The Old Men of Omi (33 page)

And then he saw the man.

He was ordinary looking, gray-haired and deeply tanned, and he stood watching the puppet show. Something about his expression had caught Akitada’s attention, a sort of sneering intentness. As if he could feel his stare, the man suddenly turned his head and looked at him. For a moment their eyes locked, and Akitada knew he was looking at the killer. Then the man turned abruptly and disappeared into the crowd.

Akitada was shaken by the encounter. Instinct told him to follow the man, but he could not leave Yukiko and the children. He scanned the crowd and eventually thought he recognized one of the constables. Waving him over, he described the man and sent him after him.

He was beginning to tire of the entertainment and long for a peaceful rest on Yukiko’s veranda, when he saw the man again. This time he was walking away from them with a pronounced limp.

Akitada decided to take the risk. “Yukiko,” he said to his wife, “can you manage the children for a little? There is something I have to do.”

She raised her brows and giggled. “Certainly, my husband.”

He did not correct her mistake and dashed after the limping man.

“Stop!” he shouted, and when this brought no results, “Stop that man!” Of course, people ignored this, scattering instead in panic. Where were the constables when you needed them? Akitada was hindered by his clothing which, while not the paralyzing court dress, was still not made for running after fugitives. He also had no weapon.

The man was getting away from him in spite of his limp.

Stubbornly, Akitada persisted. His prey vanished from sight once or twice, and eventually Akitada found himself lost, confused and out of breath behind the vendors’ tents. He retraced his way to his family, hoping he had not lost them, too.

Then he found the man again in the crowd and simultaneously saw Yukiko and the children, still waiting near the spot where he had left them. He debated his priorities for only an instant, then ran to them. He must make sure they were safe before he could hunt for the killer.

Arriving somewhat out of breath, he told Yukiko, “Come! We must leave. It isn’t safe for you or the children.” He saw a flash of understanding in her eyes, and took her arm. Turning to gather the children, he found himself once again making eye contact with the killer.

Akitada was certain now that this was the killer. It was also clear that the man knew he had been unmasked. His face was filled with a hate so intense that Akitada was shaken by it. “Come, children,” he said. “Hold hands. We must hurry.”

They obeyed for once, though Arimitsu protested, “But we haven’t seen everything, yet.”

Yukiko took her brother’s hand. “You have seen enough.”

They were headed back to their waiting carriage, but Akitada had reckoned without the killer. Instead of fleeing, Hatta rushed after them, flinging himself between Akitada and Yukiko to seize her by her hair, pulling her head back. He placed the point of a knife against her throat.

“If anyone lays hands on me, she dies,” he snarled at Akitada.

Akitada froze. All around him the scene exploded into chaos. The children shrieked, people cried out in fear and scattered, but for Akitada time stood still. He saw only the knife at his wife’s throat.

Finally and too late, two red-coated constables appeared, and Akitada knew the danger had just escalated. The madman’s mind would snap completely if he was attacked.

With every fiber of his body Akitada wanted to snatch Yukiko from him, but that knifepoint at her throat stopped him. The tip was placed where even a slight cut would prove deadly. He had seen a soldier die in a few moments when a sword had nicked him in that precise spot. His blood had gushed forth and it had been all over.

His voice trembling, he asked, “Are you Hatta Takashi?”

“So you know my name. No matter. She dies unless I leave a free man.”

Akitada caught sight of the constables closing in and shouted at them, “Stay back! Don’t touch him.”

Dear God, he thought, not Yukiko. Not Yukiko also, his just-found love, his poor, dear young wife. She was as pale as snow and her eyes were tightly closed, but tears escaped from under her lashes. A bead of blood formed where the blade pressed into her neck. If she dies, he thought, I shall also die.

“Don’t do this,” he begged in a shaking voice. “I promise to try to help you. What Taira Sukenori did to you and your family was abhorrent. I understand your wish for revenge, but my wife has done nothing to you.”

“You think I care about you courtiers and your spoiled wives? You’re all alike. You cheat everyone, and when you’re found out, you kill and make some other poor man pay for it. If you know who I am and what Taira Sukenori did to us, you know I could not forget or ever trust one of you again.”

Akitada’s eyes were on the drop of blood as it slowly coursed down Yukiko’s white throat. Her eyes were still closed, and he was still as helpless as before. All he could do was to keep talking. “I don’t know all the facts, but your father, I believe, witnessed a murder. The victim was the rice merchant Fumi Takahiro, and he was killed by Taira because he owed Fumi a great deal of money. I don’t know how Taira convinced your father to take responsibility for the murder.” Akitada prayed that he could distract Hatta by talking about the old crime, and that a single moment of inattention might give him a chance to disarm him. But even as he thought this, he despaired. Hatta would not hesitate to kill Yukiko if he saw himself attacked.

There was a slight movement in the crowd behind Hatta. His heart pounding, Akitada said quickly, “You had a sister. What happened to her?”

Hatta’s face darkened. The hand holding the knife trembled and Yukiko gave a small moan. Hatta said, “He killed her, too. He killed that merchant, he killed my father, he tried to kill me, and then he killed my sister. He’s the monster, not I.”

Tora had silently moved into position behind Hatta and drawn his knife.

Akitada swallowed down his nausea. In the space of a single breath, both Hatta and Yukiko might be dead. Seeing Yukiko in Hatta’s clutches with tears on her face, reminded him of the weeping maid being manhandled out of the Taira compound. This was yet another mystery, and somehow it, too, must link to Taira Sukenori. He said as gently as he could, “There’s a young girl in Okuni. She was born on the estate. She may be your sister’s child.”

For the first time, Hatta’s grip on the knife faltered. “My sister died. She died in childbirth. That monster made her a slave and gave her to his son. The son raped her and made her his mistress.” He bared his teeth. “That’s why I killed him.”

“The girl—she is your sister’s child, hers and Sukemichi’s.”

Hatta’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know this?”

“Sukemichi raised her like his own children, but because he loved her mother, his wife hated her and drove her out of the house after his death.”

“You saw—?”

He did not finish his question. Arimitsu suddenly shot forward, screaming, “You let my sister go!” and delivered a mighty kick to Hatta’s shin. Akitada and Tora moved simultaneously, Akitada to snatch Yukiko from Hatta’s grip and Tora to bring him down from behind.

Akitada did not care what happened next to Hatta. He held Yukiko, who clutched him, weeping softly.

“My dearest,” he murmured, “Forgive me, I would gladly give my right arm to have spared you that. Are you all right? Let me see your neck.”

He heard a small giggle. “In public, Akitada?”

He sighed his relief and held her a little closer. “I love you, my wife,” he said, “and I don’t care who knows it. I was terribly afraid.”

She sniffed, stepped away, and smiled at him. “Well,” she said, “I can see that my life with you will be a great deal more lively than it has been.”

Kosehira rushed up at this point. “Yukiko,” he cried, “Are you hurt?” The wound was inspected and found trivial. Having satisfied himself of her safety, he turned angrily on Akitada. “How could you let this happen? Are you mad? That animal might have killed her.”

That animal lay on the ground, his face in the dirt, and Tora’s knife at his neck.

Yukiko stepped closer to Akitada. “No, Father. This wasn’t Akitada’s fault. I’ll not have you speak this way to my husband.”

Kosehira was taken aback for a moment, then he laughed weakly. “I told you, brother. She has a mind of her own. Let’s go home.”

It was in the tribunal jail that Akitada and Takechi interrogated Hatta later that evening.

After his violence at the fair, Hatta appeared to be at peace now. His face bore some scrapes and bruises, and he was chained, but he sat upright and answered their questions calmly and with considerable dignity.

He had already admitted being Hatta Takashi, son of Hatta Hiroshi, but Takechi painstakingly elicited more detail about the old case. As Akitada had guessed, tempted by Sukenori’s wealth, the
betto
had agreed to plead guilty to the murder of the rice merchant. The crime happened during a pheasant hunt, and Lord Sukenori had first claimed it was an accident, but when this was proved to be impossible, the
betto
had come forward and confessed.

Taira Sukenori had promised he would make Hatta’s children rich. Specifically, he would arrange marriages between the children of both families. Young Hatta Takashi would take the Taira daughter in marriage, along with a very large dowry, and Takashi’s sister would marry Lord Sukenori’s heir.

The terms were extremely generous and the Hattas owned little but some poor land and a good name. The Tairas were a powerful family. The elder Hatta agreed and confessed to the crime.

The first indication that Lord Sukenori had no intention of keeping his word came when he told the authorities that the rice merchant had raped Hatta’s daughter. Hatta had not liked it but was convinced that such a claim would get him a lighter sentence, or perhaps none at all. In the end, however, he was convicted of murder and sent to the north to work in the mines. He died there.

But things got even worse for the Hatta family. Neither marriage took place, and the Hatta home was confiscated and sold for blood money. In his fury over his father having been duped and condemned for something he did not do, Hatta Takashi attacked Taira Sukenori, stabbing him so severely that he nearly died.

Thus Takashi traveled the same path as his father before him. And his mother died soon after and Takashi’s sister went into service in the Taira household as part of the reparations for the attack. She became a Taira slave.

It took Takashi nearly twenty years to flee the mines. By then, he had become a trusty, lived outside the mine, and had a family. But he had never given up on his vengeance. One day he left his family, and went on the road, where he fell in with a troupe of itinerant performers.

Nothing in all of this was unexpected, though Akitada thought the tale shocking enough and wished there were some way to find justice for what had been done to the Hatta family. Alas, after committing six murders, Takashi could not hope for mercy.

“Why did you kill so many?” Akitada asked, frustrated by the situation. “Why those two old men in Okuni?”

“They were witnesses,” said Takashi. “And they lied.”

“You mean they saw the murder committed?” asked Takechi.

“They were beaters during the hunt. I don’t know if they saw what happened, but they agreed to lie and say my father shot the merchant.”

“And the others?” asked Takechi.

Takashi shook his head. “What does it matter?” For the first time, he showed frustration. He sagged, resting his chin on his chest. “Leave me alone now.”

“The truth matters, even after all these years,” Akitada said. “You should know that better than anyone.”

Takashi sighed. “The judge refused to listen when I protested my father’s sentence. When Father withdrew his confession, he ignored him. He was in Taira pay.”

“Hmm,” said Takechi. “Can you prove that?”

Takashi just gave him a look. “The jailer Tokuno beat my poor father when my father tried to deny his guilt. He was an animal and deserved to die.”

“Taira Sukemichi was not an evil man like his father,” Akitada pointed out. “It may be that he bedded your sister without making her his wife, but he raised their child like one of his own. And why kill Fumi Tokiari? He had done nothing to you?”

Takashi glowered. “He collected the blood money. We lost everything; my mother died and my sister became a slave.”

“It doesn’t really matter what everybody else did or didn’t do. The only man who really harmed your family was Taira Sukenori. Everything else followed from his murder of the rice merchant and the plot he fabricated to escape just punishment with your father’s assistance. Your father was as culpable as he.”

Takashi reared up in sudden fury and tried to throw himself at Akitada. Only his chains stopped his violent lunge, and he fell back, sobbing. “You dog-official,” he shouted. “Dog-official like the Taira dog-officials! May the gods destroy you all! May a thousand devils flay you alive in hell! May you burn forever. You use people and throw them away like so much filth. You take our land, rape our wives and daughters, and kill us when it suits you.” He choked and collapsed into incoherent curses, tears running down his face.

Takechi touched Akitada’s arm. “Come, sir,” he said. “We have all we need.”

Akitada nodded, but he had one more question. “Why did you leave a figure of Jizo on the bodies of the men you killed?”

At first, the prisoner did not answer. Then he muttered, “I’m a traveler in a dark and dangerous world, a world where all roads lead to death. I needed his protection until I had my revenge.”

Outside the jail, Takechi said, “So it meant nothing. We’ve been racking our brains in vain.”

“Not quite nothing.” Akitada had felt a great depression settle over him during the interview. Like some huge dark cloud, it managed to blot out the joy of springtime, love, and hope. “ ‘A dark and dangerous world,’ he called it. Jizo was his talisman. After each murder, he left it behind as a token that he had fulfilled an oath he made to his dead father.”