the guardhouse in the company of the officer. The doctor’s gait

was unsteady and his path less than straight, but he made his

way over to them.

“That doctor’s as drunk as a frog in a sake barrel,” muttered

one of the pirates.

Jisei smiled. “That’s never stopped him before. He’ll look at

me now. And maybe he’ll get us better food, like last time.”

The physician ignored Jisei’s eager greeting and merely

looked at each man blearily, had them open their mouths and

perform some simple actions, before moving on to the next

man. When it was Jisei’s turn, he frowned at the wounds on his

36

I . J . P a r k e r

knees and arms and pursed his lips. But even here, he made no

comment, merely digging a small earthenware jar from his

medicine chest. Turning to the guard officer, he said, “All these

men look filthy. Have them bathe, and then put this ointment

on this man’s wounds.”

The officer stepped back, affronted. “What, me? You’re

drunk! They’re prisoners, not honored guests.”

The doctor handed the ointment to Taketsuna. “Here,

you do it.” To the guard, he said, “If you don’t keep these men

clean and well fed, they’ll sicken and die, and nobody will get

any work out of them. Do you want me to report you to the

governor?”

“My men won’t like it,” grumbled the officer. Seeing the

doctor’s implacable silence, he relented. “Oh, very well. They

can have a bath if they heat the water and clean the bath

afterwards.”

“And food!”

“Of course, Master Ogata. We’ll sauté some kisu fish

for them, with ginger shoots and sesame seeds,” the officer

sneered. “Perhaps you can spare some of your wine for their

banquet?”

The fat physician hunched his shoulders, then turned his

back on them and staggered off.

◆

But they got their bath and a hot dinner. Taketsuna appreciated

both far more than the others and was grateful for the drunken

physician’s visit. From snatches of conversation among the pris-

oners, he gathered that forced labor could be brutal and hoped

he might be spared that. Not only Jisei, whose wounds he had

tended after the bath, bore the scars of his toils. There was

also Yoshi’s missing eye, lost when a guard’s whip caught him

across the face instead of the back, and Kumaso’s crooked ankle,

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

37

broken and badly set after a rock fell on it. And the bath had

revealed that the silent Haseo’s back was so heavily scarred by

crisscrossing stripes and welts that he must have been near

death after his punishment.

With darkness they drew closer together against the night

chill. Kumaso and Yoshi engaged in a game of “rock, scissors,

paper” like two carefree children. Taketsuna thought with long-

ing of his distant family.

The stars above were particularly clear tonight. He lay back,

his arms folded under his head against the sharp bits of gravel,

and wondered if he would get used to his new life, used to sleep-

ing on the hard, cold ground without cover and under the open

sky, used to humiliation and rough physical labor, used to beat-

ings. The last was the most difficult, a disgrace impossible to be

borne without retaliation. He wished for the warmth of silken

quilts, but being tired, he dozed off.

The discomfort of the cold night and the hard soil beneath

him woke him somewhat later. Two of his companions were

whispering softly.

“Forget it. It’s too dangerous. They might find out.”

The other man made some inaudible protest.

“Lot of good that’ll do you, when you’re dead. You know

what they say about the Second Prince’s murder.”

Startled, Taketsuna sat up. The whispering stopped. “Who

was that?” he asked softly. “Who was talking?”

Silence.

He reached over and shook the shoulder of the sleeper next

to him. The man grunted and sat up with a curse. “What the

devil d’you want? Can’t a man have a little peace at night?” he

complained sleepily.

At the gate the dozing guards came awake. “Quiet over

there,” one of them shouted, “or we’ll give you what for, you

lousy pieces of dung.”

38

I . J . P a r k e r

Taketsuna whispered an apology, lay back down, and closed

his eyes. He did not have much chance to sleep, because a short

time later someone arrived to pick up the new prisoner.

The sleepy guards grumbled but seemed resigned to com-

ings and goings all day and night. Taketsuna was chained again

and walked off behind a burly guard. This time they entered the

city. The streets were silent, and the shops shuttered. Moonlight

lit their way. The prisoner shivered in the cool night breeze and

tried to suppress his nervousness. Mano extended from the flat

shore of the bay halfway up the encircling hills, and the provin-

cial headquarters rose well above the rest of the city, with a

commanding view of its many roofs and the shimmering silver

of the bay and ocean beyond. Taketsuna risked a glance back-

ward, as they climbed the wide stairs to the gate leading into the

government compound, and was struck by the extraordinary

beauty of a scene in such sharp contrast to the misery of certain

of Sadoshima’s inhabitants.

The government compound was smaller than those Taketsuna

had known in his former life, but it seemed in good repair and had

the usual separate courtyards surrounding buildings of various

sizes. The governor’s residence occupied a tree-shaded section just beyond the tribunal and archives. Except for the guards on night

duty at the main gate and at the gate to the governor’s quarters, the compound lay deserted. Their arrival was barely noted. Taketsuna’s guard saluted the guards at the gate and led his prisoner

past the tribunal to a smaller building just behind it. Here another pair of guards nodded them through the doorway. They walked

down a long hallway lit by flickering oil lamps and stopped in

front of a pair of wide doors. The guard knocked. Someone called

out, “Enter!” and they stepped into a large room which was bare

except for a desk and the seated figure of the governor.

The guard stood to attention, and Taketsuna knelt, touching

his face to the polished floor.

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

39

“Take his chains off!” The governor’s voice sounded remote.

His tone was clipped and his speech cultured, but there was an

abruptness and tension in his voice that made Taketsuna uneasy.

He felt the guard’s hands remove his chains but did not

change his position.

“You may leave. Tell the guards outside that I do not wish to

be disturbed.”

They must think the governor either a very brave man or a

foolish one, thought Taketsuna. A desperate and violent crimi-

nal could easily make a hostage of him and bargain his way to

freedom.

The door slammed behind the guard, and they were alone.

A rustle of silk; then soft steps approached and passed Taket-

suna. There was the click of a latch falling into place, then the

stockinged steps returned and paused next to the kneeling

Taketsuna. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“My dear fellow, please rise. It is quite safe now. We are

alone.”

C H A P T E R T H R E E

A C A N D L E I N T H E W I N D

The governor was nearly as tall as the prisoner, but age had

bent his back a little. The black cap did not hide the gray of his

hair, or his robe of office the weariness on his lined face. In the candlelight his eyes looked deeply sunken as they searched