flickering candlelight made the thin silk transparent, and in her

modesty she was more seductive than she had been when she

had pressed her warm naked body to his. “When you leave us,

will you remember me?” she asked without looking at him.

He felt ashamed. “I will never forget you, Masako,” he said

and caught her hand to his cheek. “I am half in love with you.”

She smiled a little then, and left.

The following morning, after Osawa approved Yamada’s

books, Akitada departed on his journey to find Prince Okisada’s

killer.

C H A P T E R S E V E N

T H E U G LY B U D D H A

Akitada welcomed the journey. Masako had slipped too deeply

under his skin, and he was torn by feelings of shame and guilt.

And then there was the fact that he had put his assignment

from his mind in order to satisfy his curiosity about the girl and

her father. It was high time he did what he had come to do and

went home to his family.

The day began inauspiciously in Yutaka’s office. The gover-

nor had sent the shijo on an errand so that he and Akitada would have a private moment to discuss the upcoming journey.

“I know that you want to meet Kumo for yourself. Osawa

always calls at his manor to go over the tax rolls with him and

discuss the upcoming harvest and the mine production. After

that you will travel on to Minato. Osawa has a letter from me to

Professor Sakamoto, just a pretext to get you into his house. The

return journey is to take you through Tsukahara. The prince’s

manor is there and Taira still lives in it. Okisada also had many

friends among the Buddhist clergy at the Konponji Temple

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

121

nearby. The temple happens to be the district tax collector. You

will probably find the monk Shunsei there. If word has reached

Kumo, he may approach you first, but if he does not, then you

will no doubt find a way to talk to him.”

That was perhaps overly optimistic, but Akitada thanked

him and asked, “Can you provide me with some signed paper in

case I have to overrule your good Inspector Osawa?”

Mutobe’s face fell. “Oh, dear. Yes, of course. I should have

thought of that. Better not tell him anything yet, right? Osawa is

all right, really. A bit lazy, but he’s unmarried and can travel

whenever I need him. Besides, he is my only inspector and

known to Kumo and Sakamoto and the others.” He helped him-

self to Yutaka’s ink, brush, and paper and dashed off a short let-

ter, then gave it to Akitada, who read it and nodded. Mutobe

took his seal from his sleeve, inked it with red ink, and im-

pressed it next to his signature. Then he handed the folded note

to Akitada, who was trying to tuck it away with his other papers

when he made a disturbing discovery.

He was wearing his own clothes again, having packed his

blue cotton clerk’s robe in his saddlebag. When he touched his

neck where the fabric was doubled over and stitched into the

stiff collar, he felt the papers inside, but the seam he had opened to pass the imperial document to Mutobe the day they met had

been resewn. Masako must have discovered the loose stitches

when she had cleaned his robe. Surely she had found the papers.

He felt beads of perspiration on his brow.

“What is the matter?” asked the governor, seeing his face.

“Nothing. Just wondering where to put this,” Akitada said,

holding up the governor’s note. He quickly tucked it in his sash

as footsteps approached and Yutaka entered with Osawa and

one of the scribes, the big fellow called Genzo.

They knelt and bowed, the scribe looking sullen and giving

Akitada a hate-filled look. Of the two who had been punished

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by Yutaka for the vicious beating they had given him, he was the

one who had continued to bear Akitada a powerful grudge.

“Ah, yes, Yutaka,” said Mutobe. “Is this the man who is to go

along?”

“Yes, Your Excellency. His name is Genzo.”

Akitada was dismayed but could hardly object.

The governor continued, “I realize you cannot easily spare

both Taketsuna and him, but it will only be for a few days, four

at the most. They will take horses to make better speed. I have

sent instructions to the stables to have them ready in two hours.”

“Horses?” gasped Osawa, then bowed immediately. “I beg

your pardon, Excellency, but I did not expect . . . a great honor, of course . . . but I usually travel on foot. Perhaps a sedan chair?

Surely good bearers can move as quickly as a horse. And the two

young men can run alongside.”

The big scribe’s jaw dropped.

“No,” said the governor brusquely, getting to his feet. “You

will make all the speed you can. Oh. I am dispensing with

a guard. Taketsuna has given his word not to escape.” He

departed, leaving consternation behind.

Osawa stared at Akitada as if he were measuring his poten-

tial for unexpected violence.

“I can’t ride,” the scribe announced. “You’ll have to take

Minoru instead.”

Osawa looked down his nose at him. “If you are referring to

the other scribe in the archives, I am told he is nearly illiterate and it takes him forever to copy a page.”

“Well, then just take the prisoner. Master Yutaka always

brags about how fast and elegant his brushstrokes are.”

“I need you both,” snapped Osawa. “He is to act as my sec-

retary and you’ll do the copying. You are both under my orders

now and will do as you are told.” He looked hard at Akitada,

who bowed.

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

123

The problems multiplied at the stables. The horses were

lively and pranced about the stable yard, making it hard for the

grooms to control them.

Osawa saw this with an expression of horror. “These horses

are half wild,” he protested. “We want something tamer.”

The head groom shook his head. “Governor’s orders.”

Akitada took the bridle of the calmest horse and led it to

Osawa. “Please take this one, Inspector,” he said with a bow. “He

has a soft mouth and will be manageable.” He turned to the

scribe. Although Genzo was big-boned and heavy, he cringed

from the horses. “And you, of course, will want the black?” The

black was so big that two grooms hung on to his bridle.

Genzo shot Akitada a venomous look. “You take him,” he

said. “I have no desire to kill myself.”

“As you wish.” Akitada swung himself into the saddle, taking

pleasure in being on horseback again, while Genzo had to be

helped onto the third horse and instantly fell back down. “Are

there any mules?” Akitada asked the grinning head groom.

A sturdy mule was substituted for the horse, and Genzo

managed to get in its saddle. They rode out of the stable yard

accompanied by half-suppressed laughter from the grooms,

passing the prison and Yamada’s house without seeing either

father or daughter.

And so they left Mano and headed inland. The narrow road

wound northeast through a wide plain of rice paddies stretch-

ing into the distance. On both sides wooded mountains rose,

and ahead lay Mount Kimpoku, a dark cone against the blue

sky. It marked the other side of Sadoshima and overlooked Lake

Kamo and Minato.

The two horses and the mule trotted along smoothly. Lush

green rice paddies promised a good harvest, a soft wind rustled

through the pines lining the way, and small birds twittered in

the branches. The sky was clear except for a few cloudlets, and

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the sun had not yet brought the midday heat. Now and then a