I. Parker: Black Arrow

In the kitchen, a slovenly maid stood beside the hearth, sniveling into a corner of her skirt. Tora deplored the dirt but scanned with interest her shapely ankle and an immodest expanse of leg and thigh.

Hitomaro was already in the common room, another dirt-floored space with a central fire pit. The fire was out and the room empty except for Hitomaro and a stocky character in half armor.

They knew Chobei and he knew them. Chobei was the sergeant in charge of the tribunal’s constables, and they were the newly appointed lieutenants in the governor’s staff. Chobei was a local and theoretically under their command but did not see it that way Relations were becoming strained, because Hitomaro and Tora had no plans to relinquish their authority. Never mind that they represented the entire governor’s guard, they still outranked Chobei.

“This is a local matter,” Chobei was saying, pushing out a pugnacious chin. “Nothing to do with you. I’ve sent for the judge.”

Hitomaro snapped, “Everything in this province concerns us. What happened here?”

“Just a simple robbery. Done by outsiders.”

Tora raised his brows. “Outsiders? What do you mean?”

Chobei sneered, “I mean strangers. Not by our people.”

“Ah.” Hitomaro pretended interest. “And how do you know that?”

Chobei cast up his eyes. “It’s an inn, isn’t it? People who don’t live here stay at inns. Strangers. Outsiders. Like you.”

Tora growled in the back of his throat. Hitomaro gave him a warning look. “What about the owner?” he asked. “The maids? The staff? Any of them could be involved. Who was robbed and what was taken?”

The sergeant smirked unpleasantly. “If you must know, it’s the owner who was robbed and all his gold was taken. Right out of his locked chest.”

“I want to speak to him.”

Chobei snorted. “Can’t. They cut his throat.”

“Look here, you useless piece of garbage,” Tora exploded. He pushed Hitomaro aside to get his hands on the sergeant and teach him a lesson in manners.

Chobei backed off, yelling, “Be careful. I’m in charge here. The judge won’t like you interfering in the execution of my duty. This is a serious crime.”

Hitomaro held Tora back. “Carry on, Sergeant,” he said. “We’ll just take a look to make sure we report the matter correctly to his Excellency.” Without waiting for an answer, he headed to the back of the inn. Tora scowled at Chobei and followed.

The dingy passage led to dingy rooms, all of them apparently empty. The last one seemed to be the owner’s, and dirtier than the rest. Its floor was stamped earth, but in one corner was a wooden sleeping platform large enough for three people. Filthy blankets lay tumbled about the corpse of a fat elderly man. The man’s torso and most of the blankets were soaked in blood. Beside him an empty wooden box rested on its side. It was the sort of box small shopkeepers keep their money in, with iron clasps and a lock. The lock had been forced.

Tora looked at the corpse. The dead man’s mouth gaped above a gruesome wound in his throat. “Ugly old bastard,” he muttered. “Looks like a toad snapping for flies.”

“If he was asleep, it wouldn’t take much strength to cut his throat with a sharp knife,” remarked Hitomaro, looking around. “I don’t see a knife, do you?”

“No. Wonder how much they got. Couldn’t be a fortune in a place like this.”

Chobei put in his head. “Satisfied?” he sneered. “Here’s the judge.”

Judge Hisamatsu bustled in as fast as short legs could carry a large paunch and thick layers of clothing. He had a round, clean-shaven face with pinched lips. The cold wind had given it some color, but he looked the sort of man who rarely spent time in the outdoors. At the moment he was irritated. “What’s this then?” he demanded. “Can’t you do anything yourself, Chobei?”

Chobei bowed. “A murder, your Honor. Nasty. I thought…” he began apologetically.

The judge stared at Tora and Hitomaro. “What are these people doing here? Get rid of them. Is that the victim?” He waddled to the platform, peered, and immediately turned away. “You might have warned me,” he said, gulping air.

The unfairly chastised Chobei bowed humbly. “Very sorry, your Honor. I tried, but being kept by idle questions, I was unable to greet you. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. Where’s Yasakichi?”

“The coroner has been notified, your Honor.”

The judge twitched impatiently. “Well, he should be here then. Must I do everything? What happened?”

“Murder and robbery, sir. The victim’s name is Sato. The owner of the inn. His money box has been broken open and his gold is gone.”

The judge glanced at the box. “Ah. You have arrested the killer?”

“Killers, your Honor. No, sir. Not yet. But they left only a few hours ago. On foot. I’ve sent a constable to the garrison with descriptions. The soldiers will bring them back shortly.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“No, your Honor.”

Hitomaro cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Your pardon, your Honor,” he said, “but could we find out about those killers?”

The judge peered at him in the poor light. “Why? Who are you?”

Hitomaro saluted. “Lieutenant Hitomaro, sir. And this is Lieutenant Tora. In his Excellency’s service.”

Tora straightened up a fraction.

“What? What Excellency? I don’t know you.”

Tora gave another low growl, which was somehow appropriate for his bearskin and made the judge skip a step away from him.

“The governor, your Honor,” Hitomaro said, keeping a straight face while kicking Tora in the ankle.

“The governor? Oh, you mean you’re with the fellow from the capital? Sugawara?”

“Look here,” Tora burst out, “you’d better keep a civil tongue-”

Hitomaro got a hard grip on Tora’s arm. “His Honor probably hasn’t been fully informed, Tora.” Turning back to the judge, he said smoothly, “His Excellency, Lord Sugawara, has been duly appointed to take over the administration of this province. The imperial decree was read in front of the tribunal a week ago and a copy is posted on the notice board. I’m sure your Honor will wish to pay him a welcoming visit.”

Judge Hisamatsu opened his mouth, thought better of it, and waved it aside. “Yes, well, we’ve been very busy. But I’m sure you won’t be needed in this case.”

“About the suspects,” Hitomaro persisted. “Could we be told about them?”

Hisamatsu hesitated. “Well, it’s not really your business, but I see no harm in it. Chobei?”

Chobei bowed. “There were three of them. Riffraff. The maid described them. They came separately, but left together before dawn today. When she got up, she found them gone and her master dead. Two of the men come from far away. A peddler by the name of Umehara and an unemployed actor called Okano. The other man claims to be a local peasant by the name of Takagi.”

“There you are,” said the judge to Hitomaro. “Now please go. Here is Dr. Yasakichi.”

“Just a minute-” Tora started, but Hitomaro took his arm and pulled him out of the room. In the dim passage they moved aside for the coroner, dingy-robed and carrying a satchel.

Hitomaro released his companion when they were back in the drafty courtyard. “Look,” he said, “you’ve got to control your temper better. We don’t know what’s what yet and you can’t be making enemies before we even get to know these people. Remember what the master said.”

Tora felt rebellious but nodded. “I guess you’re right, brother. Did you smell that coroner? Not that I blame a man for having something to warm his belly in this weather.” He gestured across the highway. “Since we didn’t get much information here, how about a cup of hot wine in that shack over there?”