they would have missed it, if the sun had not caught the shining

helmet of the leader and then drawn the eyes to the rider who fol-

lowed, a colored standard attached to the back of his armor.

There had been fewer than ten horsemen, but more might follow.

Akitada felt certain that the man in the gilded helmet was

Kumo himself, eager to make an end of their cat-and-mouse

game. He turned to look back at the hut, its drapery of morning

glories an intense blue in the sun. Ribata had come out on the

veranda, a small and frail figure in her grayish white nun’s habit.

Masako was looking from Ribata to them, a frown on her pretty

face. No doubt Toshito was among the horsemen in the valley

below, showing Kumo the way to the hermitage, certain that the

women would keep their prey distracted.

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Ribata called out, “What is the matter, my lord? Is some-

thing wrong?”

Ignoring her, Akitada turned back to Haseo and said in a

low voice, “They will have to leave their horses below and climb

up on foot. It gives us a little time. Kumo counts on surprising

us, on finding two invalids taking shelter. We must go down the

other side of this mountain. Masako said the road to Mano

passes there. It’s not far.”

Haseo nodded. It was like him not to argue or ask questions.

Instead he said with a regretful grin, “A pity! They’re a mere

handful apiece. What I wouldn’t give if we had a couple of

swords!”

As they ran past the hermitage toward the forest, Ribata

stepped in their way. “Stop! Where are you going?” she cried, her

eyes anxious. “What is happening?” Akitada pushed her aside

without answering.

The forest was still dark and gloomy, but the ground was

soft with pine needles and dry leaf mold and they ran quickly,

talking in short bursts.

“How are you today?” Akitada asked.

“Much better. I suppose that nun was healing me for who-

ever’s coming after us?”

“Yes. Kumo. A relative. I saw a golden helmet. Only Kumo’s

rich enough for one of those.” Haseo was moving well, but

Akitada suddenly felt guilty. He said, “It’s my fault. I brought

you into this. Kumo’s after me.”

Haseo snorted. “You’re wrong. Anyone in the mine might’ve

found out. He’s been stealing gold for years.”

“What?” Akitada almost stumbled over a tree root. “What

do you mean?”

Haseo looked back over his shoulder, missed a step, and slid

down the slope. He got back up and continued. “Don’t you

know? You were chipping away at those rocks for two days.”

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

349

Of course, Akitada thought. How could he have missed it?

All those badger holes and baskets of rock with little or no silver in them! They had been after those tiny bits of yellow metal.

That was why he had pulverized the rocks, and why they had

washed the gravel on that sluice. That was why there had been

so many guards. Kumo was not mining silver for the emperor,

but gold for himself. “Jisei!” Akitada cried. “I forgot to ask you

about Jisei.”

Haseo stopped. “The little fellow in the stockade? What

about him?”

“Someone killed him the night they took me to see the

governor. Did you see anything?”

Haseo cursed softly. “Yes. I was sleeping, but he must’ve

cried out. Those two pirates were having some argument with

him. By the time I guessed what was happening and got to my

feet, he was on the ground and the guards came. They took the

two bastards away and put the little fellow on a litter. I thought

he was only hurt.”

“They called it a fight between prisoners, but I think he

was murdered. He knew about the gold and was blackmailing

someone. That’s why he was so sure he was going home.”

Haseo turned away. “Too late now! We’ve got to save our

own tails. Come on!”

Yes, this time Kumo would make certain by killing them. A

helpless rage filled Akitada as he plunged down the slope after

Haseo. He would make Kumo pay for what he had done to him

and to Jisei, make him fight for his gold, but not here. Not in

this murky forest where you could find no firm foothold and

where he would lie forgotten among the roots of giant cedars

while spiders built their webs between his bones.

Halfway down the mountain, they found a barely noticeable

track. Perhaps charcoal burners had come this way and had

marked the easiest and most direct path down to the valley. They

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were glad, for the rapid descent over the roughest parts had

taken its toll. Going down a hill is faster than climbing it, but not necessarily less tiring for two men weakened by illness and blood

loss and hampered by leg injuries. Only the knowledge that, in

spite of their bravado, they had little chance against heavily

armed men speeded their descent, and they emerged from the

dim forest into almost blinding sunlight a scant hour later.

The view extended southward, across thinly forested lower

slopes down to a sun-bright sea where Sawata Bay merged into

the infinite expanse of ocean and sky. The highway beyond the

foothills skirted the edge of the bay like a pearl-gray ribbon

joining two pieces of fabric, one glistening silver, the other deep green. They could see the brown roofs of a town some distance

away, and beyond that, farther along the vast bow of the shore,

another, larger town—Mano. Fishing boats worked the shim-

mering bay and a large sailing ship lay at anchor nearby. Above

stretched an immense pale blue sky streaked with streamers

of thin clouds and dotted with black crows and white seagulls,

circling and rising, swooping and plunging into the waves.

“The road’s empty,” said Haseo. “Maybe we’ll make it.”

They trotted down the slope, skirting stunted pines and

sending nesting birds aflutter, but Akitada knew that they

could not keep up the pace much longer. Both of them limped

and gasped for breath, and now, in the warm sun, sweat poured

down their faces and bodies. It had been cooler in the forest,

but the hard exercise had heated their blood. They chased a

lone hare through the dry gorse down the hill, its white tail

bobbing up and down before them, mocking their slow pursuit.

When they crested one low hill, they found another. They

glanced over their shoulders and slapped at stinging gnats, and

eventually they reached the road and started walking.

Apparently there was not much travel between the northern

mountains and Mano, for they saw only one farmer, driving an

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

351

ox with a load of firewood, and three women on their way to

tend their fields. They attracted curious glances, but their greet-

ings were returned and the peasants hurried on to their chores.

Then three horsemen came from the south.

Haseo stopped.“What now? Soldiers? Maybe we’d better hide.”

“Yes.” They crouched down behind some low shrubs on the

embankment. Akitada narrowed his eyes. Only one of the

horsemen was armed. The other two seemed to be peasants,

unused to riding, because they sagged in their saddles. And the

horses, all three of them, were mere nags. They could not be

Kumo’s men. He touched Haseo’s shoulder. “Get ready. We need

those horses. We won’t have a chance on foot.”

Haseo began to laugh. “Wonderful! Look, the guy in front

even has a sword. What luck!”

Only Haseo would consider this a fortunate circumstance.

Akitada was less sanguine. He had not formed any cogent idea