The look of uneasiness returned to the rice merchant’s face. “My brother had advanced his lordship some funds from time to time. It was good business. The money earned a satisfactory interest. Lord Taira had a great estate to administer and a certain manner of living that required a good deal of money.”
“I see. When you came to settle your brother’s estate, had all the debts been paid?”
Fumi fidgeted. “No. And I never got the money either. Lord Taira claimed there was no debt, that he had paid my brother before his death. I tried to collect from his son after he died, but he also refused.”
“Was it a large debt?”
“Very large. I almost lost the business.”
Akitada studied the merchant with interest. Fumi certainly had no love for the Taira family, father or son. He might well have a good motive for murdering Sukemichi. Sukemichi had never fitted very well with the other victims. But after a moment, he discarded the notion, thanked Fumi, and left.
It was getting dark by then and he was tired, but instead of returning to the villa, he stayed on in the tribunal for several more hours, working on the legal documents on his desk. Only a servant was still in the archives, and he felt guilty for keeping the man from his bed. But he felt a great urgency to finish this assignment and return to the capital. The children would be disappointed that they would not attend the great shrine festival after all, but he would try to make it up to them.
When he finally closed the last document box and stretched, the servant was fast asleep leaning against a pillar. Akitada looked with satisfaction at the pile of pages that constituted his notes. Tomorrow he would draft his report, discuss it with the members of his group, and then give it the final polish. The clerks would make copies, he and the others would sign, and they would all return to their homes.
For a moment, he recalled her image as he had seen her last, a slender figure in blue surrounded by the golden light of the rising sun. He had made his farewells on that occasion, telling her that he would always remember her just like that.
He doubted it was enough to live on in the future.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Wood Shed
The path leading up the side of the mountain was rough and stony. The rain had stopped, but everything was wet. They slipped and scrambled as they climbed. Tora was getting very tired and wondered how Saburo, for whom this was the same climb in less than eight hours, managed. The track took them back into dense woods and into a twilight that persisted even though the sun must be well up. After quite a long time, Tora asked, “How much farther?”
Saburo paused and looked back. “It was dark when I came this way before. I’m not sure. I’m not sure where we are or if we are on the right path. I’m moving by instinct only.”
Tora cursed. His head still hurt and the physical exertion made the pain worse. “Let’s stop to check. There must be a clearing somewhere.” He looked around and pointed. “Over there. Maybe we can get a glimpse of the valley and you can fix on the direction.”
Saburo grunted his assent, and they left the path to clamber along the steep slope toward where light appeared between the trees. Not for the first time, Tora cursed his sword which managed to get in his way in this thicket. Saburo, who did not have a sword, but who carried secret weapons hidden in the sleeves and linings of his clothes and inside his boots, was better off.
The outlook, when they reached it, showed them that they had climbed quite a way, but there was no sign of any dwelling. Forest stretched along both sides of the valley and below there were only glimpses of a small stream and an occasional section of the narrow road.
“Well?” Tora asked.
Saburo frowned. “Maybe a little more to the east. We should have stayed on the path.”
Tora leaned forward to peer toward the east. “Is that smoke or mist?” he asked.
“I can’t make it out, but it could be them. Cooking their morning rice.”
“Let’s go!” Tora said grimly and turned back.
“Wait!”
“What now?”
“You sound pretty touchy, brother. And you don’t look well, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“I do mind. Let’s get this over with and kill the bastards.”
“We have to be careful. We don’t know who else might have come since I last saw them. And when we get close, we have to creep through the trees. It will be better if we surprise them.”
“Right, but if we wait around talking about it, they may find us before we find them.”
Saburo said no more. Together they reached the path again and followed it for a short while until the trees started to thin and light could be seen.
“All right,” Saburo said in a low voice. “From now on we creep.” He left the path and Tora followed. With great care, they reached a promontory, and there just below them, was a fair-sized wooden hut with a wooden shelter a little farther along the road . Smoke rose from an opening in the roof of the hut. The shelter contained stacked firewood. The narrow road passed in front of these buildings, probably the same one that also passed the hermit’s dwelling at the other end of the valley. The road disappeared around another rocky outcropping like the one Tora and Saburo lay on.
There was no sign of life other than the smoke, though the sun was already high. They watched in silence for a while, then Tora said, “Are you sure they’re all there?”
“They were yesterday.”
“Maybe they left?”
“It’s possible.”
“Shall we go down to check?”
Saburo hesitated, then nodded. “Careful. They could be coming out.”
“Right.” Tora got to his feet, checked his sword, and rubbed his sore head. Even his eyes hurt. What was wrong with him? He had had the headaches for more than a year now, but they had never happened as often or been as long-lasting and severe.”
“Wait,” Saburo hissed.
Tora turned and looked.
A couple had appeared on the road. They were poorly dressed and both had large, woven baskets slung over their shoulders. The man also carried a toddler.
“Wood gatherers,” said Tora.
“More like wood thieves.”
The couple halted by the shed. The man put down the toddler and both took off their baskets and carried them to the wood piles in the shelter where they started loading them. The toddler staggered to his feet and explored his surroundings.
“This isn’t good,” Tora observed.
“We can’t get down there fast enough to warn them.”
They watched with growing anxiety as the child made its circuitous and frequently interrupted way to the door of the hut. His parents had cast an occasional glance his way but seemed unconcerned.
“They don’t know anybody’s there,” Saburo commented.
Tora said hopefully, “Maybe they’re right.”
“You forget the smoke.”
The child crawled up the steps to the door and sat down on the small porch. For a while nothing else happened. The parents had almost filled their baskets.
Tora gritted his teeth. “They have enough. Why don’t they leave well enough alone, get the kid, and head home?”
But they stacked their loads precariously high. Then the man helped the woman put on her basket. Its heavy load bent her almost double. The husband crouched, slipped on his own basket, and rose.
They could not hear it, but one of them, or perhaps both, called out to the child to come. The toddler was an obedient boy. He got up, climbed laboriously down the three steps, and turned to run to his parents.
At that moment, the door of the hut flew open and one of the sohei appeared on the threshold.
“Too late,” groaned Tora.
Things happened quickly after that. The sohei alerted his companions who came out, armed with swords and naginata, and started after the couple, viciously kicking the toddler out of their way. There were five of them.