Matsue was motionless, but he was alive. Blood trickled from a head wound, and he had a broken leg and probably other injuries.
“Is he dead?” Hiroko slipped from Akitada’s horse and came to look. “No? I meant to kill him.”
“Why?”
“I’ve dreamed for years of murdering the man who destroyed us.” She handed Akitada the reins. “I’ll take the other horse and go on by myself.”
Akitada was aware of a sense of shame. Twice he had let Matsue get the upper hand and once he had been disarmed. And Hiroko had watched the whole ignominious affair. “No,” he said without looking at her. “I’m coming with you. You may run into your husband or his people.”
She said nothing and walked to the shed to get Matsue’s horse. Akitada looked after her, trying to think how to thank her for coming to his rescue. When she rejoined him, he said awkwardly, “You probably saved my life.”
“It was nothing. I’m only sorry he still lives.”
Her manner rankled. “Matsue must live to confess to his crime in court. Help me get him inside. He’s not going anywhere with that broken leg, and I’ll get back as quickly as I can.”
They had dragged the large Matsue almost to the threshold, when a small, bandy-legged peasant arrived and watched them in astonishment. He pointed at the unconscious Matsue. “What happened to my cousin?”
Akitada straightened up, wondering if this was a new complication. “An accident,” he said. “You must be the one who manages his property.”
The man thought the question over carefully, then nodded. “I work here.” He thought some more, letting his eyes move over them. “What kind of accident?”
“His horse threw him.”
The peasant looked at the horse and at the dead chickens and spat. “Horses aren’t for peasants. I told him so, but he got angry and hit me.” Shaking his head, he helped Akitada carry Matsue inside the house, where they dropped him on the floor.
Apparently the cousin had little love for Matsue and was not particularly bright. Akitada said, “He has a broken leg and got a knock on the head, so he may be babbling nonsense when he wakes up. Don’t pay any attention. Just put a splint on his leg, keep him still, and give him a bit of water now and then. We’ll borrow his horse for a little, but I shall bring it back by tonight.”
Matsue’s cousin nodded, and Akitada went back outside, where he helped Hiroko to mount and swung himself in the saddle.
They were both lost in unpleasant thoughts. Akitada ruminated about his pathetic performance with Matsue and assumed she did the same. No doubt she thought him completely inept. More to break the long, awkward silence than out of curiosity, he asked, “Where did you learn to ride like that?”
“Haseo taught all of us. It’s the warrior’s way.”
After another silence, Akitada said, “I should not have let so much time pass before righting this wrong.”
“It was good of you to think of us at all.”
He gave up. She had become indifferent, possibly even hostile. It served him right for desiring what could not be his. For a while they rode in silence through a land of green rice paddies, while he mulled over his long list of poor judgments and the human losses his inadequacy had caused. And always, in the back of his mind, the heaviest guilt of all. But that wound to his conscience was much too deep to dwell on, and he resolutely bent his mind to his purpose.
Breaking the second, longer silence, he asked, “Can you tell me anything that might help me find Tomoe’s children? I take it they are not with family or friends?”
“No. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. What must be going through their minds now that their mother does not visit anymore.”
He did not mince his words. “They may be homeless. Or worse. The money their mother earned was for them. She lived on millet and water.” Hiroko turned a stricken face to him. He knew he burdened her with guilt also, but hiding the facts had brought nothing but tragedy to all of them. “I think they’re in someone’s care, and if that person depends on payment, he or she might be tempted to sell the children. Did she visit them often?”
“Dear heaven. I didn’t know. Yes. Every few weeks, I think. She would spend a day with them. She told me about Nobunari’s studies, and Nobuko’s pretty singing voice.”
“She was blind. How did she make the journey? Did someone take her?”
“No. She trusted no one, but she could make out shapes and managed to walk familiar streets.”
Akitada frowned. “She could have been followed without knowing it.”
Hiroko suddenly looked frightened. “Do you think Yasugi is behind this?”
“I don’t know who killed her. At the moment I’m worried about the children. You say the boy was being taught by someone. Did she mention a school or a tutor?”
“No. I should have asked. It seems now that I was always talking about my own troubles.” She hung her head.
A common failing, he thought, and more guilt to spread around.
But at least Hiroko was reunited with her daughter without further incident. When they reached the farm, the little girl was sitting under a tree.
“Suriko,” called Lady Yasugi. The little girl jumped up, shaded her eyes against the sun, and then ran toward them. Two women came from the house. Akitada looked for the men, but apparently they were working the fields.
Hiroko slid from the saddle to scoop up the little girl, and Akitada’s heart contracted. Just so he used to catch Yori into his arms. He would never again feel his son’s arms around his neck. A child-boy or girl, it mattered not-was a gift from the gods.
Holding her daughter, Lady Yasugi lifted a face shining with joy. When she saw his expression, she sobered. “Thank you,” she said. “I shall never forget this.”
He nodded, then turned to speak to the women who had come to join them. It was surprisingly easy to tell them that Lady Yasugi had come to take her daughter with her for a short visit. They smiled and bowed, and in minutes the little girl and her bundle were on Hiroko’s horse with her, and they galloped off.
The small temple where they proposed to seek refuge looked safe enough, but Akitada disliked leaving them. When they parted, he took some gold from his saddlebags and handed it to her. She refused.
“Don’t be silly,” he said harshly. “You’ll be expected to make some sort of donation and you need the goodwill of the nuns. Pay me back later.”
She accepted then, and he swung himself into the saddle. To his surprise, she came close and put her hand on his. Looking up at him, she said, “Don’t forget your wife, Akitada. Go back to her. Go now.”
Akitada took her words for a final rejection and was seized by such desolation that he could not speak. Wherever he looked in his life, he saw only failure and loss. Yes, he would go home to Tamako, though he knew what he would find. There was such a distance between them, so great a separation of mind and body, that nothing could bridge it. Only his sense of duty made him face it, for the alternative-to divorce his wife-filled him with more shame than he could bear. And this extraordinary woman, this woman who had rushed to save him from Matsue with the skill and courage of a warrior, seemed more beautiful and desirable to him than ever before, and that also filled him with shame. Without another word, he turned his horse and left her.
He found Matsue-Sangoro conscious and cursing. Apparently his demands that his cousin send for Lord Yasugi had been ignored. Akitada warmed to the foolish relative and, after checking the splint on the broken leg, he secured his prisoner and bedded down nearby for a restless night.
At the first sign of dawn he had the cousin help him tie Matsue onto his horse. The man showed no interest in their destination and asked no questions. The process of tying Matsue’s wrists and legs was painful to him; Matsue gnashed his teeth, cursed them both, and glowered at Akitada from blood-shot eyes. Akitada, whose belly still ached from Matsue’s kick, ignored him. When he gave the cousin some silver for his trouble, Matsue spat at both of them. Akitada picked up a piece of the rope they had used and lashed Matsue across the face with it. The cousin grinned foolishly.
Mistreating a bound and wounded man was cowardly, but Matsue’s actions, past and present, filled Akitada with such rage that the man was lucky he was still alive. Since Yori’s death, something seemed to have hardened at his core. He had no empathy left. During the journey, he ignored his prisoner’s complaints about a swollen wrist, as well as his curses. They stopped only once to water the horses and to allow Matsue to relieve himself.
At midday they reached the capital. Smoke still hung thickly over Toribeno, but both markets were open, and people had crept from their houses to buy food. There was an air of new hope in the city.
Akitada took Matsue to police headquarters and turned him over to an officer. Then he went to Kobe, who looked drawn and tired but was willing to listen in spite of their recent quarrel. Kobe even offered wine, which Akitada accepted gladly. It had been a long journey, and he had eaten nothing since the previous day.
Kobe watched him and nodded. “Good. You’re starting to get some color back.” He refilled the cup. “What in the name of Amida happened?”
“I brought in the man who killed Tomonari Nobutoshi and his wife. The crime happened five years ago in the Tsuzuki District. Tomonari’s son Haseo was found guilty and exiled to Sadoshima.”
Kobe sat up. His eyes sharpened with interest. “I remember the case. The son was supposed to have slaughtered his aged parents in front of his old nurse. The nurse’s testimony was damning.”
Akitada downed another cup of wine and held it out for a refill. If he kept this up, he might become sufficiently numb to face his wife. “The nurse was the real killer’s mother,” he said. “She blamed the murder on Haseo to save her son. Apparently this Sangoro was Haseo’s half-brother.”
Kobe snorted. “They certainly kept their quarrels in the family. Do I take it that the nurse has confessed now?”
“No, she’s dead. Sangoro has confessed.”
“Ah. But will he repeat his confession in court?”
“Probably. If he does not, Lady Yasugi will testify against him and against her husband.”
Kobe’s eyes widened. “Yasugi is involved?”
“I believe he stirred up the trouble between the father and both sons. He may have suggested the murder to Sangoro, but in any case he took advantage of the situation afterward. Apparently he manipulated witnesses, especially the nurse, to testify against Haseo. Yasugi lusted after Haseo’s wife and the leases on the Tomonari Estate.”
Kobe murmured, “Hmm.” Then he shook his head. “I don’t give you much hope there.” Seeing Akitada’s anger flare up, he said quickly, “Oh, I believe you, but Yasugi is beyond the law in this instance. It will be the word of others against his, and Yasugi will certainly prevail. You can, of course, cause him some unpleasantness, but on the whole I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Akitada said hotly, “Not even if we can prove that he killed one of the Tomonari children? Not even if we link him to Tomoe’s murder?”
Kobe stared. “You can link him to the murder of the blind street singer?”
“Lady Yasugi and Tomoe were both married to Haseo. At the moment Tomoe’s children have disappeared. The boy is the heir.”
Kobe thought about it for a few moments. Then he poured himself and his guest more wine. They drank. “You have proof?” he finally asked in a weak voice.
“No. I’ve pieced a plot together. I was hoping that you could get Matsue to implicate Yasugi. Matsue has a broken leg. Surely that will help during the interrogation.”
Kobe shook his head in wonder. “Now I know you’ve lost your mind. You want me to torture a confession out of this Matsue and also have him testify against Yasugi?”
“I know they’re both guilty,” Akitada said stubbornly. “As for the torture, they’ve done worse than that to innocent people. Let them find out what it feels like.” Akitada gulped down another cup of wine-he was not sure if it was his fourth or fifth-and decided it was time to go home. He stood up and immediately lost his balance. “I’ve got to go,” he said, slurring his words a little. “My wife’s home alone. Mourning our son.”
Kobe stood also and came around the desk. “Your son died? So that’s what’s wrong.”
Akitada nodded. To his shame, his eyes filled with tears. “S-smallpox,” he muttered and lurched from the room.
He was not sure how he got home. He let his horse find the way. Kobe’s wine had raised a thick haze between himself and his surroundings, but in his heart he was terrified of walking into a house which no longer held his son.
Genba opened the gate and shouted the news across the courtyard. Tora and Seimei came running. Akitada let himself slide from the saddle and stood unsteadily, peering at each in turn. Their faces and voices were filled with pity. He muttered, “Thank you. Is all well?”
He meant Tamako, but Tora answered, “All are well except Kinjiro.”
He had to think for a moment before he remembered the scrawny boy Tora had brought. “Kinjiro?”
“Smallpox. Just like Yori. He survived, thank the Buddha, but just barely.”
Struck by this news, Akitada looked toward the house. “Tamako’s taking care of him?”
“No,” said Seimei. “The boy left before we knew. Tora searched for him and found him days later in the hospital. He said he didn’t want to cause more trouble.”
Wine was supposed to desensitize a man, but when Akitada thought of the half-starved street urchin dragging his feverish body to a public hospital rather than add to the turmoil in the Sugawara household, he started to weep. His three retainers waited helplessly.
“See that he has what he needs and bring him back as soon as he’s better,” Akitada said thickly. Handing his reins to Genba, he rinsed his hands and face at the well and then went in to greet his wife.
Seimei helped him off with his boots and traveling clothes. Dressed in an old house robe, Akitada went to Tamako’s door and announced himself. For a moment there was silence, then he heard the rustling of her clothes, and she slid the door back.
They looked at each other. Tamako was pale but composed.
“I’m back,” he said unnecessarily.
She nodded and stepped aside to let him in. “I’m happy to welcome you home, my lord.” She spoke tonelessly, making him a formal bow.
After six years of marriage and the loss of a child, she should have shown some emotion, he thought, but too much had happened between them. Not knowing what words might be appropriate, he finally said, “I went to Tsuzuki… to arrest the killer of Haseo’s parents.”
“I see.” She invited him to sit and sat down herself. Her room was in semidarkness, the shutters to the outside closed. “Shall I send for some tea or food?” she asked.
Such propriety. He shook his head. “No. Kobe has filled me with wine. How are you?”
“Well.” She paused. “And you?”
He nodded. “They tell me Kinjiro is in the hospital.”
She made an apologetic gesture. “I didn’t know he was ill until he was gone, but he is better. Not everyone dies, it seems.”
Unspoken, her reproach for Yori’s death rose between them and sent an icy shiver through his body. He shied away from the subject and began an account of his trip. Her eyes went to his face when he spoke of Hiroko, but she did not interrupt. When he was finished, she said only, “How terrible! Poor women. I’m glad you could help Lady Yasugi.”
“I still have to find Tomoe’s children.” He got to his feet and bowed. “Thank you for taking care of things in my absence.”
She rose also and bowed back. “It was my duty. I’m sorry I did not perform it better.”
“Not at all. You do everything very well.”
But he knew that her efficiency as the mistress of his household mattered little when they no longer shared each other’s lives.
Seimei had food and tea waiting for him in his room, and Tora was waiting also.
“What happened to Mr. Chikamatsu?” Akitada asked.
Tora gave a snort. “He’s back home, supervising the building of a higher wall between him and his nosy neighbor. And he wants Kinjiro to come live with him when he gets better.”
Akitada nodded and, finding that he was very hungry after all, ate and drank while he filled them in on what had happened in Tsuzuki. When he was done, Tora said, “So she did it for her children. And you think Yasugi was behind all of it, don’t you? You think he’s going to kill Tomoe’s children too.”
Akitada hesitated. He hated Yasugi, wanted to believe the worst of him, but he really had no proof. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Perhaps.”
“Tomoe was afraid of him,” persisted Tora, “and Yasugi’s own wife thinks he had her son killed. I’m going to find those children.” He got to his feet.
Seimei murmured, “A hasty hand bungles.”
Akitada was nearly sober, but his head had started to ache. He should have been exhausted, but the same nervous energy that had pushed him since Yori’s death was still with him. He frowned at the tangle of problems and wished he had not drunk so much of Kobe’s wine. “We have no proof that Yasugi is killing Haseo’s sons to prevent future claims on the estate,” he said, “but there are other reasons for finding the children quickly. The trouble is, unless we know where to look, it could take weeks. Tomoe was too protective to mention their whereabouts to anyone. She trusted no one.” He rubbed his temples and thought about it. “We know that she paid for their keep and went to visit them regularly. The boy, who is the heir, was probably getting some sort of schooling. It isn’t much, but it’s suggestive. I think the children are staying with a peasant family just outside the city. It won’t be far because she walked there. If her son receives instruction, it may be near a temple or district school. She certainly did not earn enough money for a private tutor.”
Tora said eagerly, “I’ll scour the countryside around the capital.”
“A blind woman would stay on well-traveled roads in case she got lost. I think you must look south of the city,” Akitada said. “I wonder if her parents owned property there. She would choose a place she knew from her childhood.” He stood up abruptly. “Seimei, my good robe and hat. We’re going to see Kunyoshi again, and then I’ll report at the ministry.”
Kunyoshi was well and seemed to have grown even more efficient. The disease had spared the old and struck the young. When Akitada asked his question, he plunged eagerly into his dusty documents and reported that the Atsumis owned two farms. One was too far away, but the other lay just south of the capital and near a minor temple.
“That must be it,” said Akitada with a sigh of satisfaction.
Tora said, “I can be there in less than an hour. Are you sure she wouldn’t have gone farther away?”
“Remember, she was blind. Go home and saddle a horse. No, two. The boy is twelve and will have learned to ride. Get the children and put them in my wife’s care. She will know what to do.”
With Tora dispatched, Akitada walked to the ministry. To his amazement, all seemed business as usual. The anteroom held a modest number of petitioners, and Sakae bustled about with papers under his arm. When he saw Akitada, his complacent manner gave way to dismay. “Oh, you’re back,” he cried.
Akitada raised his brows at this rudeness. “I trust you and Nakatoshi have managed in my absence?”
Sakae averted his eyes. “Yes… er… perhaps you should report to His Excellency. The, er, provisional minister.” He nodded toward Soga’s office.
“The provisional… someone has been appointed already?” Such efficiency during a state of emergency was nothing short of stunning. Akitada was still staring at Sakae, his mind in turmoil, when the door opened and the cheerful face of a short and chubby individual peered out.
“Hah! Thought I recognized your voice, Akitada,” he cried warmly. “Come in, come in.”
Akitada barely managed to hide his astonishment. In a reasonably steady voice he said, “Kosehira. What a very pleasant surprise!”
Fujiwara Kosehira embraced him, then pulled him into the office and closed the door on Sakae’s avid interest. He immediately became serious. “My poor fellow! I heard the news about your little son. I am so sorry for you. You look terrible and shouldn’t have hurried back to work so soon.”
“Thank you, but work is a distraction.” Akitada did not want to dwell on the black abyss of his grief. “Is all well with you and yours?”
Kosehira nodded. “I sent them away after all. Now I’m the only one staying in my big house, except for one servant. It’s an eerie feeling, being all alone. I keep hearing ghosts. Perhaps you will come to keep me company some evening?”
Akitada looked at his friend gratefully. “Of course. I shall need your cheerful and practical advice. But is it true? You’re taking Soga’s position?”
Kosehira flushed. “A temporary appointment. I rely on you totally. Know nothing of this stuff. You were gone and I was available, and well, it’s always a matter of rank, isn’t it? I know very well that you should be running the ministry. I hope you don’t mind.”
He looked so nervous that Akitada smiled. The smile felt strange after so many days of sadness. “Nonsense,” he said, “I could not be more pleased. Frankly, Soga hated me. I fully expected to be dismissed with a bad report.” He glanced around the office. “But where is Nakatoshi?”
Kosehira’s face had lit up at Akitada’s first words. Now it fell. “Under arrest.”
“In jail? Why? What happened?”
“I found a treasonable letter written by him. Yesterday. I walked into the office and saw him slipping some paper away before leaving the room. He looked so guilty that I decided to take a look. And there it was, right on top of one of the document boxes. I was deeply shocked, my dear Akitada. The letter was addressed to Ito Mitsutaka, that notorious renegade in Mutsu Province. Nakatoshi suggested to Ito that this would be a very good time for an uprising, the capital and surrounding countryside being decimated by smallpox, and the government no longer functional with so many officials dead. Dreadful. I had him placed under arrest immediately.”
Akitada stared at his friend. “I don’t believe it,” he said flatly. “Are you sure that poisonous snake Sakae wasn’t behind this?”
Kosehira frowned. “Sakae? Why should he do such a shocking thing?”
Akitada sighed. “Because he’s Sakae and he hates Nakatoshi. Who has the letter now?”
“I do. The court is not in session, so I kept all the evidence.”
“What evidence? The letter is all you have, isn’t it?”
“Just about. Except for Sakae’s signed statement that he heard Nakatoshi make critical remarks about the government.”
Akitada gave a snort. “Of course. Let me see the letter, please.”
Kosehira got a locked box, fished a key from his sash and opened it. “You don’t think Nakatoshi wrote this?” he asked uneasily, extending a folded piece of the kind of paper used for government documents. “I tell you, I saw him hide it with my own eyes. He got very red in the face when he saw me looking at him.”
Akitada scanned the fairly long document and studied the signature at the end. “I don’t doubt that you saw him hide something,” he said. “But this is not in Nakatoshi’s handwriting.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Nakatoshi writes an excellent hand. This looks strained, too careful. As if someone had been trying very hard to be neat. An interesting allusion to the Chinese rebel Chang Lu-not many people know his story-but otherwise this is not particularly well written. Nakatoshi expresses himself much better. Has he seen this?”
“No. I thought it best to get rid of him quickly. I must say, he looked upset.”
“I can imagine.” Akitada rose. “I’d better go see him now, if I may. He must be frantic.”
Akitada did not know whether to be furious at Sakae for his vicious plot to oust Nakatoshi or to be glad that he finally had a way to rid the ministry of the troublemaker. He had enough other problems, but in his present state he welcomed anything that would take his mind off the black misery which lay in wait and pounced the moment he allowed himself to think.
Kobe greeted Akitada with a jocular, “Back already? You look more yourself with that frown on your face.”
Akitada still felt guilty about the memorial and returned the smile uncertainly. “Yes, I’m troubling you again. This time it’s about my clerk, that is, a clerk at the ministry. His name is Nakatoshi. I just heard that he was arrested.”
Kobe nodded. “On a charge of treason.”
“I believe he was framed by a colleague.”
“Oh come! Surely not again.”
The similarity to Haseo’s case had not struck Akitada, who instantly felt stupid for not having realized it. He said, “I cannot help it. It’s a different case and a different motive.”
Kobe raised his brows. “Right after solving one case, you’ve already solved another?” He still smiled.
Akitada flushed. “This was not very hard, a mere malicious child’s trick. I’ve been expecting something of the sort all along. I thought I would come and reassure Nakatoshi.”
As they walked toward the cells, Kobe said, “You didn’t ask, but your prisoner in the other case has made a full confession. It didn’t take any persuasion. We had him looked at by our physician, who found a badly broken wrist in addition to the broken leg. He will probably lose the hand and was so demoralized that he talked. His hatred for his half-brother was something to hear.”
Akitada grimaced. “I can well imagine. What about Yasugi? Did he implicate him?”
“No. He pretended not to understand our questions. Sorry. At least you have the satisfaction that Yasugi didn’t profit in the end. He lost his wife and will lose the land.”
Akitada nodded. “What is likely to happen to Matsue?”
Kobe gestured to a guard to unlock a cell door. “Oh, exile and hard labor, I should think. Like his brother.”
“Good!”
Nakatoshi started up when they walked in. He looked terrified. When he saw Akitada, he burst into tears. “I didn’t write it, sir. I swear. I’m innocent.” To Akitada’s embarrassment, he fell to his knees and knocked his head on the dirt floor.
“I know, Nakatoshi. Get up. I’ll have you out of here shortly.”
Nakatoshi staggered to his feet and wiped his eyes, leaving smudges on his face and sleeves.
“Tell me,” Akitada asked, “how was it that Lord Fujiwara saw you hiding the letter?”
Nakatoshi sighed. “I found it among my papers. When I saw Lord Fujiwara watching me, I panicked.”
“Ah. And how did it get among your papers?”
“I don’t know. I’d never seen it before. I thought maybe it had fallen out of another batch of documents. But then I saw my signature.”
“Could Sakae have put it among your papers?”
Nakatoshi looked embarrassed. “I wondered about that. He doesn’t like me.”
“Yes.” Akitada put his hand on Nakatoshi’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll clear up the matter and have you out of here shortly.”
In the corridor outside, Kobe asked, “This Sakae is the real culprit?”
“Oh, yes. Proving it is another matter. I cannot very well resort to torture.”
Kobe glowered. “I don’t particularly enjoy that part of my work, you know.”
Akitada stopped. He had to try to mend matters between them. “Forgive me. To my deep regret, I always manage to do or say things to offend you. Believe me, I have the greatest respect for you and your work. During this time of crisis, I could do nothing but complain while you’ve saved hundreds, perhaps thousands, from death by riot and starvation. I’m very sorry I’ve offended you.” He touched Kobe’s arm. “I hope you can forgive me and we can be friends again.”
Kobe cleared his throat. He said gruffly. “Yes, of course. I shouldn’t have got so angry. And you’re making too much of me. When there’s a need, we both do what we can, even if it’s thankless. But that reminds me.” He dashed off, leaving Akitada standing in the courtyard, wondering if he had embarrassed Kobe into flight. But the superintendent returned in a moment, carrying a sword.
“You found my sword,” said Akitada, taking the Sugawara blade from Kobe’s hands. “That was very good of you.”
“It belongs to your family.” Kobe looked embarrassed. “I wish I knew what to say about your son. I lost two little ones myself a few years ago. One doesn’t forget, but perhaps there will be more sons for you, and daughters, too. Someone to live for. To save the sword for.”
“Yes,” said Akitada bleakly, and pushed the sword into his sash. “No doubt, you’re right. But for now I’d better see about catching Sakae.”