Someone,Tamako or Seimei, had brought hot tea and placed it on the brazier in hisoffice. He poured some and drank greedily before sitting down at his desk.
The prince’s letter stillawaited his attention. Tamako had understood immediately that an officialreport to the chancellor would set wheels in motion which might well putAkitada and his family in personal danger. She had wanted him to wait. But thiscould not wait. The emperor himself was in danger.
Akitada reached for his writingutensils. His cover letter was very brief. He enclosed it and the prince’sletter in another sheet of paper, sealed this, and addressed both to a manwhose wisdom and kindness were well known to him, the retired emperor’s brotherwho was a Buddhist bishop. Then he clapped his hands.
The young soldiers selected byTakesuke looked eager and intelligent. Akitada gave his instructions and turnedhis letter over to them. This accomplished, he had another cup of tea andrelaxed.
There was little left to do.The tangled web of murder and mayhem had resolved itself with Sunada’sconfession. Akitada took no pleasure in it. There had been many deaths andthere would be many more, public executions which he must attend in hisofficial role. Besides, it had not been his own effort which had broughtjustice to the three unfortunate travelers, or revealed and broken theconspiracy against the emperor. No, it had all been due to chance encountersbetween one woman and two men.
He considered the destructionMrs. Sato had wrought in the lives of others. The good abbot Hokko had his ownsymbol to explain the inexplicable. Buddhist scripture taught that man occupieda precarious position midway between the angels and the demons on the wheel oflife. A turn of the wheel propelled him either upward, toward righteousness,good fortune, and happiness, or it dragged him into the filth of evil andcrushed him underneath. The wheel had crushed Sunada.
He sniffed. There was a strangefishy smell in the air. Then he became aware of a peculiar noise coming fromthe wooden shutters behind him. It sounded like the gnawing of a rat. A softhissing followed, then a scrabbling noise. Akitada turned on his cushion sothat he faced the shutters. As he watched, a narrow line of light widened intoa crack and a pudgy hand appeared in the opening. More hissingfollowed-whispering, Akitada decided-and then a round red face topped withshort black horns appeared and leered in at him from bulging eyes.
Both Akitada and the goblinjerked back in surprise. The goblin squealed, and the shutter slammed shut.Akitada opened his mouth to shout for a guard, when the shutter flew openagain, revealing two human backs, bowed abjectly on the narrow veranda outside.
“Who are you and what do youwant?” barked Akitada, his heart pounding.
One of the creatures, thehorned goblin, visibly trembled, but the other one raised his gray head.Akitada recognized Umehara.
“Forgive us, Excellency,”Umehara said, wringing his hands and sniffling. “We asked your clerk to let ussee you, but it was strictly forbidden, so we came this way.”
“Ah.” Akitada regarded theshaking figure. A certain plumpness suggested Okano, but the horns? “Is thatOkano?” he asked.
The spiked head noddedviolently.
“What happened to your head,Okano? Are you playing a goblin?”
“Oh!” The actor wailed andcovered the spikes with both hands. “See, Umehara? Okano should have worn hisscarf! He is so ugly!”
“His hair is growing back,”explained Umehara.
Akitada suppressed a smile. “Situp and look at me, Okano.”
The actor sat up slowly, pudgyhands fluttering from hair to face and finally dropping in despair. With greatdifficulty, Akitada kept a straight face. Above Okano’s red face with itsbulging, tear-filled eyes and quivering lips, black tufts rose into the air.Poor Okano needed no costume to play the part of a goblin. “Can you not comb itback?” he suggested.
“It’s too short. See?” Okanoslapped at the horns with both hands. “Umehara gave Okano some fish oil. But itmade it worse.”
That explained the strangesmell.
“Ah. No doubt it will improvein time. You did not wish to consult me about your hair, I trust,” Akitadaremarked.
“Oh, no,” they chorused,exchanging doleful looks.
Umehara was wringing his hands,“It’s about the sergeant telling us to leave.”
Okano wailed, “Where will Okanogo? What will he do? He has no friends in the whole wide world. Okano will killhimself!”
“Holy heavens,” cried Akitada. “Stopthat nonsense at once. Umehara, can’t you explain to him that he is a free man,cleared of all charges, and that he will receive some money for his suffering?Why, in heaven’s name is he carrying on like this?”
Umehara began to weep also. “Heunderstands,” he sobbed. “It’s all very well for Takagi.” He wiped hisstreaming face and nose on his sleeve. “Takagi wants to go home to his village.But Okano and me …”-he sniffed-”… we’ve got nobody and … we’ve never beenas happy as we’ve been here. We don’t want to leave your jail, sir.”
Akitada was taken aback. Aftera moment, he said in a choking voice, “Well, if you are sure, I’ll put in agood word for you with the sergeant.”
** * *
TWENTY
THE WAY OF WAR
T
wohours before sunrise Akitada still sat at his desk, staring now at thefeathered arrow, now at the shell- matching game. The tea in his cup had longsince been drunk and the brazier was filled with ashes. It had grown cold, buthe felt neither the chill nor thirst or tiredness.
All night he had turned over inhis mind the problem of the impregnable manor. Hamaya had searched the archivesfor information about its construction but found nothing of interest. Akitada’smemory from his visits discouraged hope. The natural defenses were just toogood. Each time, he had approached the mountaintop manor by its main gate-wasthere another access?-and found it could be defended against an army by ahandful of bowmen on the watchtower above. A battering ram was out of thequestion, and so were ladders. The rocky hillside, topped with walls, was toohigh and steep to be climbed against defending archers.
Of course, a bonfire laidagainst the wooden main gate would eventually consume it, but at what cost tothose carrying and stacking the faggots and bundles of wood? Still, some covermight be constructed for them.
Even then, the big problem remained:When the gate was breached, the narrow entrance would only allow a small numberof soldiers at a time to penetrate to the interior courts, and each of thosewas separately walled and defended. Uesugi had more than enough men to holdTakesuke off. Too many would die in such a gamble.
Akitada took up the arrow andfingered it thoughtfully. There was someone who might know a way.
He heard a sound in thearchives outside his office, and clapped his hands.
Hamaya stuck his head in. “YourExcellency is up already?”
Akitada did not bother tocorrect him. “Send for Sergeant Kaoru. And get someone to bring more coals andsome hot tea.”
Kaoru was prompt. It had been awhile since he had had occasion to come to Akitada’s office. When he sat down,he saw the arrow and flinched. His eyes flew to Akitada’s face.
“One of yours?” Akitada asked,watching him.
“What? Oh.” He shook his head.
“It is the arrow that shotKaibara. It occurred to me that it might have been you who shot him. Hitomarotold me of your skill with the bow.”
Kaoru blinked. “No, sir, notme, though I wish it had been. You remember I was here at the tribunal thatnight.”
“Ah, yes. Do you have any ideawho might have done it?”
Silence. A servant enteredquietly, bringing a fresh brazier of coals and a steaming pot of tea. Akitadawaited until he was gone. Then he said, “Come! You recognized the arrow. Whoseis it?”
