had claimed to get relief from his constant pain by eating

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a small amount of the poison. It was Shunsei’s testimony

which had convinced Akitada that the prince had died by

his own hand.

Sakamoto had also thought that Okisada poisoned himself

and that he had done so in order to throw suspicion on Toshito.

But Sakamoto had not been in the others’ confidence. No,

Akitada was convinced the true conspirators were Kumo, Taira,

and Nakatomi.

According to Haru, the expert in matters pertaining both to

fugu and to men, the poison could make a man feel as though he had entered heaven and give him back his sexual strength. What

was more likely than that the self-indulgent Okisada had also

become an expert in those properties of the fugu poison? Would such a man kill himself with it, intentionally or accidentally?

Akitada became transfixed in the middle of the roadway,

much to the consternation of a group of peasants who had to

pass him in order to visit the site of the battle. They eyed him

with fear, this bearded, gaunt creature in silk robe and trousers

but with bare feet and a scowl on his face. Wondering perhaps if

he was some supernatural creature, they kept to the shoulder of

the road, bobbing deep bows as they edged past him.

Akitada had been seized by an awful suspicion. He swung

around suddenly to look past the peasants to the ship in the

harbor and cried, “Hah, they think they have been clever, the

scoundrels. But by heaven, they shall not get away with it!”

The peasants squawked and took off running.

Akitada walked back to the farmhouse, turning matters over

in his mind before speaking to Mutobe. Nakatomi’s role had

been crucial. And Taira had had a very good reason to refuse

visitors at the manor. But he could not make out Shunsei. The

monk had seemed too simpleminded for such an enormous

deception. Amazingly, the clever plot had almost worked.

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377

And then another thought came. Kumo and his men had

worn their finest armor and ridden silk-trimmed horses. Their

bows and arrows had been purely ceremonial. They had never

been meant to be used in combat. Kumo was not chasing a cou-

ple of convicts, even if one of them was an imperial official. He

had come here to serve “his” emperor and had only attacked

because Akitada got in his way. That was why Kumo had faced

battle with Akitada, claiming that he was sacrificing his Bud-

dhahood for his emperor. He had been willing to kill Akitada

even though that would prevent his salvation.

Whatever the true state of affairs, no time was to be lost.

Mutobe must board the ship immediately. They must search the

town. Akitada glanced again at the substantial roofs of the

temple. That was where he would start.

Full of purpose again, he strode into the farmhouse and

confronted the others with his suspicions.

“You cannot be serious!” gasped the governor, turning pale.

“But how is this possible? And after all that time!” He rose and

paced. “What will I do if it is as you say? How can I arrest him?

What do I charge him with? I have no such authority. And you

have lost your documents.” He stopped and stared accusingly at

Akitada. “What will we do? This is a very delicate matter.”

“Delicate?” Mutobe’s continuing self-interest appalled

Akitada. Did the man not know that there were duties he could

not shirk? It was obvious that he could not expect much help

from the man. But Mutobe was quite right about one thing.

Without his papers, Akitada had no authority whatsoever and

was dependent on Mutobe’s support. He took a deep breath. A

shouting match would solve nothing. “It seems the ship in the

harbor is a pirate craft. If you will board it and arrest the captain and crew, I will do the rest. I will need a few of your men. Please instruct them to obey Tora’s commands.”

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Mutobe nodded reluctantly. “You will take the responsibil-

ity, then?”

“Yes.”

Mutobe still looked unhappy, but he agreed. “Very well. Let

us go and get it over with.”

Akitada took eight of the soldiers and Mutobe the rest.

Then they set off, Mutobe with his banner carried before him,

Akitada without such marks of authority, though he pushed

Kumo’s gilded sword through the silken sash of Mutobe’s spare

robe, and smoothed his hair a little. Tora put on a little show of

snapping commands at his troops, and they were off, followed

by a gaggle of curious peasants.

The temple was a very modest one. It had no pagoda and

only one main hall and some low buildings to house the local

priest and visiting monks. An old man was sweeping the court-

yard, but otherwise the scene was peaceful. Doubts began to stir

in Akitada’s mind. How Toshito would mock if it turned out

that Akitada was wrong again. And he could offer nothing but

a far-fetched argument based on a fishwife’s tale! Sending a

detailed report about Akitada’s activities to the emperor would

be the perfect revenge for the governor’s son.

The old man stopped his sweeping, stared at them, then

bowed. Perhaps he thought they were expected. Akitada took

it for a hopeful sign. He made straight for the hall and took

the stairs to the double doors, Tora and the soldiers at his

heels. Throwing wide the doors on empty space, he shouted, “Is

anyone here?”

The light was dim inside. Across from him was a long dais,

and on the dais rested a Buddha figure. Behind the statue a lath

screen extended across the hall. Lights flickered beyond and a

shadow moved behind the screen.

His heart pounding, Akitada quickly crossed the hall and

passed around the end of the screen. Here grass mats had

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379

been spread and more screens placed to create a series of

smaller chambers. The first of these was empty, though a candle

burned in a tall holder. Two silken cushions still held imprints.

Akitada flung aside a flimsy screen, saw that the next enclosure

was also empty, and rushed across it to tear aside the final

screen.

Two old men huddled in the center of this room, their arms

about each other and their eyes looking fearfully his way. Tora

and the soldiers quickly surrounded them.

One of the two was Taira of the snow-white hair and

beetling black eyebrows.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he quavered, hugging

the other man to him.

Akitada’s eyes were on his companion. At first glance this

man had appeared as senile as Taira, but Akitada now saw that

he was only slightly past middle age. He looked much older

because his skull was shaven, he was fat, and he had the

unhealthy pallor of a sick person. He had changed greatly with

the years, but there was no doubt in Akitada’s mind that this

was Okisada, the Second Prince, formerly crown prince and

heir to the imperial throne. Not dead, but very much alive.

He had the round face, small nose, and thick lips of his im-

perial and Fujiwara relatives, and once, years ago, on the occa-

sion of an imperial procession, Akitada had seen him ride past

in all the pomp and glory of his former exalted position. His

present condition made a shocking change from those happier

times, but Akitada had never forgotten his face.

He bowed deeply. “Your Highness,” he said, “My name is

Sugawara Akitada. I regret extremely to find you under such cir-