Island of Exiles

sight of the bodies of men and horses and lowered their lances.

Akitada raised his hand. “Halt! We have business with His Excellency.”

The column faltered and stopped. The woven curtain of the sedan chair parted and Mutobe stuck out his head.

“What’s going on?” he shouted. “What do these people want?”

“Governor?” Akitada started toward the sedan chair, but a small forest of sharp halberds immediately barred his way.

“Who are you?” asked Mutobe.

“Sugawara.”

Mutobe’s jaw dropped. “Good heavens!” Then he cried, “Put me down! Put me down, you fools.” The sedan chair was lowered and opened. Mutobe climbed out and came to Akitada with outstretched hands. The halberds parted and the soldiers stepped back. Mutobe’s steps faltered. “Is that really you, Sugawara?” he asked uncertainly. “All that blood. Are you hurt?” Belatedly his eyes fell on the carcass of a dead horse, then on human bodies. “What has happened here?” he asked, his eyes wide and his voice hoarse.

“Kumo caught up with us. May I introduce Lieutenant Tora? If he had not found me in time, we would not be speaking to each other now.”

Mutobe looked at Tora, turned a little green at the amount of gore on Tora, and nodded. “Yes. We met. Are you telling me that you two killed all these men?” His eyes counted. “Four mounted soldiers? All by yourselves?”

“No, there were three of us. My friend was wounded. He is dying.” Akitada led the way to the farmyard, where Mutobe counted more bodies, pausing in astonishment beside the corpse of the late high constable.

“It’s Kumo,” he said, picking up the golden helmet. “You killed Kumo. Wonderful! It’s a miracle. Finally we are free of the monster. Oh, we will celebrate this day!” He clapped his hands together like a small child.

Akitada did not feel like celebrating. He knelt beside Haseo.

Mutobe came to lean over him. “Who is he?”

“Utsunomiya Haseo. My friend.”

“Don’t know him. How did you meet?”

“He was a prisoner as I was. In Kumo’s mine.”

“Oh, a convict. He looks dead.”

Akitada was holding Haseo’s hand, willing him to open his eyes, to smile. Tora joined them. He reached down and felt Haseo’s neck. “Gone,” he said bluntly. “Better this way.”

“Yes,” said Akitada dismally, tears blurring his eyes. “But I had so much to ask him still.”

“Well.” Mutobe straightened up and looked about. “The locals will take care of him and the others. Cheer up. He’s only a convict. Would have been executed anyway for escaping.” Akitada felt like striking the man. Even if it had been some other convict and not Haseo, he would have flared up in righteous anger. Mutobe had not confronted Kumo to stop the abuse of prisoners and mine workers. He had been engaged in a miserable private struggle to solidify his and his son’s authority against the increasingly powerful high constable. But Akitada was too exhausted to be able to say more than, “No. He will return with us for an honorable burial in Mano. Whatever he was, he fought bravely in an honorable cause.” Mutobe was distracted. “Oh, very well. Whatever. But where are the ladies?”

“The ladies?” Akitada put Haseo’s hand back on his chest and got to his feet. He saw now that they had been joined by two other men. One was Yamada, looking shocked and anxious, the other the governor’s son. “Toshito?” Akitada gasped. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Kumo.”

“With Kumo?” Yamada and his son-in-law cried in unison.

“Why would my son be with Kumo?” the governor asked.

“He ran most of the way from Ribata’s hermitage to tell me of your escape and to ask me to bring help in case Kumo came after you. He took quite a risk. I’m sorry we did not get here sooner, but my men were reluctant to obey me.” Akitada said quickly, “Never mind. I’m grateful you’re here.” He glanced toward the governor’s soldiers. An elderly officer was directing his men to collect the bodies and clear the road of dead horses. Mutobe must have had an impossible task. It was a miracle he had appeared with such numbers. And Akitada had been wrong about Toshito and owed the obnoxious fellow an apology. There were more important matters in life than a moment’s humility. Bowing to the governor’s son, he said awkwardly, “I beg your pardon for my mistake, Toshito. I thought when you left last night . . . Ribata is close to Kumo’s family and you were very hostile. When we woke up and saw Kumo and his men coming, there seemed to be only one explanation.”

“Damn you to hell!” Toshito spat. “How dare you call me a traitor? You ran like the coward you are, leaving two helpless women to the attentions of . . . soldiers, low creatures without principle.” He waved at the bodies which still lay about the courtyard and had attracted a small crowd of jabbering villagers.

Akitada bit his lip and said again, “I am sorry. It was a mistake.”

Mutobe stepped between them. “Toshito,” he said sharply,

“you forget yourself. Lord Sugawara is under imperial orders and has done us a great service. Apologize.” His son compressed his lips and glared.

Yamada asked, “Do you really think they hurt the women?” Suddenly Akitada had had enough. He told Mutobe coldly,

“Tell your son to take the sedan chair and some of the men to bring the ladies here. Meanwhile, there are other matters to discuss. Inside. It is hot out here and stinks of blood.” The farmer, his wife, and several female relatives or maids prostrated themselves when they entered the house. Mutobe demanded use of their main room, and a place for them to wash themselves. Akitada was grateful for the last, for the clothes he had borrowed from Tora were stiff with drying blood, and his skin and scalp itched under layers of sweat and filth.

One of the women brought a large bowl of water and hemp cloth for drying, but he asked for the well. There he stripped and poured bucket after bucket of clean water over himself, scrubbing his face, beard, hair, and body until he felt clean again. Someone brought him a silk robe-one of the governor’s, to judge by its quality and size-and he ran his fingers through his hair and twisted it up into a topknot. When he went back into the house, Mutobe and Yamada both looked relieved at his changed appearance.

“Have some of this wine,” offered Mutobe. “It is only ordinary, but it will give you some strength.”

Strength. Yes, he could use that. The cold water had temporarily dispelled his exhaustion, but now he sank down on the wooden planks of the farmer’s best room and gulped the rough wine gratefully.

Yamada and Mutobe watched him expectantly, too polite to burst into excited questions, but clearly hopeful that the wine would loosen his tongue.

Akitada’s first thought was Haseo. “What has been done about my friend’s body?”

“He will be taken back to Mano,” said Mutobe quickly. “My men are building a stretcher. I hope that is satisfactory?” Akitada nodded. “Where is Tora?”

“Your lieutenant suddenly recalled having left some people behind. He took horses to get them.” Akitada had forgotten the wretched Wada and the strange little man with the crippled leg. “One of the men he left behind is the police official Wada,” he told the governor. “I assume you know him?”

Mutobe made a face. “Er. Yes. Not perhaps what one could wish. There have been some complaints.”

“You have, of course, investigated them?” Akitada asked.

Mutobe flushed. “Why? Even if they proved true, what would you have me do about it?”

Akitada snapped, “Well, he could receive a reprimand and warning. Or he could be arrested and tried and sent to jail. Or he could be sent back to the capital as unsuitable. I gather you took none of these options. Wada was working for Kumo when he waylaid me. He had me beaten half to death by his constables, and when Kumo interfered he took me to a gold mine where I was left to die.”

The two men stared at him.

“A gold mine?” asked Mutobe.

“My mistake. I meant to say silver mine.”

“Terrible,” cried Yamada. “My dear Taketsuna, I wish I had known. Oh, dear! Forgive me. Lord Sugawara, I mean. You will have to do something about that man, Governor.” Mutobe stiffened his back. “Certainly. I will have him arrested immediately. I had no idea. Up until now there were just a few concerns about his rough treatment of criminals and vagrants or prostitutes. . . .” Seeing Akitada’s expression, he flushed again. “Well. I tried to discipline