“You might keep me informed,” Tora complained. “I’d like to know what I’m getting into. I take it we are to kill all five?”
Saburo nodded. “Kill or disable so they cannot harm the old man. He’s a saint. I’ll not have him on my conscience.”
“You have no sword. Am I to do all the work? And you never answered my question. Where are they?”
“Holed up in a hut used by wood gatherers. It’s farther on in the valley.”
“Hmm. The old man is blind. Can you trust what he says he saw? How do you know it’s them? How do you know there are only five?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s go!” Saburo untied his horse and climbed on.
Tora controlled himself. His headache was back and put him in bad mood. And truth to tell, he no longer was so sure of himself. He did not want to die, not when Hanae and Yuki were waiting for him. He did not want to do that to them. Or to the master. He sighed and mounted his horse, hoping the god of the mountain was with him this day.
After following the road through more forest for about a mile, Saburo dismounted. “We leave the horses here and walk,” he said, his voice tense.
Tora, his head pounding, was resentful. Why had Saburo not kept him informed? He might have found their hideout, but that did not give him the right to run this show.
After they had led their horses some way into the forest where they were hidden from the track, they tied them to trees.
“What next?” Tora growled. “Or am I to wait for a surprise?”
Saburo shot him a glance. “What? Oh. Sorry. My mind was on how best to handle this.”
Outraged, Tora snapped, “You might have consulted me. Maybe you want to do this alone?”
“Tora, calm down. I was about to tell you.”
Tora glowered, but he listened. Saburo, having learned from Master Cricket that some sohei were living in a wood gatherer’s hut, had reconnoitered and verified that they were the men they wanted. Kojo had been sitting outside, drinking sake.
“There are five? One wounded?” asked Tora.
“Yes. Not badly wounded.”
“Armed?”
“Yes.”
“What do you propose?”
Saburo told him and after some reflection, Tora gave his approval. They started walking.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Betto Hatta
Akitada found Kosehira not only awake but on his veranda, stretching and peering up at the rapidly changing sky. Already the soft rosy colors of the sunrise were fading to mere brightness, and the sky was turning blue.
Akitada was only partly aware of this. His heart and mind were still filled with the golden image of Yukiko, standing there by the railing, telling him that she would marry her cousin. His idea about the Jizo killer faded in significance, and when Kosehira greeted him with a cheerful, “Akitada! What brings you so early?” he found little enthusiasm in explaining his theory.
Kosehira stared at him. “That old murder? You think an old murder is behind this? I don’t see how this could be. Not only was this—what?—at least twenty years ago, but the case was cleared up and the killer confessed. Are you suggesting that he somehow survived and returned to avenge himself?”
Akitada said stubbornly, “I’ve had a feeling all along that something happened long ago and that it involved the judge and the jailer. I just did not know how the two old peasants from Okuni fit in. Then Sukemichi, their overlord, was also killed and his father was involved in a notorious murder case. In a murder case, mind you, where he was the suspect. What more do you want?”
Kosehira sighed. “I suppose it’s the archives then. There should be documents covering any murder case important enough to involve a Taira.”
∞
The archives, however, were the place where Akitada’s team had been working industriously on the legal documents involving the temples Enryaku-ji and Onjo-ji. The hall was cluttered with people and stacks of document boxes in various states of completion. In fact, Akitada’s own desk nearly sagged under towering stack of paperwork that had been gathered for his information or study.
He and Kosehira stood for a moment at the entrance, regarding the place in despair.
“I should be at work here.” Akitada stated the obvious.
“We’ll cause all sorts of confusion,” Kosehira said.
For a moment they remained undecided, then Kosehira found his archivist, who had been lending a hand to the guests, and directed him to find documents relating to trials some fifteen to twenty-five years ago.
The elderly man bowed and led them to shelving where dusty boxes had been resting in possibly permanent peace. He dusted off the first stack with an old rag he carried and remarked, “The most notorious case involved Taira Sukenori. It happened in the Echi district and …”
“That’s the one,” Kosehira and Akitada cried together.
The archivist paused and looked at them in surprise. “Just that year and none of the others?”
“Just that case,” said Akitada.
A moment later, they both sat on the floor with a single document box. As an economy, the filing system required that only the basic facts of major cases be kept. The box contained documentation for other murder trials, as well as for two cases of arson and a trial for piracy on Lake Biwa. Even so, the Taira murder consisted of an impressive number of sheets.
Kosehira read, passing each sheet to Akitada when he was done.
“Something wasn’t right with this case,” Akitada remarked. “Did you see where Hatta tried to withdraw his confession?”
“It only says that the condemned prisoner protested his sentence. So, apparently, did his son. Who was this Hatta?”
Akitada shuffled through the pages. “It says he was Sukenori’s betto.”
“Perhaps he was angry that Sukenori did not help him?”
“Hmm. The case seems clear enough. The victim, a rice merchant, was staying at the Taira manor as a guest. During a hunt, to which this Fumi Takahiro had been invited, Hatta shot him with his bow and arrow. Apparently there had been an argument over Hatta’s daughter being dishonored by Fumi the night before. He shot him close range. There was no question about this being a hunting accident.”
Kosehira frowned. “It seems straightforward enough.”
“Did you note the names of the two witnesses?”
Kosehira took another look. “They were two beaters. Oh! Juro and Wakiya. Yes. But I still don’t see it.”
“No, but there is a hint here that Hatta may not have been guilty. Add that to the rumors about Sukenori, and it looks very much as if Hatta confessed to protect his master.”
“And regretted it.”
The archivist cleared his throat. They looked at him.
“There was another case involving a Hatta, Excellency. In the following year. Shall I get that box, too?”
“By all means,” said Akitada. He turned to Kosehira and said, “I think we’ve got it. I think we’ve solved the mystery. What do you think?” He rubbed his hands in his eagerness to prove the point.
Kosehira looked happy, too. “You know, I should remember more about this story. Of course, I was preoccupied with my own affairs. Graduating from the university, trying for my first post, a new marriage. But I do recall talk about Sukenori. Something about a business quarrel over debt. You think that Sukenori bribed his way out of a murder charge? He was supposed to be in financial trouble.”
“Excellent! Now we have a motive.”
“It would take a lot of money to make another man confess to murder,” Kosehira said dubiously.
The archivist returned, blowing dust from another old box. He set it down, saying, “It involved a relative, I think. The Hattas must have been a violent family.”