Текст книги "Island of Exiles "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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I S L A N D O F E X I L E S

A M Y S T E R Y O F E A R LY J A PA N

I . J. PA R K E R

P E N G U I N B O O K S

penguin books

I S L A N D O F E X I L E S

i. j. parker, winner of a Shamus Award for the short story

“Akitada’s First Case,” is the author of The Dragon Scroll, Rashomon Gate, Black Arrow, and The Hell Screen, and lives in Virginia Beach, Virginia.

I S L A N D O F E X I L E S

A M Y S T E R Y O F E A R LY J A PA N

I . J. PA R K E R

P E N G U I N B O O K S

penguin books

Published by the Penguin Group

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First published in Penguin Books 2007

Copyright © I. J. Parker, 2007

All rights reserved

Publisher’s Note

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

library of congress cataloging in publication data

Parker, I. J. (Ingrid J.)

Island of exiles / I.J. Parker

p. cm.

ISBN: 1-4362-4739-X

1. Japan—History—Heian period, 794–1185—Fiction.

2. Sugawara Akitada (Fictitious character)

3. Penal colonies—Fiction. 4. Exiles—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3616.A745I85 2007

813'.6—dc22 2007012078

Set in Minion

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For Hannah and Tony,

in hopes that they may grow up to love books

AC K N OW L E D G M E N T S

I am indebted to my readers John Rosenman, Jacqueline

Falkenhan, Richard Rowand, Bob Stein, and John Bushore for

their comments and encouragement. My editor, Ali Bothwell

Mancini, deserves credit for making decisions at the production

stage. And, as always, I am deeply grateful to my agents, Jean

Naggar and Jennifer Weltz, for their unstinting efforts in pro-

moting this series as well as for their unfailing and enthusiastic

support of its author.

C H A R AC T E R S A N D P L AC E S

P l ace Na m e s :

Sadoshima

Sado Island in the Sea of Japan

Mano

Main port city and provincial

headquarters on Sawata Bay

Minato

Village between Lake Kamo and the

northeast coast (modern Ryotsu)

Tsukahara

Village near the southern mountains

Sawata

Town on Sawata Bay

Echigo

Northern province of Japan, known as

“snow country” (modern Niigata)

C h a r ac te r s i n E ch i g o :

Sugawara Akitada

Minor government official, deputy

governor in Echigo

Tora

One of his retainers, presently lieutenant

of the provincial guard

Seimei

His aged secretary

Tamako

His wife, the mother of his baby son, Yori

xii

C h a r a c t e r s a n d P l a c e s

C h a r ac te r s i n Sa d o s h i m a :

Prince Okisada

Aka the “Second Prince,” oldest son

of the previous emperor. Exiled for

plotting the current emperor’s

overthrow

Taira Takamune

His former tutor and fellow exile

Professor Sakamoto

Retired professor of classics, writing a

history of Sado Island

Mutobe Toshikata

Governor of Sadoshima

Mutobe Toshito

His son and assistant

Shunsei

Young Buddhist monk and the prince’s

lover

Yoshimine Taketsuna Newly arrived exile with a secret

Jisei

Prisoner recently released from digging

“badger holes”

Haseo

Taciturn prisoner with a scarred back

Doctor Ogata

Alcoholic physician and coroner

Lieutenant Wada

The local police authority

Superintendent

In charge of the prison and the

Yamada

“Valuables Office”

Masako

His daughter

Shijo Yutaka

Head of the provincial archives

Genzo

One of his scribes

Ribata

Nun with a past

Osawa

Tax inspector in search of a wife

Kumo Sanetomo

Local landowner and high constable of

Sadoshima

Kita

Kumo’s mine foreman

C h a r a c t e r s a n d P l a c e s

xiii

Takao

Landlady of the Minato inn and Osawa’s

friend

Haru

Owner of lake restaurant Bamboo Grove

Doctor Nakatomi

The prince’s physician

Taimai (Turtle)

Crippled porter

Oyoshi

His sister, hostel keeper, and mother of

many children

Little Flower

Childlike prostitute

Ikugoro

Wada’s sergeant of constables

Also: two unnamed but high-ranking officials from the emperor’s private office, cooks, guards, servants, fishermen, monks, elderly

gentlewomen, constables, scribes, and an antique flute.

I S L A N D O F E X I L E S

P RO LO G U E

The orange sun disappeared behind the top of the mountain

range, and a gradual gloom settled over the garden. At the lake’s

edge, a crane emerged cautiously from the reeds and froze, its

small black eye on the five humans in the lakeside pavilion. The

brilliant red patch on its head and the elegant black and white

plumage were clearly visible in spite of the white mist that was

beginning to rise from the darkening surface of the water. The

air chilled quickly on Sado Island.

The crane was hungry for a mouthful of fish before seeking

its roost. The humans, replete with good food and wine, let

their conversation lag in the approaching darkness.

Advancing two slow, considered steps, the crane turned its

attention to the lake bottom.

2

I . J . P a r k e r

Professor Sakamoto and his four guests watched the bird

idly. The professor had retired from the imperial university

in the capital and settled here to write a history of the island

and its famous exiles. This evening his guest of honor was

Prince Okisada, a half-brother of the current sovereign and un-

cle of a future emperor. A frail man in his late forties, the Sec-

ond Prince was by far the island’s most exalted political exile.

Reaching for his wine cup, the prince raised his eyes from

the crane to the mountaintop. Gilded by the last ray of sun, it

looked as if a line of pure gold had been drawn between earth

and heaven. He drank deeply and murmured, “It is time. The

light is almost gone.” His tone and expression were filled with

deep emotion, but he slurred his words a little. Grimacing, he

pressed a hand to his stomach. “What did you put in that prawn

stew, Toshito?” he asked the young man on his left.

“Nothing, Your Highness. The woman uses just prawns, a

bit of seaweed, and herbs. I was told it is your favorite.” Mutobe

Toshito looked annoyed. He was the governor’s son and filling

in for his father tonight.

The professor said peaceably, “It smelled delicious, Toshito.

I am sure His Highness enjoyed the local specialty. What a

thoughtful gesture. We were all pleased to see him eat with a

good appetite for a change.”

“There is nothing wrong with my appetite, Sakamoto,” said

the Second Prince irritably, and belched.

“Is Your Highness feeling unwell?” The other elderly man, on

the prince’s right, touched his arm solicitously. Taira Takamoto

had been the prince’s tutor and shared his exile now.

The Second Prince shook off Taira’s hand, his face white

and drawn. He kept massaging his stomach. “Shunsei,” he

murmured querulously to the handsome young monk sitting

silently across from him, “come closer and massage my neck.

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

3

You are the only one who gives me pleasure these days. Will you

stay the night?”

The young monk flushed and bowed deeply. “I am expected

at the temple tonight, Highness,” he said apologetically. His

voice was soft and his eyes moist with adoration. He got up and

went to kneel behind the prince.

The Second Prince fidgeted. “Never mind! Go, if you prefer

their company. Is my room ready, Sakamoto?”

The professor got to his feet. “I’ll see to it immediately,

Highness.”

Lord Taira emptied his cup and rose also. “I shall make sure

that His Highness has all he needs. Good night, all.” The two

older men walked away toward the house. After a moment, the

handsome monk bowed and followed them.

Only young Toshito remained with the prince. He looked

after Shunsei with an expression of distaste.

“You d-don’t approve of my lover?” the Second Prince said

with some difficulty.

The young man flushed. “I . . . I beg your pardon, Highness?”

“D-don’t bother to pretend. I’ve been aware that you and

the governor disapprove of my t-tastes as much as my politics.

It could not matter less to me. We shall prevail against the

tyranny of an unlawful regime at l-last.”

The governor’s son stiffened and said uneasily, “I must

remind you, Highness, that you were sent here as a prisoner. You

are not likely to leave, certainly not as long as you voice treasonable intentions. And I’m afraid I shall have to report your words

to my father, who will, in turn, report them to the emperor.”

The Second Prince did not answer. He turned to look after

the others, who had almost reached the house. Suddenly he

groaned and bent forward, clutching his belly with both hands.

Toshito jumped to his feet. “What is it? Are you ill?”

4

I . J . P a r k e r

“Help me, please!” The prince’s voice rose to a shout of agony.

Sweat beaded his face. He reached convulsively for his throat,

choking out the words, “Loosen my collar! I cannot breathe.”

The young man approached and leaned down to tug at the

prince’s collar, but the brocade robe fit tightly and he had to use both hands. To his horror, the prince began to scream again.

His arms flailed wildly, delivering weak blows to Toshito’s face

and chest.

Down at the lakeshore, the startled crane had raised its head

at the first shout. Now it spread its huge wings and flew off, a

flapping fish in its long bill.

The others came running back to the pavilion.

Young Mutobe was still trying to restrain the wildly jerking

prince. “Calm down, Highness,” he gasped, and then shouted to

Shunsei, “Run for the doctor!” But it was too late. The prince

went first rigid and then limp in Toshito’s arms and sagged

heavily against him. He lowered the body to the ground.

Shunsei fell to his knees next to the prince and wailed,

“Beloved, do not leave me yet.”

Lord Taira was still out of breath, but his face contorted,

and he struck the governor’s son so violently in the chest that

the young man went tumbling backward and fell against the

railing.

The professor knelt to check the prince’s breathing. “He’s

dead,” he said.

“Murderer!” Taira pointed a shaking finger at Toshito, who

lay where he had fallen, stunned with surprise. “You and your

father did this. Did you think we would not hear his scream for

help? We all saw you choke him. You killed a son of heaven. Not

even the present government will countenance such sacrilege.”

In the shocked silence which followed Taira’s words, the first

frog croaked in the reeds of the darkening lake.

C H A P T E R O N E

V I S I TO R S

The two high-ranking officials from the capital arrived in the

tribunal of Echigo on a late summer afternoon.

When Seimei brought the news, Akitada was sitting on the

remnants of the veranda in his private courtyard. He had been

practicing his flute, while his young wife played with their baby

son in the small enclosed area between their living quarters and

the ramshackle assortment of halls and stables which made up

the official headquarters of the province. It was no elegant

courtyard with stones, lanterns, clipped trees, and raked gravel

streams, but just a small square of dirt with a few weeds growing

in the corners of the broken fence and under the veranda. They

had been quite happy that afternoon. Tamako had swung the

baby high up toward the limpid summer sky and laughed at the

child’s delighted gurgling. And Akitada had smiled as he prac-

ticed “Dewdrops on the Autumn Grasses.” But he had felt a

small pang of guilt when her sleeves slipped back and he saw

how thin her arms had become.

6

I . J . P a r k e r

He should not have brought her here to this inhospitable

place where the rain and snow blew into their rooms, and the

winters were as cold as their reception had been. But she had

come eagerly, putting aside her old life to be a good and loyal

wife to a struggling government official.

Sometimes he wished Tamako were a little less correct about

her duties. Before the birth of his son there had been intimacy

between them. In their nights together she had begun to open up

to him, to share her secret thoughts after sharing her body.

Because he was quite deeply in love with this slender, intelligent

woman, he wanted her to be more to him than a dutiful wife and

mother of his children. He loved his new son dearly but was jeal-

ous of the attention she lavished on him. It seemed that she had

little time left for her husband now, that all her love and devo-

tion were given to the child. But these feelings he kept to himself.

When old Seimei shuffled out on the veranda with his news,

Akitada laid down his flute with a regretful glance toward his

young family. “More messengers from Heian-kyo?” he asked,

looking up at the thin white-haired man, who was servant, sec-

retary, healer, and teacher to all of them. “I’m running out of

reasons why we cannot increase the rice taxes and corvee at the

same time. You would think they would know that the men are

needed to work the fields if there is to be a harvest.”

Seimei looked mysterious. “Not this time, sir. These are

really important visitors.”

Tamako’s face lit up. “Important visitors?” Cradling the

baby to her chest, she joined them. “Really? From the capital?

Oh, it must be good news at last.”

“Well, who are they?” Akitada asked, getting to his feet and

brushing the wrinkles out of his second-best silk trousers.

“They did not give me their names, sir. I hope it is good

news. It’s been six months since you finished your tour of duty.

A dreadful winter, especially for your lady.”

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

7

“It has not been so bad,” Tamako said quickly, but she

hugged the child a little closer and looked at the broken shutters

of their house.

It had been dreadfully hard for them all. Akitada had feared

for their lives, his young wife’s because she was with child, and

Seimei’s because he was old. What had started as a temporary

assignment to take care of legal matters and paperwork for an

absent governor had quickly turned into a nightmare. Akitada

had been only a junior clerk in the ministry of justice when his

stubborn pursuit of a murderer brought him to the notice of a

powerful noble. When his name was put forward for the job in

Echigo, Akitada had been flattered and excited by the distinc-

tion. He had taken his young and pregnant wife to this snow

country, expecting to serve for a few months and then return to

a better position in the capital.

But they had spent a long and bitter winter fighting the

climate and hostility against imperial authority without sup-

port from Heian-kyo, and now they were apparently forgotten.

Another winter loomed, though Akitada had written many let-

ters to ask for his replacement and his back salary, for they were

also nearly destitute by now.

Perhaps, he thought hopefully, his letters had borne result and

they could finally leave this godforsaken place behind forever.

Perhaps a duly appointed governor was about to arrive with his

own staff and take over the duties that had overburdened Akitada.

But even as he clung to this thought, he doubted it. It was very

strange that the visitors had not given Seimei their names.

Akitada glanced at his wife and saw the naked hope in her eyes.

“Oh, Akitada,” she breathed. “Oh, I do hope it is the recall.

Your mother’s letters have been so worrying. She says her health

is poor and that she will die before she sees her grandson.”

Actually, the older Lady Sugawara was an ill-tempered tyrant

who demanded total obedience from her son and everyone else

8

I . J . P a r k e r

in her household. She was at least part of the reason Akitada had

welcomed this assignment. He had thought it would get them

away from his mother long enough to give his marriage a chance.

He said diplomatically, “Yes. It will be good to return to the

old home.”

Seimei cleared his throat. “Sir, the gentlemen seemed very

anxious to speak to you.”

“Such haste after all this time?” Akitada mocked, but he

adjusted his collar, touched his neatly tied topknot, and fol-

lowed Seimei to the tribunal.

“I seated them in your office and served them some

herbal tea,” Seimei told him on the way. “Mint and ginger root

to refresh the mind after a long journey, and a bit of ground-up

iris root to purify the sluggish blood. They seemed out of sorts.”

Seimei’s herbal teas, changed according to the season and

the recipient’s needs, were not the best way to put important

visitors at ease. They tended to be malodorous and bitter to the

tongue, but since the old man believed they promoted good

health and a long life, Akitada and his family submitted to his

concoctions to make him happy.

The tribunal hall was the main building in the provincial

compound. Here the provincial governor held his receptions,

heard court cases, maintained the provincial archives, and con-

ducted the business of the province. Today the hall was empty

and the corridors lay silent. Such peace was a welcome change

after the hectic days of the past winter. Akitada glanced around

the cavernous hall critically. The floors were swept and the

worst holes in the rafters had been closed with new boards, the

repairs paid for from Akitada’s private funds. In the archives his

three clerks were bent over their desks, studiously copying doc-

uments. And in the main courtyard outside he could hear the

voices of his two lieutenants drilling the constables. He hoped

this orderly regimen had impressed his visitors favorably.

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

9

Seimei flung back the door to his office and announced

proudly, “Lord Sugawara.”

The title was his due, for Akitada was a direct descendant of

the great Sugawara Michizane, but the Sugawaras had fallen on

hard times after his famous ancestor’s exile and death, and his

present status in the world was more than modest. Not only was

he poor and without influence, two serious shortcomings for

which he tried to make up by carrying out his duties to the

letter, but he had managed to irritate his superiors.

Two middle-aged men in ordinary dark travel robes and black

caps sat on the threadbare cushions near Akitada’s scratched and

dented desk. They had to be of considerable rank, for neither

rose at his entrance, merely turning their heads to stare at him

curiously.

One of the men was tall and thin, with a long, yellow-tinged

face which looked vaguely disapproving. His shorter compan-

ion had an unnaturally ruddy complexion and glowered. Aki-

tada’s heart sank, but he reminded himself that they had come a

long way. Exposure to sun and wind during long journeys had

unfortunate effects on the normally pale features of noblemen

and probably also on their temper. And, to judge by their rude-

ness, these two must possess considerable rank and irritability.

Their rank was a problem. Etiquette prescribed that Aki-

tada adjust his greeting to bridge the distance between his own

rank and theirs precisely, but they were complete strangers to

him and neither wore the colors of his rank on his plain black

cap. His heart beating uncomfortably, he decided on a modest

bow to each before taking his seat behind his desk. His visitors’

cool response boded ill.

The shorter man made a face. “Well, you took your time,

Sugawara,” he complained, then waved his hand impatiently at

the waiting Seimei. “What are you standing about for? Leave

us alone.”

10

I . J . P a r k e r

Seimei bowed deeply and backed from the room.

When the door had closed, Akitada said, “Allow me to bid

you both welcome,” and faltered, looking from one forbidding

face to the other. Apparently they resented his casual greeting,

but he was at a loss how to address them.

“Not much of a welcome,” grumbled the short one. “This

tribunal looks a disgrace. The walls are falling down, your con-

stables look like scarecrows, and your stable is unfit for horses.

And what is this poison your senile servant tried to palm off

on us?”

Akitada flushed. “Just some herbal tea. It is considered very

healthful. No doubt Seimei—who is my secretary, by the way—

felt that you might need a restorative after your long journey.”

The short stranger turned down the corners of his mouth.

“He must be demented. Do you drink this stuff?”

Akitada assured him that both he and his family had found

Seimei’s teas most helpful in the past.

“Then you must be demented also.” He turned to the thin

man. “I think we are wasting our time here.”

Akitada was beginning to hope so, too, but the tall man

shook his head. “No. I think not.” His voice was dry and he

barely moved his thin lips when he spoke. “And keep in mind

that we have no choice.” The other man subsided with a frown.

Somehow this was not encouraging. Akitada offered, “Shall

I send for some wine instead?”

“By all means,” said the thin man, with a smile that was

almost jovial. He looked at Akitada with an interest which re-

minded him uncomfortably of a cat eyeing a fat sparrow.

Akitada clapped his hands for Seimei. “Some wine please,

Seimei.”

Seimei removed the full teacups with a little sniff but merci-

fully did not argue the point. When they were alone again, Aki-

tada searched for polite words to ask who his visitors were.

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

11

“I am afraid,” he began, “that I have not had the pleasure of

meeting . . . Your Excellencies in the capital.” He paused.

His visitors exchanged glances.

The short man said, “It is not necessary for you to know

who we are.”

Stranger and stranger. Akitada decided that this could not

have anything to do with his inadequate administration of the

chaotic affairs in Echigo. Neither, sadly, did it sound as though

they were bringing his release. He cleared his throat nervously.

“May I ask, then, what brings you here?”

The short man said, “In due time. First we have some

questions ourselves. And we have yet to be offered adequate

refreshments.”

Akitada flushed. He was becoming annoyed with their rude-

ness and wished they would get to the point and leave.

They sat in silence until Seimei appeared with a large tray

holding three small pitchers of wine and three cups. They were

unmatched, badly chipped, and of the cheapest clayware. Bow-

ing to each gentleman in turn, Seimei poured wine into a cup,

presented it, and placed the small pitcher before him.

Akitada asked if there were any plum pickles left.

Shaking his head, Seimei offered, “I could slice some fresh

radish from my garden.”

The short man, who had made a face when he tasted

his wine, muttered, “Fresh radish? What does the fool take

us for?”

Akitada bit his lip. Considering their probable rank, their

rudeness to him was one thing, but he was fond of Seimei, who

had been like a father to him and served him still with unfailing

love and devotion. On the other hand, these men were poten-

tially powerful and he could not afford to offend them. He said,

“I regret extremely the poor hospitality. Had we known of your

arrival, we might have prepared more suitable refreshments,

12

I . J . P a r k e r

though this poor province has little with which to please some-

one like yourselves.”

The short man grunted, but the thin one raised his brows,

and Akitada realized that he had not sounded at all deferential.

He fell silent again and waited.

“We have had worse wine on our journey here, Mototsune,”

said the thin man thoughtfully.

The short man smirked. “Once, To.”

Akitada stared at the thin man. He was not certain he had

heard right. To was the title of the emperor’s two first secretaries, the highest position in the sovereign’s private office. Each held the fourth rank. How could a man of such illustrious status be sitting in his office in the ramshackle tribunal of a remote province like Echigo?

“Are you acquainted with the Second Prince?” the thin man

asked him.

The question was unexpected and flustered Akitada even

more, but he managed to nod. The Second Prince was really the

eldest son of the late emperor and had once been crown prince

and emperor-designate. But when he had been in his twenties,

his father had suddenly decided to make another son by a sec-

ondary empress his heir, and Okisada had become the Second

Prince. Angered, he started an intrigue against his much younger

half-brother, and the emperor had punished him by sending

him to Kyushu. Okisada had apologized and been allowed to re-

turn to the capital to live there in powerless comfort and luxury

for the next ten years. Then his father, worried about his health,

had abdicated in favor of Okisada’s half-brother. One of the

court nobles, a Lord Miyoshi, discovered that Okisada was in-

volved in a plot to kill his half-brother and seize the throne. This time his punishment had been permanent exile to Sadoshima,

where he had remained for the past decade.

“Well? Have you lost your voice?” the thin man demanded.

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

13

“I beg your pardon, Excellency. I was waiting for you to

explain further. I know something of Prince Okisada and once,

when I was a boy, I saw him in passing. He is at present living in

exile on Sadoshima.”

The thin man shook his head. “Incorrect. The prince is

dead. He has been murdered.”

Akitada sat up. This was extraordinary news. A murder of

an imperial prince on the island of exiles? What could be going

on there? Sadoshima was in the Sea of Japan, about twenty

miles north of the coast of Echigo. Exile to Sadoshima was the

most severe form of punishment short of execution. Only very

violent or politically dangerous criminals were sent there. But

what did this have to do with him?

The thin man smiled. “Ah,” he said. “I see we finally have

your attention. You have the reputation of being clever at solv-

ing murders. We want you to go to Sado Island and find out

what happened.”

Akitada’s eyes widened, but he shook his head. “I am sorry,

Excellency, but I have no authority to leave my post. Neither do

I have the power to meddle in the affairs of another province. I

expect Sadoshima’s governor has already begun an investiga-

tion into the crime.”

“Pah! The investigation is tainted. The murderer is Gover-

nor Mutobe’s son.”

“What?” Akitada stared at his mysterious visitor. “Are you

certain, Excellency? Or do you mean that he has only been

accused of the crime?”

The thin man made an impatient gesture. “Accused, arrested,

and up for trial. Apparently the prince was poisoned by some

food the young man provided. The facts are not disputed.”

That was a tricky situation, and Akitada was thoroughly

intrigued, but he said again, “Even so, I regret that I am not able to accede to your request.”

14

I . J . P a r k e r

The short man turned a deeper shade and blustered, “Must

I remind you that you are nothing but a clerk in the ministry of

justice on temporary assignment here?”

Akitada bowed. “That is very true and I regret extremely not

to be able to do as you wish. But my instructions state precisely

that I am to take my orders only from my superior or a repre-

sentative of the emperor.”

They looked at each other. Then the lean gentleman took

some rolled-up documents from his sleeve. As he sorted through

these, Akitada saw the yellow silk ribbons used for imperial doc-

uments and felt his skin crawl. The thin man looked up, saw

Akitada’s expression, and smiled. He unrolled one of the yellow-

ribboned papers partially and displayed the large crimson seal of

the sovereign’s private office. “Do you recognize the seal?”

“Yes, Excellency.” Akitada bowed to touch his forehead to

the desk. Perhaps, he thought, he should prostrate himself, but

he did not quite know how to move from behind the desk and

stretch out on the floor without getting up first. An imperial

seal represented His Majesty, and one never stood before such

an object.

“Good,” commented the thin man. “I assume you are satis-

fied that I have the power to send you to Sado Island?”

Akitada sat back on his heels. “I am afraid not, Excellency. I

do not know you or how you may have come by imperial docu-

ments or what the documents pertain to.”

“Are you calling him a thief and a liar?” cried the short man.

“How dare you?” He turned to his colleague. “You see? That is

what comes of sending unsuitable persons to fill crucial posts in

the provinces. I shall certainly report this impudent fellow’s lack of cooperation to the great council of state.”

Akitada turned cold. Such a thing would surely end his

career.

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

15

The thin man cleared his throat, then leaned closer to whis-

per something to his companion. The other man still glowered

but nodded reluctantly.

Akitada watched them and wished that this day had never

happened. Nothing good could come from this meeting, no

matter how diplomatic he was with these men. He had no idea

what he was getting into, except that it involved the emperor,

high treason, and murder.

The thin man sorted through his papers again, then passed

a letter to Akitada, who recognized the handwriting. It was

from Soga Ietada, minister of justice and Akitada’s immediate

superior. The letter appeared to answer some question about

Akitada’s background. Soga had written, “Sugawara, a junior

clerk in our archives, performed his simple duties adequately,

though without enthusiasm. He has a regrettable and obstinate