Knowing that he had a family made it desirable for a man to work and serve his country. And now this old man, having outlived his parents and siblings, had no place to call home. Akitada said lamely, “I see. I’m very sorry. What will you do?”
Kunyoshi looked through the open doors toward the northern mountains. They were bathed in the golden light of the rising sun, and the distant roofs and pagodas of the great monasteries of Mount Hiei shimmered among the trees. “My life is short. I suppose I shall become a monk,” he said without enthusiasm and smiled a little sadly. “They keep records in monasteries.”
Akitada returned to his own paperwork a much chastened man and persisted until Nakatoshi told him it was time to leave for Tora’s hearing.
When Akitada passed through the front of the building, dozens of men and women stopped their quiet conversations and turned to look at him hopefully. “There he is,” someone in the back hissed loudly, and instantly all of them knelt and touched their heads to the floor. Akitada stopped in surprise. Then he saw a few petitions being raised above the bowed heads and realized that word had spread. His receiving the rejected petitioners had encouraged others to try their luck.
He told them, “Thank you all for coming and waiting patiently, but today I must attend a court hearing and won’t be back until late. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day.”
They sat up. There was a small babble of conversation until one man-yes, it was old Chikamura, back to find out when he could take possession of his home again-bowed and thanked him. The rest joined in a quaint chorus of humble mutterings. Akitada’s heart warmed. Serving his emperor and his fellow subjects was the finest work a man could do.
Police headquarters bustled with activity. The red-coated figures of policemen with their odd black hats and their bows and arrows were everywhere. Akitada climbed the steps to the Metropolitan Court hall in the wake of a nun in a white cotton robe and veil. He thought that she must be young by the nimble way she skipped up and felt regret that such a young woman should have resigned herself to the emptiness of a religious life. To his mind, such a step was to be taken only in old age or after the loss of a husband. At the doors to the hall he caught up with her and thought he detected a whiff of perfume. No doubt it was only incense.
Inside, they were separated by the red-coated policemen, who took Akitada’s name and directed him to the front of the courtroom. The nun joined the audience.
Hearings were held continuously. Each time a new case was called, the audience would shift and change, as those who left made room for newcomers. Judge Masakane was concluding a case. The prisoner apparently was a thief, and a number of witnesses who had appeared against him were on their way out. New witnesses assumed their places. Akitada recognized Lieutenant Ihara beside the stonemason and his wife, all waiting to be called to testify against Tora. He found a place near them.
Masakane had been a judge in the Metropolitan Court for as long as Akitada could remember. All judges were adjuncts to the imperial police, passing sentences based on the evidence submitted by police investigators on culprits arrested by police constables. More often than not, those found guilty ended up in one of the two prisons maintained by the police. The system depended on all cogs in the process operating in a fair and unbiased manner. But there was considerable oversight and, by and large, it worked better and far more efficiently than the old system under the Ministry of Justice.
Much of Akitada’s early trouble with Soga had stemmed from his fascination with police work and criminal trials. He used to spend too much time observing in the courtroom and, occasionally, meddling in an investigation. Judge Masakane certainly knew him by sight and suspected him of being a spy for the ministry. That he did Akitada an injustice-Akitada admired Masakane’s fairness and acumen-did not matter in this instance.
As the thief, sentenced to one hundred lashes, was dragged from the hall, a hum of anticipation stirred through the crowd. They knew the next case involved a vicious murder. Masakane, seated in the center of the large dais with scribes on either side of him to record the proceedings and the verdict, glanced up and saw Akitada. He scowled, raised his baton and brought it down sharply on the wooden boards.
“Bring in the next defendant.”
The judge resembled a small, ill-tempered turtle in his old age. His fine robe of heavy green silk with its flaring shoulders looked like a shell from which a shrunken head and two small hands emerged and motioned without disturbing its rigid shape. Masakane’s round skull, nearly bald now, was pale and spotted, and a beaky nose came down over thin lips and a receding chin. But his eyes were still bright and black as they watched Tora who, once again in chains, was led in between two guards and made to kneel and prostrate himself before the judge. The corners of Masakane’s mouth turned down in disapproval.
“So you are the person accused of murdering a blind woman. State your name!” he barked.
Tora began to recite his name, place of residence, and service to the Sugawaras. Masakane’s eyes flickered toward Akitada. “Name only! Pay attention, imbecile,” he snapped. Instantly, one of the guards brought his leather whip down across Tora’s buttocks.
Akitada clenched his hands. The judge had recognized him. Since he resented his presence, he would make Tora pay. It was not fair, but neither Tora nor Akitada had any recourse. Akitada certainly could not reprove a judge in his own court. He was thinking about leaving, when he felt a hand on his arm.
Kobe gave him a tight smile and said in a low voice, “Ignore his honor. He must have his little show of temper before he can proceed. Seems to feel it instills proper respect in the defendant and the crowd.”
Akitada frowned. “I don’t remember that. He was always very sure of himself, and there was little or no flogging in his courtroom. Why the change?”
“He thinks people take advantage of him because of his age. Rumors that he’s getting too old for the job have made him bitter.”
“That is bad for Tora.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Masakane will be fair-or at least fairer and more predictable than the others. He follows the law to the letter.”
Masakane, who was listening to the reading of the charges, cast an irritated glance in their direction, recognized Kobe, and bowed. He rapped his baton twice, making the scribe break off in mid-sentence, and called out, “Make room there in front for the superintendent. And
… er… for his companion also.”
A shuffling and rearranging ensued as they made their way to the front and bowed to Masakane.
“Allow me to introduce my friend, Your Honor,” Kobe said to Masakane. “Lord Sugawara is the defendant’s master and came to speak on his behalf.”
Masakane grunted, “Is that so?” and bowed slightly to Akitada.
Up close, the judge looked more human, though Akitada could not be certain if he was grimacing or smiling. Akitada said, “It is always gratifying to see justice dispensed by a superior judge, but it is true that I have a personal reason for being here today.”
“Hmmph,” said the judge. “Well, let’s not waste any more time on pleasantries. Get on with reading the charges.”
As Akitada listened, he glanced across the crowd and noticed the nun again. She was trying to get closer, perhaps to hear better, or to see the defendant. It was clear that her interest in the proceedings went beyond that of the rest of the crowd. Akitada wondered who she was. He decided to keep an eye on her, and perhaps speak to her after the hearing.
When the scribe had finished, Judge Masakane said, “Very well. Let’s have the police report.”
Lieutenant Ihara stepped forward, bowed, and recited the circumstances of Tora’s arrest and the condition of Tomoe’s body and of her room. In the crowd, the nun pushed back her veil a little and craned her head. She had a pale, very handsome face dominated by a pair of extraordinary eyes.
The coroner came forward next and spoke of the multiple stab wounds and of the slashed palms of the victim, suggesting that she had attempted to defend herself against her assailant. He also testified that the body had shown evidence of recent sexual intercourse. The nun put her face into her hands.
Even Masakane looked shocked at the coroner’s report. He wanted to know if the dead woman had been raped, but the coroner could not confirm this. The crowd muttered angrily-or perhaps salaciously.
Tora was kneeling, hunched into himself, but Akitada saw that his fists were clenched on his knees until the knuckles showed white against the brown skin.
Masakane next called the witnesses. The testimony of the stonemason and his wife was as Akitada had
