Akitada said dryly, ‘Perhaps, madam, but in this case the thief got caught because his captor was the better runner.’
The warden expelled a sigh of relief. His face broke into a wide grin. ‘Very clever, sir. Let’s go outside.’
They all adjourned to a large field behind the jailhouse, and the constables marked off the proper distance. Akitada watched the preparations with a frown. Taking the warden aside, he said, ‘The culprit may make a break for it. You’d better have your two best runners keep an eye on the man.’
The warden glanced at Whiskers and shook his head. ‘You think he’s the one, eh? You may be right, sir, but with due respect, I’ll have both of them watched. Frankly, I don’t see it. He looks like a respectable citizen, while the kid’s just the type to pull a snatch. This town’s full of half-starved youngsters who make a living by stealing. Travelers passing through are in a hurry and rarely report the thefts. This one made the mistake of picking on a local woman.’ He walked off to alert his constables.
Of course, Warden Takechi knew his town better than Akitada, and the ragged boy did look desperate. On the other hand, Whiskers had lost some of his earlier confidence. He moved his feet nervously and looked around. No, Akitada felt sure he was right about this.
The two suspects took their places and the race was on. The thin boy easily outdistanced the man. Halfway to the finish, Whiskers knew it too and suddenly veered off to make his escape. Several constables were on him in a matter of moments and dragged him back to the office to face charges. The crowd applauded and dispersed, well satisfied with their morning’s entertainment.
The boy came to thank Akitada shyly. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, sir,’ he mumbled, his eyes moist. ‘Mother’s not as strong as she was. She needs me to run errands and gather wood…’ His eyes widened. ‘The fish! Excuse me, sir.’
Akitada looked after him with a smile.
‘Well, sir,’ said the warden, joining him, ‘I was wrong and you were right about that youngster. I’m much obliged. You saved me from making a bad mistake. Now, how can I be of service?’
Having established such friendly relations, Akitada introduced himself more fully and told him the story of the mute boy, the cat, and the abandoned villa. Warden Takechi’s face grew serious. When Akitada reached the nurse’s account of Peony’s death, he shook his head. ‘I remember. A simple case of drowning. Accident or suicide. They sent for me after she was found. Someone mentioned a boy, but we couldn’t find him, dead or alive. Some think the kappa must’ve got him. Every time someone disappears in the lake, it’s blamed on those water sprites. The dead woman had no friends, and no family either, as far as we could tell. The neighbors thought she was a loose woman from the capital. I can’t see what the Mimuras have to do with that. They live in Awazu and wouldn’t know anybody like that.’
It was a dead end, but Akitada could not leave Otsu without one last attempt to do something for the deaf-mute child. He said, ‘The boy was terrified of them. You must have noticed?’
‘Expected a thrashing for running away,’ the warden grunted.
‘No doubt. He was covered with bruises from, head to toe,’ Akitada snapped.
The warden shook his head. ‘Folk like the Mimuras live hard and raise their young ones hard. It’s what they’ve got to look forward to in life. Prepares them for hardship. Forgive me for saying so, sir, but a gentleman like you would naturally mistake that for abuse. The boy will be all right. They’re raising him to give them a hand with their fishing business. I expect they’ve already got him mending nets and weaving traps when he’s not gutting the catch.’
Akitada shuddered. ‘I gave the man money to feed him properly. Could you have someone check on the boy? If he needs anything, I’d like to know. I’ll leave you information on how to contact me.’
The warden looked dubious, but nodded. ‘As you wish, sir. But it’s best not to spoil them. They get lazy.’
Akitada trusted neither the Mimuras nor the Otsu constabulary and planned to come back to check on the boy himself.
In the office, a constable was taking down information from the thief and the matron. People were waiting, and one of them, a tall and handsome young man in a neat blue robe and black cap, detached himself from a wall.
‘I don’t believe my eyes,’ he said to Akitada. ‘Here you are when I’ve been looking everywhere. I came to check with the warden in case he’d picked up your murdered corpse on the highway.’ He laughed at his joke, flashing a set of handsome teeth and stretching his thin mustache almost from ear to ear.
Akitada said sourly, ‘Nonsense, Tora. You know very well I can look after myself. Why are you here?’
‘Well, you were due back two days ago. Your lady was upset.’
That was probably untrue. Tamako had made it abundantly clear over the past six months that she had lost all interest in him. Most of her anger dated from the death of their son. She blamed him because he had refused to listen to her warnings about the epidemic. But in truth their problems had started before. They had begun growing apart after Yori was born. She had undermined his efforts to teach the boy, and his wishes had no longer seemed to matter to her. After Yori’s death, the bitterness between them had become physical separation. They maintained a coldly polite distance these days.
‘I was delayed,’ he said vaguely, canceling his plan to visit the Mimuras. He could not risk explanations because Tamako would take his interest in the mute child as another example of his indifference to her and their dead son. The fact was that he would have welcomed any excuse to delay the return to his empty home.
It was not literally empty, of course. Beside his wife, it housed his retainers – Tora, Genba, and old Seimei – as well as a cook, a maid, and at times a young servant boy. But with Yori dead, and the bitter recrimination he saw in his wife’s face whenever she looked at him, he felt alone and unwelcome there.
Fortunately, Tora asked no questions. They ate a light meal in the market and then separated. Tora went to get his horse, and Akitada returned to the inn to pay his bill. They met again outside Otsu on the highway to the capital, leaving behind the glittering lake and Otsu harbor.
Tora chattered away as his master rode silently, hardly listening. The road led into the mountains. After a while, Tora gave up and fell silent. They crossed the eastern mountains at Osaka-toge and stopped at the barrier station. The sun was already getting low, and the trees cast long shadows. In these peaceful times the station was unmanned, but small businesses catered to travelers. They watered their horses and stretched their legs. Then, over a cup of wine, Tora tried to find out what troubled his master.
‘Is all well, sir?’ he asked.
‘Why shouldn’t it be?’
‘You haven’t said much. We… I’m thinking it’s time you got back to normal, sir.’
Back to normal? A moment’s anger seized Akitada that Tora should think Yori’s death was so easily brushed aside. He scowled ferociously, saw Tora’s face fall and the pity and concern in his eyes, and sighed instead. ‘It’s not so easy, Tora. Let’s go on. I’d like to get home before dark.’
It was his loss that caused him to yearn so desperately for the child. He wanted to buy the boy from the Mimuras, and his greedy parents would sell him gladly, but he was afraid to take him home to Tamako. But that he could not share with Tora.
They descended the mountains in glum silence. The hillsides opened up before them and revealed the great plain, cradled in green mountains and traversed by wide rivers. In its center, like a jewel, lay the capital, the roofs of its palaces and pagodas glittering in the setting sun. Akitada always paused at this point of the journey to drink in the sight and to let his heart fill with pride at the greatness of the nation he served. He did so now, and Tora came up. He looked cast down.