The Convict's Sword (18 page)

So the beggar had been no beggar at all, but a man who had once held higher rank than Akitada. And he had called him uncle! Akitada hoped that Takahashi was right, and that the old gentleman had lost his mind.

He walked a little farther, found that the next block was taken up by a small overgrown park, hardly a place where a frightened nun would hide, and gave up the search.

It had been a bad day. Not only had he lost the nun, and a promising lead in Tora’s case, but he had been attacked. As he made his way back to the Greater Palace, his good robe in tatters and one side of his face throbbing with pain, he became very angry.

Conditions had never been safe in the capital, but street crimes used to take place at night. These three hoodlums had attempted to rape a nun in broad daylight, and in a quiet upper-class residential area, only blocks from where Tamako tended her garden. She was supposed to take Genba or Tora along on her visits, but Akitada was by no means sure that she did.

It seemed to him a great wrong that nothing had been done to curb crime in the capital. The nobles called meetings and wrung their hands, and the robbers laughed at them. The thugs had felt secure enough to mock him, a ranking government official. The criminal element had seized the power to themselves. Little wonder conditions were bad when men like Soga simply enriched themselves and took to their heels at the first sign of trouble. A man who cannot observe order and restraint in his own conduct cannot instill order and restraint in his subjects.

But Soga was gone and he, Akitada, was now in his place—however temporarily. He had been taught that you must support rectitude if you wish to end corruption, and the Chinese masters placed the responsibility for a peaceful nation squarely on the shoulders of each individual citizen. Well, he would do something about it.

Filled with righteous anger, Akitada stormed into the ministry and his office. He hardly noticed that the sun had set. There was a light in his office. Nakatoshi knelt at his desk, sorting through the day’s letters and appeals. He looked up in surprise. “I didn’t expect you so late, sir,” he stammered. “Everyone has gone home already.” His eyes widened and he rose. “What happened to you?”

“Get your writing things,” snapped Akitada, waving him away and sitting down on his cushion. He pushed the pile of papers aside. “I was attacked by robbers, and this time they have gone too far.”

“How terrible! Let me make you a cold compress for your eye, sir.”

“Never mind my eye. I want you to take this down before I lose my train of thought. And get another candle. It’s too dark in here.” The truth was that he could not see out of his eye and the throbbing pain now extended to the rest of his head.

Nakatoshi gulped and rushed out. When he returned, Akitada waited impatiently for the lighting of the candle and the rubbing of the ink, drumming his fingers on the desk and reviewing points in his mind. When Nakatoshi was ready, he began to dictate a memorial addressed to the emperor. His anger having overcome his natural diffidence, the words flowed from his lips so rapidly that Nakatoshi had a hard time keeping up.

The memorial was a long one. It recited the history of outrages which had occurred in recent memory as well as events from more distant history. Akitada outlined the mistakes which had been made in the past and linked them to their dire results. He spoke of unenforced and unenforceable laws, of poorly trained constables, of the inadequacy of the police force to deal with the rampant conditions of lawlessness in all parts of the city, and of the sweeping imperial pardons which all too frequently released even the most violent criminals to prey again on the inhabitants. He cited past administrations that had dealt with unrest and crime effectively, touched on the present conditions, and proposed new methods of law enforcement and punishment to address them.

Finally he suggested to His Majesty that here was an opportunity to be remembered forever as the sovereign who had brought lasting peace and prosperity to his capital and nation by ending a legacy that had made his officials the mockery of every low criminal roaming the streets. How long, he asked, would it be before foreigners saw the nation’s weakness and invaded the country?

When he was done, Nakatoshi laid down his brush and rubbed his hand. He stared at Akitada with shining eyes. “That was magnificent,” he said. “Will you really send it?”

Akitada found he had a fierce headache and massaged his neck. “Of course. Tomorrow. As soon as I fill in a few missing dates and polish it a little. I’m too tired now.” He rubbed his eyes and winced.

“Will that be entirely wise, sir?”

Akitada looked at the young clerk in surprise. “Wise? I don’t know if it is wise. I only know it must be done and you and I must pray that His Majesty will listen.”

“But, sir, you cannot have thought how this will sound to His Majesty and his present administration. You as much as tell him that he and his ministers are responsible for the present unrest.”

Akitada frowned. “Hmm. Mistakes have been made by previous administrations but, yes, I suppose I do suggest that. The worst abuses have been going on for fifty years or more. They could have done something, anything. Of course, the emperor is still very young, but I’m counting on the fact that this memorial will pass through the chancellor’s hands first.”

“I’m afraid it will.”

Akitada suddenly grinned. “Why are you so worried, Nakatoshi? I’m nobody. If it were not for the fact that I shall be sending this under Soga’s authority, nobody would bother to read it.”

Nakatoshi’s eyes widened. “Surely you won’t sign the minister’s name to it?”

“Of course not. It will bear my name and my seal, but be transmitted through channels under Soga’s cover.”

Now Nakatoshi grinned also. “The minister won’t like that at all.”

“You mean he will demand my resignation?”

They both laughed. Akitada was tired and in pain, but he was also filled with great excitement, suddenly seeing a thousand things he could do, must do, looked forward to doing. He glanced at the stack of papers on his desk—Soga’s desk—almost longingly. But he was too tired tonight and could not concentrate as he should. And revising the memorial would require a clear head. Then there was Tora’s case to look forward to. Or Tomoe’s murder, rather. He thought of the nun. He would find her, but not tonight.

Akitada left the ministry happier than he had felt for a long time and walked into a cheerful gathering at home, where his family was celebrating Tora’s release with a special feast. His swollen eye caused a brief outcry. He had to submit to the application of herbal packs prepared by Seimei and to a scolding from the old man because he had ruined his best robe.

He told them about the mysterious nun and the three thugs and his memorial to the emperor. Then he ate and drank some wine, listening drowsily to Tora’s plans, Yori’s chatter, Seimei’s discussion of herbs to reduce swelling, and wondered only once why Tamako was so quiet.

That night he slept very well.

CHAPTER NINE

FORTUNE TELLING

 

 

 

When Seimei quietly entered the next morning, he found his master already awake and sitting at his desk, surrounded by books and documents, and making rapid notes by the light of a candle.

“Good morning, Seimei,” Akitada said absently, dipping brush into ink and writing some more. “Is Tora up? I must see him before I leave for the office.”

Seimei set down his oil lamp and came over to peer at Akitada’s face. “Umhum,” he muttered. “That still looks very bad, sir. Is it painful? Can you open the eye at all?”

Akitada paused in his writing. “It hurts and I cannot open it. So what? Life does not come to a halt because of a black eye. There is a great deal of work to be done the next few weeks.”

Seimei frowned. “Perhaps the eye itself is damaged. We should call a physician.”

“Nonsense.” Akitada bent to his task again.

“At least go in a little later this morning and let me apply more compresses.”

“No. Now go get Tora and my morning rice.”

Seimei left, shaking his head.

Akitada was at last filled with excitement and hope. In the past hour or so he had gathered data and quotations from the library of chronicles, law books, and Chinese classics that he and his ancestors before him had collected. The memorial was the most momentous work he had ever been engaged in. In addition, there were several other exciting and important projects in hand and, for once, he had the freedom to engage in them. He hoped fervently that Soga would stay away for a long, long time.

Tora came in, wearing the clothes of a poor day laborer. His shirt and short pants were of cheap cotton, he had tied up his hair in an old rag, and he was barefoot. He was followed by Seimei carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and a bowl of gruel. Seimei cast disapproving glances at Tora’s attire.

Akitada washed out his brush and said briskly, “Sit down, Tora. Seimei, please pour tea for both of us and then you may leave us for a little while.”

Tora grinned. “No tea for me, sir. I had some wine with my morning rice. Wine warms the blood and encourages proper digestion.” He cast a sly look toward Seimei.

“What complete nonsense,” Seimei cried. “As I have told you before, wine overheats the blood and sours the stomach. It is for that very reason that it should be avoided in the morning. Tea has the opposite effect. You will be sorry in another hour when you start belching and getting drowsy.”

“Stop the wrangling,” Akitada interrupted. “There’s work to be done. Tora, I have to be at the ministry this morning, and possibly into the afternoon. You must begin the investigation alone. I suggest you seek out Lieutenant Ihara and discuss what progress he has made. Perhaps you can work together on checking known gangs and their activities.” He saw that Tora looked mulish and asked, “What is wrong?”

“I don’t like Ihara. Besides, I work better alone.”

“Don’t be silly. He may have learned something important in the meantime. And a police officer has certain prerogatives that you don’t have.”

“Not with crooks.”

“You have a point. But at least make sure that you speak to him first. And be pleasant. He could have made your release much more difficult. Why are you wearing those clothes?”

“I thought it might be better if I blended in with the crowd this time.”

“Ah. Quite right. You do look more like those toughs yesterday. But Ihara first.”

Tora sighed. “All right. Anything else?”

“The vendors in the market may know about Tomoe’s regular visitors.”

Tora nodded. “I was going to start there.”

Akitada drummed his fingers on the desk and thought. Should he send Tora back to the street where the nun was attacked? No, better not. Tora had improved past all recognition during his years of service with Akitada, but his manners were not quite up to dealing with the people who lived there. Of course, Professor Takahashi might welcome the very handsome Tora. Foolish thought. Tora definitely could not handle a proposition from Takahashi with diplomacy.

“What’s so funny?”

“After my run-in with the thugs yesterday, I spoke with one of the neighbors—a retired professor who offers private tutoring to handsome boys. I was wondering if you might have better luck with him than I.”

Tora chuckled. “I doubt it, sir. I bet it was only your bruised face that turned him off. In a couple of days, you’ll be as handsome as ever and have him eating out of your hand.” He gave a snort and added in an undertone, “Or whatever.”

Akitada ignored the coarse suggestion and said, “It’s too bad that I’m so busy at the moment. That nun knows something . . .” He broke off, his mouth open with surprise. “Great heaven! She wasn’t a nun at all.”

“No nun?” Tora looked interested. “You mean she was an ordinary girl in nun’s clothes? Was she pretty?”

“Not an ordinary girl. A noblewoman, I think, and quite pretty. And wearing perfume. I was so preoccupied with the brute who slammed me against the wall and very nearly blinded me that I forgot the silk she wore under the nun’s habit. And her veil had slipped. I think her hair was long.”

Tora whistled. “What luck! Silk underclothes. Brother, how I wish I’d been there!”

Akitada regretted his words and said sharply, “Really, Tora. The point is she came to your hearing in disguise. That means she’s respectable, belongs to the upper classes, and certainly undertook that errand without the approval of her family and, as it turned out, at considerable risk. Why would a young woman of that class take such a chance?”

“Well, it wasn’t for my sake, so it figures it was for Tomoe. Bet you she’s one of the ladies Tomoe used to sing to.”

“Perhaps, but she wouldn’t take such chances just because she felt sorry for a blind entertainer. No, I think she knows something of Tomoe’s past, or she’s involved in the same dangerous game which cost Tomoe her life.”