Belatedly his eyes fell on the carcass of a dead horse, then on

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human bodies. “What has happened here?” he asked, his eyes

wide and his voice hoarse.

“Kumo caught up with us. May I introduce Lieutenant

Tora? If he had not found me in time, we would not be speaking

to each other now.”

Mutobe looked at Tora, turned a little green at the amount

of gore on Tora, and nodded. “Yes. We met. Are you telling me

that you two killed all these men?” His eyes counted. “Four

mounted soldiers? All by yourselves?”

“No, there were three of us. My friend was wounded. He is

dying.” Akitada led the way to the farmyard, where Mutobe

counted more bodies, pausing in astonishment beside the

corpse of the late high constable.

“It’s Kumo,” he said, picking up the golden helmet. “You

killed Kumo. Wonderful! It’s a miracle. Finally we are free of the

monster. Oh, we will celebrate this day!” He clapped his hands

together like a small child.

Akitada did not feel like celebrating. He knelt beside Haseo.

Mutobe came to lean over him. “Who is he?”

“Utsunomiya Haseo. My friend.”

“Don’t know him. How did you meet?”

“He was a prisoner as I was. In Kumo’s mine.”

“Oh, a convict. He looks dead.”

Akitada was holding Haseo’s hand, willing him to open his

eyes, to smile. Tora joined them. He reached down and felt

Haseo’s neck. “Gone,” he said bluntly. “Better this way.”

“Yes,” said Akitada dismally, tears blurring his eyes. “But I

had so much to ask him still.”

“Well.” Mutobe straightened up and looked about. “The

locals will take care of him and the others. Cheer up. He’s only

a convict. Would have been executed anyway for escaping.”

Akitada felt like striking the man. Even if it had been

some other convict and not Haseo, he would have flared up in

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

369

righteous anger. Mutobe had not confronted Kumo to stop the

abuse of prisoners and mine workers. He had been engaged in a

miserable private struggle to solidify his and his son’s authority

against the increasingly powerful high constable. But Akitada

was too exhausted to be able to say more than, “No. He will

return with us for an honorable burial in Mano. Whatever he

was, he fought bravely in an honorable cause.”

Mutobe was distracted. “Oh, very well. Whatever. But where

are the ladies?”

“The ladies?” Akitada put Haseo’s hand back on his chest and

got to his feet. He saw now that they had been joined by

two other men. One was Yamada, looking shocked and anxious,

the other the governor’s son. “Toshito?” Akitada gasped. “What

are you doing here? I thought you were with Kumo.”

“With Kumo?” Yamada and his son-in-law cried in unison.

“Why would my son be with Kumo?” the governor asked.

“He ran most of the way from Ribata’s hermitage to tell me of

your escape and to ask me to bring help in case Kumo came

after you. He took quite a risk. I’m sorry we did not get here

sooner, but my men were reluctant to obey me.”

Akitada said quickly, “Never mind. I’m grateful you’re here.”

He glanced toward the governor’s soldiers. An elderly officer

was directing his men to collect the bodies and clear the road

of dead horses. Mutobe must have had an impossible task. It

was a miracle he had appeared with such numbers. And Akitada

had been wrong about Toshito and owed the obnoxious fellow

an apology. There were more important matters in life than

a moment’s humility. Bowing to the governor’s son, he

said awkwardly, “I beg your pardon for my mistake, Toshito. I

thought when you left last night . . . Ribata is close to Kumo’s

family and you were very hostile. When we woke up and

saw Kumo and his men coming, there seemed to be only one

explanation.”

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“Damn you to hell!” Toshito spat. “How dare you call me a

traitor? You ran like the coward you are, leaving two helpless

women to the attentions of . . . soldiers, low creatures without

principle.” He waved at the bodies which still lay about the

courtyard and had attracted a small crowd of jabbering villagers.

Akitada bit his lip and said again, “I am sorry. It was a

mistake.”

Mutobe stepped between them. “Toshito,” he said sharply,

“you forget yourself. Lord Sugawara is under imperial orders

and has done us a great service. Apologize.”

His son compressed his lips and glared.

Yamada asked, “Do you really think they hurt the women?”

Suddenly Akitada had had enough. He told Mutobe coldly,

“Tell your son to take the sedan chair and some of the men

to bring the ladies here. Meanwhile, there are other matters to

discuss. Inside. It is hot out here and stinks of blood.”

The farmer, his wife, and several female relatives or maids

prostrated themselves when they entered the house. Mutobe

demanded use of their main room, and a place for them to wash

themselves. Akitada was grateful for the last, for the clothes he

had borrowed from Tora were stiff with drying blood, and his

skin and scalp itched under layers of sweat and filth.

One of the women brought a large bowl of water and hemp

cloth for drying, but he asked for the well. There he stripped

and poured bucket after bucket of clean water over himself,

scrubbing his face, beard, hair, and body until he felt clean

again. Someone brought him a silk robe—one of the gover-

nor’s, to judge by its quality and size—and he ran his fingers

through his hair and twisted it up into a topknot. When he went

back into the house, Mutobe and Yamada both looked relieved

at his changed appearance.

“Have some of this wine,” offered Mutobe. “It is only ordi-

nary, but it will give you some strength.”

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

371

Strength. Yes, he could use that. The cold water had tem-

porarily dispelled his exhaustion, but now he sank down on the

wooden planks of the farmer’s best room and gulped the rough

wine gratefully.

Yamada and Mutobe watched him expectantly, too polite to

burst into excited questions, but clearly hopeful that the wine

would loosen his tongue.

Akitada’s first thought was Haseo. “What has been done

about my friend’s body?”

“He will be taken back to Mano,” said Mutobe quickly. “My

men are building a stretcher. I hope that is satisfactory?”

Akitada nodded. “Where is Tora?”

“Your lieutenant suddenly recalled having left some people

behind. He took horses to get them.”

Akitada had forgotten the wretched Wada and the strange

little man with the crippled leg. “One of the men he left behind

is the police official Wada,” he told the governor. “I assume you

know him?”

Mutobe made a face. “Er. Yes. Not perhaps what one could

wish. There have been some complaints.”

“You have, of course, investigated them?” Akitada asked.

Mutobe flushed. “Why? Even if they proved true, what

would you have me do about it?”

Akitada snapped, “Well, he could receive a reprimand and

warning. Or he could be arrested and tried and sent to jail. Or

he could be sent back to the capital as unsuitable. I gather you

took none of these options. Wada was working for Kumo when

he waylaid me. He had me beaten half to death by his consta-

bles, and when Kumo interfered he took me to a gold mine

where I was left to die.”

The two men stared at him.

“A gold mine?” asked Mutobe.

“My mistake. I meant to say silver mine.”