Black Arrow (14 page)

“You have made a bad enemy,” remarked the old man to Hitomaro, as he came to change the compress on his head. “Perhaps you would rather not tell us your name under the circumstances. You are among friends here. We know all about keeping secrets and we often give refuge to those in trouble with the authorities.”

“The authorities?” Hitomaro looked shocked. “Good heavens! Those bastards were scum. They were the hired thugs of a fellow called Sunada. We had a small disagreement earlier in the day after one of them roughed up a friend of a friend.”

The old man sighed. “Sunada’s men? In this place, authority is not always in official hands, so watch yourself, my son.” Turning to Yasuko, he said, “He will stay here overnight. A very light supper, and a solid breakfast, and he should do well enough. Now I must check on my other patient.”

“No!” Hitomaro began to scramble up again, but the white-beard placed a surprisingly strong hand against his chest and forced him back. “You don’t understand,” Hitomaro pleaded. “I have to return to the city tonight. I’m meeting a friend.”

“Why?” Just that word, but the inflection expressed surprise rather than curiosity, as if in the larger scheme of things nothing mattered but Hitomaro’s health.

“Well...” Hitomaro hedged, then said, “Never mind.”

The old man nodded. “You will stay.” His tone left no room for argument.

Yasuko accompanied the healer to the door and bade him farewell with many deep bows. When she returned, Hitomaro said, “You have strange doctors here. He was a
yamabushi,
wasn’t he?”

She smiled. “Not just any
yamabushi.
The master himself. He lives in the mountains in a cave and only visits to tend the sick and dying. He’s a great man, a saint.”

“I admit that compress of his is very soothing. Who’s his other patient?”

“Oh, that one!” She sniffed. “An army deserter came here to hide. He showed his gratitude by raping one of our girls. There was a fight after that. We should’ve known from his broken teeth that he was bully. I think someone broke his arm.”

“Why do you hide criminals?”

“They aren’t always criminals. Some just don’t get along with the authorities. The master insists we take in anyone who’s in trouble. He says in a world without justice, every man deserves a second chance. It’s a rule that can’t be broken. Most of those who came to us have been grateful. I’ll get your dinner now.”

After she left, an old crone sidled up and sat down next to Hitomaro. She stared fixedly at his bandaged head and muttered under her breath.

Her glittering eyes made him nervous. “What’s that, Grandmother?” he asked.

Suddenly she bent over him so closely that he flinched away from her foul breath. “Are you afraid, my handsome lord?” She cackled crazily, rocking back and forth. “Blood. Red blood and white snow. Ah, the pretty flower and the pretty bud.” She leaned over him again. A thin thread of saliva drooled from her toothless gums. She hissed, “The dead will have their due, my lord. Where will you hide then? In your grave?” She doubled over with a wild shriek of laughter.

“Quiet, Grandmother!” Kaoru reached down and helped her up. “Time for your supper and bed.”

The crone clung to him, whimpering now. “Make him go away. Make him go away.” Kaoru made soothing noises and took her to the far corner of the house, where he bedded her down and gently wrapped a blanket around her. Yasuko took her a bowl of food, and Kaoru returned to Hitomaro.

“Grandmother is a shamaness,” he said. “Such women suffer great mental strain in their work. She’s been having spells of confusion for the past year, and today has been an especially bad day for her. I hope you will forgive her.”

“Of course, but what the devil was she talking about? What blood? Which dead?”

“She doesn’t know what she is saying. She’s old and weak and gets confused.”

Hitomaro said nothing. He had begun to wonder why this outcast woodcutter spoke like an educated man.

Yasuko brought a bamboo tray with fragrant pink chunks of fish nestled in green cabbage leaves. “She’s calm now,” she told Kaoru. “The fit started when she heard someone talk about the old lord’s death. I put your food next to her bed, Kaoru. Please sit with her for a little.” Turning to Hitomaro, she said, “I promised you salmon, and here it is.” She knelt beside him and selected a tempting piece with the chopsticks. Proffering it, she added, “You mustn’t be greedy though! The master said you are to eat lightly, and I mean to make sure you behave.”

She looked so charming with her face rosy in the firelight, that a man might well forget his manners. Hitomaro enjoyed the experience of being fed, and not only because the fish was delicious and he was hungry. He swallowed and thanked her, then asked, “Why would your grandmother be upset by old Uesugi’s death?”

“Otakushi is Kaoru’s grandmother. She used to visit Takata manor just as her mother did before her. They both had the gift of foretelling the future. It’s dangerous work. Otakushi’s mother once almost lost her life. She foretold that one of the lord’s sons would kill his brother.”

Kaoru appeared beside her, eyes blazing with anger. “Yasuko. Come.”

She looked up, startled. Gathering the tray with shaking hands, she told Hitomaro, “You must rest now,” and scurried away.

* * * *

FLUTE PLAY

n the gray predawn hour of the following morning, Akitada sat hunched over his desk, reading documents from the provincial archives. From time to time his eyes moved to a twist of paper and a scrap with some childish scrawls on it, and he muttered to himself.

Hamaya put his head in the door. “Did you wish for anything, your Excellency?”

“No, no! Just. . . you might glance outside and see if either of my lieutenants is about.”

Hamaya disappeared. Akitada shivered, took a sip from his teacup and made a face. The tea was cold already, and no wonder in this chilly place. If he could only shake this trouble in his belly, he might have more energy, ideas, solutions. The gods knew he needed them. Neither Tora nor Hitomaro had seen fit to make their reports last night as instructed. He had waited for hours. When he had finally gone to the room he shared with his wife, she had been fast asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, he had ended up spending the night in his office, hardly closing an eye, chilled to the bone by the icy drafts coming from the doors and through the walls.

Then, this morning, on his desk, he had found the mysterious twist of paper on top of one of Tora’s illegible notes. The paper contained some mud-colored bits smelling vaguely of dried grass and resembling rabbit dung.

The door opened. Hamaya said, “Lieutenant Tora is just...”

“Sorry, sir,” Tora mumbled, slinking past the clerk and dropping onto the mat across from Akitada. He looked uncharacteristically glum and sounded apologetic. “You were asleep when I got back, so I waited in the stable. I guess I dozed off. That fool of a constable had orders to tell me the minute you were up.”

Akitada said nothing but looked disapprovingly at the pieces of straw clinging to his lieutenant’s hair and clothes. Tora fidgeted, discovered the straw, and muttered another apology, adding, “I hope Dr. Oyoshi’s medicine worked, sir.” His eyes were on the twist of paper.

“Dr. Oyoshi?” Akitada’s heavy brows rose. “This illegible scrawl is about some medicine sent by him?” he asked sarcastically. “From what I could make out, I thought your nephew’s business was ailing, and he decided to write poems in praise of constipation.”

“Oh.” Tora’s face reddened. He reached for the note. “I guess I got some of the characters mixed up. The fact is, I had a shocking night.”

Akitada’s stomach hurt, and Tora’s problems were not his. He snapped, “Well, well? What did the doctor say about the medicine?”

“Oh. Can you imagine, he recognized me right away and knew all about your loose bowels? He must have the eyes of a cloud dragon!”

“Medicine!” Akitada bellowed. “What am I to do with these pellets?”

Tora looked hurt. “You take one in some hot wine three times a day.”

“Hamaya!”

The clerk put his head in the door. “Excellency?”

“Some hot wine. Quick!”

“Well, as I was saying ...” Tora tried to continue his report.

“Wait!” Akitada scowled ferociously, and Tora sank into glum silence.

After the wine arrived and he had taken his first dose, Akitada sighed and remarked more peaceably, “It was good of you to stop by the doctor’s place and ask for these. I am sorry I snapped at you. What shock did you have?”

Tora did not meet his eyes. “Uh ... I didn’t exactly... that is, the doctor recognized me at the Golden Carp and asked about your, uh ... and gave me the pills. I offered to pay him, but he said not to unless they work. The fact is, he was calling on a patient at the inn. Mrs. Sato wanted to get rid of a sick guest, but the doctor forbade it. She was very angry. She said sick guests are bad for her business, and this one also had no money. When the doctor left, I ran after him to pay for the poor fellow’s medicine. That’s when ...”

Akitada held up a hand. “Wait! If you were at the Golden Carp, you may as well start your report at the beginning. What did you find out in the market?”

Tora shifted miserably. “A little. There was one fellow who thought he’d changed money for Takagi or someone like him, but he wasn’t sure about the day. Two men remembered Okano’s act in the wineshop.” He sighed deeply. “There’s not much point in checking out those guys. I know they didn’t do it.”

“And how do you know that?” Akitada asked, astonished.

Tora swallowed. “I ... the maid and I, uh, last night. I thought it was a good way to get some information. Amida, I shouldn’t have touched her. She did it, sir! She killed the old man. I bet the bitch slits men’s throats regularly. Start digging behind her kitchen and no telling what you’ll find. She gets ‘em in her bed and then ...”

“Tora!”

Tora stopped and looked at him blearily.

“Did she admit to the murder?”

“Not in so many words. But I knew. I put the clues together, just like you do, and they added up.” Tora raised a finger and counted off, “One, she hates her mistress, but not because she works her too hard or pays her too little. Oh, no! She hates her because old Sato married a pretty young thing and doted on her. Two, Kiyo—that’s the maid’s name—used to take
care
of Sato. If you know what I mean.” Tora glowered.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes,” Tora said bitterly. “She’s one of those females who can’t get enough of it. I guess even an old geezer would do for her.”

“Hmm. Why are you so upset?”

Tora looked at Akitada. “It’s disgusting—like I slept with a leper.”

“You think she killed her employer? Why?”