“I only mention it because we can help much better if we know what you’re thinking. How did you know we wouldfind the old man at the bottom of that wall?”
“You remember the night of thebanquet? I had occasion to leave the company twice to use the convenience. Onthe first trip I glanced out of the gallery and saw the north pavilion. On mysecond visit I heard a scream from that direction. A servant heard it, too, but he said it was a wild animal in the woods, so I put it from my mind. Then,today, at Lord Maro’s funeral, a small boy asked me to find his grandfather. He said his grandfather was the old lord’s servant and did not return the night of his master’s death. I could see the boy was sick with worry, but Kaibara, the Uesugi steward, snatched him away before I could ask questions. That was when I remembered the scream and decided to have a look.”
“Poor kid,” said Tora, shakinghis head.
“What did you think of Kaoru?”Hitomaro asked, bringing his horse alongside.
“Very capable.” Akitada frowned, then added, “But surely he is a man with secrets.”
“Yes, I noticed that, too,”Tora said. “Let him explain that fine bow! No outcast ever carried a weapon like that. It looks like those the young lords in the capital use for the archery contests. And like Hito said, he talks like one of us. Like he’s been educated.”
Akitada suppressed a smile. “You’re right, Tora. That bow is unquestionably a special one. You’re becoming a very good observer.”
Tora glanced at Hitomaro to seethe effect of this, then said importantly, “That’s what made me suspicious,sir. He must be a thief and a liar. We shouldn’t have trusted him.”
“Wait a moment,” cried Hitomaroangrily. “The man saved my life. And as for being a thief, I can tell you he’smuch too good at using that bow to have stolen it. He let me try it, but ittakes a stronger and better arm than mine to bend it. Kaoru is very modestabout his ability as an archer, but he’s superb. He says he was taught by hisgrandfather when he was just four years old.”
“Don’t argue,” Akitada said. “Remember,we need help badly. It is true that our new friend is not all he pretends to be, but the outcasts are at odds with the Uesugi and he did protect Hitomaro’s life.” Akitada paused as a vague memory crossed his mind. Someone else had said something similar recently. Something about pretending to be someone else, he thought, but he could not recall the details or the speaker.
“Sorry, brother,” Tora apologized. “I tell you what. Let’s wait up for your friend tonight and take him out for a nice late dinner at that good noodle restaurant. Make him feel welcome.”
But Hitomaro said stiffly, “Not tonight. I’m busy.”
NINE
A CORPSE AT THE TRIBUNAL GATE
There was another, heavier snowfall during the night. Akitada rose later than usual.As they had gone to bed, Tamako had expressed her first fears. She had talked about the bitter winter to come and the birth of their first child. Neither had touched on the dangerous situation in the province. He had lain awake for a long time after she went to sleep beside him. The thought of losing her terrified him far more than any personal danger. He finally slept, but woke late and, though he felt more optimistic, he spent some time considering how he might at least increase her comfort and safety in the tribunal.
Because his mind was preoccupied with domestic arrangements, he did not realize that a large, unruly crowd had gathered outside the tribunal gate until he crossed the courtyard on his way to see if Kaoru had delivered the corpse of the Takata servant. The gate was closed, quite against regulations at this late hour, and the hum of angry voices and shouts of “Keep back!” startled him.
Akitada’s first thought was that something had gone terribly wrong with his plan. He blamed himself for not having waited up for Kaoru.
Changing direction, he tugged open the heavy gate. A constable tried to hold it from the other side, but desisted when he saw Akitada, who stepped through and gazed at a gathering of about a hundred people.
They looked back sullenly and muttered.
Off to one side, Hitomaro and three of the constables stood around something on the ground. Hitomaro, looking grim, came over quickly and saluted. With a glance at the crowd, he said in a low voice, “It’s the body of a mendicant monk, sir. Someone left him here during the night. It must have happened after the hour of the rat, the last time the gate was used.” He met Akitada’s questioning glance and added, “Someone delivered another dead man late last night. It’s raining corpses.”
A harsh voice from the back ofthe crowd shouted, “Let’s see you lazy officials do something for a change.Maybe we’ll get a verdict on this one next year.” The crowd guffawed.
Akitada walked over to look at the body and winced.
The monk, in his ragged robe was thin to emaciation. Someone had smashed his face to a pulp and cut off his hands and feet.
Akitada made a quick and superficial examination. The corpse was quite cold, but rigor had passed. He found no other wounds, and it was impossible to tell if the mutilations had killed him. Without glancing at his jeering audience, Akitada said loudly, “Havet he body taken inside and notify the coroner. Then send to Abbot Hokko to askif he is missing one of his monks.”
A short while later Hitomaro joined him in his study. Akitada looked up from his paperwork.
“The abbot says everyone is accounted for, sir. We sent for Dr. Yasakichi, the coroner. He should be here any moment.”
“Hmm. I gather your friend Kaoru carried out his assignment without problems?”
“Yes, sir. In the middle of the night. We put that corpse into the armory for the time being. Tora left with Kaoru afterward. We thought it safer not to alert the constables.”
“Good. They won’t like getting a new sergeant, and we don’t need a mutiny before this afternoon’s hearing.”
“What about the dead monk, sir?”
“He was brought here and we will have to investigate it as murder. Since he is not a member of the local monastery, he must be an itinerant priest.”
Hitomaro pulled a dirty piece of paper from his sleeve and placed it on Akitada’s desk. “That was pinned to his robe when we found him.”
It was a crudely scrawled poem with the title “A Curse on all Governors.” Akitada read it aloud, his facetightening with anger.
“Well,” he said bitterly, “that explains the hostile crowd.” He crumpled up the paper in his hand. “This smacks of conspiracy to incite a popular insurrection against imperial authority.” He rose and began to pace, muttering under his breath. After a few passes, he stopped and smoothed out the message again. “Look at this,” he said. “The writing is rough and in the native style, but the verse is anything but illiterate. In fact, it is a translation of a poem by one of the Chinese political satirists, if I’m not mistaken. It is meant to look like the work of an ordinary person, but no commoner would know Chinese texts. We may be able to find out who is behind this.”
“Whoever he is,” said Hitomaro,with a grimace of distaste, “he’s enough of a fanatic to kill some poor begging monk to make a point. What kind of people are these?”
Akitada shook his head. “We don’tknow if the monk was murdered, but certainly somebody has a warped mind. The mutilations prove that, if nothing else. It should be interesting to hear what the coroner has to say about it.”
“What about Uesugi?”
