I. Parker - Island of Exiles

Akitada softened toward the man. No wonder he lived in fear of upsetting his enemies. “Would it be possible for me to speak with him without causing comment?” Mutobe lowered his hands. “Yes. I think I can arrange that.”

“Tell me about the people who were present when the prince died.”

“Okisada died after a dinner at the home of Professor Sakamoto. Sakamoto used to teach at the Imperial University in the capital, but after a visit here he decided to stay and write a history of Sado Island. He is a well-respected man, but I have wondered if he was sent to spy on the prince. If he was, Okisada made it easy. He and his companion, Lord Taira, were regular visitors at his house. Okisada enjoyed boating and seafood, both of which are excellent on Lake Kamo.” Mutobe paused.

When he continued, his voice was curiously flat. “On this occasion, there were two other guests, a young monk called Shunsei, and my son. Originally I had been invited, but I begged off. My son represented me.” Passing a weary hand over his face, he sighed. “Forgive me. This is a painful matter for me. Besides being my son, Toshito has been my official assistant.”

Akitada was startled. “Your assistant?”

“Sadoshima is not like other provinces. I came here almost twenty years ago and married a local woman. She died when Toshito was only a baby. I could have returned to the capital, but a man of my background has no future there. I decided to stay and raise my son, and the government was happy with the arrangement. Few capable officials are willing to serve on the island of exiles. When Toshito showed promise, I sent him to the capital to study law, and after he returned he became so useful to me that I requested official status for him. My request was granted last year.”

Akitada thought of his own young family. He had not yet achieved Mutobe’s status. Would he, too, be condemned to spend the rest of his career in Echigo, far from the capital and with no chance at promotion? What if he lost Tamako and found himself raising his son alone? He suddenly felt great sympathy for the pale, elderly man across from him. He said, “I see.

Please continue.”

“The witnesses were all in agreement about what happened . . . well, Taira, of course, cannot be trusted, but the others had no reason to lie. Sakamoto lives quietly, except for visits by the prince. Apparently the prince took an interest in the history Sakamoto is writing. And Shunsei is just a young monk the prince has befriended. Kumo, of course, did not attend because I was to be there. Anyway, they all claim that after dinner Toshito was left alone with the prince in the lake pavilion.

They were walking back to the house when they heard Okisada shout for help. Toshito was bent over the seated prince with both hands at his throat. They ran back and found the prince dead. Toshito denied having attacked Okisada, but he was not believed.”

“Strange. What did the coroner say?”

“His report shows that Okisada died of poison.”

Akitada stared at him. “Poison? I do not understand. Why is your son in jail?”

“Unfortunately, Toshito had taken a favorite dish to the prince. There was not enough for the others, so Okisada alone ate it. The prince complained about the taste and a pain in his belly before he died. Later, when someone let a dog lick the bowl which had contained the stew, the animal died in convulsions.” Akitada shook his head. “I can hardly believe it. I assume, of course, that your son also denies poisoning the dish.”

“Of course.”

“Why was the monk there? Was the prince religious?”

“I have been told that he had become so lately. I’m afraid the prince led a very private life. I don’t know anything about the monk.”

“Do you have any idea how and why this murder happened?” The governor compressed his lips. “I am convinced Kumo had a hand in it. My son was set up. I would be in his place if I had accepted the invitation.”

Akitada thought about this. He still did not like it. “Have you made any public threats against Okisada?” Mutobe flushed. “Yes. Okisada made outrageous public comments charging me with dishonest practices. A month ago I sent him a letter warning him that I would take steps to stop his libelous attacks on me and my administration. When he apologized, I put the matter from my mind.”

“I see. It seems an incredible story. If you can arrange it, I’d like to meet your son first, but then I must try to see Kumo and the men who attended the dinner. Do you send inspectors to outlying districts?”

“Yes. One is to leave soon.” Mutobe clapped his hands together. “Of course. That’s it. You can go along as a scribe. Both Kumo’s manor and Shunsei’s monastery are on his regular circuit.”

“Perfect.” Akitada rose and smiled. “I pride myself on my calligraphy.”

Mutobe also stood. “In that case,” he said eagerly, “you might start by working in the archives. I will have a pass prepared for you. It gives you a limited amount of freedom. While you are in this compound, you won’t be locked up, but you cannot leave it alone. I’m afraid I can only offer you quarters with the prison superintendent.”

“A jail cell would be more convincing, but perhaps it is better not to keep such very close contact with your son.” They walked out together, Akitada falling several steps behind when the governor clapped his hands for the guard outside.

“Take him back,” Mutobe told the man. “Tomorrow he is to report to the shijo . Pick him up at dawn. I want reports on his behavior as soon as possible.” He turned on his heel and walked back to his office without another glance at Akitada.

Akitada followed the guard meekly back across town. His return raised no interest. Only the silent Haseo was still there, curled up in his corner, apparently fast asleep. When Akitada asked one of the sleepy guards, “What happened to the others?” he got a grunted “None of your business” in reply. He decided that the prisoners had been moved at night and hoped that little Jisei had been released. Then he lay down and tried to catch a few hours’ sleep before dawn.

The guard reappeared early and took Akitada back to the tribunal before he had a chance to eat his morning gruel. At this time of day, the merchants were opening shutters, and the first farmers were bringing their vegetables to market. Nobody paid much attention to a guard with a chained prisoner.

In the government compound there were also signs of life. The guard removed the chains, and Akitada looked about curiously. Soldiers passed back and forth, a clerk or scribe with papers and document boxes under his arm rushed between buildings, and a few civilian petitioners hung about in deferential groups.

They crossed the graveled compound to a small building with deep eaves. Its interior was cool and smelled pleasantly of wood, paper, and ink. A gaunt man, bent from years of poring over manuscripts, came toward them.

The shijo , or head scribe, was nearsighted and hard of hearing. He had the guard repeat the governor’s instructions.

“Good, good,” he finally said. “We’re very short-handed. Very much so.” Peering up at Akitada, he said dubiously, “You are tall for a scribe. How many characters do you know?”

“I’m afraid I never counted them.”

“Counting? There’s no counting required. You are to write.

Can you use the brush?”

Akitada raised his voice. “Yes. I studied Chinese as a boy and young man. I believe you will be satisfied with my calligraphy.”

“Don’t shout. Hmph. We’ll see. They all brag. The fools think copying work is easier than carrying rocks or digging tunnels. Never mind. I’ll know soon enough. Soon enough, yes.