Inside the residence, he found neither guards nor servants, nor the customary clerks and secretaries. Eventually he almost stumbled over a dozing servant and asked directions. The man yawned and pointed toward a door before turning over to resume his nap.
Expecting the door to lead to another hallway, Tora opened it and stepped through. To his dismay he had walked into a study occupied by two elderly gentlemen. One of them was clearly the governor.
Tora bowed deeply. “This insignificant person humbly apologizes. There was no guard outside the door.” The two gentlemen did not seem surprised. The governor behind the desk was a thin, pale man in official black silk robe and hat, while a chubby individual in brown sat toward the side.
Both looked drawn and dejected.
“Come in, whoever you are,” said the governor. His voice was so listless that Tora had trouble hearing him. “Close the door behind you if you have anything to say that you would rather not have overheard.”
Tora closed the door.
“I’m Mutobe and this is Superintendent Yamada. Why are you here?”
Yamada’s brown silk gown was stained and wrinkled, he was hatless, and his gray hair was carelessly tied. He also looked as though he had been weeping.
Tora saluted. “Lieutenant Tora from the provincial guard of Echigo. I carry a dispatch from my master to you, Excellency.”
“What?” The governor shot up and stretched out his hand eagerly. “Hand it over! Thank heaven he’s all right. What can have happened?”
The dispatch, as Tora knew very well, was from Seimei. They had all put their heads together to concoct a document that would look authentic without revealing the true purpose of Tora’s journey. Seimei had written it out in official style and affixed both the provincial seal and the Sugawara stamp.
The governor unrolled the paper, ran his eyes over it, and sank back down. Looking up at Tora, he said, “Lord Sugawara did not write or dictate this, I think.” Tora glanced at Yamada and cleared his throat. “I am to report back on a prisoner called Yoshimine Taketsuna. He left Echigo for Sadoshima a month ago. We expected to receive confirmation of his safe arrival. Instead there has been no news at all.” Superintendent Yamada cried, “Ah, Taketsuna. Poor fellow.
Yes, he got here, all right. In fact, he was staying with me and my daughter for a while. We became very fond of him even in the short time he was with us. What a pity! What a pity!” Tora turned cold. If his master was dead, what would he do?
What could he tell the master’s lady, left all alone in a cold northern land with a baby son? His fear and grief cut through the thin veneer of protocol he had acquired reluctantly. He took a few strides across the room until he towered over the two elderly men. “What happened?” he demanded harshly. “Why was no one informed?”
Tora’s rude and disrespectful tone made Mutobe flinch, but his companion gave Tora a kindly look. “Ah, I don’t blame you for being upset, my good fellow. You must have been fond of him, too.” Tora did not like that “must have been.” He glared at Yamada, who continued, “I don’t quite understand the ins and outs of it myself, but Taketsuna wasn’t his real name, apparently.
Frankly, I never thought of him as anything but a gentleman, and Masako . . .” He paused and sighed. “Masako is my daughter. She’s disappeared also. We’re at the end of our ropes, the governor and I. Both of our children gone, heaven only knows where. And now here you are, asking about Taketsuna.” He shook his head sadly.
Tora thought respect for his betters was all very well, but there were more important things at stake here. “Tell me what happened to . . . this Taketsuna,” he demanded of Yamada.
“We don’t know. He’s gone,” said Yamada. “In fact, he was the first to disappear.”
Tora blinked. Gone? Perhaps not dead, then. “When, where, and how?” he asked.
“Wait, Yamada,” said the governor. “We do not know how much this young man knows. You have already said too much.”
Tora closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Patience, he reminded himself. He was on his own and he must not make a mistake. Looking at the governor, he said, “Sir-Excellency-
do I take it that you have told Superintendent Yamada about Yoshimine Taketsuna? I thought nobody was to know besides you.”
The governor flushed and looked away. “Yamada is perfectly safe,” he said. “You don’t understand my problems. After my son escaped with the superintendent’s daughter, my people refused to follow orders. Superintendent Yamada was the only one with whom I could discuss the situation. He knows that . . . Taketsuna was sent here to investigate my enemies.” Tora felt more anger building inside him. “You shouldn’t have done that, sir.”
Mutobe blustered weakly, “Who are you to tell me what I can or cannot do, Lieutenant?”
Tora stiffened. “I’m Lord Sugawara’s personal retainer and I’ll gladly die for him and his family. I don’t mind stepping on anyone’s toes, provided I find him. So you’d better tell me what you know, and hope he’s still alive. Your blabbing to everybody about this may have cost him his life. And if it did, I’ll be back.” His hand moved to the grip of his sword.
Mutobe paled. “I assure you . . . I had no occasion to tell until after the incident. And then I only told Yamada. No one else knows.”
“What incident?”
“My son’s escape.” He bit his lip and glanced at Yamada.
“Toshito is innocent and fled to save his life. I had no hand in it but was instantly accused of having helped him, and now-” Tora interrupted, “Yes, never mind. What about my master?”
“Ten days ago, Lord Sugawara was on his way back from Tsukahara. I don’t know if he was successful in solving the case.
He never arrived. Of course I ordered a search, but we found no trace of him. They say he escaped or joined with bandits or pirates. With the trial just a day away, my son despaired and fled, and after that I could do nothing more. I live here like a prisoner now. The servants and the guards simply ignore my orders. I don’t know if anyone is still looking for your master. I do know they are looking for Toshito and Masako. And that they’ll kill them if they find them.” He sagged and brushed a hand over his eyes. Yamada wept openly.
Tora let out a slow breath. “All right,” he said. “I’ll find him myself. Tell me everything he did up to the time he disappeared.” Mutobe began the tale, with Yamada supplying what he knew. The governor concluded, “That fool Osawa decided to get married and left your master to travel the last leg of the trip alone. Lord Sugawara disappeared on the road between Tsukahara and Mano.”
“Or at that monastery,” said Tora. He was no friend of Buddhist monasteries, remembering only too well a past encounter with murderous monks.
Mutobe protested. “Our monks are very gentle and devout.
No, I know what must have happened. I’m convinced he was caught by Kumo and the others who tried to pin the murder of the prince on my son and me. I think he did solve the case and was on his way back to clear us when they stopped him.”
“If that’s true, then they knew his real identity.”
“Not from me,” said Mutobe sharply.
Tora chewed his lip. It was possible that something else had given the master away. He wished he could retrace his master’s steps, but there was no time. “And you think this fellow Kumo’s behind it?”
Mutobe nodded.
“Does he have soldiers?”
“No. That is not permitted. Kumo’s family lost all its privileges. But he employs many people and is very wealthy. If he wished to rebel, he could raise a small army very quickly.” Tora wrestled with this for a moment. His background had made him regard the privileged classes with suspicion, and his instincts were on the side of men like Kumo who had risen in spite of the opposition they faced. “From what you say, he employs farmworkers, house servants, and the men who work his mine. I don’t see any of those attacking my lord.” Mutobe looked at him
