I. Parker: Island of Exiles

The sky was clouding up a little, and the brightness of the afternoon sun had become like light shining through gossamer silk. The sea, instead of brilliant silver and blue, now stretched before him faintly green, pale celadon fading to the color of wisteria. He looked at the softened greens of the mountains, themselves turning to a bluish lavender, and at the russet houses below, and found the world both sadder and more beautiful than before.

The return voyage was swift and unexpectedly pleasant. Neither storms nor seasickness spoiled Akitada’s homecoming.

The skies were as clear as they sometimes are in autumn, a limpid blue which swept from Sawata Bay past the headlands of Sadoshima all the way to the shore of Echigo. A brisk wind carried them smoothly toward the mainland.

Akitada stood at the bow, watching the approach of the long rugged coastline that protected a green plain and distant snow-covered mountains, and was filled with an astonishing affection for the place. He resolved to make the best of his future there, for he was going home to his family, the firm center of his turbulent life.

His deep joy in being alive was increased by Tora’s cheerful presence and, to a lesser extent, by the exuberant spirits of Turtle, who had decided to follow his new master. Killing Wada, a man who had tormented him repeatedly in Mano, had given Turtle self-confidence and an altogether more optimistic outlook on life. Even his limp seemed less noticeable, perhaps because it was modified by a distinct swagger. Turtle had become “somebody” in his own eyes by ridding his fellow drudges of a cruel and petty tyrant. Turtle was now a man to be respected, even feared, by other men, and so he had offered his talents and services to Tora and Akitada.

But the ship carried far more important travelers. Okisada was returning to the capital under heavy guard. Akitada had twice visited the prince in his cabin and doubted that Okisada would survive the overland journey to Heian-kyo. Soft living and repeated doses of fugu poison had undermined his health to such a degree that he was in constant pain and frequently vomited the little food he consumed.

Akitada had not escaped unscathed, either. He still limped, and his knee ached when he walked too much or the weather changed. Spending long hours sitting cross-legged on the dais during the court hearings in Mano had not helped.

Three officials had been present for the hearing which had cleared young Mutobe of the murder charge. The judge, a frightened rabbit of a man, expected ignominious dismissal for having ordered the governor’s son jailed in the first place. He kept looking to the governor and Akitada for approval.

The third man on the dais was so far above the judge that he did not dare look at him. He was the imperial advisor who had sent Akitada to Sadoshima. It was widely assumed that he was there to protect Prince Okisada’s interests, but this was not quite true. He had come to take the prince back to Heian-kyo to face the punishment chosen by the emperor. Unlike his shorter, more irascible assistant, he had not returned to the capital, but remained in Echigo to await the results of Akitada’s mission. He had taken ship when the news of Kumo’s death and Okisada’s arrest had reached the mainland.

After lengthy deliberations and many nervous recitations from his legal codes, the judge had found Taira and Nakatomi guilty of laying false charges against the governor’s son. He was not, of course, competent to deal with Okisada’s treasonable intentions. That would be judged by a higher court in the capital. However, the sovereign’s advisor, along with the governor and Akitada, had extracted private confessions from all three conspirators. Afterward Taira had requested a sword. When this was naturally refused, he had broken a sharp sliver of bamboo from a writing table in his cell, forced this into the large vein in his throat, and died during the night. The physician Nakatomi, on hearing the news, hanged himself the next night by his silk sash from the bars in his cell door. Only Okisada, protected by his imperial blood from public execution, seemed apathetic to his fate.

That left Sakamoto. Akitada had long since decided that the poor and elderly professor had been duped by Taira and Kumo.

They had not trusted him with their real plans or the details of the plot but had played on his adulation of Okisada to use his home for their meetings and his good name to cover their activities. Not unlike Shunsei, though the relationship had been different, Sakamoto had been the victim of his own foolish sentiment. The thin gentleman from the emperor’s office had, once he had spoken to Sakamoto, agreed. Sakamoto was left with a warning that he faced arrest if he returned to the capital. It amounted to unofficial exile, much like that imposed on Mutobe many years earlier, but since Sakamoto had no wish to leave, he expressed tearful gratitude.

Kumo’s mines were confiscated and closed, and their workers were dispersed among other public projects. Osawa, newly wed and in rotund health, had provided useful testimony that 392

I . J . P a r k e r

the mines had not produced enough silver to justify their continued operation. Akitada wrestled with his conscience about the gold. Gold was vitally important to the nation, but more intensive mining and abuse of prisoners were sure to follow if the government heard of the gold deposits. Eventually he told the emperor’s advisor. The thin man asked some searching questions and had Kita, Kumo’s bird-faced mine supervisor, brought in. Kita saved his life by making a full report, which caused the thin gentleman to remark that the distance from the capital and the difficulty of transport made it highly unlikely that His Majesty would be interested.

And so Akitada was returning home, a man so changed that he felt like a stranger to his former self. As he strained his eyes for the shore, he was seized by a dizzying sense of unreality. For a man who had lived like a common criminal, subjected to vicious beatings and backbreaking labor, who had been buried alive and barely survived against all odds a battle to the death, this uneventful and untroubled homecoming seemed more dream-like than the nightmares that had plagued his feverish brain underground.

To steady himself, he searched for his wife and son among the people waiting on shore. The shoreline began to swim before his eyes, and the snow-covered peaks fractured into green and white patches floating against the blue of the sky. As he reached up to brush the tears from his eyes, the thin gentleman interposed his tall frame between Akitada and the view.

“Not long now,” the emperor’s advisor said in his dry voice, averting his eyes quickly from Akitada’s face. “You will wish to be with your family after we land, so I shall make my farewells here.”

“Thank you, Excellency.” Akitada managed to choke out the words. To cover the awkwardness of the moment, he asked,

“You have been to see His Highness? How is he?”

“Not well. He may survive the journey, but his mind is weakening rapidly. I doubt that he will be able to say much in his defense. He seems to be under the impression that he is to assume the throne.”

Akitada said, “I am sorry.” It was the strongest expression of sympathy he could find. He thought of the dying Haseo and found difficulty in adjudging proper levels of regret to the tragic lives of the men he had met. What, for example, of the little thief Jisei? Would his soul rest more happily knowing that the two pirates who had beaten him to death had been captured on Okisada’s ship? Akitada had identified them in the provincial jail and brought murder charges against them, based on Haseo’s account. Ironically, they, like Akitada, had been in the stockade under false pretenses. They were there to deal with Jisei if he decided to make trouble about the gold. And, of course, he had done just that, hoping to buy himself freedom with his knowledge.