Текст книги "Island of Exiles "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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tendency to become involved in investigations of low crime in

his spare time, a situation which often strains relations between

the capital police and our ministry.”

When Akitada looked up, the thin man smiled his thin

smile. “When I knew we would pass through Echigo, I contacted

Soga. You see, we know of your interest in murder from an

unimpeachable source.”

Akitada handed back the letter. “This bears no superscrip-

tion. I still do not know who you are, sir.”

The short man made an impatient noise, but his companion

raised his hand. He looked at Akitada, who looked back and

compressed his lips stubbornly.

“So. You still do not trust me. But how can I trust you?”

“If you came to me knowing only what Minister Soga told

you, you cannot,” Akitada said bitterly.

The thin man chuckled. “Oh, Soga was not my only source.

Let me see. I also heard that you placed first in your university

16

I . J . P a r k e r

examination. An uncommon distinction which means you have

above-normal intelligence and learning.”

“I was fortunate.”

“Hmm. I believe you received your present appointment

because you solved a complicated crime affecting another

member of the imperial family?”

That was only known to a very few people. Akitada said cau-

tiously, “It is true that my humble efforts may have brought me

my present assignment,” adding silently that, if he had known

better, he would have refused it.

“Whose side are you on, Sugawara?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“In the matter of Prince Okisada.”

Akitada was an imperial official and thought the answer

should have been obvious. “Oh. His Majesty was duly chosen

by the previous emperor. There can be no question about the

legality of the succession. The ruling sovereign designates his

successor from among his brothers or sons, provided that his

choice is capable of carrying out the duties of an emperor.

There is a precedent for this case. In 438, another crown prince

was considered unfit and passed over in favor of his younger

brother. May His Majesty’s reign last a thousand years.” Akitada

bowed.

“Spoken like a legal scholar. Very well, I suppose I have no

choice but to trust you. I cannot reveal details, but you may

have a look at our original commission. I hope you will treat the

information with the utmost secrecy. No one must know our

purpose.”

His companion objected. “I am opposed. Sugawara’s char-

acter is dubious from all we have heard. He has disobeyed

orders and taken matters into his own hands before. If he per-

sists in refusing an order, I say we go back and investigate the

case ourselves.”

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

17

“Neither you nor I have the expertise to investigate a mur-

der, nor sufficient background in the law, nor in the details of

provincial administration. Sugawara does and he is close

enough to reach Sado Island quickly.” The thin man selected

one of the imperial documents and passed it across to Akitada.

Akitada sat lost in amazement at what these two officials

expected of him. The thin man raised his brows and gave a

meaningful nod at the document roll in his hand. Belatedly,

Akitada extended both hands to receive it and raised the impe-

rial seal respectfully above his head, before undoing the silk rib-

bon with trembling fingers. The emperor’s private office used

heavy, cream-colored mulberry paper of the finest quality, and

Akitada’s hands were sweating. He wiped them surreptitiously

on his robe, and then read. The handwriting of the imperial

scribe was most elegant, so elegant in fact that he had trouble

deciphering it. But flowery language and floating brushstrokes

aside, he saw that his visitors were both advisors to the emperor.

He recognized their names and knew that they held the fourth

and fifth ranks, respectively, but they worked in too exalted an

office to have come in contact with a mere junior clerk in

the ministry of justice. The letter instructed them to travel to

Sadoshima in order to visit Prince Okisada and discuss “certain

matters” with him on behalf of His Majesty. The faint signature

at the end was the sovereign’s. Akitada again raised the docu-

ment above his head, before rolling it up carefully and retying

the silk ribbon with clumsy fingers. He returned it with a deep

bow. “Please forgive my earlier lack of courtesy, Your Excellen-

cies,” he said humbly.

The short man grunted, but his thin colleague smiled.

“Never mind. I like a cautious man. You will need to be wary in

Sadoshima. We suspect a great deal of trouble is brewing there.”

“Trouble? Forgive me, Excellency, but when did the

prince die?”

18

I . J . P a r k e r

“Last week. We were greeted by the news when we arrived.”

“Only last week?” Akitada rearranged his thoughts rapidly.

They had not been sent to him from the capital. The govern-

ment was still pleased to ignore him. They—or rather the thin

man (though he knew their names, Akitada preferred to think

in anonymous terms), had come to him on his own initiative.

He felt mildly flattered but also worried. “Then why did His

Majesty send you there?” he asked.

“We cannot talk about matters which concern the sover-

eign,” protested the short man.

The thin man sighed. “Can you not simply go and find out if

the governor’s son, a young man called Toshito, is truly guilty?”

Akitada hesitated. Sometimes it is better not to know too

much, and he got a distinct feeling that this was one of those

times. But he could not help himself. “You mentioned trouble

and the need to be wary. I cannot be wary if I don’t know what

the trouble is. Your visit to Sadoshima suggests that there was

serious concern about another plot against His Imperial

Majesty. I think that is what the letter alludes to when it speaks

of ‘certain matters’ and why you undertook such a long journey

in the first place. But when you arrived you found that Prince

Okisada had been poisoned by the son of the governor. Some

might wonder if this Toshito had acted on behalf of His

Majesty.”

The short man sucked in his breath sharply. They both

stared at him as if he had suddenly been transformed into

something alien, as if a field mouse had turned into a fox before

their eyes.

Then the thin man chuckled softly and said, “Bravo! That

was quite clever of you. You will do very well.”

The short man made a face. “Let us be careful,” he warned.

“Never mind. Sugawara is quite right. He will need to know

a little more. The danger of an insurrection may be over now

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

19

that the prince is dead, but what if it is not?” He paused to pour

himself another cup of wine and drank.

“It all began three months ago when we—I refer to the pri-

vate office of the emperor—heard rumors of some trouble

between the governor of Sado Island and its chief constable. As

you may imagine, His Majesty is vitally interested in anything

which pertains to the tragic situation of his brother. It is a

pity that we are not kept better informed.” He harrumphed.

“But that is neither here nor there. We checked into the matter

and found that the quarrel was unrelated to the prince. Appar-

ently Mutobe, the governor, in a bout of ill-advised zeal, over-

stepped his powers and interfered with law enforcement on

Sadoshima.”

“Forgive me, Excellency, but I do not understand what this

has to do with the prince’s murder.”

The thin man bit his lip and exchanged a glance with his

friend. “We traveled to Sado to verify the facts.”

Akitada shook his head. “I do not think so. The journey

to Sado Island from the capital is long and dangerous. In this

instance, Your Excellencies appear to have undertaken the jour-

ney without escort and incognito. Would a minor squabble

between two provincial administrators really cause His Majesty

to send his most trusted advisors on such an assignment?”

“Look here, young man,” blustered the short visitor, “you

ask too many questions. We have explained as much as you

need to know. Now it is up to you to find out who killed the

prince and why.”

Akitada bowed. Nobody said anything for a while.

Finally the thin man sighed again. “As you know, Sadoshima

is a notorious haven for pirates who ply the ocean up and down

the coast. Not far to the north from here, our armies are fight-

ing the Ezo warlords again. With the prince on Sadoshima, you

can see what our enemies might do.”

20

I . J . P a r k e r

“You were afraid that the prince might become a hostage to

the Ezo?”

“That was one possibility,” agreed the thin man.

Akitada suddenly saw the real danger and the full dilemma

faced by his two noble visitors. The other, unspoken and un-

speakable, scenario was that Okisada himself had been negoti-

ating with the Ezo in another attempt to seize the throne.

Akitada felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The bloodshed

along the path of such an army led southward by a claimant to

the throne would be unimaginable. The people of Echigo and

his own small family would certainly be victims in such a war.

The Ezo, their hostile barbarian neighbors to the north, had

threatened the peaceful life of Japanese peasants for hundreds

of years. Recently their chieftains had submitted to the emperor

in Dewa and Mutsu Provinces, but the military strength and

expertise of these warlords had grown. They rebelled often, and

still posed a continuous threat to the nation.

“Will you accept the assignment?” asked the thin man.

Akitada bowed. “Yes, Your Excellency, provided that my do-

ing so is properly authorized by you in His Majesty’s name.”

“It is not likely that you will be told anything if you go there

in an official capacity. Much better that you travel incognito.”

Akitada said, “Perhaps I could travel as a peddler or peasant,

carrying my papers sewn into my clothing. Nobody pays atten-

tion to common people. But I must have properly authorized

documents.”

They did not like it, but the thin man finally agreed. “Let us

sleep over it. We are tired and you will wish to make prepara-

tions.” He looked at Akitada. “May I suggest that you stop shav-

ing? Otherwise you will hardly convince anyone that you are a

peasant or vagrant.”

“There is one other small problem,” Akitada said nervously.

“I have not received my salary since I arrived here with my

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

21

family. My retainers have not been paid, though they have car-

ried out the duties of secretary of the tribunal and constabulary

officers. I have exhausted my own funds making repairs and

cannot leave my people destitute.”

They looked at him in amazement. It occurred to Akitada

that they were probably so wealthy that they would never find

themselves in his desperate situation.

The short man said, “But why did you not draw on the

provincial treasury for salaries and expenses? Everybody does.”

“I had no authorization, Excellency.”

The short man blurted, “That old law? Nobody follows that

any longer. Don’t you know anything? It boggles the mind

that—” The thin man put a restraining hand on his sleeve, and

he concluded, “Hmph. Well, do so immediately. Collect what is

owed you and enough to see your family and staff through the

next week or two. You should be back by then.”

The thin man said more gently, “These days provincial

administrators are expected to draw funds from the local treas-

ury, Sugawara. That is why they send an examining official to

settle accounts when you leave your post.” He nodded to his

companion, and they got to their feet.

“Thank you.” Akitada was not sure whether he felt more

ashamed of his ignorance or happy that his financial woes were

solved. He decided on the latter. “Allow me to offer you my

quarters,” he said in a spirit of wanting to share his good for-

tune. “They are not much, but my wife and I will do our best to

make you comfortable.”

The short man cast a glance at the patched ceiling and bro-

ken shutters of Akitada’s office. “Thank you, but we have already

taken rooms at the local inn.”

Akitada accompanied them to the front of the tribunal hall.

From the height of its veranda, they could see across the tribu-

nal walls and the roofs of the provincial capital all the way to the 22

I . J . P a r k e r

sea. On this clear day, it was just possible to make out the long

hazy outline of Sadoshima on the horizon. It seemed another

world.

In the courtyard, the constables were just finishing their

drill. When Tora, one of Akitada’s own men and their tempo-

rary lieutenant, looked up and saw them, he called the consta-

bles to attention. Arranging his cheerful face into sterner

lines, he saluted stiffly as the two noble gentlemen descended

the steps to the courtyard and passed on their way to their

horses.

Akitada breathed a sigh of relief. The constables had actually

looked pretty sharp, in spite of their lack of proper uniforms, a

matter he would remedy immediately. But Tora spoiled the

good impression he had made by shouting up to Akitada, “Well,

sir, are we going home at last?”

The short visitor, almost at the gate, froze in his tracks for a

moment before continuing.

“Report to my office, Tora,” snapped Akitada, and walked

back inside.

Time was when Tora had been a mere peasant and foot sol-

dier. Then he had fallen on even worse times and was hunted by

the authorities as a deserter and bandit. He owed his change

in fortunes to the day Akitada had offered to take him on as a

servant.

Tora had almost turned down the offer. In those days, he

had hated officials almost as much as the injustices his family

had suffered. But his master had been as intolerant of injustice

as Tora, and they had built a strong friendship, one in which

Tora expressed his opinions freely. They had saved each other’s

lives repeatedly and risen in each other’s esteem through

mutual tolerance of the other’s shortcomings, namely Tora’s

womanizing and Akitada’s rigidity about the law.

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

23

Now Tora ran after him, boots pounding on the wooden

planks and startling the clerks in the archives. “Well?” he de-

manded again.

“Why did you shout at me?”

“Because you were too far away.” Tora grinned with his

usual impudence.

Akitada sighed. Tora was incorrigible, but the fault was his.

He had treated him from the start more like a brother than a

servant. “I shall have to leave for a week or two,” he said. “There is some trouble in Sadoshima. The former crown prince was

murdered. I am to investigate the murder charge against the

governor’s son.”

Tora whistled. “The governor’s son? What’s the world com-

ing to? Shall I start packing my things?”

“No. I am going alone. You and Genba will look after things

here. I should be back in a week.”

Tora looked disappointed, but he accepted the decision,

especially when Akitada promised to pay his back wages before

he departed.

After Tora left, Akitada walked back to his residence. He

did not like to leave Tamako and his son but had no choice

in the matter. Even if he could have refused such an order,

doing so would have ended his career for good. On the other

hand, if he managed to solve the problem, he hoped the two

imperial secretaries would put in a good word for him in the

capital.

Seimei and Tamako were waiting anxiously. Their faces fell

when they saw him. Akitada hated to see the hope drain from

Tamako’s eyes.

“We are to stay here?” she asked.

“For the time being. I am to go to Sadoshima to investigate

a murder.”

24

I . J . P a r k e r

“That place?” she cried. “Where they send all the worst

criminals?”

“Don’t worry. I shall not be gone long, and perhaps some-

thing good may come of it.”

◆

But when the two noble visitors returned the following morn-

ing, his optimism vanished. They proposed an extraordinary

plan which struck Akitada as both dangerous and uncertain.

C H A P T E R T W O

T H E P R I S O N E R

The ship had been at sea for two days. Blown off course by a

sudden violent summer storm, it had become lost in the open

ocean shortly after departing from the coast south of Echigo.

The prisoner was in the back of the ship, unchained since

they had left land behind and there was no longer any risk of

escape. He lay against the side, as he had for days, suffering from the rough seas and the seasickness they brought.

When he had been taken on board, they had put him below

deck, into a tiny black hole. Later, when they were well out at

sea, one of the guards had taken off his shackles and left an oil

lamp which swung from the low ceiling, putting out little light

but a horrible stench. The small area had become hot and so

smoky it had been hard to breathe.

But the real misery started with the storm. He had woken

from a fitful sleep when the ship began to roll and plunge amid

horrendous noise. Outside, dull crashing and roaring sounds of

wind and water bore down on the small ship. The sail snapped

26

I . J . P a r k e r

loudly in the wind and sailors shouted urgent orders to each

other. The prisoner had worried about the creaking timbers,

which seemed hardly strong enough to withstand the combined

onslaught of wind and water. And he had thought of his family.

The stench of the oil lamp, its violent swinging back and

forth, the roll and pitch of the flimsy planks underneath him

had sickened him until he could not control the heaving in his

belly. By nature fastidious, he had crawled out of his hole

and up a short bamboo ladder to the pitching deck. Nobody

paid attention to him, and he had at first welcomed the icy spray

of water, the sharp tearing gusts of wind, until the pitching and

rolling of the ship had sent him slipping and scrabbling to the

side, where he had vomited into a heaving black sea.

The vomiting was unremitting from then on, keeping pace

with the storm, abating as the wind abated a little, but recom-

mencing with the next onslaught. He was conscious of little dif-

ference between day and night, though the pitch-blackness

which must have been the first night, did make way for a dense

dark gray world in which water and sky were of a uniform

murkiness. It was then that it had dawned on him that they

were lost. He swallowed neither food nor water for what seemed

like days, nor felt any desire for them, and in time he became

too weak and listless to raise himself enough to bring up the bile

from his stomach while leaning over the side.

So now he lay in his own filth, only half conscious and

soaked to the skin.

The ship was still soaring and pitching, the wind still

howled, and spray burst across the deck, but there was a sub-

tle change in the atmosphere. Frantic activity ceased, and it

became almost quiet. Somewhere someone prayed to Amida,

but he was giving thanks for being spared.

The prisoner had neither the strength nor the inclination to

give thanks. His journey to the island of exiles had already

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

27

proven horrible beyond his wildest imaginings, and he had lit-

tle expectation that what lay ahead would be much easier.

However, sea and weather calmed, the captain changed

course, and a brisk wind carried them finally to their destina-

tion. A call from the lookout came early the following morning,

just as the prisoner was drinking greedily from a flask of water

one of the guards offered. It was snatched back quickly, too

quickly, for never had water tasted so delicious. There was land

westward, and the sailors and guards all rushed to that side of

the boat, causing it to lean and the captain to curse them. The

prisoner raised himself and peered into a pearly dawn without

seeing anything. Below, the green sea slid past like translucent

gossamer in a lady’s train, and he leaned down to dip his hand

and sleeve into it and washed his face and beard.

Before noon they steered into Sawata Bay and crossed the

limpid waters under a clear summer sky toward a green shore

dotted with small brown roofs huddled about a temple. Slightly

above the low-lying coast a larger compound of broad roofs

dominated the town. This was Mano, the provincial capital of

Sadoshima.

Having been fed a small amount of millet gruel to give him

enough strength to stand and walk, the prisoner was on his

feet, but the transfer to the rowboat and stepping on solid land

had proved a shameful affair punctuated by several falls and a

drunken stagger.

On shore, a reception committee of sorts awaited. Six rough-

looking constables, chains wrapped around their middles and

whips in their hands, stood behind a red-coated police officer in

his official black cap. The short, squat, sharp-faced man in his

forties with a scanty mustache and a stiff-legged stance received

the papers the captain passed to him and glanced through them.

He looked the swaying prisoner up and down before snapping,

“He looks disgusting. Is he sick?”

28

I . J . P a r k e r

Unimpressed by the officer’s manner, much less by his

high, nasal voice, the captain spat, crooked a finger over his

shoulder at the tattered sails, and said, “We got lost in a spell of bad weather. Spewed his guts out. He’ll be all right in a day

or so.”

Reassured that the human cargo suffered from nothing

worse, the officer addressed the prisoner next. “You are called

Yoshimine Taketsuna?”

The prisoner croaked, “Yes.”

Instantly one of the guards stepped forward and back-

handed him. He cried out in protest, staggered, and fell.

“On your knees!” snarled the guard, kicking him in the ribs.

His nose bleeding, the prisoner slowly knelt.

“You will address me as ‘sir’ and bow when you speak,”

snapped the police officer.

The prisoner staggered up, squaring his shoulders. He

looked at the officer’s cap rank insignia and said contemptu-

ously, “I have never bowed to mere lieutenants.”

Punishment was instant again. This time the guard used his

fists. The prisoner managed to turn his head just a fraction, but

he was struck on the side of his jaw and flung again into the dirt, this time too stunned to rise. His nose gushed blood, and more

blood trickled from between his lips.

The police lieutenant, his eyes cold, bent down to him.

“Your past rank, whatever it may have been, is immaterial here.

By imperial order you are to be imprisoned on this island for

the rest of your life. You are a nobody and will be assigned to

work details to earn your food and clothes. You are not to at-

tempt escape or rebellion on pain of death.” He paused, then

added, “We consider lack of respect, disobedience to orders,

lack of cooperation, and complaints as indicative of the rebel-

lious character of a prisoner. You have escaped lightly this time.”

He straightened up and snapped, “Take him away.”

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

29

Two of the guards took hold of the prisoner’s arms and

jerked him upright. Half walking, half being dragged, he was

taken from the dockside to a nearby stockade, where he was

pushed into the middle of a group of other wretches huddling

in the shadow of the wall. The heavy gates clanked shut, and

most of the guards withdrew to a small guardhouse, except for

the four or five on duty. These gathered in a shady corner near

the gates, their long bows propped against the palisade, and

chatted idly.

It was hot in the courtyard. The midday sun baked the

gravel, and the tall stockade blocked the breeze from the ocean.

The prisoners huddled miserably around a wooden bucket. For

a while no one said anything. The others looked at the new-

comer with mild interest.

Taketsuna lay motionless for a few moments. Then he spat

out a mouthful of blood. His eyes closed, he explored the inside

of his mouth with his tongue. Thankful that no teeth seemed to

be broken, he settled for a bitten tongue and split lip, opened his eyes, and struggled into a sitting position.

His eyes went slowly around, studying his fellow prisoners

one by one: three huge muscular men and one little shrimp of a

fellow, all as filthy and more ragged than he. Then he touched

his face and winced. The side where the guard had punched

him was swollen and tender to the touch, and his nose still

bled a little. He dabbed at it with a sleeve and swallowed more

blood.

The shrimp, who had bandaged knees and elbows, reached

for the water bucket and pushed it toward him. Taketsuna nod-

ded his thanks, dipped both hands into the warm water, and

drank deeply. He was about to dip in one of his full sleeves when

one of the other prisoners snatched the bucket away.

“Damn you,” he snarled, “for dirtying our drinking water

with your stinking rags.”

30

I . J . P a r k e r

“Sorry. I didn’t know.” The newcomer glanced across the

courtyard to the well. Another bucket hung ready to be lowered.

He staggered to his feet and started toward it.

“Hey,” cried the shrimp. “Don’t do that. They’ll shoot you.”

The prisoner stopped and glanced at the lounging gate

guards, who seemed engrossed in a dice game. He continued to

the well, when another “Hey!” louder than the first sounded be-

hind him. Ignoring it, he lowered the bucket, filled it, and

brought it up. There was a loud plonk, followed by a whirring

sound. It drew his eyes to the crossbeam supporting the bucket.

An arrow stuck deep in the wood, vibrating softly. The prisoner

set the bucket on the coping and began to splash the water over

his face, hair, and neck. Then he washed his hands, the bloody

sleeve, and the front of his robe.

A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him

around. “Are you deaf?” the guard growled. “Washing is not al-

lowed. Walking around is not allowed. Talking, shouting, and

singing are not allowed. Get back with the others.” He gave the

prisoner a vicious shove. Taketsuna staggered, then returned

to his assigned spot, where he sat down and wrung out his

sleeve.

The others were whispering together. One of the big men

missed an eye. He said, “Don’t bother. He must be deaf. You saw

what happened.”

“I’m not deaf,” said the new prisoner.

They gaped at him. The man with the crippled leg asked,

“Then why did you go to the well? Jisei warned you. You’re lucky

the guard didn’t shoot you.”

“I wished to wash.”

Silence, as they looked at each other. “He wished to wash,”

said the cripple, and laughed.

“Aren’t you afraid to die?” the small man with the bandaged

knees and arms wanted to know.

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

31

“Very much. But I didn’t think they would shoot a man for

washing his face.”

“Hah!” muttered the one-eyed fellow. They all shared a bit-

ter laugh at the newcomer’s innocence. “What’s your name?”

the small man asked.

“Yoshimine Taketsuna.”

The shrimp’s eyes grew round. “Two names. A gentleman.

No wonder you act like you own the place. How come they sent

you here?”

“I killed someone.”

“Ah!” They looked at each other and nodded understanding.

Introductions followed. The small man with the bandages

was Jisei; he had just returned from a work detail digging tun-

nels deep into the earth and bringing out rocks. His knees and

elbows had become infected after a year’s crawling on all fours.

“I’ll be reassigned now,” he told Taketsuna importantly. “Maybe

I’ll even get to go home.” He looked away, across the top of the

stockade, a dreamy smile on his lined face.

Haseo, a huge burly man, spat. The others introduced him;

apparently he rarely spoke himself and appeared to take little

interest in the conversation. They only knew his name and

imagined that he, too, must be a convicted killer. Haseo did not

correct them.

They passed the long hot afternoon in desultory conversa-

tion interspersed with naps.

The two big fellows, one crippled with a badly set leg, the

other one-eyed, were pirates, Kumaso and Yoshi. They passed

the time telling of adventure at sea, of stolen treasure, mon-

sters of the deep, and apparitions of floating fairies. According to Jisei, they also had an uncanny talent for predicting the weather.

Jisei, the shrimp, had been on Sadoshima longest, having

been sent here for stealing a golden scepter from the hand of a

temple statue.

32

I . J . P a r k e r

All of them awaited reassignment, though none was as opti-

mistic as Jisei. They expected to be put to work building roads,

digging irrigation canals, building stockades, or repairing pub-

lic buildings.

Taketsuna wanted to ask about Jisei’s strange tunneling

when shouts sounded outside the gate. The guards rushed

to throw open both sides of the double gate and stood to

attention. A contingent of uniformed runners entered at a

trot, carrying the banner of the governor of Sado. His Excel-

lency followed on a fine horse, and more runners brought up

the rear. “Make room for the governor!” shouted the frontrun-

ners in unison, and the prisoners immediately prostrated

themselves.

All but one, that is. Taketsuna wanted a good look at the

man who ruled this island in the emperor’s name. The governor

was an elderly man with a clean-shaven, intelligent face and

eyes which roamed around the yard until they found the pris-

oners. For a moment he locked eyes with Taketsuna, then the

new prisoner quickly prostrated himself with the rest. He had

seen the expression on the other man’s face and wondered if he

looked worse than he felt.

The governor’s visit was short and did not seem to concern

the prisoners. The great man and his escort left after only the

briefest stop in the guardhouse.

This was not the only excitement of the day, for an hour

later there was another shout outside the gate. This time the

guards were in no rush to admit the visitor. They exchanged

some unintelligible words with someone outside and finally

cracked the gate grudgingly to admit a fat man in the black robe

of a minor official. He was followed by a ragged youngster with

a bamboo case.

The fat man also cast a glance toward the prisoners and then

waddled to the guardhouse.

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

33

“That’s the doctor,” Jisei informed Taketsuna. “Hope he

looks at my knees. They been getting worse. What do you

think?” Jisei lifted one of the stained rags around his knees.

Taketsuna looked and averted his eyes. A huge area of swollen,

dirt-encrusted flesh, ringed by angry purplish red skin, oozed a

bloody liquid and yellow pus. If Jisei did not get some medical

attention soon, he would get a fever and die from the infection.

Moments later, one of the guards emerged from the guard-

house and strode briskly toward the prisoners. Jisei scrambled

to his feet.