“Sir?” Tora interrupted the silence after a while. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. How did you figure out where that fellow Ogai deserted to? The fishmonger’s brother. I’ve been racking my brains to understand that.”

Akitada had already given up making sense of the erratic bookkeeping of his predecessor. He slowly came back from a nagging worry that he should have recognized the significance of the strange crest worn by some of Uesugi’s men and focused on Tora’s question. “Oh,” he said. “Hitomaro told me about him.”

“Me?” Hitomaro looked flabbergasted.

“Yes. When you reported your stay in the outcast village, you told me that they habitually took in fugitives on the say-so of the old yamabushi. By the way, he is another questionable presence in this province who bears looking into. But to get back to the soldier: You mentioned one man, a rowdy fellow who had lost his front teeth. That fit Ogai, who was on the run from his military duty and recently toothless after a fight with Kimura.”

Hitomaro slapped his knees. “How could I have been so stupid! Of course, that’s it. Well, at least that’s one case solved.”

“Not quite. Someone placed the dead Mr. Kato at our gate, and it was not the fishmonger. Whoever did is involved in the Uesugi rebellion.”

“Hisamatsu,” said Hitomaro confidently. “He wrote the note.”

“No, the widow Sato,” cried Tora. “She’s the one who had a dead man to get rid of.”

Akitada nodded. “Yes. They are both suspects. Perhaps when we find the widow, we shall get some answers.”

“But where is she?” asked Genba. “We’ve looked everywhere. That female has vanished into thin air. The constables have searched both the inn and her parents’ farm.”

Akitada rubbed his shoulder and thought. Suddenly he smiled. “We will set a trap for her,” he said. “Yes, that’s it. Tomorrow Tora will bring that maid to the tribunal for more questioning—”

“Oh, no!” cried Tora, “I’m not tangling with that wildcat again.”

“Ho, ho.” Genba laughed, his belly shaking. “The girl’s made for you. A wildcat for the tiger. The fur will fly.”

Tora shook a fist at Genba.

“Pay attention!” Akitada frowned at them. “Tora, you will keep the girl waiting outside my office for a few hours. Then I shall ask her some unimportant questions and let her go. Genba or Kaoru will follow her. I want anyone who speaks to her brought to me.”

Tora shook his head and was about to protest again, but Genba cried, “It’s a good plan. The widow has friends we don’t know about, and they’ll take an interest in what is happening in her case. They’ll want to know why you kept the maid so long and what she told you.”

“Can’t Genba fetch the maid?” asked Tora. “I’ll follow her.”

“No, you would be recognized,” said Akitada, and turned his head to listen.

Someone was running in the hall outside, and they all tensed. Hitomaro got up and went to the door. He was just in time to admit the captain.

Takesuke was out of breath, but his eyes sparkled. “They’re here, sir,” he said. “An advance troop of eight mounted warriors. They rode up to within a hundred yards and stopped to look at our banners and the burning fires. Then they turned around.” He wiped some melting snow off his face and added, “I’ve sent a good man after them, but I have no doubt that Uesugi is close by with his whole force.”

Instantly Akitada’s three lieutenants were up and running out the door. Takesuke remained standing. Akitada looked up at the captain. “Was there something else?”

“Er,” said Takesuke, “can I give you a hand with the rest of your armor? They will be here very shortly.”

Akitada glanced at the pile of heavy leather-and-metal pieces missing from his costume and made a face. “Thank you, no. I don’t think that will be necessary, Captain. Keep me informed.”

Takesuke stared at him for a moment. Then he compressed his lips, saluted, and withdrew so abruptly that he left the door ajar.

Akitada shivered and stared down at his hands. It was difficult to meet people’s expectations and yet that was his duty here. He was no soldier and hoped to avoid bloodshed. As a youth, he had received the customary training in archery and sword fighting, but he had never fought a battle. In fact, his performance with bow and arrow had been distinctly mediocre, though he had always done well with a sword. But Hitomaro, the only skillful swordsman among his retainers, had pointed out that fighting a battle was very different from the practice bouts they had engaged in.

Akitada sighed. The soldier Takesuke had reason to disdain the official from the capital, but he was surely not the coward Takesuke thought him.

A soft rustle alerted him to the presence of his wife. She had thrown a deep crimson brocade mantle over her thin white underrobe, but her hair was loose, sweeping the floor behind her. In the light of the oil lamp she looked like one of the fairies of the western paradise.

“Are you in pain?” she asked softly.

“No,” he lied. “We have been discussing the schedule for the coming day. And Captain Takesuke was just here with a report.”

Her eyes searched his face. “All is well?”

“Yes. All is well.” He reached for the brocade bundle. “I have a gift for you.”

She came quickly and knelt by his side to undo the ties. Her hands shook a little. “Ah,” she cried when she saw the lacquered box. “A shell game! And how beautiful!”

He watched her excitement, the way she touched the box and opened it, then lifted and looked at each shell with little cries of pleasure, her slender hands graceful. She was trying very hard to be strong and filled him with pride. There was a touch of color in her cheeks, and her silken hair slipped charmingly over her shoulder. Suddenly he felt enormously wealthy and, like any rich man, he was afraid.

“Come,” he said. “Keep me company for a little while and play a game with me.”

Outside there was the silence of the cold predawn. Here, in the soft light of the lamp, Tamako, who bore his child, placed shells on his lacquered desk with little clicking sounds, and smiled at him, murmuring, “It is the most exquisite present.”

* * * *

SEVENTEEN

THE TRAP

T

here!” said Tamako, pushing the pair of shells toward him. “I won again. A perfect match!”

Akitada glanced at the lute players depicted on the shells and then at his wife. Her slender face was flushed and her eyes shone with pleasure. He thought her quite beautiful.