Текст книги "Island of Exiles "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

to your governor. How can you keep on patching up that poor

girl’s back and do nothing about that animal Wada?”

Ogata suddenly looked very old. He said, “Because I’m

more good to her and to others like her alive than dead. You

know, your master asked the same sort of question.” His watery

eyes looked in the distance and he shook his head. “We were

looking at a corpse. Beaten to death. A good example why a

man should keep his nose out of trouble. But did your master

heed it? No. Look where it got him. I expect he died for his

convictions. And it probably was Wada who killed him. It’s

usually Wada who arranges deaths. A very efficient man who

seems untroubled by the sort of scruples you and your master

labor under.”

Tora clenched his fists. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “I won’t

believe it till I see his body.”

Ogata said nothing. He sat hunched, his many chins resting

on his chest.

Tora frowned. “And what makes you call him my master?”

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The doctor gave him a pitying glance and shook his head.

“You’re not his brother or his son. The only other relationship

strong enough to send one man off to risk his life for another is

that between a nobleman and his retainer. I think the man who

claimed to be Taketsuna was taken to one of the mines. I expect

by now his body is in an abandoned mine shaft, covered with a

heap of rubble. You’ll never find him. You’re a good fellow, Tora,

and I’m truly sorry about your master, but there’s nothing you

can do here except die. Go home. And take Little Flower with

you. She’s a nice girl who needs someone to look after her and

she likes you.”

This time Tora did not stop the physician, and Ogata stag-

gered to his feet and departed, weaving an uncertain course

among the guests who waved and called out to him or touched

his hand as he passed.

C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N

T H E DA R K T U N N E L

Kita, the mine supervisor, stood above Akitada, studying him

with a frown of concentration. The small bright eyes moved from

face to body, pausing at the injured knee, and then returned. They

locked eyes. Kita’s were cold and beady. The eyes of the predator,

thought Akitada, the eyes of the tengu in the Minato shrine.

Akitada wondered if Kita also recognized him. Apparently

not, for the supervisor grunted and said, “Not much to look at,

is he? Thought he’d be younger, in better condition.”

It was very unpleasant to be talked about as if one were no

more than an animal, but Akitada kept his face stiff and waited

for the guard’s response.

The guard said, “He’s been inside the whole time. Sick as a

dog. Since the day the boss brought him.”

Kita pursed his lips and came to a decision. “Put him to

work in the mine.”

Akitada’s eyes flew to the mine entrance, where an ex-

hausted and choking creature dumped his load and crept back

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in when a guard’s whip was raised. He felt such a violent revul-

sion against returning to the darkness in the bowels of the earth

that he thought he would rather die here and now than go back.

“He can’t walk yet,” said the guard dubiously.

“Then put him to work over there till he can,” Kita said,

pointing to the men who were pulverizing rock near the sluice.

And that was where they dragged him. He was given a small

mallet and told to break up the chunks of rock someone

dumped in front of him. In his relief that he had been spared

the mine, Akitada worked away at this chore with goodwill. He

was far from strong, but the activity required little strength, just patience and mindless repetition. When he finished one batch,

a worker would remove the dust and gravel and replace them

with more rock chunks. He saw no silver veins in any of the

chunks he broke up. There were some small yellow spots

from time to time, but he was too preoccupied with his body to

wonder much at this.

He ate and slept where he worked. His legs were hobbled

at the ankles even though he was unable to walk. When he

wished to relieve himself, he dragged himself behind some

bushes and then crawled back. On the next day, a guard forced

him to stand. To Akitada’s surprise, he could put a little weight

on his right leg again and, when poked painfully in the small

of his back, he took the couple of staggering steps to the shrubs

without screaming. All that was left from his injury was a stiff,

slightly swollen, and bruised knee and an ache whenever he

attempted to bend it.

They allowed him another day in the sunlight and fresh

air before they sent him into the mountain. It was not a good

moment for heroics. He was surrounded by hard-eyed guards,

variously armed with whips, swords, and bows, and marched to

the cave entrance, where they slung an empty basket over his

shoulders by its rope and pushed him forward. In front of him

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and behind him shuffled other miserable creatures, each with a

basket on his back. A break from the line was impossible.

The darkness received him eagerly. Air currents pushed and

pulled as he shuffled in near-blindness in a line of about ten

men following a guard with a lantern. They went down a steep

incline, past gaping side passages, turning this way and that un-

til he lost all sense of direction or distance. The rock walls closed in on him, and the tunnels became so narrow that he brushed

the stone with his shoulders, and so low that he had to bend.

Panic curled in his belly like a live snake, swelling and chok-

ing the breath out of him until he wanted to turn and run

screaming out of that place, fighting his way past the men

behind him, climbing over their bodies if need be, clawing his

way back to the surface, because any sort of death was better

than this.

But he did not. And after a while, he could hear the ham-

mering again, and then the tunnel opened to a small room

where by the light of small oil lamps other miners chipped

pieces of rock from the walls with hammers and chisels. He

stood there staring around blankly, his body shaking as if in a

fever. The empty basket was jerked from his back, and a full one

put in its place. Its weight pulled him backward so sharply that

his legs buckled and he sat down hard. A guard muttered a curse

and kicked him in the side. Someone gave him a hand, and he

scrambled to his feet. His bad knee almost buckled again. He

sucked in his breath at the sudden pain. One of the other pris-

oners turned him about, and he started the return journey.

They carried the broken chunks of ore to the surface, where

others dealt with them while they plunged back into the bowels

of the mountain for another load. Kumo, for whatever reason,

had spared his life to condemn him to a more ignominious and

much slower end. As he trudged back and forth, he thought that

he, Sugawara Akitada, descendant of the great Michizane and

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an imperial official, would finish his life as a human beast of

burden, performing mindlessly the lowest form of labor, the

dangerous and unhealthy work the drunken doctor had tried to

spare him, and he knew now he would not survive it for long.

Two facts eased his panic. The smoke from the earlier fire

had cleared and the air was relatively wholesome. The mine also

seemed a great deal cooler than he remembered from the weeks

he had spent in his grave. The other fact concerned his right

leg. He still limped and felt pain in his knee, especially when he

put strain on it carrying his load uphill, but the swelling was

gone and he had almost normal movement in it again. In fact,

activity seemed to be good for it.

But he was still very weak and the rocks in the basket were

abysmally heavy. The rag-wrapped rope, which passed in front

of his neck and over his shoulders, cut into his flesh, and he

had to walk bent forward to balance the load. This, added to

the steep climb back out, strained his weakened muscles to the

utmost. The first trip was not too bad, because he was desperate

to get back to the surface, but on the second one he fell. To his

surprise, the man in front of him turned back to help him

up, telling him brusquely to grab hold of his basket. In this

manner, the other man half dragged him up the rest of the way

into the daylight.

When Akitada had unloaded and looked to see who his

benefactor was, he was startled to recognize him. The man’s

name escaped him for the moment, but he knew he was one of

the prisoners from the stockade in Mano, the silent man with

the scarred back. Their eyes met, and Akitada thanked him. The

other man shook his head with a warning glance at the guards

and started back into the tunnel. Akitada followed him.

He would not have lasted the first day if the man with the

scarred back had not pulled him up on every trip to the surface.

Even so, Akitada sank to the ground after his last trip. He was

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289

too exhausted to notice that the sun had set and it was dusk. His

companion pulled him up, saying gruffly, “Come on. It’s over.

Time to rest.”

Akitada nodded and staggered to his feet, heading toward

the trees where he had spent the past nights. But the guard gave

him a push and pointed his whip after the others who went

back into the mine. So he was to spend even his nights under-

ground again. Akitada almost wept.

They gathered in the larger cave by the light of a single

smoking oil lamp. The prisoners sat and lay wherever there

was room. Akitada found a place beside his benefactor. Some-

one passed food and water around. He drank thirstily, but his

stomach rebelled at the sight and smell of food.

“Better eat,” said the man with the scarred back.

Akitada shook his head. Then he said, “Haseo. Your name is

Haseo, isn’t it?”

The other man nodded.

“I’m sorry you ended up here.”

Haseo lowered his bowl and looked at him. “So did you.

Almost didn’t recognize you.”

“My own fault. I was careless.”

An understatement. He had made many careless errors, had

thrown caution to the wind, had followed every whim, thought-

less and mindless of obligations and prudence. His punishment

was terrible, but he had brought it upon himself.

The other man gave a barking laugh. “I suppose that’s true

of all of us.”

Akitada looked at the others, so intent on their food that

few of them talked. They were here because they had been care-

less of the law, of the rights of their fellow men, and of

their loved ones. He had not broken any laws, but he, too,

had failed. He thought of Tamako. She would never know that

he had betrayed his promises to her with Masako, but he

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knew and was being punished for it. If his mind had not

been preoccupied with his affair, he would surely not have

made the foolish mistakes that led to his capture. He had known

that Genzo was treacherous, yet he had left his precious identity

papers and orders unattended for hours, no, days, all the while

congratulating himself for having so cleverly eavesdropped on

the conspirators.

“What’s funny?” asked Haseo.

Akitada started. He must have been smiling—bitterly—at

his own foolishness. “I was thinking of my carelessness,” he said.

Most of the prisoners were already settling down to sleep, and

the single guard was arranging himself across the tunnel that

led to the outside in case anyone attempted to run away during

the night. Then he blew out the oil lamp and plunged them all

into utter darkness.

Akitada tensed against the terror. His fingers closed convul-

sively around sharp bits of gravel. Any moment, he knew, he

must scream or suffocate. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder,

giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Sleep,” Haseo whispered.

Akitada took a long, shuddering breath. “Is there any chance

of getting out of here?” he whispered back.

Haseo sighed. “Whereto?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to get out of this mine.”

“They’ll catch you fast enough and you’ll be ten times worse

off then,” Haseo hissed.

Akitada thought of the man’s horribly scarred back. “It’s a

chance I’ll take. There’s nothing here but certain death.”

Haseo said nothing for a long time. Then he muttered, “Go

to sleep. You’ll need your strength tomorrow. I can’t drag you

behind forever.” He turned his back to Akitada and lay down.

Akitada sighed and closed his eyes.

The next morning began badly, because Akitada’s body, un-

used to the previous day’s labors, rebelled against movement of

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any sort. He had to grit his teeth to get up and make his way

to the outside. He was determined not to be a burden to

Haseo again.

But every step eased the stiffness, and for the first time he

felt ravenously hungry. They ate with the others at the mouth of

the mine. Akitada looked his fill at the blue sky and the tips of

trees gilded by the rising sun, listened to the sound of birds and

of water running down the sluice, and drew in the clean sharp

scent of the forest.

The goblin brought his food, staring at him intently. He

nodded his thanks and smiled. To his surprise, her fierce color-

ing deepened to a more fiery red and she scurried away with a

giggle. He was too hungry to wonder at her behavior, especially

when he saw that his portion was unusually large and contained

several generous chunks of fish.

Work was no easier this day, especially since he took care not

to burden Haseo again, but he managed to get through it, and

that night he decided to ask Haseo more questions.

“Have you been here long?” he began as they settled down to

their evening meal.

“Came right after we met.”

It struck Akitada that Haseo, though still taciturn, spoke

rather well for a common criminal. “What sort of life did you

lead before they sentenced you?”

The bearded face contorted suddenly. “Amida, how can you

ask a man that? How about you? Did you leave a wife and chil-

dren to starve? This”—he waved a hand around to encompass

mine, prisoners, sleepy guard, and empty food bowls—“is hell,

but it’s nothing compared to the fear for those you leave behind.

They took my land and drove my family into the streets.”

“I am sorry for you and for them.” Akitada felt vaguely

guilty. He was an official himself, and had on occasion pro-

nounced sentences like Haseo’s. His crime must have been

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very serious to warrant not only exile at hard labor, but confis-

cation of his property. To judge by the man’s speech he was

no commoner, and the confiscation of his land implied that

he belonged to the gentry. Hoping not to offend again, he

probed cautiously, “Sometimes a man’s allegiances may be

held against him.”

“Sometimes a man’s greed may cause him to take another

man’s property.” Haseo gave a bitter laugh. “If I had known

what I know now, I would have left my land with my family

before it came to this.”

“What happened?”

Haseo snorted. “You wouldn’t believe it. Forget it.”

Akitada whispered urgently, “Don’t you want to escape?”

Haseo merely looked at him.

Akitada looked around the room. Nobody paid attention

to them. The guard was busy arranging a bed for himself.

Moving closer to Haseo, Akitada whispered, “I know there are

problems, but once we are out of this mine, I believe I can get us

off the island. What I need to know is if there is another way out

of this place. You’ve been here longer than I and you seem an

intelligent man.”

Haseo glanced at the figure of the guard who lay across

the tunnel opening again and was about to blow out the lamp.

Akitada caught a speculative look on Haseo’s face before they

were plunged into the dark. “There might be,” Haseo breathed

in his ear.

“How?” Akitada breathed back.

“Old tunnels. The ones they stopped working. Nobody goes

in them anymore. There’s one where air is blowing in through

the planks that board it up. Fresh air!”

Akitada had noticed that the smoke had cleared out of the

mine rather quickly, and that cool air currents passed through

the tunnel all day and night, but he had not thought why this

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should be so. Now he realized that the air came from the outside

and moved back to the outside, and that meant there were other

openings in this mine.

“Of course!” he said, and sat up, causing the chains around

his ankles to rattle.

The guard in the tunnel entrance growled sleepily, “Quiet

there, filth, or I’ll put you on night shift.”

Total silence fell. Even the snorers held their breaths.

There was no chance of further talk that night or during

the following day, but Akitada was alert to the air currents as

he made his way back and forth with his basket. He found

the place Haseo had mentioned, and the next time they passed

the boarded-up section, he caught up to him and gave his

basket a small nudge. Haseo paused for the space of a breath,

then, without looking back, he nodded his head.

The opening was slightly smaller than the tunnel they were

in. They would have to crawl, but it was not as tiny as the badger

holes and might even widen out later. The boarding-up had

been done in a makeshift manner, more to mark this as an

abandoned working and to keep people from getting lost than

to prevent entrance.

Akitada spent the rest of the day memorizing the location

and trying to picture the direction of the abandoned tunnel in

relation to the cliff and the rest of the mountain they were

working. He thought it likely that somehow one of the workings

of a vein of silver ore had led from the interior of the mountain

back to its surface. Each time he passed the blocked tunnel, he

sniffed the air, and imagined that he could detect a faint tang of

pine trees and cedars.

That night he waited impatiently for the guard to go to sleep,

then murmured very softly to Haseo, “Are you willing to try?”

There was no answer. He opened his mouth to repeat his

question more loudly, when a callused hand fell across his lips.

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Haseo whispered, “When?” The hand was lifted, and Akitada

breathed, “Tomorrow night?”

There was a very soft snort, almost a chuckle, and, “You’re

a fool!”

Akitada was not sure what that meant. He spent most of

the night considering how they might accomplish such a mad

endeavor. And mad it surely was, for no one knew if they

would really find a way out. But what did they have to lose?

And staying here longer while he slowly regained his strength

was even more foolhardy, for Kumo’s order to put him to death

might arrive any moment.

He was methodical about his planning. Their only chance of

getting away was at night. Only one guard stayed with them

and, certain that the prisoners were too exhausted to attempt

anything, he slept. To be sure, he slept with his body blocking

their only way out, secure in the knowledge that the chains on

their feet would warn him of any improper movements. The

guard was the first obstacle, but not an insurmountable one.

Next Akitada considered whether they should invite

the other prisoners to join them. He rejected the thought—

reluctantly, because help was useful. The abandoned tunnel

might contain obstructions, and Akitada was not really strong

enough yet for what might await them inside. He suppressed a

shudder at the thought of becoming lost and dying a slow

death of starvation in utter darkness. There was also safety in

numbers, because the guards would have a much harder time

chasing down twenty men than two. But the trouble with taking

the others was that they would make too much noise and slow

them down. Besides, the cowed creatures he had observed

might well give the alarm and draw the guards after them.

So it had best be just the two of them. After overcoming

the sleeping guard, they would make their way up the main

tunnel to the boarded section. They would need a few tools.

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295

Fortunately, the workers left their hammers and chisels lying

about. They would also need an oil lamp and some flint.

And they would need a lot of luck. A great deal depended

on whether the boarded-up tunnel led out of the mine, prefer-

ably without emerging near the front. Akitada whispered

some of this to Haseo, who responded merely by squeezing

his shoulder.

The next morning there was little chance for communica-

tion with Haseo except through eye contact. Among the dis-

carded debris were rags and remnants of frayed rope. Akitada

cast a meaningful glance at one such pile and bent to touch

his chained ankle. Then, in passing, he scooped up a handful of

the torn material, tucking it inside his shirt. He noticed that

Haseo did the same later. They dropped their gatherings near

their sleeping places, where they attracted no notice because the

floor was already covered with all sorts of litter. At one point,

Haseo surreptitiously slipped a chisel under their small hoard,

and before the light was extinguished, Akitada marked a place

where several hammers had been left.

That night they ate what might be their last meal for a long

time, perhaps forever. Then they waited. They did not talk.

There was nothing to talk about, and they could not afford to

attract attention.

When he judged that the snoring around them had

achieved its usual fullness and rhythm, Akitada began pass-

ing rags and rope bits to Haseo. They wrapped the fabric care-

fully around their chains to muffle them.

When the moment came, it was Haseo who gave the signal

and Haseo who moved first. Akitada had wanted to get to the

guard himself to silence him because he feared that Haseo

would simply kill the man. But it was too late to worry about it.

Too much—their lives—hung in the balance, and this guard

was one of the more cruel Ezo males.

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Akitada crept toward the tools, felt for two hammers and

a second chisel, and tucked them into his belt. Then he crept

back to the tunnel opening. By now his heart was pounding so

violently that it interfered with his hearing. Where was Haseo?

At one point Akitada put his hand on a sleeper’s leg and froze,

but the man merely mumbled and turned over. He was still

crouching there, trying to remember the layout of the room,

when Haseo’s hand fell on his shoulder. He heard him breathe,

“Follow me,” and took his hand.

Moving soundlessly, they came to the guard, now uncon-

scious or dead, and, feeling their way, stepped over his body.

The room behind them remained quiet. Holding their breaths,

they shuffled up the dark tunnel as quickly and silently as they

could. Akitada expected to hear an outcry at any moment, but

nothing happened.

When they reached the boarded-up tunnel, he passed one

of the hammers to Haseo, whispering, “What did you do to

the guard?”

Haseo must have rescued his chisel, for he was already

loosening the boards. “What do you think?” he hissed as some-

thing creaked and splintered.

“Careful,” whispered Akitada. “Someone might hear.” He

reached for his own chisel and felt along the edge of the top

board. Haseo had loosened it so that it could be pulled outward.

Other boards were nailed to it. “Can we just shift it enough to

creep through and close it behind us? It would give us time

when they start searching.”

Instead of answering, Haseo bent to loosen the lower

edge while Akitada pulled. Working by touch alone was diffi-

cult. Akitada had forgotten to bring a light, and had had no

opportunity to steal a flint anyway. The thought of creeping

into an unfamiliar tunnel in utter darkness momentarily made

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his stomach heave. He reminded himself that showing a light

would have been too dangerous anyway.

The makeshift doorway eventually gaped far enough to let

them slip through. They pulled it back into place after them,

hoping that their prying chisels had not left noticeable scars.

Starting forward slowly, they felt their way by moving along

one of the walls with one hand stretched out in front to keep

from running into sudden projections. They had progressed for

some distance along the winding tunnel when Haseo stopped.

Akitada heard the sound of a flint, and then the rough tunnel

walls lit up around them.

Taking a deep breath of relief, Akitada said, “Thank heaven

for that. How did you manage both lamp and flint?”

But Haseo was already moving on. “Took them off the

guard, of course. It’ll make it harder for them to get out in

the morning.”

Seeing their surroundings was not reassuring, however.

Cracked timber supports and large chunks of rock fallen from

above marked this as a dangerously unstable section, and when

the tunnel eventually widened and the ceiling rose so that they

could walk upright, they found numerous branch tunnels,

some of which they explored until they ran out. The air

remained fresh and sweet, however. They spoke little, and then

tersely and in low voices about their desperate undertaking.

“There are too many tunnels,” Akitada said after a while.

“We cannot waste time with all of them, and how do we know

we’re in the right one?”

“Don’t know. Have to follow the air current.”