I. Parker: Island of Exiles

“You did right.” Akitada returned the knife. “Put Wada with the other corpses, Tora. I’m glad your servant spared you the trouble.”

Tora growled. “He deprived me of the satisfaction. The bastard should’ve died before he was born.” And with that peculiar logic, Tora slung the corpse of Wada, once the most feared man on Sadoshima, over his shoulder and walked away.

Akitada looked after him with affection and then retraced his steps to the passage where he had fought Kumo. The body was gone, though large bloodstains still marked where it and the other slain men had lain. How quickly it had been over! All those weeks in the mine he had thought of what he would say and do to Kumo when they finally met face to face. It had turned out very differently. They had exchanged few words, and those had been mostly Kumo’s, accusing Akitada of bloodlust.

He knew now that Kumo had been wrong, that a man may feel a certain exhilaration in fighting for his life or for a righteous cause, but that he would never kill for mere pleasure.

Surely Kumo must have known that he might die. He had simply not been a sword fighter. Akitada did not pride himself on special expertise and he had been exhausted, yet he had known immediately and with astonishing disappointment that the man was not much of an adversary. Kumo had talked about sacrifice and bowed with great reverence-as if he were about to carry out a sacred duty. Strange! The puzzle nagged at him.

Akitada went where Kumo had stood. As he recalled, the man had turned slightly toward his right. All that could be seen in that direction were two of the farm buildings and between them a narrow slice of the sparkling bay. No temple. No small shrine. No flying banners. Just a bit of water with a few fishing boats, some gulls, and that ship at anchor.

It was odd that there should be such a large ship outside a fishing harbor. What was it doing here? Why was it not at Mano?

He walked back up to the highway and looked across the houses of this small town. There was nothing of any significance on the waterfront. All the more substantial buildings-a temple and a few large farms like this one-were on higher ground. He shook his head in confusion and decided that he did not want to talk to Mutobe yet, not until he settled some of his uncertainties, some of the niggling suspicions in the back of his mind. And so he started walking along the road.

Something about the way Okisada had died still dissatisfied him. Shunsei had told him that Okisada habitually consumed fugu and had done so the night of the dinner because he had claimed to get relief from his constant pain by eating a small amount of the poison. It was Shunsei’s testimony which had convinced Akitada that the prince had died by his own hand.

Sakamoto had also thought that Okisada poisoned himself and that he had done so in order to throw suspicion on Toshito.

But Sakamoto had not been in the others’ confidence. No, Akitada was convinced the true conspirators were Kumo, Taira, and Nakatomi.

According to Haru, the expert in matters pertaining both to fugu and to men, the poison could make a man feel as though he had entered heaven and give him back his sexual strength. What was more likely than that the self-indulgent Okisada had also become an expert in those properties of the fugu poison? Would such a man kill himself with it, intentionally or accidentally?

Akitada became transfixed in the middle of the roadway, much to the consternation of a group of peasants who had to pass him in order to visit the site of the battle. They eyed him with fear, this bearded, gaunt creature in silk robe and trousers but with bare feet and a scowl on his face. Wondering perhaps if he was some supernatural creature, they kept to the shoulder of the road, bobbing deep bows as they edged past him.

Akitada had been seized by an awful suspicion. He swung around suddenly to look past the peasants to the ship in the harbor and cried, “Hah, they think they have been clever, the scoundrels. But by heaven, they shall not get away with it!” The peasants squawked and took off running.

Akitada walked back to the farmhouse, turning matters over in his mind before speaking to Mutobe. Nakatomi’s role had been crucial. And Taira had had a very good reason to refuse visitors at the manor. But he could not make out Shunsei. The monk had seemed too simpleminded for such an enormous deception. Amazingly, the clever plot had almost worked.

And then another thought came. Kumo and his men had worn their finest armor and ridden silk-trimmed horses. Their bows and arrows had been purely ceremonial. They had never been meant to be used in combat. Kumo was not chasing a couple of convicts, even if one of them was an imperial official. He had come here to serve “his” emperor and had only attacked because Akitada got in his way. That was why Kumo had faced battle with Akitada, claiming that he was sacrificing his Buddhahood for his emperor. He had been willing to kill Akitada even though that would prevent his salvation.

Whatever the true state of affairs, no time was to be lost.

Mutobe must board the ship immediately. They must search the town. Akitada glanced again at the substantial roofs of the temple. That was where he would start.

Full of purpose again, he strode into the farmhouse and confronted the others with his suspicions.

“You cannot be serious!” gasped the governor, turning pale.

“But how is this possible? And after all that time!” He rose and paced. “What will I do if it is as you say? How can I arrest him?

What do I charge him with? I have no such authority. And you have lost your documents.” He stopped and stared accusingly at Akitada. “What will we do? This is a very delicate matter.”

“Delicate?” Mutobe’s continuing self-interest appalled Akitada. Did the man not know that there were duties he could not shirk? It was obvious that he could not expect much help from the man. But Mutobe was quite right about one thing.

Without his papers, Akitada had no authority whatsoever and was dependent on Mutobe’s support. He took a deep breath. A shouting match would solve nothing. “It seems the ship in the harbor is a pirate craft. If you will board it and arrest the captain and crew, I will do the rest. I will need a few of your men. Please instruct them to obey Tora’s commands.”

Mutobe nodded reluctantly. “You will take the responsibility, then?”

“Yes.”

Mutobe still looked unhappy, but he agreed. “Very well. Let us go and get it over with.”

Akitada took eight of the soldiers and Mutobe the rest.

Then they set off, Mutobe with his banner carried before him, Akitada without such marks of authority, though he pushed Kumo’s gilded sword through the silken sash of Mutobe’s spare robe, and smoothed his hair a little. Tora put on a little show of snapping commands at his troops, and they were off, followed by a gaggle of curious peasants.

The temple was a very modest one. It had no pagoda and only one main hall and some low buildings to house the local priest and visiting monks. An old man was sweeping the courtyard, but otherwise the scene was peaceful. Doubts began to stir in Akitada’s mind. How Toshito would mock if it turned out that Akitada was wrong again. And he could offer nothing but a far-fetched argument based on a fishwife’s tale! Sending a detailed report about Akitada’s activities to the emperor would be the perfect revenge for the governor’s son.

The old man stopped his sweeping, stared at them, then bowed. Perhaps he thought they were expected. Akitada took it for a hopeful sign. He made straight for the hall and took the stairs to the double doors, Tora and the soldiers at his heels. Throwing wide the doors on empty space, he shouted, “Is anyone here?”