Black Arrow (37 page)

When Tora shook him, the big man grunted, then sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Are they here?” he asked.

“No, no,” Akitada said. “It will be another hour or so. This concerns Sunada. I have the feeling it was a mistake not to investigate him fully. We have had two warnings that all is not as it seems with that gentleman. Did you hear any gossip in town about his personal affairs?”

“Oh, him. After his people attacked Hito, I checked out Sunada, but there was no proof that he knew about it.”

“That is not what I meant. What about his private life, his family, friends, his closest associates?”

“Well, he’s said to be the wealthiest man in the northern provinces. But he’s a loner. No family, no friends. He lives in a large manor in Flying Goose village, near the harbor where his ships and warehouses are, but there’s nobody with him apart from his servants. People say he was married once, but his wife died in childbirth. After that he took his pleasures elsewhere.”

“Right,” Hitomaro said. “One of your friends made a comment about that.” Seeing Akitada’s questioning look, Hitomaro flushed and looked uncomfortable. “Something about Sunada being a regular at one of the houses of assignation.”

Genba nodded. “The current gossip is that he’s taken a concubine from outside the pleasure quarter, being tired of the local ware.”

Akitada considered this. “Strange that there is no family, no heir to a business of that size,” he said. “A son has a sacred obligation to his parents and to his ancestors to provide sons in his turn. The man is either an irresponsible fool or he has been bewitched by some female he cannot take to wife. And that amounts to the same.”

Tora grinned. Akitada’s own marriage was still quite recent.

Hitomaro shifted in his seat. “If a man has character and loves such a woman, he makes her his wife anyway,” he said so fervently that the others stared at him in surprise.

An embarrassed silence fell. Akitada busied himself with putting the shells back into their container and wrapping it again. Genba got up and poured himself some lukewarm tea.

From outside came the sudden sound of shouted commands and then the trotting of men’s feet across gravel. They tensed and listened.

“It’s just a changing of the guard,” said Hitomaro after a moment, and everyone relaxed. Akitada reached for a batch of documents and began reading. Another heavy stretch of waiting began.

“Sir?” Tora interrupted the silence after a while. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. How did you figure out where that fellow Ogai deserted to? The fishmonger’s brother. I’ve been racking my brains to understand that.”

Akitada had already given up making sense of the erratic bookkeeping of his predecessor. He slowly came back from a nagging worry that he should have recognized the significance of the strange crest worn by some of Uesugi’s men and focused on Tora’s question. “Oh,” he said. “Hitomaro told me about him.”

“Me?” Hitomaro looked flabbergasted.

“Yes. When you reported your stay in the outcast village, you told me that they habitually took in fugitives on the say-so of the old
yamabushi.
By the way, he is another questionable presence in this province who bears looking into. But to get back to the soldier: You mentioned one man, a rowdy fellow who had lost his front teeth. That fit Ogai, who was on the run from his military duty and recently toothless after a fight with Kimura.”

Hitomaro slapped his knees. “How could I have been so stupid! Of course, that’s it. Well, at least that’s one case solved.”

“Not quite. Someone placed the dead Mr. Kato at our gate, and it was not the fishmonger. Whoever did is involved in the Uesugi rebellion.”

“Hisamatsu,” said Hitomaro confidently. “He wrote the note.”

“No, the widow Sato,” cried Tora. “She’s the one who had a dead man to get rid of.”

Akitada nodded. “Yes. They are both suspects. Perhaps when we find the widow, we shall get some answers.”

“But where is she?” asked Genba. “We’ve looked everywhere. That female has vanished into thin air. The constables have searched both the inn and her parents’ farm.”

Akitada rubbed his shoulder and thought. Suddenly he smiled. “We will set a trap for her,” he said. “Yes, that’s it. Tomorrow Tora will bring that maid to the tribunal for more questioning—”

“Oh, no!” cried Tora, “I’m not tangling with that wildcat again.”

“Ho, ho.” Genba laughed, his belly shaking. “The girl’s made for you. A wildcat for the tiger. The fur will fly.”

Tora shook a fist at Genba.

“Pay attention!” Akitada frowned at them. “Tora, you will keep the girl waiting outside my office for a few hours. Then I shall ask her some unimportant questions and let her go. Genba or Kaoru will follow her. I want anyone who speaks to her brought to me.”

Tora shook his head and was about to protest again, but Genba cried, “It’s a good plan. The widow has friends we don’t know about, and they’ll take an interest in what is happening in her case. They’ll want to know why you kept the maid so long and what she told you.”

“Can’t Genba fetch the maid?” asked Tora. “I’ll follow her.”

“No, you would be recognized,” said Akitada, and turned his head to listen.

Someone was running in the hall outside, and they all tensed. Hitomaro got up and went to the door. He was just in time to admit the captain.

Takesuke was out of breath, but his eyes sparkled. “They’re here, sir,” he said. “An advance troop of eight mounted warriors. They rode up to within a hundred yards and stopped to look at our banners and the burning fires. Then they turned around.” He wiped some melting snow off his face and added, “I’ve sent a good man after them, but I have no doubt that Uesugi is close by with his whole force.”

Instantly Akitada’s three lieutenants were up and running out the door. Takesuke remained standing. Akitada looked up at the captain. “Was there something else?”

“Er,” said Takesuke, “can I give you a hand with the rest of your armor? They will be here very shortly.”

Akitada glanced at the pile of heavy leather-and-metal pieces missing from his costume and made a face. “Thank you, no. I don’t think that will be necessary, Captain. Keep me informed.”

Takesuke stared at him for a moment. Then he compressed his lips, saluted, and withdrew so abruptly that he left the door ajar.

Akitada shivered and stared down at his hands. It was difficult to meet people’s expectations and yet that was his duty here. He was no soldier and hoped to avoid bloodshed. As a youth, he had received the customary training in archery and sword fighting, but he had never fought a battle. In fact, his performance with bow and arrow had been distinctly mediocre, though he had always done well with a sword. But Hitomaro, the only skillful swordsman among his retainers, had pointed out that fighting a battle was very different from the practice bouts they had engaged in.

Akitada sighed. The soldier Takesuke had reason to disdain the official from the capital, but he was surely not the coward Takesuke thought him.

A soft rustle alerted him to the presence of his wife. She had thrown a deep crimson brocade mantle over her thin white underrobe, but her hair was loose, sweeping the floor behind her. In the light of the oil lamp she looked like one of the fairies of the western paradise.

“Are you in pain?” she asked softly.

“No,” he lied. “We have been discussing the schedule for the coming day. And Captain Takesuke was just here with a report.”

Her eyes searched his face. “All is well?”

“Yes. All is well.” He reached for the brocade bundle. “I have a gift for you.”

She came quickly and knelt by his side to undo the ties. Her hands shook a little. “Ah,” she cried when she saw the lacquered box. “A shell game! And how beautiful!”

He watched her excitement, the way she touched the box and opened it, then lifted and looked at each shell with little cries of pleasure, her slender hands graceful. She was trying very hard to be strong and filled him with pride. There was a touch of color in her cheeks, and her silken hair slipped charmingly over her shoulder. Suddenly he felt enormously wealthy and, like any rich man, he was afraid.

“Come,” he said. “Keep me company for a little while and play a game with me.”

Outside there was the silence of the cold predawn. Here, in the soft light of the lamp, Tamako, who bore his child, placed shells on his lacquered desk with little clicking sounds, and smiled at him, murmuring, “It is the most exquisite present.”

* * * *

THE TRAP

here!” said Tamako, pushing the pair of shells toward him. “I won again. A perfect match!”

Akitada glanced at the lute players depicted on the shells and then at his wife. Her slender face was flushed and her eyes shone with pleasure. He thought her quite beautiful.

“You did indeed.” He sighed with mock chagrin. “This game turns out to be unlucky for me. Twice I was quite close to winning, but you beat me each time.”

“Oh,” she cried, dismayed, “you won’t take a dislike to the game? It is merely chance, you know. The next time it will be your turn to win.”

Before he could answer, the door opened and Captain Takesuke entered. He looked tired and glum. The sight of Akitada playing a game with his wife seemed to anger him.

“The enemy has withdrawn,” he announced.

“Oh! That
is
good news, Captain,” cried Akitada’s wife, rising to her feet, her eyes bright with relief. “You will take a cup of warm wine after your cold vigil?”

Takesuke seemed on the verge of declining, but changed his mind. “Thank you, Lady Sugawara.” On Akitada’s invitation, he sat down, holding himself stiffly erect and meeting Akitada’s eyes stonily.

Akitada gave an inward sigh but waited until Tamako had served them and withdrawn to her own room. Then he said, “You wished for an armed encounter, I think.”

Takesuke’s eyes flashed. “Any man of courage must regret a missed opportunity.”

Akitada managed not to flinch at the implied insult. He studied the other man’s face and noted the faint tinge of pink, the compressed lips, the defiant eyes. Yes, Takesuke despised him for a coward and had the courage to say so to his face. For such open insubordination, he might well be ordered to die. But Akitada had no intention of losing the service of a good officer and of one who had just saved their lives. Should he explain himself? Tell the man that he wished to avoid the loss of even a single innocent life in this struggle for power? He discarded the thought immediately. There was only one thing a man like Takesuke understood and respected, and that was higher authority.

“Captain,” he said coldly, “it would be best if you guarded your temper in the future. Only the fact that you have performed your duties so well restrains me from issuing an official reproof.”