“Careful, granny,” he said. “You might hurt someone.”
She lowered the knife. “I’d like to hurt the fat bastard that married my daughter. I thought you were him. What do you want?”
“Would that be the fat bastard who runs the official hostel?”
“Runs? The good-for-nothing bum sleeps there to rest up from beating his wife and child.”
“That’s the one. I’m Tora. I came to see the little girl.”
Her face wrinkled up. She wailed, “Oh, the poor child. What he did to her! Asoko, come here.”
A younger female crept up behind the old one and peered timidly over her shoulder. She had greasy hair, two black eyes, a swollen nose, and a split lip.
“My daughter,” said the old one and added, “He says he’s Tora.”
The woman nodded and gave him a tiny smile that revealed broken front teeth.
The old woman held the door open. “Come in then and see what he’s done, the devil.”
Tora stepped into the dry stench of abject poverty. They lived in one room and probably did their cooking outside-when they had food. In a dark corner, a bundle of dirty clothes lay on the dirt floor. The old crone gestured to them, and Tora went closer. At first he did not know what he was looking at, then he saw a pair of eyes gleaming like two black beads. Her face was as gray as the rags she lay on, but the feverish eyes were fixed on him.
She whispered, “Tora?”
“Yes, it’s me, little one.” His heart contracted. “What’s wrong?” he asked the women. They did not answer. He knelt beside the child. “What’s wrong, Fumiko? Are you in pain?”
A small, dirty hand emerged from the folds of fabric and crept toward him.
The grandmother said harshly, “The devil broke her arm and hurt her back so she can’t stand. He beat her with a piece of lumber. They brought her to her mother on a board.” She turned to her daughter. “You stupid slut, you should’ve come to me long ago, but you had to stay with your man and master. Even after he near killed Fumiko.”
The younger woman wailed, “I begged him to get a doctor.”
“As if that bastard cares what happens to either of you. So he beat you up, too. Serves you right.” She spat. Her daughter started to weep noisily.
The little girl watched them all without blinking. Tora peeled back the blanket and saw that her right arm was badly swollen and lay at an unnatural angle.” Reaching into his sash, he drew out some money. “Here,” he said to the old woman. “Get the best doctor you can find, and have him bring something for her pain.”
The grandmother bobbed her head and hurried out. Tora and the little girl’s mother waited. After a while, the mother sat down on the child’s other side. They did not speak. There was nothing to be said.
*
Akitada returned to a scene of violence outside the hostel. Screams reached his ears long before he saw the people gathered around its entrance. Still shaken from the night before, he started to run. Then he saw Tora. He was swinging a rope at the bloody back of the fat man who hung, tied by his arms to one of the rafters and with his toes barely touching the veranda floor. With every smacking impact of the rope, he convulsed violently and uttered a high-pitched scream. The onlookers encouraged Tora with shouts, and the rope returned with another whack. The fat man swung and screamed, the rope withdrew, returned to coil across his back, and he swung and howled again.
Akitada roared, “Tora!”
Tora did not turn, but he lowered his arm. The bloody rope curled in the dirt beside his boots.
The fat man went on screaming.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You should’ve seen what that brute did to her. To them,” said Tora defensively.
“When I got there, the two women were in fear for their lives. And the poor kid was . . . more dead than alive.” He shook his head and looked at Akitada with deeply troubled eyes. “How can a man hurt a little child like that?” He looked at his hands as if they had suddenly turned into the claws of a wild beast. “You saw her, sir. She’s so little and weak. He’s starved her and beaten her and made her young life a hell. What sort of punishment would you give a man for that?”
“I don’t know, Tora, but you cannot take the law into your own hands in such a
public manner. It reflects poorly on us and encourages people to do the same without justification.”
Saburo snorted. Akitada shot him a repressive glance. “And you stood by and let it happen. I had hoped for better sense from you.” The comment about monkeys falling from trees still rankled.
Both of them looked offended now.
Saburo said, “Lecturing a man like that fat slob is like reading a sutra to a horse. Tora taught him a lesson he understands.”
“And how will you protect the mother and child after we leave here?”
They were silent.
Akitada relented a little. “Oh, well. I suppose the crowd outside was sympathetic. I’ll mention the situation to the prefect.”
Tora asked, “How did your visit go, sir?”
“Munata has decided to cooperate.”
Tora whistled. “Thank heaven. I thought we’d fallen among all the devils in hell. What about Watamaro?”
“He seems to have taken flight. I’ll report to the court, but the matter is out of my hands.”
“And the local officials?”
“They, too, will have to face charges. At the very least, negligence in carrying out their duties; at worst malfeasance. I doubt if anyone can prove plans for an insurrection.”
“Lots of weapons in that warehouse,” Saburo pointed out. “Why collect them if not to outfit an army?”
“True, but the warehouse burned.”
Silence fell again.
After a while, Tora brightened a little. “So, shall we go home?”
“Not quite yet. There is still Akogi. We have to go back to Eguchi.”
*
The following day, Akitada rode again through the gates of the River Mansion. He was more elegantly attired than last time. The fine blue silk robe and white silk trousers were the only clothes he still owned and had been intended for the few official occasions when formal clothing was required. Tora and Saburo, both neatly dressed in blue cloth robes, dark trousers, and small black caps, rode side by side behind him. They, in turn, were followed by ten armed soldiers from the prefectural guard.
The lady’s servants rushed to help Akitada down and take his horse. Betto Kakuan hurried down the steps of the main building. He led him to a small reception room close to the river.
The sounds of water traffic and shouts from passing boats drifted in through the open doors and should have cheered him. But the day was distinctly chilly, the sky overcast. A cold rain had fallen overnight. Autumn showed its harsher side, hinting at the snows to come. The year was drawing to a close.
Dreary, rainy days always cast him into a somber mood, and recent events made his thoughts more bitter and funereal. At home, the memories of Seimei would surround him. He would finally have time to grieve. Not even holding his wife and little daughter in his arms again would ease that pain.
He had come because of Akogi, a young life extinguished before she could taste it. He had no proof that she was murdered, but his every instinct and what he had learned convinced him that she died horribly. Most likely, she had been held under water until she stopped struggling.
The door opened, and the lady of the River Mansion tripped in, followed by another female. On this occasion, the lady’s costume was strictly formal and proper for a ranking court lady of mature years.
Her companion carried a small folding screen, prettily painted with wisteria blooms overhanging a pond with playing koi. This she set up between her mistress and Akitada before taking her own seat in a corner of the room.