The Convict's Sword (11 page)

Tora was chained. He was also bruised about the face, and smears of dried blood covered his clothes and hands. When he saw Akitada, he rose awkwardly from a pile of dirty straw, rattling his chains, and tried a weak smile. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to make trouble for you.”

“Never mind that. Are you hurt? Have you been beaten?”

“A little. It was after hours when I was brought in, and they didn’t put their hearts into it.” He looked at his hands and clothes. “The blood’s not mine.”

Akitada scowled at the guard. “This man is one of my retainers,” he snapped. “Nobody is to lay a hand on him again, do you hear!”

The guard looked blank. “Yes, your honor. I shall tell them what you said.”

But the screams which came from the courtyard behind the cells were not reassuring. Tora’s eyes flickered uneasily.

“You may also tell them that Tora will be transferred today,” Akitada said. He glanced at the dirty floor. “This place is filthy. Take us to one of the offices.”

The man pondered. He was clearly torn between his duty to keep the prisoner chained in his cell and Akitada’s rank. After reflection, he apparently decided the present threat had precedence over potential future repercussions. He unchained Tora and took them to a small, empty room which contained nothing but a desk and a few shelves of documents. The floor was wooden and reasonably clean. Akitada sat down and Tora followed suit.

The guard remained standing, an iron rod used to subdue unruly prisoners in his meaty hand. He listened nervously toward the corridor. “You won’t be long, your honor?” he asked.

Akitada ignored him. He said to Tora, “I went to the blind woman’s place, but her body had already been removed. Tell me how you found her.”

Tora grimaced. “I was worried, so I went back to talk some sense into her. Not wanting to bother her landlord and that shrew of a wife, I went through the back.”

“In the dark? How is it that you know your way about people’s service yards in the dark?”

Tora flushed. “I’ve been there before. Her landlady has a vicious tongue, and I didn’t want her to see me.”

“Well, she saw you at some point and took you for one of her lodger’s clients.”

Tora just shook his head tiredly. “She’s wrong. That’s what I mean about her tongue. Anyway, I got to Tomoe’s door and scratched. I didn’t want to make much noise, and she keeps it latched on the inside. I got her to get a new latch. Well, it wasn’t latched last night. The door moved when I touched it. I thought she’d left it open in case I stopped by, but then I could smell the blood.” Tora shuddered. “I went in. Couldn’t see a thing, so I had to feel my way about. I slipped on something wet. Blood, I think. And then I stepped on the knife. Well, I knew it was a knife as soon as I picked it up. And right after that I touched her. I was bent over, feeling for her face to see if she was still alive, when all hell broke loose. People rushed in with lights. They knocked me down and held me. Constables from the warden’s office. And her landlord. And I think her landlady, too. Maybe their kids. The whole room was full of people talking and shouting. After that I couldn’t get a really good look at Tomoe.”

“Yes, I see. Well, just tell me what you could see.”

Tora gulped. “She was near the door. The door to the main house. There was a lot of blood. I could see blood on the walls. And on the door. And on the knife I was holding. It was covered with blood.” He extended his stained hands for Akitada to see. “They pried it from my hand right away. I guess it’s the knife that killed her. It took me a minute to realize they thought I had done it. After that I was trying to explain why I was there so they’d take the chains off me. It was no good. They figured I did it all right. I’m sorry. It’s not much help, is it?”

“Not much, but it’s still early. What made you think Tomoe would leave the door ajar for you last night?”

Tora hung his head and heaved a big sigh. “When I left her in the market, I told her I’d try to walk her home. But I didn’t get to. I guessed she thought I’d come later. I’ve been sitting here, blaming myself. For not walking her home, and for making her leave her door unlatched when there was a killer lying in wait outside.”

“Nobody could have known,” Akitada said, uneasily aware that he had some responsibility in the matter also.

Tora looked around the room. “I feel like a trapped beast in here. Any chance of getting me out?”

“I’ll speak to Superintendent Kobe today, but the best we can hope for is a transfer across town. The case against you is strong, and it’s the only one they have. The landlady says that you had threatened to kill Tomoe.”

Tora stared. “That’s a lie.”

“You didn’t quarrel the night before?”

“Maybe I raised my voice a little. Trying to get her to give me some information. She was stubborn.” He buried his head in his hands and muttered, “Amida, I should have stayed with her. I should never have let her out of my sight.”

Akitada bit his lip. “Tora,” he asked, “were you Tomoe’s lover?”

Tora lowered his hands. “No.” But he looked confused, puzzled, and Akitada waited. “There was something about her. I thought a man would be very lucky to have a woman like her. I really don’t know how I felt.” Then, to Akitada’s dismay, Tora’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish she were still alive,” he said brokenly.

“Tell me about her.”

But Tora glanced at the guard, saw the man’s avid interest, and reddened. “I really didn’t know her very well,” he said.

Akitada gave an inward sigh. Whatever else Tora might have said about his relationship with the dead woman would not be said here and now. “Did she have any family?”

“No. I asked her that. She said they were all dead.”

“What about her customers? Could there have been a man?”

“I don’t think so. Sometimes she didn’t seem to like men at all. There was a lot she was keeping quiet. I know she went to a private house sometimes to sing to the noble ladies there. She looked forward to that. They paid well and were very kind to her, she said. I told you she was respectable. They wouldn’t have had her there if she wasn’t. And she was saving her money so she could stop working in the market.” He paused and frowned.

Akitada considered the noble family. Tora had a point. No loose woman would be admitted to the private quarters of respectable ladies. “Did she mention the family’s name?”

“No. She was funny about names.”

“She was certainly a baffling woman. I found a lacquer cosmetics box and some silver in her trunk. Do you know anything about that?”

Tora looked astonished. “What would she want with cosmetics? She couldn’t see her face.”

“I know. That’s why I asked.”

Tora thought. “Do you suppose one of those noble ladies . . . ? No. Why would they? But the silver she must’ve been saving. You could see she bought nothing for herself.”

“What was she saving it for? There was not enough to retire on.”

Tora shook his head.

“Did she ever mention someone called Nobunari?”

Tora stared at Akitada. “No. I would’ve remembered. That’s a gentleman’s name.”

“What about Nobuko?”

“That might’ve been one of the ladies. But I told you, she never talked about them. What’s going on?”

“It may mean nothing, but the silver was wrapped in a piece of paper. Someone had scrawled the names on it with a piece of charcoal. Could Tomoe write?”

“Write? She was blind.”

Silence fell. Tomoe’s secrecy intrigued Akitada. “Who do you think killed her?” he finally asked.

“I’m betting on the gangsters.” Tora clenched his fists in helpless anger. “The silly fool! I asked her to tell me. I told her they were dangerous and wouldn’t think twice about slitting her throat to make sure she didn’t talk.”

Akitada pondered this. With Soga breathing down his back, he was in no position to investigate gang activities. “What about the person who followed her? You said she could smell him.”

“They say blind people have a sharper sense of smell and hearing.”

“Did she say what sort of smell?”

“Bad. She called it—what was that word—yes, pungent. Whatever that means. She used strange words sometimes.”

“It means ‘strong’ or ‘sharp.’ Not very helpful. Sometimes people may carry the smell of a particular job. Like a rice wine brewer, for example. Or a dumpling baker.”

“Nothing like that, I think. She would have said so.”

Silence fell again. Akitada sighed. “Well, that’s all I can think of. I must hurry back to work. Soga is expected. If I can’t get you transferred today, I shall be back after work.”

Tora looked contrite. “I’m very sorry, sir,” he said with unaccustomed humility, “if I have caused trouble for you at your work.”

Akitada smiled and touched his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. And you’re more important to me.”

Tora’s eyes moistened. Keeping his head down, he nodded and rose to let the guard take him back to his cell.

“Oh,” said Akitada, “I almost forgot. Do you recall if she was wearing shoes when you found her?”

Tora thought. “Not sure, sir. I think so, but I wasn’t really looking at her feet.”

“No, I suppose not. Never mind. Don’t worry.”

Akitada watched him walk away. He knew about being in chains and about the willpower it took to walk upright and square-shouldered when you had recently received a flogging. He felt helpless and frustrated. Because of a superior he heartily dis respected, he had to postpone the more urgent need of Tora. He seemed forever caught in conflicts of duty, private and public.

Outside, a wind had sprung up. In the palace grounds it stirred dust clouds from the dry streets and whipped up the gowns of officials hurrying between buildings. Clutching his hat, Akitada bent his head into it and tried to subdue his flapping skirts and full trousers. Dust particles stung his face and got into his eyes. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

Of course Soga had already arrived. Impossible to slip quietly into his office, pretending that he had been there all along. Soga was still in the main hall, glowering at the clerks, who were blank-faced. He must have delivered himself of some tirade, because the heads of scribes could be seen, peering curiously around corners and over transoms.

Soga turned on Akitada with an avidity that meant he had been the cause of his anger. “In my office,” he snapped without a greeting.

Akitada bowed and said pointedly, “Good morning, sir. I trust you return safe and well from your trip?”

Soga did not respond. He marched into his private office and took his seat behind the desk. Akitada followed and turned to close the door.

“I want the two clerks in here,” snapped Soga.

Tasting the familiar sour bile of helpless anger rising in his throat, Akitada opened the door again for Nakatoshi and Sakae. The three of them gathered around Soga’s desk.

Soga did not invite them to sit. His round face was still suffused with color and his pudgy hands clutched the edge of the desk. He seemed to be trying to control his wrath. Akitada swallowed nervously, wondering what Soga had shouted in the hearing of the ministry’s staff. That it concerned him he did not doubt. Well, he had tried to return to his duty, but fate had once again interceded. Perhaps this was the end of his career. The thought that he would no longer have to bow his neck under the yoke imposed upon it by his bitter enemy should have cheered him, but the faces of his wife and his son, of old Seimei and the others rose before his eyes. What was to become of them all? Tora in jail on a murder charge, his house filled with dependents, a son to raise and see secure in some official position, perhaps other children in the future, and he had no funds to fall back on, no outside income except for a rather poor farm in the country.

Soga finally raised his head and looked slowly at each of them. When his round black eyes reached Akitada, he compressed his lips and a prominent vein in his temple began to throb. But his voice was calm.

“I have returned today to give you instructions about running the ministry in my absence. I must say what I found on my arrival has not encouraged me to think this possible. Nevertheless, it cannot be helped. You, Sugawara, are in charge. Sakae, who seems to have shown some initiative in your absence, can handle the routine business of your department. Nakatoshi will assist you. I expect daily reports. Sakae will draw these up and all three of you will sign them. They are to be sent every night to my house in the country. You will not make any decisions other than routine ones without my express permission in writing. That is all.”

Akitada was completely taken aback. What was taking Soga away so suddenly? And how could he, Akitada, run the ministry with any efficiency while his hands were tied by this ridiculous reporting system which would cause delays and expenditures? How was he to deal with the patent insult that Soga did not trust him to carry out the duty without constant oversight—and that by the clerks, Sakae in particular? And how would this affect Tora’s desperate situation?

“Sir,” he began.

But Soga cut him off instantly. “The clerks may leave and tend to their duties,” he snapped.

When Sakae and Nakatoshi were gone, Soga wasted no more time. “You were late and your appearance suggests that you have spent the night in some house of assignation. Furthermore, you were absent again yesterday,” he said. “I am sure you were aware of my opinion of your work, of your suitability for your position, and of your character before this latest dereliction. If you had not somehow impressed certain people with your exploits in places too distant from the capital to verify your outrageous claims, you would not be where you are now. As it is, I must tolerate you and, in the present emergency, leave you in charge. Let me assure you that the slightest infraction during my absence will result in my demanding not only your removal from your rank and position but also severe punishment for malfeasance in office.”