The Convict's Sword (53 page)

“You found my sword,” said Akitada, taking the Sugawara blade from Kobe’s hands. “That was very good of you.”

“It belongs to your family.” Kobe looked embarrassed. “I wish I knew what to say about your son. I lost two little ones myself a few years ago. One doesn’t forget, but perhaps there will be more sons for you, and daughters, too. Someone to live for. To save the sword for.”

“Yes,” said Akitada bleakly, and pushed the sword into his sash. “No doubt, you’re right. But for now I’d better see about catching Sakae.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

EVENING BELLS

 

 

 

Tora tied up both horses at the temple gate. The young monk gatekeeper greeted him eagerly; visitors were rare in this small temple. When Tora asked if the temple conducted a school, the young monk brightened even more. “Indeed we do, sir. Perhaps you would like to see for yourself ? Our learned Master Genku is instructing the boys in the lecture hall.”

Tora followed his directions to a small wooden building. Its sliding doors had been thrown open on this warm summer day. From within came the sound of young voices chanting in unison. Tora stepped up to the narrow veranda and sat down, instantly attracting the attention of the pupils inside. The elderly monk who presided over the small class ignored the visitor.

Tora easily picked out Haseo’s son. The boy was the only one the right age, and he had a certain bearing. In a way he reminded Tora of Kinjiro. Kinjiro was two years older but was smaller-boned than this boy, and both had the same fierce look in their faces—as if they were engaged in a battle against the world. This boy had tensed under Tora’s scrutiny. When Tora tried a reassuring smile and nod, the youngster scrambled to his feet in a panic.

“Sit down, Nobunari,” the schoolmaster called out sharply.

Tora stood up and bowed. “Forgive the interruption, Master Genku. My name is Tora. I have a message for Master Nobunari about his mother.”

The boy still stood, eyeing him nervously.

Genku said irritably, “Why do you interrupt the lesson? And why do you call Nobunari ‘master’?”

“Because,” said Tora, “he’s the oldest son of Tomonari Haseo.”

The boy made a decision. “I’m Nobunari. What is the message?”

“Ah,” said Tora, making the boy a bow, “I was right. The message is from my master, Lord Sugawara, senior secretary in the Ministry of Justice.”

The boy frowned. “About my mother?”

Tora cleared his throat and looked at the other boys who had been following the conversation with avid interest.

The monk rose with a sigh. “Perhaps we had better go elsewhere.” He set the class an exercise, and led Tora and Nobunari to an adjoining room.

“Now, young man,” he said sternly to Tora, “what’s all this? It had better be important.”

“It is.” Tora turned to the boy. “I’ve come for you and your sister. My master offers you his protection. You’ll be safe with him.”

Nobunari bit his lip. “Is anything wrong with Mother?”

Tora had worried over this part all the way here. Now that the moment had come, he did not know what to say. So he did not say anything and watched helplessly as the color slowly drained from the boy’s face.

“What happened?” the boy whispered. “I suppose she’s dead. That’s what you came to tell me. I want to know what happened.” He choked on the words, but his voice was fierce even as tears began to fill his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said Tora. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. Someone killed your mother two weeks ago.”

The monk muttered, “Amida!”

The boy clenched his fists. “Who?”

“I don’t know. I found her. She’d been stabbed. At first the police thought I’d done it.”

The boy stared at Tora. “Mother told me about you. She called you a friend. Besides, you don’t look like one of them.”

Tora asked quickly, “She told you who was after her?”

But Nobunari frowned and became distant. “This Lord Sugawara. Why is he sending for us?”

“That’s another story. You see, we met your father. In Sadoshima.”

Nobunari jumped up, his face shining with excitement. “My father is alive? When did you see him? My sister and I shall go to him right away.”

Tora gulped. He was not doing this very well. “I’m afraid you can’t. You see, your father died also. I guess you’re his heir now. We didn’t know how to find you. I’m sorry we were too late to help your mother.”

Nobunari sank back down. He looked grim. “My father did not murder my grandparents, but they sent him into exile and he died. And my mother got sick and went blind. She had to work like a beggar for our food, and now she’s dead, too. What good is life?”

Master Genku said piously, “We must obey the will of Heaven.”

The boy glared at him. “Why?”

“We must find the Way during our lifetime. If we find it, we go to an abode of happiness after death. If not, our souls suffer eternal misfortune.”

Nobunari’s anger flared, “My father died for another man’s evil, and my mother died because she had to support us. To pay for my lessons. You took her money, though you taught me nothing. Did my parents follow the Way? Or are you following it? What is the Way, Master?”

The old monk started to bluster. Tora interrupted, “It’s time Lord Tomonari and I left.” He gestured to the boy to precede him. The youngster stalked away, his back rigid with anger and grief.

When they reached the gate, Nobunari saw the spare horse and his fury abated a little. He swung himself in the saddle and set off down the road. When Tora caught up, the boy asked, “Were you serious about that ‘Lord Tomonari’ business?”

“Yes.”

“Who killed my grandparents?”

“His name is Sangoro, but he goes by Matsue now. He’s in jail.”

The boy gave him a look. “Why did he do it?”

“He says he’s your grandfather’s son and that your grandparents insulted his mother. Your father was blamed because Matsue’s mother lied to the judge to protect him.”

The boy was silent for a long time. Then he said, “I see. Maybe I would’ve done the same thing in his place. I used to want to kill him for what he did to all of us, but it’s better this way. I shall kill my mother’s murderer instead.”

He was only twelve, but Tora did not doubt him. He thought of Haseo’s sword and wondered if his son would put it to the test the moment they found the killer. He asked, “Do you know how to use a sword?”

“No, but I shall learn.” Nobunari pointed to a small farmhouse some distance from the main road. “That’s where we live. Mother paid them to keep us.”

It was a poor sort of farm. When they dismounted, a young girl came flying out of the door. “Nobunari,” she yelled, “what’s happened?”

This time Tora let the boy do the talking.

Akitada found Sakae in his own office. The clerk was clearing his personal papers and books from Akitada’s shelves.

“I see you have settled in,” Akitada remarked.

“I was just getting the office ready for you, sir.” Sakae gave him an ingratiating smirk. “Allow me to express my condolences.”

“Thank you.” Akitada was idly picking up Sakae’s books. “I expect you heard what happened to Nakatoshi.”

Sakae made a face. “Yes. It was a shock. I would never have believed it of him.”

“Hmm.” Akitada had found what he had been looking for. He slowly turned the pages, skimming the text. “I agree,” he said. “Though perhaps it was not altogether surprising for you.”

Sakae stared at the book in Akitada’s hands. His ears were turning red. “I b-beg your pardon?”

“It was you who framed Nakatoshi, wasn’t it?”

“Me? Certainly not.”

“I wonder, Sakae, can you have any idea what will happen to him because of the letter?”

“He shouldn’t have written it. I suppose he’ll be dismissed.”

“He’s in prison now, awaiting trial for treason. Treason is a capital offense. I expect he will be executed.”

Sakae gaped at him. “For writing a
letter?
”

Akitada nodded and watched beads of sweat pop up on Sakae’s brow. “Really, Sakae,” he said mildly, “for a law clerk you’re dismally uninformed. I think you must go and confess to the trick you played on your rival. You weren’t very clever about it. I could see that the letter was not in Nakatoshi’s hand. Furthermore, you miswrote the recipient’s name.”

Sakae flushed deeply. His eyes gave away his panic. “It wasn’t me. You can’t prove it was me. Maybe somebody else . . .”

“No. I recall that you’re very proud of an essay you once wrote on the subject of Chang Lu’s rebellion. In fact, you couldn’t resist quoting a line from the Chinese source in your letter. And I see you marked the passage.” Akitada held up the book. “Not much point in denying it. I have already informed Lord Fujiwara and Police Superintendent Kobe of your trick.”

Sakae wilted. He shrank into himself and wiped the perspiration from his face. “What will happen to me?”

“Oh, no charge of treason. If you admit it, you’ll be dismissed . . . which is what you had planned for Nakatoshi. I suppose when your hopes of taking my place were dashed by Soga’s death, you decided to take Nakatoshi’s. It was as foolish as it was dangerous. I doubt that you can hope for future government service. Of course, if you insist on your innocence, we have no choice but to have you arrested.”

Akitada left the sagging figure of Sakae to contemplate his punishment and went to Kosehira’s office. Kosehira was reading his correspondence and muttering under his breath.

“What’s the matter?” Akitada asked.

“Sakae can’t write. I won’t put my name and seal to this.” He tossed an official letter toward Akitada, who glanced at it and put it down.

“I told you. Tomorrow Nakatoshi will be back. He writes the best hand in the city.”

Kosehira raised his brows. “You mean that treasonable letter really was Sakae’s work? Why, the sly toad! Wait till I prepare my report. He will certainly never work for the government again.”

“That’s what I told him. But I need your help with a more important matter. It concerns the heirs of a man who was also falsely accused and died in exile. Shall I tell you about it?”

Kosehira listened to Haseo’s story with shock and pity. His suffering and that of his family brought tears to his eyes.

“We cannot charge Yasugi,” Akitada ended, “but I think the nation owes it to Haseo to return his family name and property to his children.”

“Yes, yes,” cried Kosehira. “I shall put it to His Majesty myself. No, better. You shall come and tell him what you just told me. He’s a very softhearted young man, even if he’s the emperor. And that reminds me. Do you remember his uncle? That priestly fellow who watched us pray for His Majesty?”

Akitada did and made a face. “I hope he doesn’t remember
me
!”

Kosehira laughed. “On the contrary! He hasn’t forgotten. He thinks you saved His Majesty’s life when you made the Buddha nod and has proposed a very nice reward for you.”

“That is kind of him,” said Akitada weakly. The irony that he should be rewarded for an act of impudence and blasphemy struck him as a perfect example of the futility of all human hopes.