Black Arrow sa-4 Page 27

  NINTEEN

  THE TURNING WHEEL

  Well done!” grunted Hitomaro, parrying Akitada’s long sword and stepping back.

  Both men were stripped to thewaist, their bare skin covered with the sheen of perspiration on this gray andcold morning outside the tribunal hall. Akitada smiled briefly and checked thebandage on his left shoulder. “I think it’s coming back to me,” he said. “I wasafraid my arm had stiffened.”

  “One rarely forgets the rightmoves.”

  Hitomaro’s face did not loseits gravity. Akitada had hoped that the workout would lift his lieutenant’sspirits, but he had not once lost his detachment. Akitada did not like thatfaraway look in Hitomaro’s eyes; he seemed to be gazing into an unseen world,listening for an unheard sound.

  “I would not wish to disgracemyself before Takesuke,” Akitada joked lamely. “He already has a very pooropinion of me.” They all thought that a battle was unavoidable. Men would dieand, unlike Sun Tzu, Akitada did not believe that men ever died gladly. Theresponsibility frightened him more than his own death, but he could not falternow.

  Hitomaro resumed his position.They reengaged and continued their practice until the nearby monastery bellsounded the call for the monks’ morning rice. When Captain Takesuke arrived,they were bent over the well bucket, sluicing off their sweat.

  Takesuke smiled when he took inthe significance of the sword practice. “I’m happy to see you quite recovered,Excellency,” he said with a smart salute. “I also have made preparations. Youwill be proud of the troops. In fact, I came for your Excellency’s banner so wecan make copies to carry into battle.”

  The feeling of well-being afterthe exercise evaporated with the water on Akitada’s skin. Here was a man afterSun Tzu’s heart. He shivered and reached for a towel. “Hitomaro will supply youwith what you need. The problem is getting Uesugi out of Takata. That manor istoo strongly fortified.”

  Takesuke said confidently, “Hewill fight. How can he refuse and retain his honor now that he has openlydeclared himself ruler of the northern provinces and demanded our formalsubmission?”

  Akitada shot him a sharp glanceas he tossed away the towel and reached for his gown. “Just how do you knowthat, Captain?”

  Takesuke pulled a folded,bloodstained sheet of paper from under his shoulder guard. “One of my menbrought this from Takata. When it got light enough, they noticed two posts thathadn’t been there before. They sent a man to investigate. He found two freshcorpses tied to the posts. They had been disemboweled and one had this attachedto his chest with a dagger.”

  Sickened, Akitada unfolded thepaper. The writing was large and crude, the characters in the middleobliterated by the blood-soaked hole left by the dagger, but the content wasclear: “The traitor Hisamatsu sends this greeting to Sugawara and Takesuke: Bowto the new Lord of the North or suffer as I did.”

  “Hisamatsu is dead,” Akitadasaid tonelessly, handing Hitomaro the message.

  Hitomaro read and nodded. “Hehad no chance. What good is a raving lunatic to Uesugi? I suppose the other oneis Chobei?”

  Takesuke nodded.

  Akitada said, “They wereprobably killed last night, a whole day and night after Hisamatsu went toTakata. That means Uesugi did not act until he got news of Sunada’s arrest.”

  Hitomaro looked surprised. “Youmean he blamed them for that?”

  “Perhaps.” Akitada refolded thepaper and put it in his sleeve. “Or perhaps he had been waiting for Sunada’sinstructions. In any case, he keeps himself informed about developments in thecity.”

  “The faster we move on him thebetter,” Takesuke said eagerly. “When will your Excellency give the order to march?”

  The man’s eagerness tosacrifice himself and untold numbers of other humans on the battlefield was toomuch for Akitada. He swung around angrily. “Have you not been listening, man?We cannot take the manor. It is inaccessible-as you should have realized longago. And I doubt that Uesugi will accommodate us by coming out. Get it intoyour thick skull and stop badgering me!”

  Takesuke blanched. He bowed. “Myapology.”

  Akitada bit his lip. He wasashamed of his outburst and tempted to leave the awkward scene for the safetyof his office. Eventually he said grudgingly, “There is still a great deal ofpaperwork to be done before we can bring formal charges against Uesugi, but Isuppose we must make ready to attack.”

  Takesuke got up and stood toattention. “Yes, Excellency. Thank you, Excellency.”

  Akitada sighed. He could notafford to antagonize this man. “Perhaps tomorrow, Captain,” he said and walkedaway.

  ¦

  Thetribunal archives had lost their dusty, musty air of disuse. On a closerinspection of Sunada’s house, the warehouses had held much of the province’srice stores, and the locked room had guarded the secrets of a planned uprising.

  Now everywhere in the tribunalpiles of document boxes covered the floor. The two clerks were bent overpapers, reading, making notes, and sorting Sunada’s records into neat stacks.Seimei bustled about, checking and labeling the stacks and making notes. Aharassed but happy Hamaya greeted Akitada.

  “Excellency, I am amazed,” hecried. “You have uncovered an enormous conspiracy! Nobody could have dreamed ofsuch a thing. And it is all here. Lists of conspirators’ names, contacts inother provinces …” He snatched up one of the piles and followed Akitada intohis office. “Look! These are the rice records for the last year. This is theUesugi seal. Sunada paid Uesugi for eight thousand bales of the provincial fallharvest, and the amount is less than half of its value. According to Uesugi,that rice went to the troops in the north.”

  Akitada suppressed hisimpatience. Hamaya had worked hard and accounted for part of the missinggovernmental rice stores. He peered at the figures, nodded, and said, “Excellentwork, Hamaya. You and your clerks are to be congratulated. We can charge Uesugiwith diverting government property to his own uses. Start drawing up thepaperwork.”

  Hamaya bowed, pink withpleasure. “Immediately, sir. Oh, I almost forgot…look at this. It’s a letterfrom someone in the capital, I think. Stuck in the pages of the merchant’spersonal accounts. It must be a hoax. Surely it couldn’t be … treason?”

  Akitada snatched the letterfrom Hamaya’s hand, glanced at it, and felt his heart stop. “Someone’s privatejoke, no doubt,” he told the head clerk and tossed the paper carelessly on hisdesk. “Let me know when the charges are ready.”

  He waited until Hamaya had lefthis office, then read the letter again. It was addressed to Sunada andencouraged him in his plan to establish a separate northern rule with promisesof high appointment in the capital if his endeavor could influence imperialsuccession. The letter was unsigned, but Akitada had recognized the seal. Itbelonged to one of the sons of the retired emperor. This young man had brieflyserved as crown prince, but had been replaced in the succession by a child, theson of the present empress and grandson of the Fujiwara chancellor.

  Because of Fujiwara marriagepolitics, intrigue within the imperial family was always a danger, andpunishment usually fell heavily on the innocent, on loyal servants and dutifulofficials along with their families, rather than the highly placed principals.

  Therefore Akitada stared at theelegant paper with particular horror. It lay on his desk between the blackarrow which had killed Kaibara and saved Akitada’s life and the lacquered boxof Tamako’s shell-matching game. Men played deadly games everywhere. Not onlywas he about to risk his life to secure this province, but the letter representeda bloody upheaval about to happen in the capital, and on his, Akitada’s,report. Yet duty required him to make this report. By a twist of fate, he wasforced to destroy lives, careers, and families, perhaps his own included, whenhe had struggled all along to avoid bloodshed.

  Akitada knew that another manwould burn the letter and forget its contents. Echigo was a remote province. Ifthe insurrection collapsed here, the disaffected prince in the capital mightwell give up his aspirations.

  But weighed against the presentand future
danger to the emperor, this was not an option open to Akitada. Whatif the news of the collapse of the northern uprising prompted desperate actionin the capital? And what guarantee was there that an ambitious prince might notplot again, and again?

  He raised his hands to his faceand groaned.

  “What is the matter, husband?”Tamako had entered silently, wide-eyed with concern. She looked frail in themorning light, her hands resting protectively on her swelling body.

  Akitada smiled bleakly. “I amafraid I may have failed both of us,” he said. “I no longer know what is to bedone.” He closed his eyes. “And I think I am about to fail the emperor nomatter how I choose to act.”

  He heard the rustle of her silkgown as she sank down next to him, then felt the warmth of her body pressed tohis. “You cannot fail me,” she whispered, “no matter what you do. It is not inyou.” She withdrew a little. “You will fail yourself only if you shirk yourduty. And how can you fail the emperor if you obey his laws and perform yourduty?”

  He shook his head and smiled alittle at her fervor. “Here,” he said, pushing the letter toward her. “Thisaffects you and our unborn child as well. Read it!”

  She read. “Whose is this?” sheasked.

  “It is Prince Okisada’s seal.”

  She drew in her breath sharply.“I see.” Her eye fell on the arrow on his desk. “Would you aim an arrow into adark cave because you thought a bear was moving inside?”

  A bear? A cave? What did shemean? Perversely, Tamako’s words conjured up another memory: White Bear, Kaoru’sdog. Kaoru’s long bow. Akitada’s hand went to the arrow. By its length and rarefeather it was a contest arrow, not an ordinary soldier’s issue. He recalledHitomaro’s amazement at Kaoru’s bow, his skill with it. Like his coroner, hisnew sergeant of constables was an enigma.

  The more he thought about it,Kaoru’s education and his difference from the other outcasts were mysteries hehad not pursued because there were more urgent problems to be solved. Was thisjust a minor puzzle, or was it at the heart of the Uesugi stranglehold on thisprovince? And how was it connected to Kaibara’s death?

  “Akitada?”

  He was snatched back to thepresent. “What?”

  “I only meant that you cannotknow the situation in the capital. If you release the arrow, it may merelywound the bear, or kill its cub. Then you may be hurt instead.”

  How astute she was. “Yes. I know. That is the problem.” He turned his attention to the arrow again,twisting it this way and that.

  Tamako frowned. “A hunter might wait for another opportunity,” she remarked anxiously.

  “Yes. You are quite right.Thank you.” He smiled at her, noting that the protective hand rested on her softly rounded belly again. Women played by their own rules, followed their own concept of honor, he thought and was surprised at the discovery.

  She blushed as if she had read his mind. “Forgive me. It was not my place to advise you.”

  “On the contrary. I think you have helped me solve another mystery.”

  “Oh?” Her pale face lit up,then looked puzzled. “Again?”

  “Yes. Your final match in our shell game led me to Sunada.”

  “The ladies with the lutes!”She clapped her hands. “But how?”

  “The murdered woman owned a lute, a very expensive, rare one. After the murder, that lute was gone. I realized that only Sunada could have bought it, or had the taste to do so. And he would have taken it away with him.”

  “How horrible!” Tamako’s eyeswere large with shock. Then she added quickly, “But he must have loved her very much to have spoiled her so,” and her eyes lit up as if a thought had crossed her mind. She glanced at the shell-matching game. “Did the game … cost very much?” she asked, half hopeful, half afraid.

  Akitada did not know how to answer. He had paid much less than it was worth. Had not the curio dealer said the shell-matching game had been ordered as a gift for an Uesugi lady years ago? He had a dim memory of those same flowers and grasses among the decorations on a suit of armor in the Takata armory.

  Would Tamako think he did not love her? The female mind drew the most astonishing conclusions sometimes. He said, joking though his heart was afraid, “However you might rate my affection,I certainly would never entertain any murderous thoughts.”

  Puzzlement, then comprehension and embarrassment passed quickly over her face. But to Akitada’s relief, she burst into laughter. Tamako laughed like a child, eyes sparkling, head thrown back, pink lips revealing perfect white teeth. She rarely practiced the custom of blackening her teeth as ladies in the capital did. And this was not ladylike laughter either. It was wholly infectious, and Akitada joined in.

  The door opened, and Tora looked in curiously. Behind him Hamaya and the two clerks craned their necks.

  Akitada glanced back at his wife.Her hand now covered her mouth in the prescribed manner, but above it her eyes sparkled with mirth.

  “Come in, Tora,” said Akitada,smiling at his wife, who rose and, bowing to him, left the room. “What is it?”

  “Kaoru sent me. Sunada wants totalk to you. Kaoru doesn’t dare leave, not after what happened with the Omeyawoman. He’s afraid Sunada might kill himself.”

  “Thank you,” Akitada said,jumping up, “this could be important. Anything I can use to avoid open war withUesugi would be heaven-sent.”

  The atmosphere around the jail was tense. Guards manned the entrance to keep away the curious. In spite of this, two cripples had taken up position near the steps and raised sad faces to Akitada. He could not understand their piteous cries and was about to toss them some coppers, when Tora said, “Sunada’s servants. They followed him and have sat here ever since.”

  In the common room more constables snapped to attention. Kaoru was seated outside Sunada’s cell door.He looked tired, but rose immediately and bowed to Akitada.

  “Sergeant,” said Akitada, “I want you to send one of the constables to Captain Takesuke and request five of his best men to carry a dispatch to the capital.” His eyes fell on the barred window of a cell door which was suddenly crowded with three familiar faces.

  Only Takagi’s wore the usual vacant smile. Umehara looked pale and frightened, and Okano had been weeping.

  “Why are they locked up again?”Akitada asked.

  “I did not want to take any chances this time, sir,” Kaoru said in a low voice. “Not after my recent negligence.”

  “Let them out.”

  The three men tumbled out hurriedly to express their gratitude. Okano, who had a flowered scarf tied about his face, looked more like a farmer’s wife than ever. He insisted on kissing the hem of Akitada’s gown. Umehara was gabbling something about salmon stew, and Takagi asked for his gold coins again.

  The confused scene was an unwelcome reminder to Akitada that he must close their case officially. Their freedom depended on Sunada’s testimony in court.

  “Get everybody out,” Akitadasnapped to Kaoru, “and take care of that message. Immediately! It’s urgent.Then come back here.”

  When they were alone, Akitada had Tora unlock Sunada’s cell and went in.

  The change in the man was shocking. The once smooth, shining face of the wealthy merchant was gray, and the skin sagged. He looked up at Akitada from heavy-lidded eyes without bothering to rise or bow. “I could not sleep,” he said.

  Akitada wondered whether this was a complaint about jail conditions or more expressions of his grief and despair. To his surprise, it was another matter altogether.

  “Those three men.” Sunada’s eyes went to the wall that separated the two cells. “All night they talked.There is one-his words are those of a child, but he speaks with a man’s voice.He talked of his father and mother. And he wept for them like a homesick child.It was terrible to hear his weeping. Another fellow wept with him. This one cried like a woman. And the old man talked about food all night. He was worried his salmon would go bad. Are they the men accused of Sato’s murder?”

  Akitada nodde
d.

  Sunada sighed. “They are innocent. I expect they have gone mad expecting to be executed. Why do some men fear death so much? I welcome it.”

  “They are not mad,” said Akitada.“Until recently they moved freely about the jail. Being locked up again has frightened them. But even when I first met them, they were not concerned about dying because they knew they were innocent. Their worries concern the problemsof life. Takagi is a slow-witted farmer’s son who is homesick. Okano is an actor who is out of work and alone in the world. And Umehara has discovered the joys and frustrations of cooking.” Akitada paused. Sunada had surprised him again. He said tentatively, “I had hoped to prove their innocence and release them this week.”

  “And now you cannot do so?”

  “Not without your help.” Sunada’s words had given Akitada new hope. Perhaps he had misjudged the man. Whateverhis crimes, he was not without pity. But was it reasonable to expect a favorfrom someone he was about to sentence to death? Sunada was guilty of triple murder and treason. Why should he care about justice in the abstract? Why woulda criminal who faced execution in its most cruel form-treason against the emperorwas punishable by disemboweling before decapitation or by being beaten todeath-care about three poor men? Takagi, Okada, and Umehara had neither ambition nor potential. They were the dregs of a society Sunada had risen from through lifelong effort and relentless pursuit of power.

  But Sunada nodded. “That is why I sent for you. I am prepared to help you.”

  Akitada was astonished and relieved. They were alone, but outside in the common room he could hear Kaoruin subdued conversation with Tora.

  He said, “As you know, Mrs.Sato was about to be arrested for the murder of her husband. Now her death makes it impossible to charge her with the crime.”

  Sunada nodded again and asked, “Howdid you find out?”

  “Her alibi for the day of the murder was unshakable. It was that which led me to suspect her in the first place. It occurred to me that she must have arranged to have her husband killed while she was safely away visiting her parents. I assume you knew?”