I. Parker - Black Arrow

Sunada looked startled. He glanced at Uesugi before bowing. “Certainly, your Excellency. I’m deeply honored. Anything I can do. You need only send for me. I live in Flying Goose village near the harbor.”

“Thank you. That is most kind of you.” Akitada’s throat was parched and he could not rid himself of the sour taste in his mouth. Besides, the heat from the brazier was worse. He wished for cool water, but having none, he drank deeply from his cup. The wine produced an unpleasantly feverish feeling, and he pulled impatiently at the neck of his gown. The silk of his under-robe clung to his skin. He brushed new perspiration from his forehead and cheek. To add to his discomfort, he could feel more painful cramps starting in his belly. Shifting uncomfortably, he found Oyoshi’s sharp eyes on him.

To forestall a question, Akitada said, “You mentioned the yamabushi earlier. It so happens I had a visit from one this afternoon. I took him for a beggar.”

Oyoshi was surprised. “A yamabushi in the tribunal? What did he look like?” The abbot also looked up with interest.

“He was a very old man with long white hair and beard, but quite healthy and strong for his age. He was barefoot in this cold.”

The pharmacist and Abbot Hokko exchanged a glance. Oyoshi said, “You have been honored by the master himself, Excellency. He never comes down from his mountain for ordinary visits.”

Akitada made a face. “Oh dear, and I sent him to the kitchen for something to eat and a place to sleep.”

“I expect he was pleased,” the abbot said with a chuckle. “Should he still be there in the morning, would you send for me? I am very eager to speak to him.”

“The man will hardly wait around to be arrested,” the judge snapped. “I expect he has good reason to hide on his mountain. Half of those people are hiding from the authorities. He is probably a criminal or a traitor. I wonder that he slipped past the constables.”

This caused a heated debate between the abbot and Hisamatsu, during which Akitada was forced to rush off down the drafty gallery again.

When he emerged from the convenience this time, he felt physically and mentally drained and stood for a moment, leaning against the wall. He wondered if his food or wine had been tampered with. The same servant, who had followed him with a lantern, was squatting on the cold wood floor, watching him. Outside the wind whistled past the shutters. Suddenly there was a brief distant sound, something between a shriek and a wail, borne on a gust of wind and snatched away again. Akitada and the servant both straightened up to listen.

Akitada strode to the shutter and threw it open. The snow was still blowing outside, but there was no sign of life in the white landscape below or in the courtyard. In the corner pavilion a shadow moved across the lighted shutter. Perhaps someone else had been startled by the sound.

The servant looked frightened. “Come away, sir. They say the ghosts of the dead cry for justice.”

More superstition. “Nonsense,” said Akitada. “It was probably some animal. A wolf or an owl.” But he recalled Tora’s tale about the Uesugi family. With a shiver he closed the shutter.

When he returned to his seat, his host had disappeared. Akitada was uneasily aware that his repeated absences had caused curious glances from the guests. To cover his embarrassment, Akitada asked the judge about criminal activity in the province and got another dreary lecture on the need for harsher penalties. When Uesugi returned soon after, he looked tense and preoccupied. “The snow is getting worse,” he announced, “and the road to Naoetsu may become impassable. I hope you will all honor my house by spending the night.”

Akitada was seized by outright panic at this idea and rose abruptly. “Thank you, no. This has been a lavish entertainment and most pleasant company, but I must not impose on your hospitality any longer,” he said. “Urgent duties await me back in the city.”

A general bustle ensued. Most of the others also made their good-byes, intending to join Akitada’s cortege on the journey back to the city.

Uesugi made only the barest of protests to the sudden exodus. He accepted Akitada’s formal thanks, his face devoid of expression, but his small eyes glittered and moved about strangely in the flickering light. Perhaps it was Akitada’s illness, but suddenly Uesugi appeared menacing, and the shadows in the corners of the great hall seemed alive with danger.

Akitada knew his escape into the snowy night was craven and irrational, and a fitting end to the most unpleasant and unproductive evening he had ever spent. He was filled with foreboding.

Three days after the visit to Takata, on a clear and cold morning, the tribunal’s dilapidated buildings huddled inside the broken-down palisade and looked more depressing than usual with patches of dirty snow in piles and corners. The brief snowfall had changed to watery sleet, then back to snow, and to sleet again during the past days.

When Akitada stepped out on the veranda, he saw that the main gate was still closed even though the sun was up and it was well into the day. Tora and Hitomaro were below, shouting for the constables who trotted out reluctantly, some still chewing their morning rations. The creaking gate finally opened- somewhat pointlessly, since no one waited outside and access to the tribunal could be gained anywhere a man wished to kick down a few rotten timbers in the fence.

Akitada descended the steps into the courtyard and looked sourly at the ragged line of constables drawn up for inspection, their breath steaming in the cold air. Hitomaro was in full armor and exhibited stiff military bearing. When he saw Akitada, he gave a shout, and the ragtag constables in their mostly unmatched garb fell to their knees and bowed their heads to the ground. From their sullen expressions, Akitada gathered that Hitomaro was about to put them through a drill.

Their headman, Chobei, lounged against the gate, his arms crossed and a mocking grin on his coarse face.

The insolence of the brute! Akitada could feel his blood rise and lost his temper. Glaring at Chobei, Akitada snapped, “Make that dog kneel, Lieutenant.”

Hitomaro shouted an order, then drew his sword and approached the headman. Chobei stared stupidly, his grin fading slowly. For a moment it looked as though he would ignore the order, but then he went to his knees, placing his hands on the icy patch of gravel before him.

Tora, also armed, walked across till he towered over the kneeling man. “Head down!” he ordered. Chobei started up with a curse. Tora drew his sword and brought its flat side down on the man’s bare head. With a cry of pain, Chobei assumed the proper position.

“Pity you didn’t bother with mittens and a warm coat this morning, Sergeant,” Tora said conversationally. “My guess is that your hands will freeze to the gravel in less time than it takes to fill your prisoners’ water bowls. And you won’t budge till you’re ready to crawl all the way to his Excellency to apologize for your lack of manners.”

Akitada already regretted the incident but could not take back his words without losing face. “See to it that he remains until he has learned proper respect!” he snapped. Then he strode back to the main hall.

This building was in better repair than the others, but it was large and extremely drafty. In the chilly front area, the public part of the building, his senior clerk, a sober, middle-aged man, waited.

“The documents about rice storage are on your desk, sir. They seem accurate.”

“Ah. Is there any new business, Hamaya?” Akitada asked, as they passed through to the quiet archives where two shivering junior clerks were shuffling papers. Akitada was headed for a corner room under the eaves that he had made into his private office.