He glanced outside, where Watamaro was busy directing his sailors. Trying to stay calm, Akitada said, “You may be wrong, but it’s as well to be cautious.” He added to Tora, “I think you and Masaji, had better pretend ignorance.”
Tora sighed and closed his eyes again.
Akitada went to speak to Watamaro. The merchant was pacing the deck like a cat walking on hot coals. Akitada suppressed a surge of panic. All of them, including the renegade pirate Masaji, were in Watamaro’s power. On the high seas, they would not have a chance if Watamaro decided to do away with them. Their chances were minimally better back in Naniwa.
He said, “I’m very concerned about Tora’s head injury. He rambles, claims he’s Bishamon and the other man is his disciple. He doesn’t seem to know what happened to him. Can we make more speed?”
Watamaro was solicitous. They would do their utmost to get back to Naniwa. The wind was with them now and was freshening. In a couple of hours perhaps. Akitada thanked him.
The heavens alone knew what awaited them on land.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They reached Naniwa at dusk. Watamaro’s manner had changed. He was still moderately courteous but cool. As they walked to his warehouse, Tora leaning on Akitada while Saburo and Masaji tottered behind, Watamaro’s men surrounded them on all sides. Escape was impossible.
They were prisoners.
At the warehouse, Watamaro took them to his office and gave orders to his men to stand watch. Then he closed the door and turned. “Please sit down.” They all sat. Watamaro’s eyes rested thoughtfully on Tora and Masaji. “It seems we have a problem, my Lord.”
For a moment, Akitada was tempted to continue the pretense of ignorance, but then he nodded. “You mean, you have a problem. Perhaps you’d better tell me about your relationship with the pirates.”
“Ah, I see you guessed. Very clever of you to make me think Tora had lost his memory. The man with him works for me. He knows he’s a dead man.”
Masaji prostrated himself with a wail. Tora glared at Watamaro. “He saved my life. I won’t let you touch him.”
“Your words do you honor, Tora, but he belongs to me.” Watamaro turned back to Akitada. “I think two reasonable men can find a solution to this unfortunate situation. I’ve come to have the greatest regard for you, not because of your birth and rank, but because I found you care about common people. You will agree that’s a very rare commodity among the nobility. Your feelings for the poor young girl who died in Eguchi impressed me.”
Akitada said coldly, “I hope my respect for life extends to all beings, both great and small. Pirates and their masters have little respect for lives or property.”
Watamaro sighed. “There’s nothing to be gained by anger. I know this well enough because I’ve been angry most of my life. The young girl you found could have been my sister. We were poor, and she was very pretty. Alas, the pretty daughters of the poor are unlucky.”
“Good or bad fortune may come to all people,” Akitada said. “I’m sorry about your sister, but that doesn’t excuse your present activities. You’ve become a very rich ship-owner through using both poor fishermen and the local authorities. When you got greedy and enriched yourself further by engaging in piracy in addition to ordinary shipping, you lost the right to take this moral tone.”
Watamaro nodded. “Fair enough, though I’ve brought prosperity to many poor people. But let me make you a proposition. I’m far richer and more powerful than either Lord Oga or the prefect. You, on the other hand, have nothing but a house in the capital and a poorly paid position in the lower ranks of the administration. Oh, yes. I informed myself about you the moment I met you and realized why you had come. I found you to be a capable and decent man. I can use someone like you, and I’ll be far more generous than your current masters. If you agree to help me, you would continue your present life but receive monthly retainers from me. I would only contact you when I needed legal advice in righting an injustice. I would not expect you to do anything illegal. What do you say?”
Akitada flushed with anger. “I’m not for sale. It was you who sent two armed men to my home, wasn’t it? They took the life of a man who had been like a father to me.”
Watamaro raised his hands. “They didn’t intend harm. It was an unfortunate accident. I sent them, yes, but only to make you give up your investigation, nothing else.”
Silence fell.
Watamaro looked down at his folded hands. When he looked up again, his eyes went over all of them and came to rest on Masaji. “A pity,” he said heavily. He looked suddenly old and sad. “I hate shedding blood.”
Masaji scooted forward on his knees to clutch Tora. Tora growled. “You’re not touching him.”
Watamaro stood. “You’ve recovered very quickly, Tora. Perhaps it would be best if you gave me your sword.” He held out his hand.
“The last man who took my sword is dead.”
Watamaro turned to Akitada. “Tell him it’s hopeless.”
Akitada rose also. “It’s hopeless for you, Watamaro. Your threats will make no difference. I’m an imperial official with special powers. If you lay a hand on me and my people, His Majesty will send an army to eradicate you and all your followers. Their blood will be on your hands. It will be much better for you to give yourself up now.”
Watamaro snorted. “In the end, you spoiled aristocrats are all the same. You think no one can touch you. We’ll see about teaching you a lesson.” He walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. They heard the sound of a metal lock falling into place.
Tora muttered, “Honey in his mouth, but a sword in his belly.” He got up, walked over to a bamboo stand, and swept the document boxes and papers from its shelves. With his sword, he cut the vines which held it together. The shelves clattered to the floor, and Tora hefted two of the bamboo supports in his hand. With a nod, he tossed one to Masaji. “They’re a bit short, but strong and heavy. Are you good at stick-fighting, Masaji?”
Masaji grinned. “We fought with boat poles.”
Tora passed his sword to Akitada. “You really ought to carry yours more, sir.”
Akitada nodded. “I’m sorry I got you into this. I counted ten men who brought us here. There could be another ten already in the warehouse.”
Tora nodded at the door. “We could break it down and rush them.”
“Much the best way,” agreed Saburo. “I think I saw weapons among the goods stored outside.”
They looked at Akitada. He nodded.
Saburo produced a pair of metal wires from his sleeve. He inserted these into the locking mechanism, then looked over his shoulder at the others. “Ready?” When they joined him, he pushed and twisted. The lock clicked. Tora flung himself against the door. It sprang open, and they fell upon two startled guards outside.
It had been a long time since Akitada had killed a man, and even then it had felt unnatural. He raised Tora’s sword, the guard froze, and Tora growled, “Kill him!”Akitada locked eyes with the man.
The other guard, who tried to escape from Tora and Masaji with their bamboo staves, shouted, “They’re escaping.”
They heard steps and the clatter of arms outside.
Akitada’s guard lashed out with his own sword. Akitada parried and shoved his blade into the man’s belly. When he withdrew it, the man collapsed with a scream and rolled on the floor in agony. Bile rose to Akitada’s mouth, but there was no time to be sick or to think about what he had done.
The large double doors to the outside flew open, and Watamaro’s men poured in. The other way, stacks and mountains of stored goods rose nearly to the rafters. Saburo was already climbing the nearest pile like a cat, shouting, “This way.” They scrambled after him over crates, bundles, sacks, stacks of lumber, boxes, and sake barrels, up high to the dim reaches under the roof. Loosely stacked goods shifted under their feet. Akitada sent an avalanche of rice bags rolling toward their pursuers, barely catching himself with a jump to a stack of lumber.