as if two different characters were involved, one the man in Sadoshima, the other a stranger in Tsuzuki.
The only way to get at the truth was to proceed from the assumption of Haseo’s innocence and refute or discredit every piece of testimony that had led to his being found guilty. The nurse must have lied. At least, Akitada thought, she had lied about witnessing the quarrel. It was unlikely that she, as a female servant, was present during a private meeting between father and son. More probably she had arrived with Haseo’s mother at a later time. Why had she lied?
Whatever had caused her to accuse Haseo of such a crime must have been a matter of vital consequence to the woman. Normally the bond between master and servant was a strong and mutual one. In the case of a nurse, maternal feeling and a desire to protect her charge would make that bond even closer. It was precisely this relationship that had made her testimony so devastating.
He bent over the documents again and found that the presiding judge had been Masakane, the same man who held Tora’s future in his hands. The coincidence was not really surprising; Masakane had held his position for well over a decade now.
Masakane’s sentence had been banishment for life, loss of family name, and confiscation of property by the state. Such a sentence was entirely proper for the crime of murdering one’s parents. Evidently Haseo had been the only son and, with both parents dead, the government did not feel that the parricide’s descendants should benefit from his crime. No doubt administrative greed had also played a part in this. The emperor always welcomed land that would produce income or could be given to faithful subjects in recognition of outstanding service. And so Haseo’s wives and children had become homeless paupers overnight. Only the class they belonged to saved them from becoming slaves. The documents did not concern themselves with their future. For that he would have to seek out Kunyoshi again.
Akitada put back the document boxes and was gathering up the records of Haseo’s trial when Sakae came in with two court officials. Akitada did not recognize them, but got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he saw their rank colors and the satisfied smirk on Sakae’s face.
“Their Excellencies came to consult with you, sir,” Sakae announced. When Akitada still looked mystified, he added helpfully, “You remember? The death of Minister Soga was announced this morning?”
And that, of course, made him look not only foolishly forgetful in the eyes of the two visitors, but also incompetent. Before he could save some of his dignity, the older of the two stepped forward and asked in a tone of disbelief, “You are the senior secretary? You are Sugawara?” He eyed Akitada’s appearance with manifest astonishment.
Akitada felt the blood rise to his face. He knew he looked like a derelict, or at least like a man who had been carousing all night and not bothered to change. He made a bow and said, “Yes, I am Sugawara. May I ask who gives me this honor?”
They exchanged glances. The one who had been speaking said, “I am Yamada of the Censors’ Office, and this is Lord Miyoshi of the Controlling Board of the Left.”
This was truly awkward. They were senior officials whose faces he should have recognized if he had been attending all the court functions. Akitada bowed again, more deeply this time. “How may I serve Your Excellencies?”
“Do you have an office?”
Flustered, Akitada led the way. Sakae, smirking more widely than ever, trailed behind.
“A bright young man,” commented Miyoshi after they were seated in Soga’s office and Sakae had furnished them with cushions, wine, and an offer to take notes. The last was refused, and the helpful Sakae departed.
“I see you have moved into Soga’s office already,” Lord Miyoshi said, staring disapprovingly at Haseo’s sword, which still lay on top of the documents.
“It seemed more convenient, since most of the ministry’s current records are kept here,” Akitada said.
“Hmmph. Naturally you cannot stay permanently. Someone will be appointed to serve provisionally.”
Lord Yamada added, “As quickly as possible.”
So much for his being given the provisional appointment as he had hoped. Akitada bowed.
“Meanwhile,” said Miyoshi, “we have no choice but to let you carry on. But we shall return and expect you to present a more suitable appearance. You are to make no decisions on your own without our express approval.”
They left after that, but the visit boded ill for his future career. They had made it abundantly clear that they did not trust him to run the office. With a sigh, Akitada took up Haseo’s sword and decided to stop in at the archives before going home for a bath and change of clothes.
Kunyoshi was the only one working in the archives. Both the sickness and the fear of getting it seemed to have affected the younger officials in much greater numbers. The others, Akitada included, remembered previous epidemics and had perhaps even contracted the disease in a milder form. For some reason, people only suffered smallpox once in their lives, and if they survived it, they were safe. But a greater reason was that this old man lived for his work. Poor man, he had suffered much from Akitada’s mistake. Akitada raised his voice and called out a greeting.
Kunyoshi looked up and came quickly, eager to be of service. Then he recognized Akitada and hesitated, especially when he took in his appearance and the sword. “Have I forgotten something else?” he asked nervously. “I don’t recall…”
“No, no. It’s my turn to apologize, my dear Kunyoshi. I gave you the wrong name. I am very sorry to have caused you so much worry.”
Kunyoshi brightened. “Never mind,” he said with a laugh, “these things happen. And do you have another name for me now?”
The name Tomonari produced happy enlightenment. “Of course,” Kunyoshi cried, clapping his hands. “Tomonari! That’s what I was thinking of all along. Such an interesting case. You mentioned that the land was confiscated because of a crime. Dreadful story. And it did have something to do with a shrine, only it was the Iwashimizu Shrine, of course. Hah, hah!” He laughed with delight, his memory not only tested but confirmed to be excellent.
Iwashimizu was so close to the capital that the emperors themselves worshipped there. The shrine also had special significance for warriors because of its connection to the war god Hachiman. That must be why Haseo had chosen it for his symbol. Things were beginning to fall into place, and Akitada’s spirits lifted, as they always did when he found himself on the right track in a murder investigation. They smiled at each other. “Do you suppose I could have a look at the family record?” Akitada asked.
Kunyoshi trotted away and consulted the tax register for the Tomonari family. “Yes,” he muttered, “six years ago. The following year nothing. Tsuzuki District. Just a moment. I’ll get you the last record before the property fell into the hands of the state.”
They bent over the documents together. The Tomonari family belonged to old noble warrior stock, but most of the “mouths” listed for their twenty-three households were personal servants or peasants working Tomonari land. Some of the peasants owned their small parcels outright and were assessed separately, but most were counted into the Tomonari household and the senior Tomonari was assessed accordingly. At the time of this final assessment, his immediate family seemed to have consisted only of a wife and an adult son. The son also had a family. He was listed as having three wives and four children. It fit. The land consisted of rice paddies, millet fields, and a great deal of uncultivated forest. The assessment of rice taxes was significant enough to make it a desirable estate.
“Where would I find the names of the family?” Akitada asked the archivist.
Kunyoshi pursed his lips. “Household registers,” he said, and dashed off. This time it took longer. Apparently they were kept in a separate building. But Kunyoshi returned, his face slightly flushed and smiling. “Here you are,” he said and placed a fat scroll before Akitada. “It should be in there somewhere. These are all the households in Tsuzuki District.”
Akitada sighed and began to unroll the pages covered with some of the smallest characters he had ever seen. They were glued together to make one long continuous document. So many households, so many names. He found what he wanted an hour later, somewhere near the middle of the scroll:
Household of Tomonari Nobutoshi, 60, local chieftain, rank 8:
Wife: Nihoko, 55.
Son: Haseo, 35.
Son’s wives: Sakyo, 30; Sachi, 25; Hiroko, 20.
Minor children: two boys; four girls.
The other names belonged to servants and slaves. Someone had drawn a thick line after the entry and scribbled in a different hand: “Household broken up by deaths and confiscation of land.” A date matched Haseo’s sentencing date.
So Haseo was finally found. But what had become of the wives and children? No family names were listed for his wives. Which one was the wealthy one who was supposed to have taken in the others? How was Akitada to find them? He rolled up the scroll and went to find Kunyoshi, who had returned to his other duties. “What happens to the family who used to live on a confiscated estate?” he asked the old man, handing back the scroll.
Kunyoshi was not helpful. “The peasants stay, I suppose,” he said. “But the families of the condemned move elsewhere.”
“It’s the wives and children I’m concerned about.”
“Such women may choose to consider themselves divorced. They return to their own family or remarry, I believe. Some enter a convent.”
“What happened to the Tomonari land?”
“Ah!” Kunyoshi brightened. “I remembered something about that. I think I may have mentioned a certain important nobleman who was quite unreasonable in his demands that he should not have to pay a rice tax?”
Akitada did not remember but nodded.
“He’s the one who rents the confiscated estate. He claims that it had fallen into disuse and that he spent his money and used the labor of his slaves to put it back into production; therefore he should be immune from taxation. But the tax office held that he was liable for the same amount as the previous owner because he could not prove that new acreage had been created.” Kunyoshi rubbed his hands. “And quite right, too.” It was clear that he had not liked the irate nobleman.
“What’s his name?”
“Yasugi. As if he weren’t rich enough already in his own right. Pshaw!”
“Yasugi?” Akitada stared at the old man, his mind awhirl. Could it be that this detestable man now controlled the Tomonari estate? “How. ..” he began and stopped. He snatched the household register back. When he found the entry again, he saw what he had missed before. Haseo’s youngest wife was Hiroko. The name was common, but Akitada did not believe in coincidences. The beautiful Hiroko, the woman he had come to desire with every fiber of his being, was Haseo’s widow. Had she been eager to exchange the shameful existence as wife of a condemned man for the luxurious life with the wealthy Yasugi? Or had Yasugi somehow coerced her into marrying him? Akitada wanted to believe the latter. True, she had lied to him, but she had been terrified of her husband.
Giddy with excitement and hope, Akitada thanked Kunyoshi so profusely that the old man looked stunned.
At home, Akitada went straight to Tora. He found him looking a great deal better and eager to talk about his adventures.
“Wait,” said Akitada, “I have news.” He told him what he had discovered that morning.
“What a strange thing! So the sword was Haseo’s all along,” said Tora. He shook his head in wonder. “To think that we wasted all that time just because you got the name wrong.”
Akitada frowned. “You’re missing the point. The case is not solved. Haseo was charged with killing his parents, possibly with this.” He took the sword off and placed it on the floor between them.
“Never,” said Tora. “Somebody else did and you’ll find the bastard. And then you’ll find his family and make that greedy Yasugi give back their property to them.”
And set Hiroko free. Akitada sighed. It was not that simple. Even if he found the real killer and located Haseo’s family, the government would thwart the return of name and land to his heirs by instantly wrapping the case in bureaucratic red tape and innumerable codicils. But he had always known that.
Tora’s priorities were different, and he now reminded Akitada of them. “I would help you, but I’d better go back to the market to ask more questions about Tomoe’s murder.”
Tomoe. She was connected, too. Hiroko had lied about their relationship. Had Tomoe perhaps been a witness to the crime? And if she knew the real killer of Haseo’s parents, might she have been killed to keep her from telling? But that could not be. Five years had passed. If she had been a threat to the killer, he would have got rid of her years ago, before the trial.
Tora was watching him. “Are you wondering how Matsue got hold of the sword?” he asked.
“No, I was thinking about your blind street singer. Matsue could have bought the sword. In five years anything might have happened. He took good care of it anyway.”
“Why do you think he was watching Tomoe?”
“Perhaps he liked her performance and was interested. She sang martial ballads and he was a swordsman.”
Tora snorted. “He hated her. I figured maybe she told him off when he got too bold. Some men hold a grudge about that sort of thing, and he had no respect for women.”
“Well, you said yourself, he did not kill her, whatever he thought of her. By the way, what about the coroner’s report?”
“What about it?”
“The coroner found evidence that she had been with a man.”
“The swine raped her first and then killed her. He’s a dead man if I get my hands on him!”
“Not so fast. Nobody has said anything about rape. She may have entertained a lover before the killer struck. Or she gave herself to the killer voluntarily.”
“She would never do such a thing. She lived like a nun. I should know.” Tora flushed and looked away.
So the rascal had tried. Akitada said dryly, “I see. I grant you it’s truly impressive that she should have turned down even your advances, but the fact is that neither you nor I know anything about her. There may have been a man in her life. There may have been a husband even. The coroner said she had given birth.”
“Amida. I never thought of that. She was so… alone. You just felt she needed someone in her life. What happened to her kids, do you think?”
“I have no idea.”
Tora sighed. “I’ve never met anyone like her before, you know, so helpless and so… stubborn. She never complained. She was a fighter. And for what? To be slashed to pieces by some beast. I bet he did rape her. Tomoe had a pretty figure.”
Akitada tried to remember the woman he had seen only once and then through the eyes of prejudice. “I should have listened to you,” he said. “And she should have accepted your offer of help.”
Tora said bitterly, “And I shouldn’t have spoiled it all by trying to sweet-talk her. She probably thought I was just like all the rest.” A brief silence fell as they weighed their culpability against the evil fate that had stalked Tomoe. Suddenly Tora said, “Wait a moment. The soothsayer in the market warned her to leave the city. She believed him but said she needed to earn a bit more money first. What for?”
“You shouldn’t believe soothsayers. One of them just gave Tamako a terrible fright. Such people do more harm than good.”
Tora’s eyes widened. “What did he say?”
“Some silly talk about Yori. The trouble is that during an epidemic, such dire predictions have a chance of coming true.”
Tora gulped and opened his mouth, but the door slid open, and they turned. Tamako peered in, her face strained. It seemed to Akitada that he had not seen her in a pleasant mood for weeks now. “Yes?” he asked, perhaps a little more irritably than he intended.
Her eyes flicked from his face to Tora’s. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I knew you had returned and wondered… but I did not mean to interrupt. Please continue your conversation.” She bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind her.
Akitada felt relieved and a little guilty. No doubt she had another complaint of a domestic nature. The unwelcome guests had probably caused a disruption in the smooth running of the household. “How are your friends today?” he asked.
“Fine. I’m to say thanks for the hospitality. Kinjiro mostly sleeps, but Mr. Chikamura has hobbled off to police headquarters to lay a complaint against his nephew’s friends.” Tora added morosely, “If they take the trouble to check the house, they’ll find the Scarecrow and Genzo.”
Akitada jumped up. “Heavens, I forgot about that. Kobe was out this morning, so I left a message about your adventure. He may be trying to see to me. I only came home to change. Soga has died of smallpox, and two senior officials found fault with me when they came to see who was running the ministry.”
“Soga has died?” Tora clapped his hands in glee. “That’s great news. Congratulations, sir. What a piece of luck!”
“You’d better keep those sentiments to yourself. I’m in enough trouble without having my retainers start to celebrate.”
Tamako apparently had taken care of her problem, so Akitada went to the small bathhouse, where he stripped off his dirty clothes, leaving them in an untidy pile on the floor. The wooden tub was covered with a lid, and the water inside was still warm. He sluiced himself off, and then immersed his body, feeling gradually refreshed after a sleepless and bruising night and the troubles of the morning.
He considered how best to investigate the Haseo case without losing his position in the ministry. Soga’s illness and death had given him a brief respite, but instead of being free from hostile oversight, he was once again under scrutiny for dereliction of duty.
He needed to visit the village where the crime had taken place. He must find and talk to witnesses, especially that nurse. What could have made the woman tell such a vicious and tragic lie?
Akitada saw no possibility of getting official leave, however brief, at a time when all the government offices were short of staff. But he could speak to Judge Masakane. He might even be able to read the trial transcript, learn precisely what the nurse claimed to have seen and heard, and find out what corroborating evidence there was, for surely there must have been something besides her word against Haseo’s.
He had no time for long deliberation and got out of the bath after only a few minutes, slipping on a light cotton house robe. On the way back, he thought to look in on Yori, but when he stopped outside his son’s room, he heard Tamako’s voice reading to him. Akitada frowned. The boy should be reading himself. More pampering. He was afraid he would just lose his temper again if he went in, so he went instead to change into a good robe, comb and retie his hair, and put on the prescribed headgear. On the way to the ministry, he stopped to have himself shaved by a barber who made a good living by offering his services to those who worked inside the Greater Palace.
His appearance met with Nakatoshi’s silent approval, but Sakae said rather cheekily, “A vast improvement, sir. My compliments.”
Akitada met this with a grunt and fled into Soga’s office, where he spent the subsequent hours dealing with routine paperwork. He had debated briefly whether he should move back to his own room-now occupied by Sakae. The two visitors had so obviously disapproved of his having assumed honors that did not belong to him. But he decided that efficiency would suffer and remained.
The afternoon passed much too slowly. There were no more surprise visits or “inspections” and no urgent problems to be solved, but it was not until sunset that Akitada could pay his visit to Judge Masakane.
Masakane lived in a modest villa south of the Greater Palace and received Akitada with cool courtesy. They were seated in the judge’s study overlooking a small garden rather similar to Akitada’s. The judge said bluntly, “I assume you’ve come about your retainer’s case. What was his name again?”
“Tora. But since his case has been postponed because of the epidemic, I came about something else. I trust you and your family have been spared?”
“I’m an old man and alone in this world. Death holds no fears for me. It is life that concerns me. There’s too little time for a man to leave a good name behind.”
Akitada said warmly, “No need to worry about that, Your Honor. You are praised by all as a fair and wise judge.”
He had meant the compliment, but Masakane drew back stiffly. “Don’t flatter me, young man, or I shall think you plan to damage that reputation.”
Akitada flushed. Young man-and that superior tone? How dare Masakane think he had come to influence his judgment! He bit his lip. No sense in showing his anger. He needed help, though not in the way Masakane expected. This would not be an easy interview after all.
“As I said, I’m not here about Tora,” he began and saw that Masakane relaxed slightly. “My visit concerns another case, one you tried five years ago. The accused was a man called Tomonari Haseo. Do you recall it?”
“Certainly. I am not senile yet. It was a sensational double murder. Are you going to question my verdict?”
The judge’s belligerence told Akitada that he still disliked and distrusted him. Anger stirred again. The old man was insufferably rude, and Akitada was fed up with the disrespect he had been shown by all and sundry lately. If the judge was already hostile, he had nothing to lose. He raised his chin and said rather sharply, “I was taught that justice requires us to question the truth. The man you condemned to exile is dead, but he was my friend and I’m alive to keep a promise. That is why I am here. Tomonari Haseo was falsely accused and the real murderer is free.”
Masakane’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You talk nonsense. At best you are carried away by false sentiment. At worst…”
Akitada interrupted, “I trust my record speaks for my integrity, sir. I must ask you to think before making rash accusations.”
The judge looked startled. He bent forward a little, as if he distrusted his hearing. “Are you correcting my manners?”
“I’m only pointing out that we are not going to get anywhere unless we both attempt to observe minimal courtesies, regardless of our private opinions.”
Masakane smiled thinly. “How foolish you are. I don’t want to get anywhere, as you put it. It is you who wants something from me.”
Akitada sighed in defeat. He rose and bowed. “In that case, forgive me for having troubled you.”
Masakane waved a thin, spotted hand. “Sit down. Sit down. I have nothing better to do. What do you want to know?”
Akitada sat. “I would really like to read the trial transcripts.”
“Impossible. They have been sealed, and you would need an order from the chancellor himself to unseal them.”
“Then I must rely on what you remember.” Akitada saw Masakane’s frown, and added quickly, “It was more than five years ago, and no doubt many witnesses appeared in so heinous a case. I know that the main witness was the accused man’s own nurse.”
“And what a witness! Distraught, of course. She suckled him and raised him through his childhood and now had to condemn him. But she served in his father’s house and she saw it all happen. This was a much stronger case than the one against your retainer. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the accused was guilty.”
“She claimed to have seen both murders done?”
“Yes.”
“But were there other witnesses?”
“Why worry about them? It is the nurse who is your problem.”
“I believe she lied.”
Masakane stared at Akitada. After a moment, he said, “I have heard that you pursue even the most far-fetched notions with incredible determination. Sometimes successfully. But this time you’re quite, quite wrong.”
“What about the other witnesses?”
Masakane pursed his lips. “Let me see. A maid testified that father and son had quarreled before. And a monk saw the murderer run toward the house with a terrible look on his face. Ah, yes. A local overlord offered your friend employment when he heard that he wished for independence, but he was turned down quite rudely. I think the young man said he knew of a better way to get what he wanted.”
“The local overlord would not by any chance be Yasugi?”
“Very clever. Yes, it was Yasugi. Of course he is the only man of influence in the area. The Tomonaris came down in the world as the Yasugi family rose. There was no love lost between them. All in all, Yasugi behaved rather well, I thought.”
“He may have had his reasons.”
Masakane frowned. “It doesn’t matter. His testimony was not needed. Anybody in the village could have told you that father and son did not get along.”
“What happened to Haseo’s wives and children?”
“I expect they went with the condemned. It’s customary.”
Akitada almost jumped up. “No, they did not. He was alone in Sadoshima. He left his three wives and six children behind.”
Masakane raised thin brows. “In that case the women may have remarried or returned to their families. Was there anything else?”
Akitada rose and bowed. “No, Your Honor. Thank you for your time. I hope you will forgive the rude intrusion.”
“Hmmph,” said Masakane.
Akitada was frustrated. He had exhausted the sources of information in the capital. Haseo’s hometown was the only place where he could learn about everybody’s movements on the day of the double murder and find out what had become of Haseo’s family. He firmly put aside the notion that he also wanted to see Lady Yasugi again.
When he got home, the gate opened to let out an elderly man accompanied by a young boy carrying a wooden case. The older man’s dark robe and the case identified him as a doctor. Seimei, his face tense with worry, was seeing them out.
Akitada wondered if Tora or one of his friends had taken a turn for the worse. Looking after the two figures, he asked, “Who needs a doctor?”
“Yori, sir.” Seimei’s voice was as bleak as his face.
“What? Yori? What’s the matter with him?”
Seimei hung his head without answering. With a sudden sense of dread, Akitada took him by the shoulders and shook him. “Speak, old man. What’s wrong?”
Seimei winced. “It could be smallpox, sir. Of course it is still early… and besides he is such a strong, healthy boy…”
But Akitada was already running toward the house.