did not trust him to run the office. With a sigh, Akitada took up Haseo’s sword and decided to stop in at the archives before going home for a bath and change of clothes.
Kunyoshi was the only one working in the archives. Both the sickness and the fear of getting it seemed to have affected the younger officials in much greater numbers. The others, Akitada included, remembered previous epidemics and had perhaps even contracted the disease in a milder form. For some reason, people only suffered smallpox once in their lives, and if they survived it, they were safe. But a greater reason was that this old man lived for his work. Poor man, he had suffered much from Akitada’s mistake. Akitada raised his voice and called out a greeting.
Kunyoshi looked up and came quickly, eager to be of service. Then he recognized Akitada and hesitated, especially when he took in his appearance and the sword. “Have I forgotten something else?” he asked nervously. “I don’t recall…”
“No, no. It’s my turn to apologize, my dear Kunyoshi. I gave you the wrong name. I am very sorry to have caused you so much worry.”
Kunyoshi brightened. “Never mind,” he said with a laugh, “these things happen. And do you have another name for me now?”
The name Tomonari produced happy enlightenment. “Of course,” Kunyoshi cried, clapping his hands. “Tomonari! That’s what I was thinking of all along. Such an interesting case. You mentioned that the land was confiscated because of a crime. Dreadful story. And it did have something to do with a shrine, only it was the Iwashimizu Shrine, of course. Hah, hah!” He laughed with delight, his memory not only tested but confirmed to be excellent.
Iwashimizu was so close to the capital that the emperors themselves worshipped there. The shrine also had special significance for warriors because of its connection to the war god Hachiman. That must be why Haseo had chosen it for his symbol. Things were beginning to fall into place, and Akitada’s spirits lifted, as they always did when he found himself on the right track in a murder investigation. They smiled at each other. “Do you suppose I could have a look at the family record?” Akitada asked.
Kunyoshi trotted away and consulted the tax register for the Tomonari family. “Yes,” he muttered, “six years ago. The following year nothing. Tsuzuki District. Just a moment. I’ll get you the last record before the property fell into the hands of the state.”
They bent over the documents together. The Tomonari family belonged to old noble warrior stock, but most of the “mouths” listed for their twenty-three households were personal servants or peasants working Tomonari land. Some of the peasants owned their small parcels outright and were assessed separately, but most were counted into the Tomonari household and the senior Tomonari was assessed accordingly. At the time of this final assessment, his immediate family seemed to have consisted only of a wife and an adult son. The son also had a family. He was listed as having three wives and four children. It fit. The land consisted of rice paddies, millet fields, and a great deal of uncultivated forest. The assessment of rice taxes was significant enough to make it a desirable estate.
“Where would I find the names of the family?” Akitada asked the archivist.
Kunyoshi pursed his lips. “Household registers,” he said, and dashed off. This time it took longer. Apparently they were kept in a separate building. But Kunyoshi returned, his face slightly flushed and smiling. “Here you are,” he said and placed a fat scroll before Akitada. “It should be in there somewhere. These are all the households in Tsuzuki District.”
Akitada sighed and began to unroll the pages covered with some of the smallest characters he had ever seen. They were glued together to make one long continuous document. So many households, so many names. He found what he wanted an hour later, somewhere near the middle of the scroll:
Household of Tomonari Nobutoshi, 60, local chieftain, rank 8:
Wife: Nihoko, 55.
Son: Haseo, 35.
Son’s wives: Sakyo, 30; Sachi, 25; Hiroko, 20.
Minor children: two boys; four girls.
The other names belonged to servants and slaves. Someone had drawn a thick line after the entry and scribbled in a different hand: “Household broken up by deaths and confiscation of land.” A date matched Haseo’s sentencing date.
So Haseo was finally found. But what had become of the wives and children? No family names were listed for his wives. Which one was the wealthy one who was supposed to have taken in the others? How was Akitada to find them? He rolled up the scroll and went to find Kunyoshi, who had returned to his other duties. “What happens to the family who used to live on a confiscated estate?” he asked the old man, handing back the scroll.
Kunyoshi was not helpful. “The peasants stay, I suppose,” he said. “But the families of the condemned move elsewhere.”
“It’s the wives and children I’m concerned about.”
“Such women may choose to consider themselves divorced. They return to their own family or remarry, I believe. Some enter a convent.”
“What happened to the Tomonari land?”
“Ah!” Kunyoshi brightened. “I remembered something about that. I think I may have mentioned a certain important nobleman who was quite unreasonable in his demands that he should not have to pay a rice tax?”
Akitada did not remember but nodded.
“He’s the one who rents the confiscated estate. He claims that it had fallen into disuse and that he spent his money and used the labor of his slaves to put it back into production; therefore he should be immune from taxation. But the tax office held that he was liable for the same amount as the previous owner because he could not prove that new acreage had been created.” Kunyoshi rubbed his hands. “And quite right, too.” It was clear that he had not liked the irate nobleman.
“What’s his name?”
“Yasugi. As if he weren’t rich enough already in his own right. Pshaw!”
“Yasugi?” Akitada stared at the old man, his mind awhirl. Could it be that this detestable man now controlled the Tomonari estate? “How. ..” he began and stopped. He snatched the household register back. When he found the entry again, he saw what he had missed before. Haseo’s youngest wife was Hiroko. The name was common, but Akitada did not believe in coincidences. The beautiful Hiroko, the woman he had come to desire with every fiber of his being, was Haseo’s widow. Had she been eager to exchange the shameful existence as wife of a condemned man for the luxurious life with the wealthy Yasugi? Or had Yasugi somehow coerced her into marrying him? Akitada wanted to believe the latter. True, she had lied to him, but she had been terrified of her husband.
Giddy with excitement and hope, Akitada thanked Kunyoshi so profusely that the old man looked stunned.
At home, Akitada went straight to Tora. He found him looking a great deal better and eager to talk about his adventures.
“Wait,” said Akitada, “I have news.” He told him what he had discovered that morning.
“What a strange thing! So the sword was Haseo’s all along,” said Tora. He shook his head in wonder. “To think that we wasted all that time just because you got the name wrong.”
Akitada frowned. “You’re missing the point. The case is not solved. Haseo was charged with killing his parents, possibly with this.” He took the sword off and placed it on the floor between them.
“Never,” said Tora. “Somebody else did and you’ll find the bastard. And then you’ll find his family and make that greedy Yasugi give back their property to them.”
And set Hiroko free. Akitada sighed. It was not that simple. Even if he found the real killer and located Haseo’s family, the government would thwart the return of name and land to his heirs by instantly wrapping the case in bureaucratic red tape and innumerable codicils. But he had always known that.
Tora’s priorities were different, and he now reminded Akitada of them. “I would help you, but I’d better go back to the market to ask more questions about Tomoe’s murder.”
Tomoe. She was connected, too. Hiroko had lied about their relationship. Had Tomoe perhaps been a witness to the crime? And if she knew the real killer of Haseo’s parents, might she have been killed to keep her from telling? But that could not be. Five years had passed. If she had been a threat to the killer, he would have got rid of her years ago, before the trial.
