E P I LO G U E

The return voyage was swift and unexpectedly pleasant. Nei-

ther storms nor seasickness spoiled Akitada’s homecoming.

The skies were as clear as they sometimes are in autumn, a

limpid blue which swept from Sawata Bay past the headlands

of Sadoshima all the way to the shore of Echigo. A brisk wind

carried them smoothly toward the mainland.

Akitada stood at the bow, watching the approach of the

long rugged coastline that protected a green plain and distant

snow-covered mountains, and was filled with an astonishing

affection for the place. He resolved to make the best of his future there, for he was going home to his family, the firm center of his

turbulent life.

His deep joy in being alive was increased by Tora’s cheerful

presence and, to a lesser extent, by the exuberant spirits of

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Turtle, who had decided to follow his new master. Killing

Wada, a man who had tormented him repeatedly in Mano,

had given Turtle self-confidence and an altogether more opti-

mistic outlook on life. Even his limp seemed less noticeable,

perhaps because it was modified by a distinct swagger. Turtle

had become “somebody” in his own eyes by ridding his fellow

drudges of a cruel and petty tyrant. Turtle was now a man to be

respected, even feared, by other men, and so he had offered his

talents and services to Tora and Akitada.

But the ship carried far more important travelers. Okisada

was returning to the capital under heavy guard. Akitada had

twice visited the prince in his cabin and doubted that Okisada

would survive the overland journey to Heian-kyo. Soft living

and repeated doses of fugu poison had undermined his health to such a degree that he was in constant pain and frequently

vomited the little food he consumed.

Akitada had not escaped unscathed, either. He still limped,

and his knee ached when he walked too much or the weather

changed. Spending long hours sitting cross-legged on the dais

during the court hearings in Mano had not helped.

Three officials had been present for the hearing which had

cleared young Mutobe of the murder charge. The judge, a

frightened rabbit of a man, expected ignominious dismissal for

having ordered the governor’s son jailed in the first place. He

kept looking to the governor and Akitada for approval.

The third man on the dais was so far above the judge that

he did not dare look at him. He was the imperial advisor who

had sent Akitada to Sadoshima. It was widely assumed that he

was there to protect Prince Okisada’s interests, but this was not

quite true. He had come to take the prince back to Heian-kyo to

face the punishment chosen by the emperor. Unlike his shorter,

more irascible assistant, he had not returned to the capital, but

remained in Echigo to await the results of Akitada’s mission. He

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had taken ship when the news of Kumo’s death and Okisada’s

arrest had reached the mainland.

After lengthy deliberations and many nervous recitations

from his legal codes, the judge had found Taira and Nakatomi

guilty of laying false charges against the governor’s son. He was

not, of course, competent to deal with Okisada’s treasonable

intentions. That would be judged by a higher court in the capi-

tal. However, the sovereign’s advisor, along with the governor

and Akitada, had extracted private confessions from all three

conspirators. Afterward Taira had requested a sword. When this

was naturally refused, he had broken a sharp sliver of bamboo

from a writing table in his cell, forced this into the large vein in his throat, and died during the night. The physician Nakatomi,

on hearing the news, hanged himself the next night by his

silk sash from the bars in his cell door. Only Okisada, protected

by his imperial blood from public execution, seemed apathetic

to his fate.

That left Sakamoto. Akitada had long since decided that the

poor and elderly professor had been duped by Taira and Kumo.

They had not trusted him with their real plans or the details

of the plot but had played on his adulation of Okisada to use

his home for their meetings and his good name to cover their

activities. Not unlike Shunsei, though the relationship had

been different, Sakamoto had been the victim of his own fool-

ish sentiment. The thin gentleman from the emperor’s office

had, once he had spoken to Sakamoto, agreed. Sakamoto was

left with a warning that he faced arrest if he returned to the

capital. It amounted to unofficial exile, much like that imposed

on Mutobe many years earlier, but since Sakamoto had no wish

to leave, he expressed tearful gratitude.

Kumo’s mines were confiscated and closed, and their work-

ers were dispersed among other public projects. Osawa, newly

wed and in rotund health, had provided useful testimony that

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the mines had not produced enough silver to justify their

continued operation. Akitada wrestled with his conscience

about the gold. Gold was vitally important to the nation, but

more intensive mining and abuse of prisoners were sure to fol-

low if the government heard of the gold deposits. Eventually he

told the emperor’s advisor. The thin man asked some searching

questions and had Kita, Kumo’s bird-faced mine supervisor,

brought in. Kita saved his life by making a full report, which

caused the thin gentleman to remark that the distance from the

capital and the difficulty of transport made it highly unlikely

that His Majesty would be interested.

And so Akitada was returning home, a man so changed

that he felt like a stranger to his former self. As he strained his eyes for the shore, he was seized by a dizzying sense of unreality. For a man who had lived like a common criminal, subjected to vicious

beatings and backbreaking labor, who had been buried alive

and barely survived against all odds a battle to the death, this

uneventful and untroubled homecoming seemed more dream-

like than the nightmares that had plagued his feverish brain

underground.

To steady himself, he searched for his wife and son among

the people waiting on shore. The shoreline began to swim

before his eyes, and the snow-covered peaks fractured into

green and white patches floating against the blue of the sky. As

he reached up to brush the tears from his eyes, the thin gentle-

man interposed his tall frame between Akitada and the view.

“Not long now,” the emperor’s advisor said in his dry

voice, averting his eyes quickly from Akitada’s face. “You will

wish to be with your family after we land, so I shall make my

farewells here.”

“Thank you, Excellency.” Akitada managed to choke out the

words. To cover the awkwardness of the moment, he asked,

“You have been to see His Highness? How is he?”

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393

“Not well. He may survive the journey, but his mind is

weakening rapidly. I doubt that he will be able to say much in

his defense. He seems to be under the impression that he is to

assume the throne.”

Akitada said, “I am sorry.” It was the strongest expression of

sympathy he could find. He thought of the dying Haseo and

found difficulty in adjudging proper levels of regret to the tragic lives of the men he had met. What, for example, of the little

thief Jisei? Would his soul rest more happily knowing that

the two pirates who had beaten him to death had been captured