“I know nothing.” Hitomaro stretched the chain experimentally between his fists. “Turn around.”

“If it was not my brother, what a relief! What good news! You must allow me to invite you to a celebration. Wine and dinner. In the best restaurant. Yes, and bring your friends. I am very grateful.” Goto laughed too loudly.

Hitomaro sighed. Transferring the chain to his left hand, he stepped forward and gave the fishmonger’s shoulder a quick jab, wrapped his other arm around the man’s neck, and squeezed. Goto went limp. Hitomaro let him fall and rolled the inert body over to tie the man’s wrists behind his back. Then he filled a bucket with icy water from the fish tub and poured it over Goto’s head. Goto jerked up, coughing and spitting, small fish flapping in his shirt and sliding off his hair.

“Get up and march!” ordered Hitomaro, pointing him in the right direction with a kick to his posterior. Amid grins from neighbors and jeers from small boys, they walked to the tribunal, where one of the constables locked the half-frozen fishmonger into a cell.

This done, Hitomaro stopped by the main hall, fully expecting to be told by Hamaya that his Excellency was still sleeping. But Akitada was in the archives, bent over a map of the district. He was making notes on a slip of paper.

“Yes, what is it, Hitomaro?” he asked absently.

“Goto’s in jail. Captain Takesuke told me that he stood surety for his brother Ogai.”

Akitada straightened up. “Good work! That does explain his persistence in the face of the obvious age difference of the corpse.”

“Surely it solves the murder, too, sir? He must have killed a vagrant to save his brother’s skin and his own property. And he probably shaved the victim’s head to make his identification more convincing.”

“But why write the note? And I doubt he can write in any case. No, I believe Goto only took advantage of the incident at our gate.”

Hitomaro’s face fell.

“You did very well,” Akitada said consolingly. “What did you think of the garrison?”

“Very lax discipline, sir. No guards at the gate, soldiers gambling and drinking, and I walked in on the commandant making love to one of his men in the middle of the day.”

“I would not put too much importance on Takesuke’s sexual preferences,” Akitada said. “Such things are common amongst warriors. Garrison life breeds familiarity. But if Takesuke supports Uesugi, the lack of discipline may be good news for us.”

Hitomaro nodded. “I thought I’d talk to the judge next. Undercover.”

Akitada raised his brows. “I thought you had met.”

“It was pretty dark and I don’t think he bothered to look at me. Chobei, of course, could be a problem.”

“Well, good luck. Be careful what you say to him. We don’t want to alarm our enemy yet.”

Hitomaro returned to his quarters to change. He put on a plain dark blue gown of the type any scribe or student might wear and tucked a small black cap in his sleeve. After a moment’s thought, he removed a small package from a spare pair of boots and placed it in the other sleeve. Then he put on his straw cape, hat, and boots again, and went to saddle his horse.

♦

By the time he approached the thatched gate of the judge’s country house, the weather had turned bitterly cold. The sleeting had stopped, but now a sharp wind pushed the gray clouds across the sky at great speed, tossing the bare branches of the willows beside Hisamatsu’s villa and cutting like ice needles through Hitomaro’s light clothes. He knocked at the gate with his fist.

It creaked open slowly. An old man peered out, grumbling irritably when he saw the horseman.

“Is your master at home?” Hitomaro asked.

“The maids are out, the boy’s out, the groom and Mr. Chobei are visiting West village, but me and the master are in.”

It could not be better. Hitomaro smiled at the grumpy servant, who opened the gate fractionally wider. Hitomaro rode into a dirt courtyard. The villa, a one-story house thatched in a rustic manner, had five or six outbuildings and storehouses. The old servant led the way to the main house where Hitomaro dismounted and tied his horse to a post. In the entryway, he shed his wet straw cape and boots and put on his black cap.

“Tell your master,’’ he said, “that I’m a student and have come from afar to make the judge’s acquaintance.”

The old man grunted and took him to a spacious room. It was dark because the shutters had been closed against the weather, but he lit a few rush lights, which provided meager illumination. Shelves filled with books and papers sprang into being, but the light was too feeble to reach them. Hitomaro was about to take a closer look when a door squeaked behind him. He swung around and found himself facing the judge.

“I am Hisamatsu,” the judge announced in a nasal voice, enunciating every syllable carefully. He blinked at his guest. “Who are you?”

Hitomaro bowed deeply and said, “It is a great pleasure to meet your Honor at long last. The fame of your accomplishments has reached far, and since I am visiting this province, I stopped to pay my respects and perhaps benefit from your wisdom. My name is Hitomaro.”

The judge came a little closer and peered at him nearsightedly. “Family name?” he demanded.

“Saga, your Honor. From Izumi province.”

“Really? A fine family.” Hisamatsu thawed. His round face broke into a smile. “You have come to congratulate me, no doubt. Please sit down!”

Hitomaro obeyed.

The judge lowered his stout figure with a grimace, clapped his hands for the servant, and ordered wine and food. The old man glared at him, then shuffled out, muttering under his breath.

“Forgive these rustic manners and surroundings,” Hisamatsu said, frowning after the servant. “I have not yet moved into my official residence.”

Hitomaro looked around. “You are too modest. Surely this is a charming and delightful retreat for a scholar.”

“Scholar?” His host glanced at the room vaguely. “Oh. You refer to my former work. I retired recently from a position as district judge. No time for that sort of thing now. As adviser to the Lord of Takata I can hardly worry about local crime. No, no.”

“Advisor to the Lord of Takata? Surely your talents lie in the legal field, your Honor.”

Hisamatsu pursed thin lips. “Young man, you cannot possibly know all my talents, as you call them. As a judge I am perfectly trained to formulate and administer laws, and for someone with vision there are no limits in government. The Lord of Takata is expanding his territories into Dewa province. In fact, the establishment of a northern empire is not out of the question. His Lordship relies on me for advice on the most confidential matters of state. Keep this to yourself, but I expect official appointment soon and will then take over the local administration.” Fixing Hitomaro with a sudden suspicious stare, he asked, “Is this not what brought you here in the first place? News of our august leader has surely spread to Izumi province.”