Black Arrow (18 page)

“Not really. I have reason to suspect that something was thrown from that gallery above, but there doesn’t seem to be a way to get to the other side.”

“Some object?” Kaoru stared at Akitada, then looked up at the pavilion. He muttered, “By the Buddha!” then said, “Follow me. I know a path.”

They tied up their horses, leaving Kaoru’s dog to guard them, and climbed down into the ravine. As Akitada picked his way among the loose rubble, he scrutinized the ground, following Kaoru, who had found a rough trail leading up the other side.

Once there, they moved slowly along the foot of the massive rocks, poking at the snow piles with their swords. Kaoru was slightly ahead when he suddenly stopped beside a small mound. Akitada compressed his lips. He joined him and bent to brush away the snow. Clothing appeared, stiffened by frost, and then the snow turned red, and there was a thin, aged hand, made rigid by death and the cold, with frozen blood caking the fingers and palm.

“Amida! A corpse!” gasped Tora. “Wonder how long it’s been there.”

“Since the night of the banquet,” Akitada said, cleaning more blood-soaked snow away with Kaoru’s help. The body belonged to an old man. His thin white hair was encrusted with ice and blood, as was the face except for patches of skin discolored by purplish-blue bruises. The eyes stared sightlessly at the sky above, and the mouth gaped in a permanent silent scream. His limbs lay at odd angles and the body had twisted unnaturally. A pool of blood had frozen to the earth under the corpse.

“It’s old Hideo,” said Kaoru, bowing his head. “Poor old man. He was the old lord’s personal attendant.”

Tora stared up the looming gallery above them, and said accusingly to Akitada, “You expected to find him, didn’t you? Did he fall or jump?”

“Neither, I suspect, though we cannot be certain it wasn’t an accident.”

Tora frowned. “He could’ve jumped. If he was a faithful servant to the old man all his life, he might want to kill himself after his master died. It would bring honor to his family and makes more sense than an accident. He’s lived here all his life. How could he tumble over that high balustrade?”

Kaoru fidgeted, and Akitada did not answer immediately. He cleaned off the old man’s face with gentle fingers. The skin was broken and puffy about the jaw and cheekbones. And the bruising suggested a systematic beating rather than the sort of haphazard damage done by a fall. Akitada bent to inspect both hands. Bloody crystals had formed around the fingertips. He breathed on a thumb until the ice melted.

“Ah!” he murmured and removed a small sliver from under the fingernail.

“What is it?” Tora leaned forward curiously.

Akitada dabbed at the fragment with a bit of saliva. “Wood.”

“What’s it doing under his nails?” Tora bent closer. “There’s blood under the other fingernails, too. Holy Amida! When I was a soldier, they caught a fellow spying. They drove bamboo slivers under the nails of his fingers and toes to make him talk. You think this poor guy’s been tortured?”

Akitada straightened up, looking puzzled. “Perhaps, but not the way you think. The nails are broken and torn, and so is the skin of his fingers and palms. I believe he was questioned and beaten, but he hurt his hands when he was heaved over the balustrade and tried in vain to grasp at something. I wonder what he knew. And if he talked, and to whom.”

They all stood and stared down at the contorted face of the dead man. There was terror in its expression, but also something else, stubbornness, even a sort of exultation.

“He didn’t talk,” said Hitomaro. “Not this one.” He asked Akitada, “Do you think Makio did this?”

“Who knows? But we must leave him here. This is Uesugi territory. I have no jurisdiction in Takata.”

Hitomaro and Tora protested, and Akitada raised a hand. “Wait. Perhaps there is a way.” He turned to Kaoru, who had remained silent. He looked grim now, and the cheerful smile was gone.

“You knew and liked this man?” Akitada asked him.

Kaoru nodded.

“I believe he was murdered. If you want to see justice done, I will need your help.”

“I want justice. What do you want me to do?”

“You would have to bring the body into the city, ring the bell outside the tribunal to report a crime, and later testify in a court hearing. Think before you agree, because the murderer may be someone close to the Lord of Takata and will almost certainly try to prevent this. He may even turn on your family. And I shall be unable to protect you or them.”

The woodsman met his eyes. “I’m no friend to the Lord of Takata, and a man’s life is useless unless he can be of service to his people.”

“Good,” said Akitada. “I am grateful for your help. But you will need a horse, and we cannot offer you one of ours.”

“I can borrow one.”

Akitada reached into his belt for some silver, but the woodsman held up a hand. “No money is needed among friends.”

Akitada nodded. “Forgive me. Hitomaro tells me that you might be willing to serve as sergeant of constables?”

A strange, almost mocking smile passed over the young man’s face, but he said quite humbly, “I would welcome the opportunity if you think me capable.”

Akitada nodded. “Well, let’s see how you handle your first assignment.” He glanced up at the sky. “We must return now, but you had better start your journey after dark.”

Kaoru bowed, and they parted. When they reached the other side of the ravine, Akitada looked back. The woodcutter had removed his fur vest and was laying it gently over the corpse’s face before covering him again with snow.

When they reached their horses, the white dog wagged its tail, then perked up its ears and dashed off.

“Kaoru must’ve called him,” Hitomaro said. “They say dogs have much finer hearing than men.”

They had put some distance between themselves and Takata when Tora brought his horse up to Akitada’s. “You could’ve told us from the start what we were looking for,” he complained.

“I wasn’t sure myself.”

“But you knew where to look. I bet you knew whose body it was, too.”

“I suspected.”

“Well, it wasn’t fair. Sometimes you ask a lot, sir.”

Akitada felt a pang of guilt. “I am sorry,” he said humbly. “I should have trusted you, Tora.”

“I only mention it because we can help much better if we know what you’re thinking. How did you know we would find the old man at the bottom of that wall?”

“You remember the night of the banquet? I had occasion to leave the company twice to use the convenience. On the first trip I glanced out of the gallery and saw the north pavilion. On my second visit I heard a scream from that direction. A servant heard it, too, but he said it was a wild animal in the woods, so I put it from my mind. Then, today, at Lord Maro’s funeral, a small boy asked me to find his grandfather. He said his grandfather was the old lord’s servant and did not return the night of his master’s death. I could see the boy was sick with worry, but Kaibara, the Uesugi steward, snatched him away before I could ask questions. That was when I remembered the scream and decided to have a look.”

“Poor kid,” said Tora, shaking his head.

“What did you think of Kaoru?” Hitomaro asked, bringing his horse alongside.

“Very capable.” Akitada frowned, then added, “But surely he is a man with secrets.”

“Yes, I noticed that, too,” Tora said. “Let him explain that fine bow! No outcast ever carried a weapon like that. It looks like those the young lords in the capital use for their archery contests. And like Hito said, he talks like one of us. Like he’s been educated.”

Akitada suppressed a smile. “You’re right, Tora. That bow is unquestionably a special one. You’re becoming a very good observer.”

Tora glanced at Hitomaro to see the effect of this, then said importantly, “That’s what made me suspicious, sir. He must be a thief and a liar. We shouldn’t have trusted him.”

“Wait a moment,” cried Hitomaro angrily. “The man saved my life. And as for being a thief, I can tell you he’s much too good at using that bow to have stolen it. He let me try it, but it takes a stronger and better arm than mine to bend it. Kaoru is very modest about his ability as an archer, but he’s superb. He says he was taught by his grandfather when he was just four years old.”

“Don’t argue,” Akitada said. “Remember, we need help badly. It is true that our new friend is not all he pretends to be, but the outcasts are at odds with the Uesugi and he did protect Hitomaro’s life.” Akitada paused as a vague memory crossed his mind. Someone else had said something similar recently. Something about pretending to be someone else, he thought, but he could not recall the details or the speaker.

“Sorry, brother,” Tora apologized. “I tell you what. Let’s wait up for your friend tonight and take him out for a nice late dinner at that good noodle restaurant. Make him feel welcome.”

But Hitomaro said stiffly, “Not tonight. I’m busy.”

* * * *

A CORPSE AT THE

TRIBUNAL GATE

here was another, heavier snowfall during the night. Akitada rose later than usual. As they had gone to bed, Tamako had expressed her first fears. She had talked about the bitter winter to come and the birth of their first child. Neither had touched on the dangerous situation in the province. He had lain awake for a long time after she went to sleep beside him. The thought of losing her terrified him far more than any personal danger. He finally slept, but woke late and, though he felt more optimistic, he spent some time considering how he might at least increase her comfort and safety in the tribunal.

Because his mind was preoccupied with domestic arrangements, he did not realize that a large, unruly crowd had gathered outside the tribunal gate until he crossed the courtyard on his way to see if Kaoru had delivered the corpse of the Takata servant. The gate was closed, quite against regulations at this late hour, and the hum of angry voices and shouts of “Keep back!” startled him.

Akitada’s first thought was that something had gone terribly wrong with his plan. He blamed himself for not having waited up for Kaoru.

Changing direction, he tugged open the heavy gate. A constable tried to hold it from the other side, but desisted when he saw Akitada, who stepped through and gazed at a gathering of about a hundred people.

They looked back sullenly and muttered.

Off to one side, Hitomaro and three of the constables stood around something on the ground. Hitomaro, looking grim, came over quickly and saluted. With a glance at the crowd, he said in a low voice, “It’s the body of a mendicant monk, sir. Someone left him here during the night. It must have happened after the hour of the rat, the last time the gate was used.” He met Akitada’s questioning glance and added, “Someone delivered another dead man late last night. It’s raining corpses.”