Kunyoshi was not helpful. “The peasants stay, I suppose,” he said. “But the families of the condemned move elsewhere.”
“It’s the wives and children I’m concerned about.”
“Such women may choose to consider themselves divorced. They return to their own family or remarry, I believe. Some enter a convent.”
“What happened to the Tomonari land?”
“Ah!” Kunyoshi brightened. “I remembered something about that. I think I may have mentioned a certain important nobleman who was quite unreasonable in his demands that he should not have to pay a rice tax?”
Akitada did not remember but nodded.
“He’s the one who rents the confiscated estate. He claims that it had fallen into disuse and that he spent his money and used the labor of his slaves to put it back into production; therefore he should be immune from taxation. But the tax office held that he was liable for the same amount as the previous owner because he could not prove that new acreage had been created.” Kunyoshi rubbed his hands. “And quite right, too.” It was clear that he had not liked the irate nobleman.
“What’s his name?”
“Yasugi. As if he weren’t rich enough already in his own right. Pshaw!”
“Yasugi?” Akitada stared at the old man, his mind awhirl. Could it be that this detestable man now controlled the Tomonari estate? “How . . .” he began and stopped. He snatched the household register back. When he found the entry again, he saw what he had missed before. Haseo’s youngest wife was Hiroko. The name was common, but Akitada did not believe in coincidences. The beautiful Hiroko, the woman he had come to desire with every fiber of his being, was Haseo’s widow. Had she been eager to exchange the shameful existence as wife of a condemned man for the luxurious life with the wealthy Yasugi? Or had Yasugi somehow coerced her into marrying him? Akitada wanted to believe the latter. True, she had lied to him, but she had been terrified of her husband.
Giddy with excitement and hope, Akitada thanked Kunyoshi so profusely that the old man looked stunned.
At home, Akitada went straight to Tora. He found him looking a great deal better and eager to talk about his adventures.
“Wait,” said Akitada, “I have news.” He told him what he had discovered that morning.
“What a strange thing! So the sword was Haseo’s all along,” said Tora. He shook his head in wonder. “To think that we wasted all that time just because you got the name wrong.”
Akitada frowned. “You’re missing the point. The case is not solved. Haseo was charged with killing his parents, possibly with this.” He took the sword off and placed it on the floor between them.
“Never,” said Tora. “Somebody else did and you’ll find the bastard. And then you’ll find his family and make that greedy Yasugi give back their property to them.”
And set Hiroko free. Akitada sighed. It was not that simple. Even if he found the real killer and located Haseo’s family, the government would thwart the return of name and land to his heirs by instantly wrapping the case in bureaucratic red tape and innumerable codicils. But he had always known that.
Tora’s priorities were different, and he now reminded Akitada of them. “I would help you, but I’d better go back to the market to ask more questions about Tomoe’s murder.”
Tomoe. She was connected, too. Hiroko had lied about their relationship. Had Tomoe perhaps been a witness to the crime? And if she knew the real killer of Haseo’s parents, might she have been killed to keep her from telling? But that could not be. Five years had passed. If she had been a threat to the killer, he would have got rid of her years ago, before the trial.
Tora was watching him. “Are you wondering how Matsue got hold of the sword?” he asked.
“No, I was thinking about your blind street singer. Matsue could have bought the sword. In five years anything might have happened. He took good care of it anyway.”
“Why do you think he was watching Tomoe?”
“Perhaps he liked her performance and was interested. She sang martial ballads and he was a swordsman.”
Tora snorted. “He hated her. I figured maybe she told him off when he got too bold. Some men hold a grudge about that sort of thing, and he had no respect for women.”
“Well, you said yourself, he did not kill her, whatever he thought of her. By the way, what about the coroner’s report?”
“What about it?”
“The coroner found evidence that she had been with a man.”
“The swine raped her first and then killed her. He’s a dead man if I get my hands on him!”
“Not so fast. Nobody has said anything about rape. She may have entertained a lover before the killer struck. Or she gave herself to the killer voluntarily.”
“She would never do such a thing. She lived like a nun. I should know.” Tora flushed and looked away.
So the rascal had tried. Akitada said dryly, “I see. I grant you it’s truly impressive that she should have turned down even your advances, but the fact is that neither you nor I know anything about her. There may have been a man in her life. There may have been a husband even. The coroner said she had given birth.”
“Amida. I never thought of that. She was so . . . alone. You just felt she needed someone in her life. What happened to her kids, do you think?”
“I have no idea.”
Tora sighed. “I’ve never met anyone like her before, you know, so helpless and so . . . stubborn. She never complained. She was a fighter. And for what? To be slashed to pieces by some beast. I bet he did rape her. Tomoe had a pretty figure.”
Akitada tried to remember the woman he had seen only once and then through the eyes of prejudice. “I should have listened to you,” he said. “And she should have accepted your offer of help.”
Tora said bitterly, “And I shouldn’t have spoiled it all by trying to sweet-talk her. She probably thought I was just like all the rest.” A brief silence fell as they weighed their culpability against the evil fate that had stalked Tomoe. Suddenly Tora said, “Wait a moment. The soothsayer in the market warned her to leave the city. She believed him but said she needed to earn a bit more money first. What for?”
“You shouldn’t believe soothsayers. One of them just gave Tamako a terrible fright. Such people do more harm than good.”
Tora’s eyes widened. “What did he say?”
“Some silly talk about Yori. The trouble is that during an epidemic, such dire predictions have a chance of coming true.”
Tora gulped and opened his mouth, but the door slid open, and they turned. Tamako peered in, her face strained. It seemed to Akitada that he had not seen her in a pleasant mood for weeks now. “Yes?” he asked, perhaps a little more irritably than he intended.
Her eyes flicked from his face to Tora’s. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I knew you had returned and wondered . . . but I did not mean to interrupt. Please continue your conversation.” She bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind her.
Akitada felt relieved and a little guilty. No doubt she had another complaint of a domestic nature. The unwelcome guests had probably caused a disruption in the smooth running of the household. “How are your friends today?” he asked.
“Fine. I’m to say thanks for the hospitality. Kinjiro mostly sleeps, but Mr. Chikamura has hobbled off to police headquarters to lay a complaint against his nephew’s friends.” Tora added morosely, “If they take the trouble to check the house, they’ll find the Scarecrow and Genzo.”
Akitada jumped up. “Heavens, I forgot about that. Kobe was out this morning, so I left a message about your adventure. He may be trying to see to me. I only came home to change. Soga has died of smallpox, and two senior officials found fault with me when they came to see who was running the ministry.”
“Soga has died?” Tora clapped his hands in glee. “That’s great news. Congratulations, sir. What a piece of luck!”
“You’d better keep those sentiments to yourself. I’m in enough trouble without having my retainers start to celebrate.”
Tamako apparently had taken care of her problem, so Akitada went to the small bathhouse, where he stripped off his dirty clothes, leaving them in an untidy pile on the floor. The wooden tub was covered with a lid, and the water inside was still warm. He sluiced himself off, and then immersed his body, feeling gradually refreshed after a sleepless and bruising night and the troubles of the morning.
He considered how best to investigate the Haseo case without losing his position in the ministry. Soga’s illness and death had given him a brief respite, but instead of being free from hostile oversight, he was once again under scrutiny for dereliction of duty.
He needed to visit the village where the crime had taken place. He must find and talk to witnesses, especially that nurse. What could have made the woman tell such a vicious and tragic lie?
Akitada saw no possibility of getting official leave, however brief, at a time when all the government offices were short of staff. But he could speak to Judge Masakane. He might even be able to read the trial transcript, learn precisely what the nurse claimed to have seen and heard, and find out what corroborating evidence there was, for surely there must have been something besides her word against Haseo’s.
He had no time for long deliberation and got out of the bath after only a few minutes, slipping on a light cotton house robe. On the way back, he thought to look in on Yori, but when he stopped outside his son’s room, he heard Tamako’s voice reading to him. Akitada frowned. The boy should be reading himself. More pampering. He was afraid he would just lose his temper again if he went in, so he went instead to change into a good robe, comb and retie his hair, and put on the prescribed headgear. On the way to the ministry, he stopped to have himself shaved by a barber who made a good living by offering his services to those who worked inside the Greater Palace.
His appearance met with Nakatoshi’s silent approval, but Sakae said rather cheekily, “A vast improvement, sir. My compliments.”
Akitada met this with a grunt and fled into Soga’s office, where he spent the subsequent hours dealing with routine paperwork. He had debated briefly whether he should move back to his own room—now occupied by Sakae. The two visitors had so obviously disapproved of his having assumed honors that did not belong to him. But he decided that efficiency would suffer and remained.
The afternoon passed much too slowly. There were no more surprise visits or “inspections” and no urgent problems to be solved, but it was not until sunset that Akitada could pay his visit to Judge Masakane.
Masakane lived in a modest villa south of the Greater Palace and received Akitada with cool courtesy. They were seated in the judge’s study overlooking a small garden rather similar to Akitada’s. The judge said bluntly, “I assume you’ve come about your retainer’s case. What was his name again?”
“Tora. But since his case has been postponed because of the epidemic, I came about something else. I trust you and your family have been spared?”
“I’m an old man and alone in this world. Death holds no fears for me. It is life that concerns me. There’s too little time for a man to leave a good name behind.”
Akitada said warmly, “No need to worry about that, Your Honor. You are praised by all as a fair and wise judge.”
He had meant the compliment, but Masakane drew back stiffly. “Don’t flatter me, young man, or I shall think you plan to damage that reputation.”
Akitada flushed. Young man—and that superior tone? How dare Masakane think he had come to influence his judgment! He bit his lip. No sense in showing his anger. He needed help, though not in the way Masakane expected. This would not be an easy interview after all.
“As I said, I’m not here about Tora,” he began and saw that Masakane relaxed slightly. “My visit concerns another case, one you tried five years ago. The accused was a man called Tomonari Haseo. Do you recall it?”
“Certainly. I am not senile yet. It was a sensational double murder. Are you going to question my verdict?”
The judge’s belligerence told Akitada that he still disliked and distrusted him. Anger stirred again. The old man was insufferably rude, and Akitada was fed up with the disrespect he had been shown by all and sundry lately. If the judge was already hostile, he had nothing to lose. He raised his chin and said rather sharply, “I was taught that justice requires us to question the truth. The man you condemned to exile is dead, but he was my friend and I’m alive to keep a promise. That is why I am here. Tomonari Haseo was falsely accused and the real murderer is free.”
Masakane’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You talk nonsense. At best you are carried away by false sentiment. At worst . . .”
Akitada interrupted, “I trust my record speaks for my integrity, sir. I must ask you to think before making rash accusations.”
The judge looked startled. He bent forward a little, as if he distrusted his hearing. “Are you correcting my manners?”
“I’m only pointing out that we are not going to get anywhere unless we both attempt to observe minimal courtesies, regardless of our private opinions.”
Masakane smiled thinly. “How foolish you are. I don’t want to get anywhere, as you put it. It is you who wants something from me.”
Akitada sighed in defeat. He rose and bowed. “In that case, forgive me for having troubled you.”
Masakane waved a thin, spotted hand. “Sit down. Sit down. I have nothing better to do. What do you want to know?”
Akitada sat. “I would really like to read the trial transcripts.”
“Impossible. They have been sealed, and you would need an order from the chancellor himself to unseal them.”
“Then I must rely on what you remember.” Akitada saw Masakane’s frown, and added quickly, “It was more than five years ago, and no doubt many witnesses appeared in so heinous a case. I know that the main witness was the accused man’s own nurse.”
“And what a witness! Distraught, of course. She suckled him and raised him through his childhood and now had to condemn him. But she served in his father’s house and she saw it all happen. This was a much stronger case than the one against your retainer. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the accused was guilty.”