The Convict's Sword (44 page)

There was not, and Akitada left for police headquarters. But Kobe was not in. He had gone to supervise the rice distribution in the market. Since the markets had closed, the people in the capital, many of whom lived from day to day on food purchased in the market, were starving. Akitada felt a pang of guilt. Kobe was dedicated to his official duties, while he was occupied with a private matter. Even Nakatoshi disapproved, and Soga would have enjoyed proving his senior secretary unfit. Soga’s death meant a reprieve for Akitada, but how long before Soga’s successor would take exception to Akitada’s unorthodox behavior? Akitada left a note for Kobe, telling him that Tora had returned after doing battle with several gang members in Chikamura’s house. That should send some constables there who could deal with the bodies and secure the property. Then he returned to the ministry.

Two of the scribes had shown up late and were listening openmouthed to Nakatoshi’s explanations about Soga’s sudden death. When they saw Akitada, they fell to their knees. He scowled at them. How quickly people learned to abase themselves when they feared a new boss!

Brushing past them, Akitada went straight to the archives. It was a familiar and hated place. He had spent years here, condemned to doing worthless research in semidarkness among thousands of old records of legal cases, because Soga wished to humiliate him or punish him for having once again “disobeyed” by solving a murder in the city. But Soga was no longer alive. And Akitada would not have to resign.

The dreary work of the past paid off in one respect. He knew exactly where the records of criminal cases were and located instantly the shelf which held those from five years ago. Taking down the boxes one by one, he lined them up on a low table, and began to sift through them.

Halfway along, he found the case against Tomonari Haseo. It had been tried in the capital, because the crimes had taken place in the same province and were of such a heinous nature that the government had taken an interest in their disposition. Frowning with impatience at the vague comments, Akitada leafed quickly through the fat bundle of documents, looking for a description of the crime.

When he found it, he had to read the charges twice, so shocking were the murders and so solid the evidence against his dead friend.

One summer day, after a violent argument over control of the family estate, Haseo had slaughtered both his parents in the main hall of their mansion, and the deed had been witnessed by his own nurse.

CHAPTER TWENTY

HASEO’S CRIME

 

 

 

As Akitada read the trial records, he felt the cold finger of death touching the back of his neck. Haseo’s fate was sealed from the start. He never had a chance at escape. The evidence against him looked unshakable.

The nurse, Yasura, testified that a quarrel had taken place between father and son, one of many, because the elder Tomonari had forbidden his only son Haseo to leave for the capital. The son had become angry and demanded control of the estate. Outraged, the father had berated the son, who had then drawn his sword and killed the father.

The noise of the quarrel had brought Haseo’s mother to the scene, and when she screamed and cursed him, he had killed her also. At this point, the nurse fled in fear for her life.

Akitada raised his eyes from the crabby script of the court clerk to stare at the shelves of documents. To his shame, he knew only too well that a son could come to hate a parent so bitterly that he wished him—or her—to die. But to make the leap from wish to deed a man would need not only anger but such self-importance that all other considerations vanished. The man he had met five years ago in Sadoshima was nothing like that. In fact, it seemed as if two different characters were involved, one the man in Sadoshima, the other a stranger in Tsuzuki.

The only way to get at the truth was to proceed from the assumption of Haseo’s innocence and refute or discredit every piece of testimony that had led to his being found guilty. The nurse must have lied. At least, Akitada thought, she had lied about witnessing the quarrel. It was unlikely that she, as a female servant, was present during a private meeting between father and son. More probably she had arrived with Haseo’s mother at a later time. Why had she lied?

Whatever had caused her to accuse Haseo of such a crime must have been a matter of vital consequence to the woman. Normally the bond between master and servant was a strong and mutual one. In the case of a nurse, maternal feeling and a desire to protect her charge would make that bond even closer. It was precisely this relationship that had made her testimony so devastating.

He bent over the documents again and found that the presiding judge had been Masakane, the same man who held Tora’s future in his hands. The coincidence was not really surprising; Masakane had held his position for well over a decade now.

Masakane’s sentence had been banishment for life, loss of family name, and confiscation of property by the state. Such a sentence was entirely proper for the crime of murdering one’s parents. Evidently Haseo had been the only son and, with both parents dead, the government did not feel that the parricide’s descendants should benefit from his crime. No doubt administrative greed had also played a part in this. The emperor always welcomed land that would produce income or could be given to faithful subjects in recognition of outstanding service. And so Haseo’s wives and children had become homeless paupers overnight. Only the class they belonged to saved them from becoming slaves. The documents did not concern themselves with their future. For that he would have to seek out Kunyoshi again.

Akitada put back the document boxes and was gathering up the records of Haseo’s trial when Sakae came in with two court officials. Akitada did not recognize them, but got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he saw their rank colors and the satisfied smirk on Sakae’s face.

“Their Excellencies came to consult with you, sir,” Sakae announced. When Akitada still looked mystified, he added helpfully, “You remember? The death of Minister Soga was announced this morning?”

And that, of course, made him look not only foolishly forgetful in the eyes of the two visitors, but also incompetent. Before he could save some of his dignity, the older of the two stepped forward and asked in a tone of disbelief, “
You
are the senior secretary? You are Sugawara?” He eyed Akitada’s appearance with manifest astonishment.

Akitada felt the blood rise to his face. He knew he looked like a derelict, or at least like a man who had been carousing all night and not bothered to change. He made a bow and said, “Yes, I am Sugawara. May I ask who gives me this honor?”

They exchanged glances. The one who had been speaking said, “I am Yamada of the Censors’ Office, and this is Lord Miyoshi of the Controlling Board of the Left.”

This was truly awkward. They were senior officials whose faces he should have recognized if he had been attending all the court functions. Akitada bowed again, more deeply this time. “How may I serve Your Excellencies?”

“Do you have an office?”

Flustered, Akitada led the way. Sakae, smirking more widely than ever, trailed behind.

“A bright young man,” commented Miyoshi after they were seated in Soga’s office and Sakae had furnished them with cushions, wine, and an offer to take notes. The last was refused, and the helpful Sakae departed.

“I see you have moved into Soga’s office already,” Lord Miyoshi said, staring disapprovingly at Haseo’s sword, which still lay on top of the documents.

“It seemed more convenient, since most of the ministry’s current records are kept here,” Akitada said.

“Hmmph. Naturally you cannot stay permanently. Someone will be appointed to serve provisionally.”

Lord Yamada added, “As quickly as possible.”

So much for his being given the provisional appointment as he had hoped. Akitada bowed.

“Meanwhile,” said Miyoshi, “we have no choice but to let you carry on. But we shall return and expect you to present a more suitable appearance. You are to make no decisions on your own without our express approval.”

They left after that, but the visit boded ill for his future career. They had made it abundantly clear that they did not trust him to run the office. With a sigh, Akitada took up Haseo’s sword and decided to stop in at the archives before going home for a bath and change of clothes.

Kunyoshi was the only one working in the archives. Both the sickness and the fear of getting it seemed to have affected the younger officials in much greater numbers. The others, Akitada included, remembered previous epidemics and had perhaps even contracted the disease in a milder form. For some reason, people only suffered smallpox once in their lives, and if they survived it, they were safe. But a greater reason was that this old man lived for his work. Poor man, he had suffered much from Akitada’s mistake. Akitada raised his voice and called out a greeting.

Kunyoshi looked up and came quickly, eager to be of service. Then he recognized Akitada and hesitated, especially when he took in his appearance and the sword. “Have I forgotten something else?” he asked nervously. “I don’t recall . . .”

“No, no. It’s my turn to apologize, my dear Kunyoshi. I gave you the wrong name. I am very sorry to have caused you so much worry.”

Kunyoshi brightened. “Never mind,” he said with a laugh, “these things happen. And do you have another name for me now?”

The name Tomonari produced happy enlightenment. “Of course,” Kunyoshi cried, clapping his hands. “Tomonari! That’s what I was thinking of all along. Such an interesting case. You mentioned that the land was confiscated because of a crime. Dreadful story. And it did have something to do with a shrine, only it was the Iwashimizu Shrine, of course. Hah, hah!” He laughed with delight, his memory not only tested but confirmed to be excellent.

Iwashimizu was so close to the capital that the emperors themselves worshipped there. The shrine also had special significance for warriors because of its connection to the war god Hachiman. That must be why Haseo had chosen it for his symbol. Things were beginning to fall into place, and Akitada’s spirits lifted, as they always did when he found himself on the right track in a murder investigation. They smiled at each other. “Do you suppose I could have a look at the family record?” Akitada asked.

Kunyoshi trotted away and consulted the tax register for the Tomonari family. “Yes,” he muttered, “six years ago. The following year nothing. Tsuzuki District. Just a moment. I’ll get you the last record before the property fell into the hands of the state.”

They bent over the documents together. The Tomonari family belonged to old noble warrior stock, but most of the “mouths” listed for their twenty-three households were personal servants or peasants working Tomonari land. Some of the peasants owned their small parcels outright and were assessed separately, but most were counted into the Tomonari household and the senior Tomonari was assessed accordingly. At the time of this final assessment, his immediate family seemed to have consisted only of a wife and an adult son. The son also had a family. He was listed as having three wives and four children. It fit. The land consisted of rice paddies, millet fields, and a great deal of uncultivated forest. The assessment of rice taxes was significant enough to make it a desirable estate.

“Where would I find the names of the family?” Akitada asked the archivist.

Kunyoshi pursed his lips. “Household registers,” he said, and dashed off. This time it took longer. Apparently they were kept in a separate building. But Kunyoshi returned, his face slightly flushed and smiling. “Here you are,” he said and placed a fat scroll before Akitada. “It should be in there somewhere. These are all the households in Tsuzuki District.”

Akitada sighed and began to unroll the pages covered with some of the smallest characters he had ever seen. They were glued together to make one long continuous document. So many households, so many names. He found what he wanted an hour later, somewhere near the middle of the scroll:

Household of Tomonari Nobutoshi, 60, local chieftain, rank 8:

Wife: Nihoko, 55.

Son: Haseo, 35.

Son’s wives: Sakyo, 30; Sachi, 25; Hiroko, 20.

Minor children: two boys; four girls.

The other names belonged to servants and slaves. Someone had drawn a thick line after the entry and scribbled in a different hand: “Household broken up by deaths and confiscation of land.” A date matched Haseo’s sentencing date.

So Haseo was finally found. But what had become of the wives and children? No family names were listed for his wives. Which one was the wealthy one who was supposed to have taken in the others? How was Akitada to find them? He rolled up the scroll and went to find Kunyoshi, who had returned to his other duties. “What happens to the family who used to live on a confiscated estate?” he asked the old man, handing back the scroll.