by I. J. Parker
“This person,” he cried when he faced Akitada, “wishes to complain about the cruel treatment he’s received. I’m an honest citizen and pay my taxes, but I was beaten and chained, and then thrown in jail like a criminal. Me, a poor shopkeeper who’s never been in trouble with the law! Meanwhile my brother’s body lies someplace, cut to pieces, without a proper burial, and his killer is smiling while I suffer. Is that justice?”
The crowd buzzed their support. One of the constables kicked Goto in the back of the legs, shouting, “Kneel!”
Goto fell to his knees with a loud wail. The crowd became noisy.
“Silence!” Akitada shouted, rapping his baton again. He felt unaccountably weak and languid. He looked for Kaoru and saw that constables moved among the people to control them. Gradually it became quiet. Akitada turned his attention back to the fishmonger. “State the case against this man, Sergeant.”
Kaoro announced, “This man is called Goto and is a fishmonger in this city. He stands accused of having lied to this tribunal and of having falsely accused one Kimura of murder.”
“What? I never lied ...” Goto’s outraged protest died with a kick from his guard.
Kaoru continued impassively, “He identified a body found outside the tribunal gate three days ago as that of his brother Ogai, a soldier absent without leave from the local garrison.”
Akitada asked the prisoner, “Do you persist in your identification?”
Goto cried, “It’s my brother, I swear it.”
“Have the maid brought in!” Akitada commanded.
The maid of the Golden Carp marched past the crowd with a smile of self-assurance. Akitada saw that she was a sturdy, plain woman with a knowing look on her face. Near the dais she passed Tora and stopped with a gasp. Tora kept his eyes carefully fixed on a corner of the hall. The maid looked outraged. Putting her hands on her hips, she cried, “So this is where you’ve been hiding out, you lying dog! If I’d known that you were a stinking spy for the tribunal, I’d have made you wish you were bedding a rabid monkey instead.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then a ripple of laughter started and crude jokes flew back and forth. Akitada bit his lip and rapped his baton on the boards while Kaoru started for the girl.
Tora was crimson. Satisfied with the scene she had created, the maid spat on his boots and walked to the dais.
There she knelt, bowed deeply, and said, “This humble person is called Kiyo. She works as a maid at the Golden Carp. She apologizes for having lost her temper with a lying dog.”
In view of the provocation, Akitada decided to ignore her outburst. “You were shown the corpse of a mutilated man,” he said. “Did you recognize him?”
“Aiih!” she cried. “It was horrible! It turned my stomach what they did to poor Mr. Kato.”
“Answer the question.”
“I recognized him. May the Buddha comfort his soul! It was Mr. Kato, one of our guests. He died last week. Someone must’ve stolen the body. They cut off his feet and hands. And shaved his head. Who’d do a nasty thing like that to a dead man? I hardly knew him except for that ear of his. I nursed the poor man till he died. The doctor and my mistress saw him, too.”
“Dr. Oyoshi has already identified the body. Where is your mistress?”
Kiyo spread her hands. “Who knows? She says she’s sick but she stays away a lot. I bet she’s meeting some man.” She turned to shoot a venomous glance in Tora’s direction and shook her fist at him. “She’s a fool.”
Akitada snapped, “Stop that! Did this Kato die from his illness?”
“Yes, sir. The night after the doctor came. The mistress sent for someone to take his body away.”
Akitada said, “Let the record show that the maid Kiyo has identified the body left at the tribunal gate as that of one Kato, a guest who died of an illness at the Golden Carp.” Turning to Goto, he asked, “What do you say now?”
The fishmonger was trembling. He prostrated himself, knocking his head on the floor, and cried, “Forgive this ignorant person, your Honor! My brother had disappeared and I... my eyes are weak. Heaven be praised it is not my brother! But the rest was true. Kimura did fight with Ogai, and now Ogai has disappeared.”
Akitada said, “Bring in the other prisoner.”
The constables dragged in a burly man in chains. He was quite ugly, with the straggly beginnings of a beard surrounding a slack mouth which lacked most of its front teeth. One of his arms was bandaged to a piece of wood.
The moment he appeared there was a cry from the crowd. A thin man in a hemp jacket and short pants pushed his way to the dais and fell on his knees.
Akitada rapped for order, and waited impatiently until the constables had made their prisoner kneel next to Goto, whose mouth fell open in surprised horror. The resemblance between the two men was apparent.
Akitada nodded to the thin man and said, “State your name and purpose here.”
“This insignificant person is called Kimura. I’m a plasterer and a neighbor of that lying piece of dung Goto. Goto told everyone I murdered his brother Ogai, but there is Ogai, safe and sound.” Kimura pointed at the ugly fellow with the bandaged arm. “Goto lied because I built a dam across the creek that waters the land he stole from us, so now the land’s no good to him. Please, your Honor, tell him to stop making trouble for me.”
Akitada frowned. “I am glad that you have finally come forward with your complaint. Let it be a lesson to you next time to have the court settle your disputes. I have reviewed the documents of your case since they had some bearing on Goto’s charges. The court gave the land to your neighbor on the evidence of a bill of sale and tax receipts for more than ten years. Why do you claim he took your land?”
“I have no proof, your Honor,” Kimura said sadly, “except that my father did not like Goto and would never have sold him the land.”
“Was it not customary ten years ago to have a sale witnessed by two neighbors of the owner?”
Kimura looked blank, but someone in the crowd shouted, “That’s true. They changed the law later.”
Akitada turned to Goto. “Why does your bill of sale not have the signatures of both witnesses?” he asked.
Goto paled. “A small oversight,” he pleaded.
“You lie,” said Akitada, nodding to one of the constables who stepped behind the fishmonger with his whip.
Goto shrank from him in horror. “No! Not another beating! I’ll tell the truth. Old man Kimura agreed to the deal, but he died before he could put his mark on the papers, so I did it for him. I didn’t know about other witnesses.” He prostrated himself, crying, “Please have mercy. Please forgive an ignorant person.”
Akitada snapped, “Why should this court believe you? You lied when you falsely identified the body. Who put you up to that?”
Goto wiped sweat and tears from his face. “Nobody,” he wailed. “I was trying to save my brother’s life. That’s why I said the dead man was him. So the soldiers would stop looking for him.”
The crowd had fallen silent, caught up in the proceedings, but now someone in the back shouted, “Don’t listen to the dirty bastard, Governor. He’s always been a liar.”
The constables made a show of glaring at the offender, and Akitada turned to the fishmonger’s brother. “State your name and profession.”
“Ogai,” the man muttered sullenly. “I’m a corporal in the provincial guard.”
“Not much longer,” shouted a jokester from the crowd.
Akitada frowned at the audience. He hoped the sweat beading his face was not visible. “I am told,” he said to the prisoner, “that you deserted and were discovered hiding in the outcast village. What part did you play in your brother’s false accusation of Kimura?”
“None.” Ogai avoided looking at Goto. “I know nothing about that. It was all Goto’s idea. Just like the land deal. He made me pick a quarrel with Kimura.”
“You lying bastard!” Goto grabbed for his brother, but a constable struck his hand wi
th the butt of his whip.
Ogai growled, “I’m not getting anything out of this. You are! You’re the one stole the land. So don’t pin your troubles on me. I’ve got enough of my own.”
“You do indeed,” said Akitada. “I am glad you understand the seriousness of your position. You are not only a deserter, but you have proven your bad character by committing a rape in the outlaw village that offered you protection and hospitality. I have no qualms about turning you over to your captain for military trial.”
Ogai wailed.
Akitada ignored him and turned to his brother. “You, Goto, shall receive fifty lashes and do six months of conscript labor for the government. The disputed land shall be returned to Kimura, the tax payments you made serving in lieu of rent that you owe him. In addition, your own property shall be confiscated and sold. The proceeds will go to Kimura in compensation for the false murder charge. Constables, remove the prisoners.”
The crowd broke into noisy cheering. Akitada, aware only of a mind-paralyzing tiredness, raised his eyes and lifted his baton to rap for order before closing the hearing when he saw that Seimei’s startled attention was on the side door nearest him.
Akitada turned to look, and there, in the light of a small oil lamp, stood the slender figure of his wife, Tamako, her face tearful and pale with anxiety.
* * * *
FIFTEEN
THE WRESTLING MATCH
T
ora and Hitomaro were sitting in their quarters, their noses in their morning rice bowls, shoveling the steaming food down with the help of chopsticks, when the first eerie sound reached their ears from across the tribunal compound. Both lowered their bowls simultaneously and looked at each other. And both started to laugh.
“That infernal flute!” cried Hitomaro, shaking his head. “It’s worse than ever.”
Tora set down his bowl and slapped his knees in glee. “It means he’s feeling better. I was worried. There’s that nasty cut. And then his fretting about the little boy. That has been eating away at him like a hungry rat at a rice cake.”
Hitomaro snorted. “Considering our other troubles, what’s so special about the child?”
Tora looked at him in feigned surprise. “I don’t mean to offend you, Hito,” he said, “but any moron can see our master is fond of children. You shouldn’t have told him the boy was probably dead. That was not a kind thing to do to him.”
Hitomaro flushed. “So that’s why he got so angry.” A particularly discordant note sounded from the main hall, and he flinched.
“Well,” said Tora magnanimously, “we all make mistakes. The main thing is that his wife has taken him in hand. I knew he’d be all right when she looked for him at the hearing yesterday. Did you see his face?”
Hitomaro smiled. “He was embarrassed. Who wants to be checked up on by his wife? Imagine, he never told her about being wounded. She had to find out from Hamaya. I bet she had a few things to say to him.”
“Nothing like a good argument with a pretty wife to give a husband ideas about settling the matter without words,” Tora said with a grin.
In the distance, the flute started over with the same exercise. They sat and listened to its wailing and shrieking for a moment, then shook their heads and burst out laughing.
“Especially,” chortled Tora, “a man who’s really fond of children.”
The door opened and Akitada’s elderly secretary came in. “And what is so funny?” Seimei asked, seating himself.
“Seimei, my wise old bird,” Tora greeted him. “Glad to see you up and around again. Why didn’t you manage to lose that infernal flute?”
Seimei gave Tora a cold look.
“Welcome,” said Hitomaro with a bow. “We are honored by your visit.”
Seimei smiled graciously and bowed back. “Thank you, Hitomaro. It’s a pleasure to see you well.”
“So how’s the master today?” Tora asked, undaunted. “Did his lady’s special touch put things right with him?” He winked broadly at Hitomaro.
Seimei shuddered. “There is no medicine against your foolishness, Tora. As Master Kung Fu said, ‘Rotten wood cannot be carved, nor a wall of dried dung troweled.’”
Hitomaro grinned. “What did his lady say about the master’s injury?”
“When she found out, she couldn’t wait for the end of the hearing. She came to see him for herself.” Seimei shook his head. “So impulsive!”
“I like spirit in a woman,” observed Tora. “What a day! First the master solves the case of that mutilated body and locates a missing deserter when a whole garrison of soldiers could not find the bastard, and then the master’s wife makes him send everyone home so she can take care of him. He went like a kitten, too. And now listen to him.” He laughed again.
Across the yard the flute performed a series of elaborate but jarring trills before rising to a climactic shriek and falling silent. They held their breaths, but all remained quiet. Seimei said in a tone of reproof, “You should have looked after your master better, Tora. It’s lucky only the master and I knew she was there.”
Tora flushed and hung his head.
Seimei was pleased with this reaction and added for good measure, “He was extremely feverish. It was all he could do to walk to his room.”
“Oh, come on,” said Hitomaro with a glance at Tora. “You know how he is when he thinks it’s his duty.”
Seimei sniffed. “Her ladyship made him comfortable and sent for Dr. Oyoshi. The doctor’s face still looks very bad, but I must say I was glad to make his acquaintance. A very knowledgeable man. His medicine eased my cough right away. We consulted together and made up a special tea from some of my herbs for the master—it was ginseng and mint, with a touch of gardenia and a pinch each of willow bark and cinnamon, so soothing to a weakened constitution—and added an interesting powder the doctor brought with him. The medicine soon produced a sound sleep, and the master awoke this morning feeling much better. This is what I came to tell you. Also that he wants both of you in his office now.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so right away?” Tora was up and out the door, before Hitomaro and Seimei could get to their feet to follow.
The scene they found in the courtyard stopped them.
A group of about twenty armed and mounted warriors, with Uesugi emblems on their clothes and on the flying banners, waited in the wintry sun in front of the tribunal hall. There were several riderless horses, one of them with a gold-lacquered saddle and crimson silk tassels fluttering from its shining tail and halter.
“Surely not the Emperor of the North himself?” Tora said. “Do you suppose Uesugi’s found the boy?”
“Let’s go find out,” said Hitomaro.
♦
For Akitada, the Lord of Takata was an unexpected and, at the moment, unwelcome visitor.
After a restful night covered with scented silken quilts and protected from the cold drafts by carefully placed screens, he had woken to the tender ministrations of his wife. Greeted with fragrant hot tea and Tamako’s soft eyes and sweet smile, he had dressed and started his day in a very pleasant frame of mind in spite of his worries. His morning gruel was subtly flavored with herbs, and a new, much larger brazier made his office very comfortable. And then he had played his flute.
The Lord of Takata and two senior retainers were announced by Hamaya just when Akitada had felt near success with a particularly tricky passage. He reluctantly put down the flute. His visitors looked slightly taken aback by Akitada’s scowl.
Now Uesugi was seated on a silk cushion on the other side of the broad desk, while his companions knelt behind him. Akitada watched sourly as his wife poured some wine for his visitors.
Hitomaro and Tora came in, glowered at Uesugi’s men, and took up position at the door. Tora said, “I hope it’s good news for a change, sir.” He received a frown from Akitada and looked sheepish. Tamako smiled and poured more wine, but her husband looked grim.
“I had not expected to meet your noble lady,” U
esugi remarked to Akitada, bowing graciously to Tamako and ignoring the others. “I am afraid the tribunal is not a fit place for a refined person in her delicate condition.”
Akitada felt a surge of anger followed by fear. Uesugi kept himself too well informed about them. Controlling his voice, he said, “My wife is understandably concerned after the attack on me.”
Uesugi looked solicitous. “An attack? I heard a rumor that you sustained an injury. My dear Governor, you should have sent for me instantly. I had no idea that things had gone so far in this city. Too bad that Kaibara has disappeared. He was checking on some trespassers and has not returned. I think I should move my troops into the tribunal compound. That will straighten matters out fast enough. I wonder if the attack on you had something to do with your recent activities? I trust you are recovering?”