I. Parker - Death of a Doll Maker

Another voice from the darkness asked, “Please untie me, too.”

Shigeno snapped, “What good will it do you? Best stay a prisoner.”

“But you and Tora are free.”

“Not free, just able to do some damage when they come to throw us overboard. You two are safe. You’re going to Tsushima. If I untie you, the guards will kill you.”

Silence. Then the man began reciting his prayer again. Tora expected the weeping to start next, but the fourth man remained quiet.

Tora held his breath and struggled into a sitting position. The pain almost caused him to black out. He rested for while, propped against the bulwark behind him and started flexing his leg muscles. He was very stiff after being tied up all this time. How long? He had no idea but guessed it was less than a day but more than four hours.

When his chest hurt less, he tried to get his legs under him and rise. The pain came back, but he struggled on.

Impossible!

He had managed to get on his knees, and this position seemed to ease his ribcage.

“Give me a hand,” he said.

The hand reached for his and hauled him upright. Tora gasped and stood swaying, waiting for the pain to subside again. He noted with surprise that the other man was nearly a head taller. He was also strong. “Anything we can use for a weapon down here?” he asked when he got his breath back.

“Too dark to be sure, but I doubt it. Let me see where you’re hurt.”

Tora took the other man’s hand and placed it on his lower ribcage on the left side. The man felt around, and Tora snarled, “Watch it.”

“Pah. It’s nothing,” said the other. “You’re a crybaby.”

Someone laughed. Since the praying man had not stopped his recital, Tora guessed it had been the weeper. Very funny! He took a few unsteady steps. The motion of the ship was no help.

“Here, wait.” Shigeno grabbed his arm. “I’m going to tie my sash around you. That should help keep the rib in place.” He wound it around a few times, then pulled it so tight that Tora gasped. “Hold still,” Shigeno said and tied a knot. “There!”

It did help. Tora still could not bend very well, but he could move both arms without undue pain and even turn at the waist. “Thanks,” he said. Then he called out to the other two shadows,” Hey, you two. Do you know anything about sailing a ship like this?”

The praying man said, “We both do. We’re sailors.”

“Let’s untie them, Shigeno. They can help.”

“You must be mad. I told you, there are at least twenty men up there. Besides, the ship’s too big for two sailors to handle.”

“What’s your solution? A moment ago you planned to let them toss you overboard.”

The praying man said, “Hey, stop arguing and untie us.”

The other sailor wailed softly, “They’ll kill us.”

Tora snapped, “Maybe, but I don’t think many come back from the mines. If you get away, you can head for the hills and start a new life elsewhere.”

There were no more arguments. Tora and Shigeno untied the convicts and searched for something that could be used for weapons. Even though Tora’s eyes had adjusted, it was still very dark. Unidentifiable mounds of things were piled in far corners. They felt around among pieces of rough cloth to mend sails, rope of varying thickness, and pieces of lumber too long and heavy to be useful.

A rough ladder led up to the hatch above. Now and then, Tora could hear footsteps up there.

Shigeno hissed, “Sssh! I think they’re coming for us. Hurry!”

One of the convicts gasped, but both came to help. They found an iron spike, a broken oar, and a couple of short spars. Shigeno pulled out a grappling hook with a length of broken rope attached, and Tora took the oar, breaking off the paddle end. The rest would make a cudgel or short fighting staff.

Up above, they heard voices near the hatch. Shigeno said softly, “I’ll go halfway up the ladder, grab the first of the bastards, and pass him on to you. You’d best kill him quick and follow. Stand ready!”

It was mad. Tora was conscious of being in poor shape even as he gripped the shaft of the oar. When those above realized their prisoners were free, they would simply slam the hatch cover down again until they reached port and could deal with them.

Shigeno climbed up to the hatch, and Tora took position just below him. The other two sailors waited at the foot of the ladder.

Then the latch cover lifted.

Saburo arrived in Akitada’s office out of breath, dusty, bruised, and speechless. Mori and his scribes stared as Saburo gasped and gestured with a filthy bundle of clothes.

Akitada half rose. “What happened?”

Saburo approached and dropped the bundle on Akitada’s desk, where it landed with a thud, unrolled, and spilled the boots.

Akitada recognized Tora’s clothes. He felt himself grow cold.

With another gasp, Saburo said, “They got him. He may be dead. They got Tora, sir.” He sat down abruptly on the floor.

Akitada briefly fingered Tora’s robe, sash, and pants, then studied each boot. “Explain!”

Saburo told of taking Maeda and his men to the abandoned well and how they found that the mysterious bundle discarded the night before contained Tora’s clothes. “We went immediately to arrest Hiroshi. He’s the son of the doll maker who hanged himself.”

“I know who he is. Go on.”

“Well, Hiroshi’s gone.”

Akitada glowered. “Gone where?”

“Sorry, sir. I’m upset. His wife said she didn’t know. Maeda sent his people out to look for him. I came back here as fast as I could.”

Akitada sat staring at him and stroking his chin. Things had progressed from bad to worse. From the tiger’s den, they had now reached the dragon’s lair. Tora was in trouble-he did not want to think of him as dead-and needed help, but what could he do that Maeda’s constables could not do better? This Hiroshi must be found and questioned as soon as possible. Maeda himself had given the man a warning by setting out very publicly for the abandoned well. “Maeda and his men bungled,” he muttered.

Sadamu said, “He couldn’t have known what we’d find. I didn’t know.”

“This was the same place where they found the woman’s body a few days ago?”

“Yes, sir. Strange, that.”

“Not strange. It looks like Hiroshi dumped her body there and when he needed to get rid of the bundle of clothes, he went there again.”

“That was pretty stupid. He must have known the police found the dead woman.”

“Yes. Hmm.” Akitada thought, staring up at the ceiling and noting absent-mindedly the number of cobwebs above his head. “He may not have killed her but heard about the well and decided it was a good place to hide Tora’s clothes. He probably thought the police wouldn’t go back there again.”

“Maybe.” Saburo looked doubtful. “I think Maeda plans to arrest Hiroshi for the murder.”

Akitada stood. “None of this is getting us any closer to Tora. You and I are going to Hakata to look for ourselves.”

Saburo blinked. “On horses?”

Akitada ignored the question. He turned to Mori and the slack-jawed scribes. “Mori, send for the sergeant of the provincial guard. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve changed out of these clothes. Come, Saburo. I have more questions.”

In his private quarters, Akitada flung back the lid of his clothes trunk and brought out a set of comfortable trousers, his hunting coat, and his boots. As he took off his working attire, he glanced at the dirt-covered, miserable-looking Saburo. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot about your problem with horses. It can’t be helped. You’d better change into something more military.”