The Old Men of Omi (26 page)

The archivist returned, blowing dust from another old box. He set it down, saying, “It involved a relative, I think. The Hattas must have been a violent family.”

Akitada reached eagerly for the box. Together with Kosehira, he scanned the content until they found the name again.

“Here it is. Hatta Takashi.” Kosehira pointed. “Must be the son. There’s not much here, is there?”

The incident that led to the arrest and conviction of Hatta Takashi was the young man’s attack on Taira Sukenori, during which Sukenori suffered a serious knife wound. Apparently Sukenori had pressed the judge (Nakano) for a quick judgment that would remove this violent youth from the area. Hatta Takashi was sent into exile and hard labor, just as his father had been the year before.”

Akitada asked the archivist, “Is there any further news of either Hatta?”

The old man shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. Perhaps their family is still in the area, though their property would have been confiscated after the murder conviction. That information would be in the land surveys. Do you want me to look?”

Yes, they did.

What they found confirmed the archivist’s assumption that the property had been confiscated. The victim’s family had been paid off and the rest, all but a small parcel, had become government property, but now belonged to Enryaku-ji.

Kosehira commented bitterly, “Soon those monks will own all of my province.”

The second case against Hatta’s son caused the confiscation of the small parcel left to the children. This property was given to Taira Sukenori as recompense for the serious wound he had suffered at the hands of the younger Hatta.

Kosehira said, “So both the father and the son were sent into exile and hard labor. After all this time, they are most likely dead. That leaves the mother and a daughter. What happened to them?”

But the archivist had no answer this time.

Akitada sighed. “We must go back and talk to the older peasants in the area. That old man serving in the stables at the Taira manor knew something he didn’t want to talk about. I bet he has the answer.”

“I cannot possibly leave again,” Kosehira said. “Work has piled up while we were hunting.”

Akitada glanced over at his desk. “Neither can I. The clerks are almost done. I need to look at their reports and then write up my own.”

There was another reason for his wish to finish his assignment. He knew he had to leave Kosehira’s house. Staying even one more day after what had passed between him and Yukiko was impossible.

They sat silently for a few moments. Then Kosehira asked, “Do you think he will kill again?”

“I don’t know. Is there anyone left alive who had a hand in the trials of the two Hattas?”

“What about the original victim. Do we know anything about him?”

They bent over the documents again. Even the archivist inserted himself to help. Akitada was amused. For once, they had managed to rouse the curiosity of a man who only cared about keeping his boxes filed in the proper order.

“There it is,” cried Kosehira, finding the page. “ ‘The Otsu merchant Fumi Takahiro, in his fortieth year.’ Fumi? Now I wonder…”

The archivist cried, “Yes, sir. There is a rice dealer near the harbor. His name is Fumi. A very wealthy man.”

“Well, he cannot be the same.” Akitada smiled. “A son perhaps?”

“I don’t know,” said the archivist. “He’s quite old, I think.”

“Hmm.” Akitada pondered for a moment. “I think I’ll pay him a visit later tonight after we deal with our duties.”

Kosehira gave a sigh of relief. “I cannot tell you how much work awaits me. I’ll have dinner here and go back late.”

Akitada was helping the archivist return the papers to their boxes. He nodded. “I’ll have a bite in the city. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Much better than risking another meeting with Yukiko. But he could not help the pain this thought brought with it.

Akitada walked to Otsu Harbor. He wished he could have told Takechi what they had discovered, but it was too late. The chief had gone home to his family.

Not having any family to go to, Akitada had a quick meal in a busy restaurant catering to travelers. The food was barely edible, but he had little appetite anyway. He paid and asked directions to the business of the rice merchant Fumi. He was told that Fumi Tokiari lived in a substantial home close to the harbor. It turned out to be one of several such properties belonging to wealthy merchants and ship owners. In this case, there was still a sort of business in the front of the large building where people could purchase rice for their households, but Akitada had been told that most of the family’s business was in shipping large amounts of rice to the capital and that part of the business operated from warehouses close to the port.

Still, given the Fumi wealth, Akitada approved of the modesty that still acknowledged humble beginnings when many another rich man had already moved to an estate in the suburbs. He passed into the shop, where he was greeted politely by two clerks, and asked to speak to Fumi Tokiari. A clerk dashed off to announce him, and a moment later a heavy-set elderly man in a sober black silk robe emerged from the back.

“I am Sugawara,” Akitada introduced himself, “and temporarily attached to the governor’s office. His Excellency has asked me to look into some troubling local crimes. You could be most helpful by giving me some information.”

Fumi looked surprised and uneasy, but he bowed deeply and led the way to the back of the house. There, in the well-furnished office where he conducted his business he offered Akitada a seat and refreshments.

“Nothing, thank you. I’m not altogether sure what your relationship to Fumi Takahiro is, but my interest concerns him rather than you.”

“He was my brother.”

Akitada thought the man’s nervousness had increased and wondered at it. “I understand he was the victim of a murder on the estate of Lord Taira Sukenori?”

Fumi compressed his lips. “Yes.”

It was clear that Akitada would have to work for his information.

“The man who confessed to the crime was Lord Taira’s
betto
, a man by the name of Hatta. He was sentenced to life in the mines in the north. Apparently his son later attacked Lord Taira. Do you happen to know why he should have done such a thing?”

“I know very little about the case, sir. My brother had some business with Lord Taira and, since he enjoyed hunting, he had been invited to the Taira estate. Lord Taira was a great hunter. The murder happened during a hunt. Lord Taira at first claimed it was an accident, but the arrow tip protruded from my poor brother’s back and the authorities decided he must have been shot by someone very close and facing him. This caused a lot of rumors and I pressed for an investigation. It was then that the man Hatta confessed.”

“But what was his motive?”

Fumi made a face. “The man had the nerve to claim that my brother had attacked his young daughter sexually.”

“That would constitute a strong motive. A father has a right to protect his children. You clearly did not believe this. Why wasn’t Hatta given consideration during the sentencing.?”

Fumi had reddened with anger. “Because it was a foul lie! My brother would never have laid a hand on the girl.”

“It does you credit to defend your brother,” Akitada said dubiously.

“Of course I defend my brother, but in this case there was proof that my brother was innocent.”

“How so?”

“My brother preferred men to women. He was unmarried and had never shown any interest in females.” Fumi paused. “That’s why I am his heir. He never had any children.”

“Ah!” Akitada nodded. “That is very interesting. You must have wondered at the time who would make up such stories.”

“Not at all. Hatta lied.”

“Yes, perhaps. What sort of business did your brother have with Lord Taira?”

The look of uneasiness returned to the rice merchant’s face. “My brother had advanced his lordship some funds from time to time. It was good business. The money earned a satisfactory interest. Lord Taira had a great estate to administer and a certain manner of living that required a good deal of money.”

“I see. When you came to settle your brother’s estate, had all the debts been paid?”

Fumi fidgeted. “No. And I never got the money either. Lord Taira claimed there was no debt, that he had paid my brother before his death. I tried to collect from his son after he died, but he also refused.”

“Was it a large debt?”

“Very large. I almost lost the business.”

Akitada studied the merchant with interest. Fumi certainly had no love for the Taira family, father or son. He might well have a good motive for murdering Sukemichi. Sukemichi had never fitted very well with the other victims. But after a moment, he discarded the notion, thanked Fumi, and left.

It was getting dark by then and he was tired, but instead of returning to the villa, he stayed on in the tribunal for several more hours, working on the legal documents on his desk. Only a servant was still in the archives, and he felt guilty for keeping the man from his bed. But he felt a great urgency to finish this assignment and return to the capital. The children would be disappointed that they would not attend the great shrine festival after all, but he would try to make it up to them.

When he finally closed the last document box and stretched, the servant was fast asleep leaning against a pillar. Akitada looked with satisfaction at the pile of pages that constituted his notes. Tomorrow he would draft his report, discuss it with the members of his group, and then give it the final polish. The clerks would make copies, he and the others would sign, and they would all return to their homes.

For a moment, he recalled her image as he had seen her last, a slender figure in blue surrounded by the golden light of the rising sun. He had made his farewells on that occasion, telling her that he would always remember her just like that.

He doubted it was enough to live on in the future.

The path leading up the side of the mountain was rough and stony. The rain had stopped, but everything was wet. They slipped and scrambled as they climbed. Tora was getting very tired and wondered how Saburo, for whom this was the same climb in less than eight hours, managed. The track took them back into dense woods and into a twilight that persisted even though the sun must be well up. After quite a long time, Tora asked, “How much farther?”

Saburo paused and looked back. “It was dark when I came this way before. I’m not sure. I’m not sure where we are or if we are on the right path. I’m moving by instinct only.”

Tora cursed. His head still hurt and the physical exertion made the pain worse. “Let’s stop to check. There must be a clearing somewhere.” He looked around and pointed. “Over there. Maybe we can get a glimpse of the valley and you can fix on the direction.”

Saburo grunted his assent, and they left the path to clamber along the steep slope toward where light appeared between the trees. Not for the first time, Tora cursed his sword which managed to get in his way in this thicket. Saburo, who did not have a sword, but who carried secret weapons hidden in the sleeves and linings of his clothes and inside his boots, was better off.

The outlook, when they reached it, showed them that they had climbed quite a way, but there was no sign of any dwelling. Forest stretched along both sides of the valley and below there were only glimpses of a small stream and an occasional section of the narrow road.

“Well?” Tora asked.

Saburo frowned. “Maybe a little more to the east. We should have stayed on the path.”

Tora leaned forward to peer toward the east. “Is that smoke or mist?” he asked.

“I can’t make it out, but it could be them. Cooking their morning rice.”

“Let’s go!” Tora said grimly and turned back.

“Wait!”

“What now?”

“You sound pretty touchy, brother. And you don’t look well, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“I do mind. Let’s get this over with and kill the bastards.”

“We have to be careful. We don’t know who else might have come since I last saw them. And when we get close, we have to creep through the trees. It will be better if we surprise them.”

“Right, but if we wait around talking about it, they may find us before we find them.”

Saburo said no more. Together they reached the path again and followed it for a short while until the trees started to thin and light could be seen.

“All right,” Saburo said in a low voice. “From now on we creep.” He left the path and Tora followed. With great care, they reached a promontory, and there just below them, was a fair-sized wooden hut with a wooden shelter a little farther along the road . Smoke rose from an opening in the roof of the hut. The shelter contained stacked firewood. The narrow road passed in front of these buildings, probably the same one that also passed the hermit’s dwelling at the other end of the valley. The road disappeared around another rocky outcropping like the one Tora and Saburo lay on.

There was no sign of life other than the smoke, though the sun was already high. They watched in silence for a while, then Tora said, “Are you sure they’re all there?”

“They were yesterday.”

“Maybe they left?”

“It’s possible.”

“Shall we go down to check?”

Saburo hesitated, then nodded. “Careful. They could be coming out.”

“Right.” Tora got to his feet, checked his sword, and rubbed his sore head. Even his eyes hurt. What was wrong with him? He had had the headaches for more than a year now, but they had never happened as often or been as long-lasting and severe.”

“Wait,” Saburo hissed.

Tora turned and looked.

A couple had appeared on the road. They were poorly dressed and both had large, woven baskets slung over their shoulders. The man also carried a toddler.

“Wood gatherers,” said Tora.

“More like wood thieves.”

The couple halted by the shed. The man put down the toddler and both took off their baskets and carried them to the wood piles in the shelter where they started loading them. The toddler staggered to his feet and explored his surroundings.