rank. It told me that you were to help me in my present difficulties.” The prisoner sighed. “May I see the letter, please?” he asked.
The governor fished it from his sash and passed it over. “My dear Sugawara,” he said earnestly, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am to see you like this.”
Akitada, who had been accustoming himself to the role of the convict Taketsuna, was angry. He looked around the room, bare except for the desk, a tall candle, two silk cushions, and four large lacquer trunks, and then went to throw open one panel of the sliding doors to the outside. A tiny landscape of rock, pebbles, lantern, and a few shrubs had been squeezed between the governor’s room and a high, blank wall. It was too small for anyone to hide in. He closed the door again and faced the governor.
“You should have destroyed this,” he said, after glancing at the short letter. “Please do it now.” He waited as the other man held the letter into the candle flame until it grayed, shriveled, and became dust. “Our meeting,” Akitada continued, “is dangerous. But since I am here, and you are informed of my purpose, I suppose you had better tell me what you know.” Reaching up to the collar of his stained robe, he picked at a seam. After a moment, he eased a thinly folded sheet of paper from between the layers of fabric and extended it to the governor, who unfolded it and read quickly before raising it reverently to his forehead.
With a deep bow, he returned the document. “Yes, quite in order. The vermilion seal and the seals of His Majesty’s private office. I am deeply honored. As you saw, my letter instructed me to assist you in investigating the murder of the Second Prince.
But my son-” He broke off and looked away. His thin hands, folded across his chest, clenched and unclenched convulsively.
Akitada said more gently, “Let us sit down.” Mutobe looked flustered. “Yes, of course. Please forgive me.
The past week has been terrible, terrible.” After they had seated themselves on the cushions-they were of good quality and not at all worn like those in Echigo-he looked at Akitada with deep concern. “Your face . . . I blame myself, but I could not prevent it.”
Akitada waved the apology away. “It is nothing.”
“Welcome to Sado, such as it is,” the governor said, still dubiously, “though, of course, you may not wish to continue with this dangerous impersonation now.”
“Why? Has the situation changed?”
“No. If anything . . . but heavens, sir . . .” Akitada raised a hand in warning. “No names and no hon-orifics. I am a convict called Yoshimine Taketsuna.” The governor swallowed and continued, “I cannot protect you. Not only is my administration compromised by the murder charge against my son, but now my son’s life is in danger. I dare not take any actions against my enemies.” He smiled bitterly. “It was my fault for attempting to curb Kumo and his minions. Now they are planning to get rid of me. The central government considers this island no more than a prison colony. The law here is enforced by the police, whose commander is a government appointee but works for Kumo, and by the high constable, who thinks he is responsible to no one but himself. So you see, your scheme is much too dangerous. A matter of life and death.”
“The murder of the Second Prince may well hide something far more dangerous. You suspect the high constable of plotting to remove you from office by linking you to the crime? Why would he do this all of a sudden?”
The governor blinked. “Isn’t it obvious? The man is a mega-lomaniac. He wants to rule this island. He already controls most of its wealth. Now he wants absolute power. In the years that I have been governor here, I have seen him seize more and more control. I have tried to stop him, but all it got me was a reprimand from the capital, and now my son is accused of a murder he did not commit.”
Akitada knew that local overlords could become very powerful and that the government often made use of their power by appointing them high constables, thus saving the cost of
maintaining troops in the distant provinces. But surely Kumo would not kill the Second Prince to seize a province? He said,
“The emperor is concerned. I am here to learn the truth about the murder and to verify your suspicions.” Mutobe brightened a little. “Yes. Perhaps Kumo will think you are one of them. Your disguise was a real stroke of genius.” Akitada was not so sure. He said dryly, “Let’s hope the matter is settled before they find out that the real Yoshimine is in jail in Heian-kyo.”
Mutobe fidgeted. “I must warn you. No matter how hard we try to intercept messages, Okisada’s people always hear of news in the capital. Pirate ships carry their letters. I am afraid this is going to be very dangerous indeed. Of course, you must do as you wish, only don’t count on me to save you. Kumo’s people don’t stop at murder, and with my son’s life at stake . . .” His voice trailed off.
He looked at Akitada’s face again and shook his head. Reaching for a slender porcelain flask, he poured wine into two fine porcelain cups and extended one to his visitor. “I was told you almost died at sea and then were beaten by Wada’s constables.” Akitada emptied his cup thirstily, nodded in appreciation, and passed it back for a refill. “Wada is the police official who greeted me at the dock? If he treats all arriving prisoners that way, something should be done about him, but for the present it does not matter. The incident lent a certain realism.” Mutobe shook his head again. “I don’t want to belabor the point, but I wonder if you realize that even under the best circumstances an ordinary prisoner’s life is worthless here. Wada is a brutal beast and his constables act as he wishes. The high constable has made a special pet of Wada. Between them, they claim to keep the peace on Sado, reminding me that my function here is purely judicial and administrative. And it seems the prince, whom I have had to remind of his status many times, still has friends in the government.”
Akitada was becoming impatient with Mutobe’s whining.
His ill-considered actions against the high constable and his dilatoriness in reporting the trouble to the council of state had provoked the situation. He suspected that the governor had let a personal power struggle get out of hand. He changed the subject. “Did you send that very drunk physician to me?” Mutobe looked embarrassed. “Ogata is my coroner and tends to the prisoners. When I got the captain’s letter, I went to take a look at you. I was shocked by your wounds and thought you needed medical attention. Ogata drinks, but he is a perfectly capable physician. In fact, if it had not been for his drinking and slovenly appearance, he would have treated the late prince. The prince’s doctor, Nakatomi, is more interested in wealth than healing. Ogata can be trusted. He is absolutely unbribable because he has neither ambition nor greed.”
“A rare man indeed. I was not complaining but wanted to thank you.”
The governor relaxed and smiled for the first time. “Apparently Ogata liked you, too. He told me that I had to find you a place here because you might not survive the hardships of roadwork or mining. When I pretended lack of interest, he offered to make you his assistant because he was getting too old for his work. He put on quite a good performance, gasping and pressing a hand to his heart. He even groaned as he bowed.”
Akitada laughed. “He must think me a weakling. I thought I was in excellent physical condition.”
“Working on roads or breaking rock is not the same as a bout with the sword or some hard riding. In any case, I will find you a place in the archives where I can keep in touch with you.”
“I am not sure that is a good idea. Any close contact between us will cause suspicion. Also I must be able to travel.”
“But I thought . . .” The governor looked upset and said in an almost pleading tone, “Surely you will want to meet my son?
To get his story? Then I’ll do my best to send you away.” Akitada weakened. “Well, perhaps. If it is only for a day or two. Do you have a map of Sadoshima?” Mutobe rose and delved into one of the lacquered trunks.
He produced a large rolled-up scroll and spread this out on the desk between them.
The island’s shape resembled a large butterfly flying northeast, its body flat heartland, the wings mountainous. The governor pointed to the southwestern opening between the two wings.
“We are here, on Sawata Bay. The murder happened in Minato, a small town on Lake Kamo near the opposite coast. Okisada was the guest of honor at the villa of a retired professor there.
Okisada’s own manor is in Tsukahara, not far from the lake. The central plain northeast of us is full of rice farms. Kumo’s estate is there.” Mutobe pointed to the center of the island. “Most of the farmed land belongs to the descendants of earlier exiles. I mention this because some families still bear a grudge against the government.
