They stared at each other, dismayed at opening the flood-

gates of so much suppressed frustration. The deep color which

touched her translucent skin reminded Akitada of the blushing

of a rose.

“Forgive me,” he said, taking her hand.

“I didn’t mean that,” she cried at the same moment. They

both laughed a little in mutual embarrassment.

He took the razor from her hand and laid it aside. “You have

been very good to me, Masako, you and your father. I have

been wondering if you are in some sort of trouble. Perhaps I

can help.”

She did not point out to him that he was hardly in a position

to help anybody. Instead she shook her head and smiled tremu-

lously. “Thank you. You are very kind. It is a temporary situa-

tion and involves my father’s honor. I’m afraid I cannot tell you

more than that.”

“Something to do with the prison or the prisoners?” he per-

sisted, wondering if Yamada had become involved in some way

in Toshito’s predicament.

“No. Not the prison. Another duty. Please don’t ask any

more questions.” She took up the razor again and finished trim-

ming his beard, while he sat, puzzling over her remarks. What

other assignment did Yamada have? Whatever it was, it probably

involved money somehow, for the deprivation they suffered

must be due to the fact that he must make restitution. Had

Yamada mismanaged government funds?

She laid aside the razor and smiled at him. “There. You look

very handsome,” she said. “And you could easily have slashed

my throat and made your escape.”

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

83

He smiled back. “Your throat is much too pretty for that,

and there is little chance of my getting off the island. That is

why exiles are sent here in the first place.”

“As to that, there have been escapes. At least, people have

disappeared mysteriously. They say fishermen from the main-

land used to do a lucrative business ferrying off exiles. Of

course, it takes a great deal of gold, but some of the noblemen

here have wealthy families back in the capital or in one of the

provinces.” She stopped and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh,

dear. I talk too much. Do you have a family?”

Akitada laughed out loud. “We are very poor.” It was the

truth. He could hardly have raised the money for the passage to

Sadoshima, let alone the sum involved in an escape attempt. But

the topic was an interesting one. “I assume Prince Okisada

could have availed himself of such a method if he had wished to

do so. Why did he remain?”

“Oh, the prince was too famous. He would have been caught

quickly. And they say he was too soft to be a hunted man.” She

regarded Akitada affectionately. “You, on the other hand, look

able to take on any danger. Where did you get the scar on your

shoulder?”

Akitada saw the admiration in her eyes and smiled. “A sword

cut. And it wasn’t proper of you to stare at a man washing

himself.”

She blushed. For a moment they sat looking at each other,

then she turned her face away. “I told you that my life is more

entertaining than that of proper young ladies,” she said lightly.

“I could not help noticing that the scar is recent, and there were

others. Are you a famous swordsman?”

“Not at all.” Her sudden warm regard made him uncom-

fortable, and he started to rise. “It is time to go to the archives.”

She snatched at his hand. “Not even a thank-you, when I

have made you look so handsome?”

84

I . J . P a r k e r

Akitada looked down into her laughing eyes. The invitation

in them was unmistakable and unnerving. There was a part of

him which disapproved of such forwardness. She was the most

improper young lady he had ever met. Yet his heart melted and

he felt his hand tremble in hers. She managed to make him feel

as awkward as a young boy. Detaching his hand gently, he

bowed. “I am deeply in your debt, Masako. Perhaps I could do

some of your chores for you after work tonight?”

She stood also, twisting the razor in her hands. There was

still color in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled as she returned

the bow. “Thank you. I would be honored, Taketsuna.”

One of the clerks was peering out of the door to the archives

but disappeared instantly when he saw Akitada. No one was in

the dim hall. Akitada looked about nervously, wondering what

to expect after yesterday’s attack. Suddenly Yutaka appeared.

He was all smiles. The two clerks followed him, looking glum.

Yutaka gestured and they knelt, bowing deeply.

For a moment, Akitada feared his identity was known, but

then Yutaka said, “These stupid louts wish to express their hum-

ble apologies for their mistake. They hope you will forgive them

this time.”

“Please,” Akitada said to the two clerks, “get up, both of you.

Shijo-san, there was no need for this. The mistake has been explained to me, and I assure you I am much better.”

“That is good,” cried Yutaka. “Good and generous. Yes. Well,

then.” He looked at the two clerks, who were still on their knees,

and cried, “You heard, you lazy oafs. Up! Up! Back to work! And

don’t make such a foolish mistake again or I’ll see that you get

another beating.”

Akitada winced. Yutaka had been rather unfair. They had

merely responded to his cries for help. No wonder the big one,

Genzo, gave Akitada a rather nasty look before he scurried out.

They blamed him for their punishment.

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

85

The day passed quietly. As a rule the documents Akitada

worked on were of little interest to him, and he had fallen into a

habit of copying mechanically while turning over in his mind

the many puzzling events of the past days. Foremost among

these was the death of Jisei. Who had beaten him to death?

Ogata had mentioned a fight, but surely the prisoners would

have been caught. Had it been done by the guards? Why? He was

such a weak, inoffensive creature, and much too timid to make

an escape attempt. Besides, he had counted on being released

shortly. And that fat drunkard Ogata had almost certainly cov-

ered up the murder out of fear. That suggested that Jisei had

been killed on someone’s orders. Had he seen something he

should not have? Akitada remembered with a shiver how cer-

tain Jisei had been that he would be sent home. Who had prom-

ised him an early release? Akitada had taken it for a sort of

merciful practicality because Jisei’s festering knees and arms

made him useless for crawling about in silver mines, but there

were laws against releasing prisoners before their sentences

were served. And that left only an empty promise, a lie, which

was never intended to be kept. The real intention all along must

have been to kill him. Akitada decided that Jisei had known

something with which he had bargained for his release and

which had cost him his life.

He was so preoccupied with Jisei’s murder that he almost

overlooked an interesting item in the document he was work-

ing on. It concerned an institution called a “Public Valuables

Office.” Apparently one of the earlier governors of Sadoshima

had established a storehouse where people could deposit family

treasures in exchange for ready money or rice. Later, say after a

good harvest, they could redeem the items. Such places existed

elsewhere in the country, but they were usually run by the larger

temples and helped farmers buy their seed rice in the spring. He