Because his mind was preoccupied with domestic arrangements, he did not realize that a large, unruly crowd had gathered outside the tribunal gate until he crossed the courtyard on his way to see if Kaoru had delivered the corpse of the Takata servant. The gate was closed, quite against regulations at this late hour, and the hum of angry voices and shouts of “Keep back!” startled him.
Akitada’s first thought was that something had gone terribly wrong with his plan. He blamed himself for not having waited up for Kaoru.
Changing direction, he tugged open the heavy gate. A constable tried to hold it from the other side, but desisted when he saw Akitada, who stepped through and gazed at a gathering of about a hundred people.
They looked back sullenly and muttered.
Off to one side, Hitomaro and three of the constables stood around something on the ground. Hitomaro, looking grim, came over quickly and saluted. With a glance at the crowd, he said in a low voice, “It’s the body of a mendicant monk, sir. Someone left him here during the night. It must have happened after the hour of the rat, the last time the gate was used.” He met Akitada’s questioning glance and added, “Someone delivered another dead man late last night. It’s raining corpses.”
A harsh voice from the back ofthe crowd shouted, “Let’s see you lazy officials do something for a change.Maybe we’ll get a verdict on this one next year.” The crowd guffawed.
Akitada walked over to look at the body and winced.
The monk, in his ragged robe was thin to emaciation. Someone had smashed his face to a pulp and cut off his hands and feet.
Akitada made a quick and superficial examination. The corpse was quite cold, but rigor had passed. He found no other wounds, and it was impossible to tell if the mutilations had killed him. Without glancing at his jeering audience, Akitada said loudly, “Havet he body taken inside and notify the coroner. Then send to Abbot Hokko to askif he is missing one of his monks.”
A short while later Hitomaro joined him in his study. Akitada looked up from his paperwork.
“The abbot says everyone is accounted for, sir. We sent for Dr. Yasakichi, the coroner. He should be here any moment.”
“Hmm. I gather your friend Kaoru carried out his assignment without problems?”
“Yes, sir. In the middle of the night. We put that corpse into the armory for the time being. Tora left with Kaoru afterward. We thought it safer not to alert the constables.”
“Good. They won’t like getting a new sergeant, and we don’t need a mutiny before this afternoon’s hearing.”
“What about the dead monk, sir?”
“He was brought here and we will have to investigate it as murder. Since he is not a member of the local monastery, he must be an itinerant priest.”
Hitomaro pulled a dirty piece of paper from his sleeve and placed it on Akitada’s desk. “That was pinned to his robe when we found him.”
It was a crudely scrawled poem with the title “A Curse on all Governors.” Akitada read it aloud, his facetightening with anger.
Their ignorance appalls the skies.
Their idleness confounds the seas.
They take away our rice,
And let killers roam at ease.
“Well,” he said bitterly, “that explains the hostile crowd.” He crumpled up the paper in his hand. “This smacks of conspiracy to incite a popular insurrection against imperial authority.” He rose and began to pace, muttering under his breath. After a few passes, he stopped and smoothed out the message again. “Look at this,” he said. “The writing is rough and in the native style, but the verse is anything but illiterate. In fact, it is a translation of a poem by one of the Chinese political satirists, if I’m not mistaken. It is meant to look like the work of an ordinary person, but no commoner would know Chinese texts. We may be able to find out who is behind this.”
“Whoever he is,” said Hitomaro,with a grimace of distaste, “he’s enough of a fanatic to kill some poor begging monk to make a point. What kind of people are these?”
Akitada shook his head. “We don’tknow if the monk was murdered, but certainly somebody has a warped mind. The mutilations prove that, if nothing else. It should be interesting to hear what the coroner has to say about it.”
“What about Uesugi?”
“Warlords would not hesitate for a moment to kill, mutilate, or torture if it became expedient. But in this case I doubt it. The verse was written by someone here in the city. It is in reaction to the notices we just posted. Uesugi could not have known in time to set up an elaborate scheme, dead body and all, even if he had not been preoccupied with his father’s funeral. I’m afraid someone else is acting independently but with the same purpose. I shall have another look at that corpse when the coroner arrives.”
“He should be here by now, sir.I’m afraid that crowd will not leave. I ordered the constables out to guard the gate.”
Akitada shook his head. “Like setting the cat to guard the fish. The sooner we come to grips with this situation, the better. I don’t like such open defiance of authority. Let’s go and see about that monk.”
The mutilated corpse lay on a plank table in an empty jail cell. A short fat man was about to remove the deadman’s tattered robe.
“Stop that!” Akitada saidsharply. “Who are you?”
The man turned around and looked at Akitada from bleary eyes. He was dirty from head to toe: his hair greasy and matted, his gray gown stained, and his sandaled feet caked with mud.“Yasa … Yasakichi, the cor’ner,” he mumbled, and a strong smell of sour wineand rotten teeth greeted their noses. “And who might you be, young man?”
Hitomaro growled, “Bow to the governor.” When the man merely gaped, he pushed him to his knees.
“Ouch. Let go,” the fat man whined, pulling away from Hitomaro’s grip. “How was I to know? It’s too early in the morning to see clearly.”
“Let him be,” Akitada said. “Ge tup, Dr. Yasakichi. Did you check the dead man’s clothing carefully beforere moving it?”
“Well, no need, is there?” The coroner staggered to his feet. He tugged at his robe, which was coming apart across his belly, and shook his head as if to clear away the fog of drunkenness. “Mere rags. Obvious what killed him. Mut’lated, then bludgeoned to death. Vicious but common crime among vagrants. I was just about to look for other wounds, though it won’t matter one way or ‘nother. Anything you can see with your naked eye is ‘nough to kill a man. I’ll get a report ready.”
“Hmm. What did you make of therice husks on his robe and”-Akitada bent over the body and pointed at the mass of torn flesh and bone that had been a face-”in those wounds?”
“What? Ah. Wouldn’t worry about‘em. Look at his rags. He’s slept in all sorts of dirt.”
Akitada glanced at the coroner’s stained gown, but made no comment. He lifted the hem of the victim’s ragged robe and looked at the thin legs and thighs. They were as pale-skinned and flabby as the frail arms. Stepping back, he gave the coroner a thoughtful look and said, “I think perhaps we’ll dispense with your services in this instance.Hitomaro, send a constable for Dr. Oyoshi! And tell him it’s urgent!”
“What?” The coroner swelled with outrage and his robe parted again. “This is my duty,” he shouted. “Oyoshi’sa mere pharmashist. You can’t put a pill roller on important judish . .. legal matters like this! Why, he could comprom … ruin the whole case!”