Текст книги "Black Arrow "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

SEVENTEEN

THE TRAP

T

here!” said Tamako, pushing the pair of shells toward him. “I won again. A perfect match!”

Akitada glanced at the lute players depicted on the shells and then at his wife. Her slender face was flushed and her eyes shone with pleasure. He thought her quite beautiful.

“You did indeed.” He sighed with mock chagrin. “This game turns out to be unlucky for me. Twice I was quite close to winning, but you beat me each time.”

“Oh,” she cried, dismayed, “you won’t take a dislike to the game? It is merely chance, you know. The next time it will be your turn to win.”

Before he could answer, the door opened and Captain Takesuke entered. He looked tired and glum. The sight of Akitada playing a game with his wife seemed to anger him.

“The enemy has withdrawn,” he announced.

“Oh! That is good news, Captain,” cried Akitada’s wife, rising to her feet, her eyes bright with relief. “You will take a cup of warm wine after your cold vigil?”

Takesuke seemed on the verge of declining, but changed his mind. “Thank you, Lady Sugawara.” On Akitada’s invitation, he sat down, holding himself stiffly erect and meeting Akitada’s eyes stonily.

Akitada gave an inward sigh but waited until Tamako had served them and withdrawn to her own room. Then he said, “You wished for an armed encounter, I think.”

Takesuke’s eyes flashed. “Any man of courage must regret a missed opportunity.”

Akitada managed not to flinch at the implied insult. He studied the other man’s face and noted the faint tinge of pink, the compressed lips, the defiant eyes. Yes, Takesuke despised him for a coward and had the courage to say so to his face. For such open insubordination, he might well be ordered to die. But Akitada had no intention of losing the service of a good officer and of one who had just saved their lives. Should he explain himself? Tell the man that he wished to avoid the loss of even a single innocent life in this struggle for power? He discarded the thought immediately. There was only one thing a man like Takesuke understood and respected, and that was higher authority.

“Captain,” he said coldly, “it would be best if you guarded your temper in the future. Only the fact that you have performed your duties so well restrains me from issuing an official reproof.”

Takesuke flushed more deeply and bowed, but the defiance did not leave his eyes.

“It is not,” Akitada continued in the same cold voice, “in any case, for you to judge matters which do not concern you. I arrived here with specific mandates and the authority to carry them out. Only his Imperial Majesty himself can change these mandates. You and I merely obey.”

He watched as the other man’s eyes widened with respect. Takesuke prostrated himself and cried, “This stupid soldier regrets extremely his careless words. They were spoken out of a fervent wish to offer up my life to his Majesty.”

“Very well,” Akitada said, grudgingly and with a deep scowl. “I suppose you were tired. You may go.”

Takesuke scrambled up.

“You may return to the garrison today but keep your men in readiness. I want a continuous watch put on Takata manor. All movements of Lord Uesugi, military or otherwise, are to be reported to me instantly.”

Takesuke saluted and left so rapidly that the door slipped out of his shaking hand. Akitada sighed with relief. The night was past and they were safe.

His eyes fell on the desk. The shells still lay scattered. He touched the pair Tamako had so proudly pushed forward and smiled again. It had been a mismatch. The two lutes were not the same, but he had not had the heart to tell her. He started to scoop them back into their containers, when a thought struck him. For several minutes he sat transfixed, staring into space. The lute. Surely it was only a coincidence. But the thought made him so uneasy that he decided he would pay the curio dealer Shikata a visit as soon as the sun was up.

♦

Akitada expected his trap to catch its prey. He took no pleasure in it, but watched wearily and with a sense of impending disaster as events unravelled. The curio dealer had confirmed his suspicion and raised new ones.

Right after his return from Shikata’s shop, Tora brought in the maid Kiyo and left her outside Akitada’s office to cool her heels and pour vituperations on him and the clerks. Akitada sat with Seimei, immersed in the ongoing chore of checking Hamaya’s roster of rice tax payments against the provincial register and old reports from granary masters. They could hear her angry voice wishing all officials to the devil for a wide range of depraved actions.

Seimei made a face and said, “That woman’s voice will pierce a rock.”

There was a time when Akitada had been amused by the girl’s lack of respect for authority, but the persistence of her tirades made him thoughtful. When she was eventually admitted to his office toward noon, he looked at her with fresh interest. Tora, red-faced and white-knuckled, pushed her into a kneeling position, but she immediately raised her head again and glared defiantly at Akitada.

“Lieutenant,” growled Akitada, “what is the meaning of the infernal racket this female has been making?”

“Sorry, your Excellency. She seems to think she and unspecified others have been treated unjustly by this administration.”

Akitada stared at her with wrinkled brows. “Unjustly? What is your complaint, woman?”

“This is unjust,” she cried, waving an accusing arm at Akitada’s office and herself. “I’ve got a living to earn. I can’t be spending all day sitting around the tribunal when I’ve already told everything over and over again. People say there’ll never be an end to injustice now.”

That phrase rang a bell. The widow Sato had used it, too. “It is of no concern to this court what you or others may think,” Akitada said coldly. “Your duty is to cooperate in the investigation of a crime. But I have no time to explain this to you. Answer quickly! Who sent the inn’s stable boy away the day before Sato’s murder?”

For a moment she clamped her lips together stubbornly. Then she muttered, “The mistress, I suppose. Or maybe the master. What difference does it make?”

“Just answer the questions,” warned Tora, raising his fist.

Akitada asked, “Did the Satos treat their servants well?”

She looked at him blankly. “They were all right.”

“That’s not what you told me,” Tora said. “You called the wife a bitch and said she had lovers and treated you like dirt.”

“I did not,” the girl snapped.

Before Tora could contradict her, Akitada said quickly, “Very well. You may go for now, but there may be more questions tomorrow.”

She got up and walked out with a sniff.

“She’s lying,” Tora said, outraged.

“Yes. Let’s hope Hitomaro has something to report. I am beginning to share your opinion of the girl.”

Seimei shook a finger at Tora. “That woman is a she-devil. Let it be a lesson to you not to run after every skirt you see. Not all pockmarks are dimples, you know.”

Tora muttered something under his breath and left.

When Hitomaro walked in a little later he was accompanied by a middle-aged female with sharp features and quick eyes. She twitched a silk scarf on her head into place and gave Akitada an ingratiating smile.

“This is Mrs. Omeya, sir.” Hitomaro’s voice was clipped, his face expressionless. “She stopped the maid Kiyo outside the tribunal and engaged her in conversation.” He paused and swallowed. “I happen to know Mrs. Omeya. She runs a house of assignation behind the Fox Shrine.”

Akitada gave him a sharp look, but Hitomaro would not meet his eyes.

The woman raised a protest. “A house of assignation? No! The honorable lieutenant is making a mistake.” She knelt and bowed several times, bobbing up and down before Akitada. “I’m a poor widow,” she said, “and the house, which my late husband left me, is my only source of income. I rent rooms to respectable single women. One of them has, it appears, fallen in love with this handsome officer and somehow caused him to make such a mistake. I assure your Excellency that I was not aware of improprieties between them till recently, and that I will not permit his visits any longer.”

Akitada saw panic on Hitomaro’s face. He bit his lip and asked the woman, “Why did you stop the maid Kiyo on the street?”

“The girl works for an acquaintance of mine. I merely passed the time of day.”

Akitada raised his eyebrows but did not comment. He told Hitomaro to take Mrs.’ Omeya away and make her comfortable and to bring Tora and Kaoru back with him.

Hitomaro saluted.

When he returned with Tora and their new sergeant, Akitada sent Hitomaro to find Judge Hisamatsu and bring him in for questioning. He hoped that the errand would keep him away until nightfall.

“Our trap worked,” Akitada informed the other two when Hitomaro had left. “Hitomaro brought in a Mrs. Omeya who keeps a house of assignation. It’s behind the Fox Shrine and I have no doubt that you will find our elusive widow installed there. Go and arrest her.”

“Sir,” said Tora, “isn’t that where Hito’s ... ?” He faltered unhappily.

Akitada compressed his lips. He said pointedly, “Hitomaro has left for another assignment. Be quick about this. I intend to wrap up the Sato case during this afternoon’s session.”

The reports from Takata were that all was quiet, but Akitada had new worries to add to his fears of another Uesugi attack. When he entered the tribunal hall, he glanced nervously about. The session was well attended, and this time the crowd was respectful and orderly. Again, Hitomaro was absent, but this time Akitada had sent him on an errand because he wanted him out of the way. But Tora stood by and Kaoru awaited his signal. Akitada rapped his baton and started proceedings.

“Bring in the prisoner, Sergeant!” he called out.

An anticipatory hush fell. When Kaoru reappeared, leading the widow Sato by a chain which tied her wrists behind her back, whispers passed through the crowd. Mrs. Sato looked pale and wild, her silk gown torn and her long black hair disheveled, but she was, if anything, more beautiful than before. When she reached the dais, she stumbled and began to weep loudly.

Akitada had decided to handle the woman with the greatest care. He relied heavily, and perhaps unreasonably, on her wish to appear cooperative. “Untie the prisoner!” he ordered.

Kaoru obeyed and announced in a loud voice, “The widow Sato, wanted for questioning in the murder of her husband. She was found hiding in a house of assignation behind the Fox Shrine. The owner of the premises was not home.”

“No, oh, no,” wailed the widow, dropping to her knees and wringing her hands, “I wasn’t hiding. I’m not a fugitive. I was a prisoner held against my will by that evil woman. I have suffered unspeakable things there.”

What now? An excited buzz went through the crowd. Those in front pressed forward to see and hear better. Akitada frowned. “Explain yourself!”

The widow sat back on her feet and dabbed at her face with a torn sleeve. “Forgive this poor, foolish female, sir,” she said, giving him a pitiable glance before lowering her lashes: “I’m ashamed to come before you like this—dishonored, dirty, unclean, foul.” She suddenly slipped her gown off her shoulders, revealing white breasts covered with bloody scratches. “Look!” she cried. The crowd pressed forward.

Though common sense told him that this was another act and the scratches were most likely self-inflicted, Akitada recoiled.

Kaoru stepped forward and smacked her sharply across the face with the back of his hand. She gasped and collapsed sobbing. The crowd muttered.

Akitada, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment, growled, “Make yourself decent. You are in a tribunal. You will either speak calmly and keep your clothes on or be removed for another flogging.”

She sat and pulled up her gown. “Forgive me, your Excellency,” she murmured. “I am not myself. First my poor husband is murdered, and then that demon Omeya let her accomplice torture me. Knowing well that I was alone and without protection, she lured me into her brothel by offering me free music lessons. I thought they would ease my grief and accepted. I studied the lute with her, always in the daytime, until one day a man accosted me as I was leaving.” She looked around the room as if she expected to see him there. “Mrs. Omeya suggested a meeting, but I refused. Then, three days ago, after a lesson, she offered me a cup of wine. I accepted out of courtesy.” She shuddered a little. “The wine must have been drugged because, when I woke up, I was lying naked on the floor, and the man who had accosted me was raping me.” She covered her face with her sleeve and burst into fresh tears.

Akitada saw the avid faces of the crowd and rapped his baton. He knew now that she was blackmailing him, but he was helpless to prevent it.

She raised her head and continued in a trembling voice, “After that night I was locked up. The same man returned again and again and she forced me to submit to him for unspeakable and painful acts. If I refused, they beat me or held a candle to my face or feet till I screamed and submitted. He enjoyed hurting me. Each time he came, the old woman greeted him and took money from him. When I called her a devil, she laughed in my face, saying, ‘Better be polite, or worse things will happen to you.’“ She bowed. “That is my story, your Excellency. I suffered the true torments of hell until your men released me. I ask for justice.”

Akitada did not speak immediately. Whatever he had expected, it was not this. The woman was fiendishly clever. Since her charge must be investigated, another public hearing would have to be called. On that occasion, Akitada had no doubt, she would manage to identify Hitomaro as the man who had raped and tortured her. This would, in turn, cause the maid Kiyo to come forward and bring rape charges against Tora. Thus the two women would effectively discredit not only his staff and administration, but his investigation into her late husband’s murder and, by extension, his authority in this province.

“I regret extremely,” he finally announced, “that any decent woman in our city should have suffered such an outrage. A full investigation will begin immediately. But, difficult as this must be at the present time, Mrs. Sato, you must answer a few questions first.”

“Oh,” she wailed, to a sympathetic murmur from the crowd.

“Pour the prisoner a cup of water,” Akitada instructed Kaoru. A reminder of her present status proved salutary. She pulled herself together and the crowd grew quiet again.

“You recently had a guest die at your inn?”

“Yes, your Excellency. The poor man died of a fever.” ‘

“What did you do with the body?”

“Why, the usual. I sent my stable boy to the temple to tell the monks to get it for the funeral. They did.”

“You saw them take it away?”

“No. I had much business to take care of after my husband’s death. They must have come in my absence.”

“How do you know this? Is there a servant who had instructions to turn over the corpse?”

She made a show of confusion. “I... I don’t really know what happened. We sent the message and left the body outside the gate to be picked up. Later it was gone. Naturally I assumed—”

“What do you mean, you assumed?” demanded Akitada. “It is illegal to dump corpses on the street as if they were so much garbage. It offends against every law of this nation. It offends our gods and the Buddha himself.”

She bowed her head. Then she prostrated herself, crying, “This poor widow admits her fault. Having lost a dear husband so recently and being burdened by grief and business worries and ignorant of legal matters, she has gravely offended. I beg your Excellency’s mercy.”

A sense of defeat settled into Akitada’s stomach and sickened him. She had outsmarted him again. He had no evidence that she had plotted with another person to make use of Kato’s corpse. He also knew better now than to call her servants to testify against her. The key witness in the murder case, the maid Kiyo, had changed her story. There was only one other move available to him. Though it might well turn out disastrous by involving Hitomaro, it could no longer be avoided.

He said, “You will pay a fine of five bars of silver to the court clerk and make an equal contribution to the local shrines and the Buddhist temple to appease the divine powers and give rest to the dead man’s soul.”

She murmured her thanks, then asked humbly, “May I go home now?”

“In a moment. I have some preliminary questions concerning your ordeal. Sergeant?” Kaoru stepped up and bowed. “Bring in the woman who is waiting outside.”

Mrs. Omeya, the perfect image of a respectable middle-aged matron in her black gown and patterned silk scarf, approached the dais calmly. She ignored curious stares from the crowd, but was visibly startled to see the widow there on her knees.

Kneeling next to the younger woman, she bowed and announced, “This insignificant person is called Omeya, widow and landlady in this city.”

Mrs. Sato gasped and turned. She pointed a trembling finger. “That’s the one! She’s the demon. She held me prisoner in her house.”

Mrs. Omeya’s mouth fell open.

“Please, Excellency,” cried the beauty, “make her tell you about the man who tortured and raped me at her house. She knows who he is.”

Mrs. Omeya looked at Akitada. He held his breath. She said, “What is she talking about? I don’t understand. What man? I thought you wanted to know about the maid.”

“The widow Sato,” Akitada informed her, “has accused you of forcing her to prostitute herself to a customer with a perverse taste for cruelty.”

“What?” cried Mrs. Omeya. “She has gone mad! Several months ago, a local gentleman of the highest reputation arranged to rent one of my rooms so he could meet her in private. But recently she took another lover. I warned her that she was playing a dangerous game, but she wouldn’t listen. Her regular patron is as normal in his tastes as you and me. And as for the other one ...”

The rest of her words were drowned out by Akitada’s baton and the young woman’s shrill cries, “Liar! Demon!”

Akitada could not proceed further without bringing Hitomaro into it. He announced, “The woman Omeya, having been accused of abduction and pandering, will remain jailed. The woman Sato will be released after paying her fines but is to appear again in court when called.” He rapped his baton three times to close the hearing, rose, and left the hall.

♦

Back at his desk, Akitada attempted to think through the shambles of this situation. He had accomplished nothing. The Sato woman, as deceitful a female as he had ever known, was aware of his intentions and fighting back. She had also once again won public sympathy.

Meanwhile, Uesugi continued to threaten with his troops, and Akitada was no closer to knowing the identity of all the conspirators, nor the precise extent of the conspiracy against the emperor or himself. He was nearly certain that it was not Uesugi who was pulling the strings. An undertaking of this magnitude required intelligence and careful planning, and his estimate of Uesugi was of a small local tyrant without enough brains or energy for such a task. Hisamatsu was somehow involved but seemed mentally even less equipped than Uesugi.

Akitada had already considered Abbot Hokko. Years ago, Akitada had encountered just such a conspiracy. That time, a corrupt Buddhist abbot had used his spiritual powers to recruit and train an army of soldier monks. Hokko was a very different type from Master Joto, but he was trusted and treated with respect by Uesugi and, as abbot of the largest temple and monastery in the province, he wielded great influence. However, in the meantime Hokko had warned him of the attack planned by Uesugi and suggested that Takesuke and the garrison would be loyal to the emperor.

He thought of the others who had been present at Uesugi’s banquet. Kaibara was dead, but there was still the troublesome merchant Sunada. He also wielded influence, though with the merchant class. From what Genba had reported, Sunada used thugs to guard his property and spent a good deal of his time in houses of assignation. There was the incident in which he had stabbed his alleged attacker and Akitada suspected him of being connected with local criminals, but neither fact linked him to Uesugi. True, the most recent developments had thrown a new light on Sunada, but Akitada was not ready to accept a mere merchant as the mastermind of such a plot.

There was another guest that night who qualified by both his intelligence and contact with the local community, but Akitada was even less happy with that thought. The trouble was, Akitada had taken him into his confidence without knowing his background. Oyoshi had cured his stomach trouble, but he was knowledgeable about herbs which could cause such complaints in the first place. What better way to win Akitada’s trust? Since then Oyoshi had raised serious suspicions. How, for instance, could he have failed to recognize the mutilated corpse of his former patient? And he could have told Kaibara about the secret exhumation of the late lord. For that matter, could his diagnosis be trusted? Akitada recalled vividly how Oyoshi had paled when Tora had mentioned a murderous physician.

He needed time and proof. The Omeya woman was his only hope at present. She was a witness against the widow—or Ofumi, as she had called herself there—and she also knew Ofumi’s patron. And Mrs. Omeya, at least, was safe and sound in Akitada’s jail.

In less than an hour, he learned differently. Tora burst into his office, crying, “The prisoner has hanged herself.”

When Akitada got to the jail, he was met by Oyoshi, who confirmed Mrs. Omeya’s death.

Akitada pushed past him and strode to the cell. The three other prisoners, Takagi, Okano, and Umehara, huddled fearfully in a corner of the main room. Kaoru was in the cell, bent over the inert body.

Mrs. Omeya looked much frailer in death. She was lying near the cell door, the cut pieces of her patterned silk scarf beside her.

“Kaoru found her and cut her down,” said Oyoshi, who had followed him. “Since I was in the kitchen with the others, I came at once. She must have hanged herself with her own scarf from one of those bars.” He pointed to a metal grille in the wooden cell door. Part of the scarf was still tied to the topmost bar.

Akitada said nothing. He tasted sour bile on his tongue, and his blood thrummed in his head like a large temple bell. He did not believe that she had committed suicide. She was innocent of the charges laid against her. He had meant to protect this woman—for purely selfish reasons, to be sure—but had instead hastened her death. His every action seemed to turn to disaster, not only for himself, but for those he came in contact with. If he could not guarantee the life of this one female for more than a few hours, how was he to govern a province? How, for that matter, was he to save himself and his wife and unborn child?

Oyoshi cleared his throat, and Akitada made an effort to pull himself together. Turning to Kaoru, he demanded, “How could this happen? Was she not being watched?”

The young sergeant looked wretched. “She seemed to calm down quickly, and after eating a bowl of soup, she lay down to sleep. So we all had our own dinner.”

Akitada looked from the cell of the dead woman to the outer room. The three prisoners stared back with pale faces. He noted absently that Okano was wrapped in some trailing purple stuff and clutched a large paper lantern. “Someone must have been close enough to see or hear what was happening,” he pointed out.

Kaoru shook his head. “We ate in the kitchen, sir.”

Akitada stared at him. “What? Everybody? There was no one in this jail except Mrs. Omeya and the prisoners?”

There was a pause. Then the sergeant said, “Just Mrs. Omeya, sir. Takagi, Okano, and Umehara were eating with us.”

Akitada clutched his head. This, too, was his fault, of course. He had known of the liberties the three had been given since Kaoru had taken over the administration of the jail. It had seemed humane at the time. Now it was one more example of his own unfitness for his office.

Kaoru was distraught. “You see, sir,” he tried to explain, “Umehara is the cook, and Takagi said it was his birthday today. So Okano offered to put on a little show. To celebrate Takagi’s birthday” When Akitada said nothing, Kaoru muttered, “I know it was against the rules, but we all thought the woman was asleep.”

“Did anyone leave the kitchen during your celebration?” Akitada asked tiredly.

A look of understanding flashed in Kaoru’s eyes. He paled, thought a moment, and said, “I cannot be certain. At one point, Okano wanted the lights out to do a lantern dance.”

Akitada turned to Oyoshi almost ferociously. “Well, Doctor? Was it suicide?”

Oyoshi winced. “Possibly,” he said.

“Are you just being mysterious or is something wrong?” Akitada snapped.

Oyoshi seemed to shrink within himself. “What I meant is that one can hang oneself in just this manner with the help of a thin garment and a handy hook or bar.”

Akitada went to look at the knot, then turned abruptly to kneel by the dead woman. He checked her face and throat. “There is a small bruise here,” he said, pointing.

“When she dropped, her temple may have hit the door,” Oyoshi suggested.

Akitada measured the distance between the grate and the floor with his eyes. “She is very short. Were her feet touching the floor when you found her, Kaoru?”

“Not quite, sir.”

“Why didn’t she use that stool over there?”

There was no answer.

Akitada picked up the cut scarf. He recalled how proudly she had worn it and sighed. “Hand me that chain over there, Kaoru, and help me measure.” Between them, they straightened the body and measured it. Then they held the marked piece of chain against the door. Akitada nodded. “As I thought. She could not have reached high enough to tie that knot, which is in any case on the outside of the grate.” He looked at Oyoshi. “Do you still think it likely that she committed suicide?”

Oyoshi regarded Akitada warily. “I thought it was possible.”

Akitada bent to spread the scarf over the dead woman’s distorted face. “I see,” he said. “Thank you.”

♦

After a cursory meal of rice and pickled vegetables shared with Tamako who, after one glance at her husband’s face, refrained from making conversation, Akitada sat alone in his office, sipping lukewarm wine and glumly considering his situation. Someone had murdered the Omeya woman in his own jail. The murderer had come into the jail, called the prisoner to the door, reached through to strangle her, and then hanged her from the grate. It had taken remarkable nerve, but this person had taken such risks before. Hitomaro’s testimony against the widow was now useless, and Akitada had lost his gamble. Neither an orderly retreat after resigning his office nor precipitate flight was possible, even had he been able to resort to such shameful solutions.

At that moment in his ruminations, Hitomaro himself appeared. He walked in abruptly, accompanied by a dazed-looking constable, and sat down across from Akitada without a greeting.

Akitada frowned at the constable. “You may wait outside,” he said, wondering what the man was doing here. The constable hesitated just a fraction of a moment, then left and closed the door behind him.

Akitada’s first impression was that Hitomaro was ill. He was perfectly white, and his eyes met Akitada’s with the blank fixity of a corpse’s stare. His voice, when he spoke, was flat and emotionless.

“She’s dead.”

Akitada jumped a little. “What? Who is dead? Are you feeling all right?”

One of Hitomaro’s hands moved slightly in a dismissive gesture. “Ofumi. The woman you know as Mrs.. Sato,” he said in the same remote manner.

Akitada’s eyes went from Hitomaro’s hand to his robe. There were dark splotches on the deep blue cotton. They spread across the chest and down the front. Hitomaro’s right sleeve was stained all the way to the wrist. It dawned on Akitada that Hitomaro wore no sword. He controlled a wave of fear.

“Report.”

At first there was no answer. Then Hitomaro’s shoulders straightened. Looking past Akitada, he recited in the official manner, “I proceeded to Hisamatsu’s villa as ordered and found it deserted. Making inquiries of the servant, I found out that Hisamatsu and Chobei had left during the night, taking a pack horse with them. The servant claims he does not know where they went. I returned to the tribunal to make my report. When I heard from Tora what happened at the court session, I was seized by anger and shame that my foolish indiscretions should have warned Hisamatsu and compromised the case against the widow Sato. I immediately went to the Omeya house. She– the Sato woman was there.” He stopped and looked Akitada squarely in the eyes. “I’m under arrest for her murder, sir. The constable brought me here.”

* * * *