Black Arrow

SEVEN

In the gray predawn hour of the following morning, Akitada sat hunched over his desk, reading documents from the provincial archives. From time to time his eyes moved to a twist of paper and a scrap with some childish scrawls on it, and he muttered to himself.

Hamaya put his head in the door. “Did you wish for anything, your Excellency?”

“No, no! Just. . . you might glance outside and see if either of my lieutenants is about.”

Hamaya disappeared. Akitada shivered, took a sip from his teacup and made a face. The tea was cold already, and no wonder in this chilly place. If he could only shake this trouble in his belly, he might have more energy, ideas, solutions. The gods knew he needed them. Neither Tora nor Hitomaro had seen fit to make their reports last night as instructed. He had waited for hours. When he had finally gone to the room he shared with his wife, she had been fast asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, he had ended up spending the night in his office, hardly closing an eye, chilled to the bone by the icy drafts coming from the doors and through the walls.

Then, this morning, on his desk, he had found the mysterious twist of paper on top of one of Tora’s illegible notes. The paper contained some mud-colored bits smelling vaguely of dried grass and resembling rabbit dung.

The door opened. Hamaya said, “Lieutenant Tora is just…”

“Sorry, sir,” Tora mumbled, slinking past the clerk and dropping onto the mat across from Akitada. He looked uncharacteristically glum and sounded apologetic. “You were asleep when I got back, so I waited in the stable. I guess I dozed off. That fool of a constable had orders to tell me the minute you were up.”

Akitada said nothing but looked disapprovingly at the pieces of straw clinging to his lieutenant’s hair and clothes. Tora fidgeted, discovered the straw, and muttered another apology, adding, “I hope Dr. Oyoshi’s medicine worked, sir.” His eyes were on the twist of paper.

“Dr. Oyoshi?” Akitada’s heavy brows rose. “This illegible scrawl is about some medicine sent by him?” he asked sarcastically. “From what I could make out, I thought your nephew’s business was ailing, and he decided to write poems in praise of constipation.”

“Oh.” Tora’s face reddened. He reached for the note. “I guess I got some of the characters mixed up. The fact is, I had a shocking night.”

Akitada’s stomach hurt, and Tora’s problems were not his. He snapped, “Well, well? What did the doctor say about the medicine?”

“Oh. Can you imagine, he recognized me right away and knew all about your loose bowels? He must have the eyes of a cloud dragon!”

“Medicine!” Akitada bellowed. “What am I to do with these pellets?”

Tora looked hurt. “You take one in some hot wine three times a day.”

“Hamaya!”

The clerk put his head in the door. “Excellency?”

“Some hot wine. Quick!”

“Well, as I was saying …” Tora tried to continue his report.

“Wait!” Akitada scowled ferociously, and Tora sank into glum silence.

After the wine arrived and he had taken his first dose, Akitada sighed and remarked more peaceably, “It was good of you to stop by the doctor’s place and ask for these. I am sorry I snapped at you. What shock did you have?”

Tora did not meet his eyes. “Uh … I didn’t exactly… that is, the doctor recognized me at the Golden Carp and asked about your, uh … and gave me the pills. I offered to pay him, but he said not to unless they work. The fact is, he was calling on a patient at the inn. Mrs. Sato wanted to get rid of a sick guest, but the doctor forbade it. She was very angry. She said sick guests are bad for her business, and this one also had no money. When the doctor left, I ran after him to pay for the poor fellow’s medicine. That’s when …”

Akitada held up a hand. “Wait! If you were at the Golden Carp, you may as well start your report at the beginning. What did you find out in the market?”

Tora shifted miserably. “A little. There was one fellow who thought he’d changed money for Takagi or someone like him, but he wasn’t sure about the day. Two men remembered Okano’s act in the wineshop.” He sighed deeply. “There’s not much point in checking out those guys. I know they didn’t do it.”

“And how do you know that?” Akitada asked, astonished.

Tora swallowed. “I … the maid and I, uh, last night. I thought it was a good way to get some information. Amida, I shouldn’t have touched her. She did it, sir! She killed the old man. I bet the bitch slits men’s throats regularly. Start digging behind her kitchen and no telling what you’ll find. She gets ‘em in her bed and then …”

“Tora!”

Tora stopped and looked at him blearily.

“Did she admit to the murder?”

“Not in so many words. But I knew. I put the clues together, just like you do, and they added up.” Tora raised a finger and counted off, “One, she hates her mistress, but not because she works her too hard or pays her too little. Oh, no! She hates her because old Sato married a pretty young thing and doted on her. Two, Kiyo-that’s the maid’s name-used to take care of Sato. If you know what I mean.” Tora glowered.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes,” Tora said bitterly. “She’s one of those females who can’t get enough of it. I guess even an old geezer would do for her.”

“Hmm. Why are you so upset?”

Tora looked at Akitada. “It’s disgusting-like I slept with a leper.”

“You think she killed her employer? Why?”

“She hated him. You should’ve heard her. She went on taking ‘care’ of him after his marriage because the wife wasn’t interested, but it was the wife he gave the money to, the wife he talked about in bed as if she were some kind of goddess. Well, one day, while the wife was visiting her parents, she got fed up and took her revenge and his gold. I bet Kiyo figured the money was hers-for services rendered. She must’ve done it that afternoon, while the three guests were at the market. Nobody saw or heard old Sato after midday. And remember, she used her own kitchen knife. Takagi saw it in the kitchen in the morning, but in the evening, when they were back from the market, it was gone, and she was slicing radish with a little knife. So you see? She had the motive and the opportunity.”

Akitada nodded. “Those are very good points.”

Somewhat consoled, Tora concluded, “There’s one more point, and it clinches the matter. After those three fools went to sleep, she slipped back into the kitchen and put the bloody knife in Takagi’s bundle. Who else could’ve done that?”

“Hmm.” Akitada thought, pulling his earlobe and pursing his lips. “It seems to me you supposed a lot of things. What did she actually say?”

“What I just told you. How she took care of him all those years, and the wife didn’t, and how the wife got everything she wanted and was ungrateful.”

“But that is hardly a murder confession, is it?”

Tora looked confused. “But… you should have been there, sir. It would have turned your stomach, she was so full of hate. It had to be her.” He shuddered. “I slept with a murderess.”

“Well, let it be a lesson to you not to sleep with every girl you run into. You have made an interesting case against that maid, but for the moment we do not have enough evidence to arrest her. Where is Hitomaro?”

“He hasn’t come in? That’s not like Hito. I’ll go look for him.”

“No.” Akitada pushed the documents aside irritably. “We don’t have the time. While you and Hitomaro were out, I have been checking the records. We have a bigger problem than that murder. For three generations now, the Uesugi have ruled this province as their personal domain. During that time they resisted every effort by the government to bring Echigo in line with the Taiho and Yoro law codes. No wonder Judge Hisamatsu runs his court to please the lords of Takata and himself. No wonder the three travelers are being made scapegoats. I expect miscarriage of justice has been the order of the day. And no wonder everybody wishes to be rid of me.”

“Let them try!” Tora said belligerently.

Akitada gave him a long look. “Think, Tora. We have no real power. We don’t even have the support of the military guard, and there is no police force. On five separate occasions the imperial government has dispatched trained police officers from the capital with instructions to set up a local force. The Uesugi sent them all back, claiming that a high constable and a judge were all that is needed. In consequence, the local people take their orders from Takata and ignore us.”

“Why didn’t the other governors object?”

“Apparently they were bribed or threatened into acquiescence.”

Tora’s mind returned to another matter. He frowned. “Something must’ve happened to Hitomaro.”

“Hitomaro can handle himself.” Akitada reached for a document roll and called, “Hamaya.”

When the clerk came in, Akitada handed him the documents. “Here, take a look at these. They have been tampered with. Names have been erased and a whole section has been removed. The affair concerns the late lord’s older brother. I want to know what happened.”

The clerk received the roll with a bow, studied the pertinent sections carefully, and nodded. “Yes, your Excellency is quite right. It was before my time, of course, but I think there was a scandal of sorts. The son in question was repudiated by his father. Changing the documents is quite legal. It is a father’s right to have the son’s name expunged from official family records for serious crimes against family.”

Akitada glowered. “Not on documents in my administration. What happened?”

“I know very little, sir. The family has a history of tragedy. Very brutal times back then. I believe there was a double murder in the women’s quarters. One of the concubines and her child were slain. I don’t know whether that has anything to do with the son.”

“Hmm. See what you can find out.”

The clerk bowed and left.

Akitada pulled his earlobe again. “If they have covered up a crime, we may be able to establish some authority. I think I shall request another police chief from the capital and set up a regular force by next spring.”

“That’ll be a relief,” Tora grunted. “Those lazy, ignorant dogs of constables and that bastard Chobei are hardly my idea of efficient law enforcement.”

“You can stop worrying about Chobei,” said a voice from the doorway. Hitomaro, his face swollen and bruised, walked in with a smile. “I’ve found us a replacement.”

“Amida, what happened to you?” Tora gasped.

Hitomaro lowered himself cautiously to the floor. “Sunada’s thugs set a trap for me. I just got back. And I missed Genba last night.”

Akitada sat up. “Sunada? The merchant? I met the man at Takata.”

Hitomaro told him about the argument outside the restaurant.

Akitada listened glumly. “More bad news,” he commented. “I was hoping to use him to win the local merchants over, but the situation you describe does not promise well. I won’t countenance gangster tactics.”

“The three of us can easily settle that account and teach the merchant a lesson at the same time,” Tora said.

“Not yet. An open confrontation will drive Sunada into the Uesugi camp, and so far, if I don’t miss my guess, Uesugi is reluctant to deal with him. Are you well enough to work, Hitomaro?”

“Fit for anything, sir. The soreness will wear off. And you?”

“Much better, I think. That pill seems to be working. A good thing. Tomorrow I have to attend the old lord’s funeral. And, since the town will be full of people, I plan to hear the case of the innkeeper’s murder the day after.”

Hitomaro said, “We’d better post notices right away. And Tora can drill the constables in their duties. I suppose we’ll have to use Chobei a while longer, sir?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Who is this replacement?”

“One of the outcasts, sir. His name is Kaoru. He’s been working as a woodsman or woodcutter, but he saved my life when those thugs jumped me. There were twelve of them .. .”

“Twelve, against one unarmed man?” Tora cried. “The filthy cowards!”

“Yes. They had cudgels and I passed out pretty quickly. I doubt I’d be here, if Kaoru hadn’t stepped in with some first-rate archery and his dog.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” said Akitada, suppressing some qualms. “But first, let’s hear what you found out. What about the three prisoners?”

“I found a couple of witnesses who will swear that Umehara and Okano did precisely what they said they did, but nobody except for a soup vendor remembers the half-wit.”

“That is good enough. Arrange to have them testify. What did Genba have to say?”

“The local people don’t trust the Uesugi, but they submit as long as they can carry on with their business or farms. There’s a lot of concern about Uesugi drafting young men to serve in the border wars, and some think money is being extorted from families to exempt their sons. That seems to be all.”

“It may be useful. I’ll have Hamaya look into it. Did you learn anything from the outcasts?”

Hitomaro smiled. “Yes, sir. After talking to Genba, I managed to get myself invited to the outcast village. They had a yamabushi there who tended to my wounds and scrapes. I spent the night.”

Akitada clapped his hands. “Well done! I was told they normally keep to themselves.”

“Their women are known for their beauty and sexual skills, so I went to the amusement quarter first.” Hitomaro blushed. “The waitress in a wineshop there was hinin and invited me home for dinner.”

Tora burst out laughing. “Only you would go to the amusement quarter and end up with a free dinner, Hito.”

Hitomaro frowned at him. “It was the easiest way to get to know those people,” he said defensively. “And I did stop at a house of assignation first. It catered to private customers.”

“Please get to the point!” Akitada had a sinking feeling that he was about to be treated to another tale of debauch. “What about the outcasts? Whom do they obey?”

Hitomaro looked relieved. “No one. They are very poor, sir. They grow a few vegetables in their gardens and work the usual dirty jobs in town for a few coppers. But some of the women sell their bodies and bring good earnings home to their families. I got the feeling they are close-knit. The only ones they take instruction from are the yamabushi. I was patched up by the master yamabushi himself.”

Akitada sat up. “Really? The master? An old man with a very long white beard and long hair?”

“You’ve met him, sir? Very impressive. Amazing how educated those mountain priests are. He spoke as well as anyone I ever met, sir. And so does Kaoru, now I think of it.”

Akitada raised his brows. “A well-spoken woodcutter? You surprise me. And the yamabushi speaks, does he? What did he have to say?”

“He thought I was a fugitive looking for sanctuary. It seems he has told the outcasts to take in anyone who’s in trouble with the law. That could account for Uesugi’s hatred of them. They had some toothless deserter hiding there who assaulted one of their women and got his arm broken for it. They don’t want him, but the yamabushi protects him.”

Akitada’s brows contracted in an angry scowl. “Things have gone far in this godforsaken province. Not only am I prevented from upholding the law, but there is a conspiracy afoot to harbor criminals right under our nose.” He fell into a gloomy abstraction. “Worse and worse!” he muttered. “The Uesugi govern, the merchants are gangster bosses, and outcasts hide all those criminals who are not already protected by the other two factions. Where does that leave us?”

“Out in the cold,” quipped Tora, opening a shutter and peering up at the sky. A blast of freezing air blew in.

“Close that,” Akitada snapped, “and pay attention!”

“Things may not be as hopeless as they seem, sir,” Hitomaro said. “I think the outcasts are fighting the Uesugi in their own way. And I’ve found them very decent people. They not only took care of me, but they also tend to a madwoman there. Spooky creature. She’s Kaoru’s grandmother and a soothsayer. She kept looking at me and babbling about blood and murder.”

Akitada said grudgingly, “Well, we are in their debt for helping you, in any case.”

“And none of the small tradesmen will have anything to do with Sunada.”

Akitada sighed. “Yes, that is good. I must be patient.”

“What about Kaoru, sir?” Hitomaro asked.

“When he comes, bring him to me. At least he’s not likely to be working for Uesugi. If he is moderately intelligent and does not help our prisoners to escape, you may train him to replace that rascal Chobei. Now you had both better get on with preparations for our first court session.”

“Sir?” Hitomaro avoided Akitada’s eyes. “May I have a few hours off this afternoon? It, er, concerns the outcasts.”

Akitada opened his mouth to ask for details but, thinking better of it, he nodded. His lieutenants left.

As soon as they were gone, Seimei came in. He gave Akitada an anxious look and asked, “How about a nice cup of herbal tea, sir? I know you don’t like the taste, but I found some honey.”

“No need, Seimei. I feel much better, but if you are free, there is some work.”

For the next hour they drafted the notices to be posted around town, set the clerks to work copying them, prepared a list of witnesses Akitada wanted called, and wrote instructions about the arrangements for the hearing. When they were done, Seimei left to get matters organized.

At midday one of the junior clerks brought Akitada a bowl of rice gruel and some pickled vegetables. He ate hungrily and took another of Oyoshi’s pills with the wine. For the first time in days his stomach felt pleasantly full, and a general sensation of well-being pervaded his body.

After his meal, he just sat quietly, savoring the return of his health. He found he was once again looking forward to the challenges ahead. Now that he had begun to take action, he felt confident of establishing control over the province. The hearing on Sato’s murder would be the first step. He would show the local people how things were supposed to be done. And Uesugi was little more than a silly, posturing border lord. Only the distance from the capital and the venality of past governors had kept him in power. His good times were over.

Into this euphoria walked Judge Hisamatsu. Announced by Hamaya, he entered, bowed stiffly, and took the seat offered by Akitada.

“Your visit is very welcome,” Akitada said with a smile. “I have wanted to greet you officially, Hisamatsu. As you may have heard, my own background is also in law. May I ask when you attended the university?”

Hisamatsu, who had been glowering, gulped. “Ah, quite a few years ago, Excellency. I don’t believe we could have met,” he said frostily.

“No, perhaps not. Do you recall the names of any of your law professors?”

Hisamatsu waved this away. “Names. What are names? But I shall never forget their teachings. Their wisdom is with me every day.”

“Ah, no doubt you studied under Ogata, then.”

Hisamatsu hesitated just a fraction, then said, “Of course. What a legal scholar!”

Satisfied that Hisamatsu had not attended the imperial university, which had never had anyone by the name Ogata teaching there, Akitada relaxed. “This province seems backward in many ways. No doubt there is much lawlessness and you are kept very busy.”

Hisamatsu gave a small laugh. “Oh, yes. Very busy. I earn my salary many times over.”

Akitada nodded and looked thoughtful. “I was afraid of that. I, on the other hand, seem to have few cases to occupy my time.”

Too late Hisamatsu saw the trap. “Oh, I am perfectly capable of handling the caseload, Excellency. And that brings me to the matter I wished to discuss.”

Akitada faked surprise. “Forgive me. I misunderstood your purpose. I thought this was merely a courtesy visit.”

Hisamatsu flushed. “Yes, yes. That, and, well, it has come to my attention-just today, as a matter of fact-that your Excellency has taken an interest in a minor case of mine.”

“I cannot imagine what you mean.”

“The murder of a local innkeeper?”

Akitada chuckled. “I see. You were joking. A minor case? Very funny. Well, actually, it looked interesting to me. Complicated. I rather enjoy complicated cases, don’t you?”

Hisamatsu blustered, “Your pardon, Excellency, but you must have been misinformed. The case is very simple and straightforward. We have the culprits in jail. They have confessed. All that is left is for me to pronounce sentence.”

“Ah, Hisamatsu, I thought perhaps you had jumped to conclusions there. A good thing I checked into it. We can’t have a miscarriage of justice at the beginning of my tenure here, you know. How would it look? The people have a right to be reassured that they can place their trust in their new governor.”

Hisamatsu was becoming angry. “Miscarriage of justice? I fail to see how you can charge such a thing. Confessions, Excellency. We got confessions. Really, I do not understand what all the fuss is about. It will be very much better if you just let the law take its course.”

“Better for whom, Hisamatsu?”

“Why, for everyone. Justice must be served. The victim demands it. The widow demands it. The people of this province demand it.”

“What about the accused? You have arrested three men. Shall they be given justice? No, no, Hisamatsu. In this case due process has not been served. Only two of the men have confessed, and then after the most brutal beatings. I myself have seen their wounds. I trust you are familiar with the regulations pertaining to torture of prisoners?”

Hisamatsu looked startled. “If those constables have exceeded their duty, I shall certainly have them punished.” He paused. “But this will make no difference, for the accused will repeat their confessions in my court. The evidence is clear.”

“Possibly Okano and Umehara will do so. They are as timid as mice. But Takagi will not confess. In any case, you are not ready to hear the case. You have yet to check the three men’s testimony.”

“Check what?” yelped Hisamatsu. “They confessed. They had the gold and the knife. And Takagi is retarded. You don’t expect a brute like that to cooperate right away?”

“The law states that you must have confessions to find men guilty.”

“Trust me, Takagi will confess.”

Akitada said dryly, “Yes, I suppose you will find a way. But your way is not mine. And I will investigate the case myself.”

Hisamatsu’s high color changed to purple. “What? You can’t do that. There’s no precedent. It’s … it’s not legal.”

“I fear, Hisamatsu, that I have a better notion of the law than you. In the future, confine yourself to really minor cases and make certain that transcripts of all your findings are submitted to me before judgment.”

Hisamatsu shot up. “That is insulting. I serve under the high constable.”

Akitada looked up at him and shook his head sadly. “The high constable has died-or hadn’t you heard? And I have no intention of appointing another until I am convinced that this province is loyal to his Majesty. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

Hisamatsu made a choking sound, bowed, and left.

Akitada smiled and got up. He stretched and walked to a small carved chest. After rummaging in it, he pulled out a narrow brocade case and a notebook and carried them back to his desk. Undoing the silk cord of the brocade case, he lovingly removed a plain bamboo flute and turned it in his hand. He had not played since the capital. For some reason neither his wife nor any one else in his household had shown much interest in flute music. A pity.

He really felt extraordinarily well after his meeting with Hisamatsu. The man had folded quickly when faced with firm authority. The present troubles would soon be past.

He lifted the flute to his lips and blew experimentally.

Ah! The fullness of its sound! His heart lifted. He opened the notebook and studied a page. Perhaps he would begin with a passage from “Cicadas in the Pine Trees.”

Halfway through the first scale, the door flew open and Hamaya burst in, his two assistants peering wide-eyed over his shoulders. Akitada lowered his flute. Their expressions changed from shock to intense embarrassment.

“Yes?”

Hamaya turned to the other two and motioned them away. To Akitada he said with a bow, “Forgive the intrusion, sir, but the sound was so unexpected that we thought… we were afraid … please forgive the interruption.”

“I was only playing my flute,” Akitada explained, holding it up. “The song is called ‘Cicadas in the Pine Trees.’ Here, if you listen carefully, you can distinguish the cicada’s cry.” He lifted the flute and produced a series of shrill squeaks and grating rasps.

“Indeed, sir,” stammered Hamaya, “it does sound something like, that is, just like … I must return to work.” Bowing again, he retreated and closed the door softly.

Akitada stared after him. Curious. It was almost as if they had never heard flute music before. He shook his head. What a godforsaken province this was! Well, they would soon learn to appreciate it. He returned to his practice.

In the private rooms, Tamako was sipping tea with Seimei. He had reported that her husband seemed quite well again, much to her relief because she knew he had not come to bed the night before. Now they heard the squeal of the flute and looked at each other. Tamako smiled.

“Oh, I am so glad. He is better. Was it something you gave him?”

Seimei frowned. “No. He has not taken any of my infusions. He can be very stubborn. Against unreason even the Buddha cannot prevail.”

Outside, Tora and Hitomaro, on their way from the constables’ barracks, stopped and looked at each other.

“He’s started again,” said Tora in a tone of horror. “It’s that devil’s instrument. People will say he’s mad. As if we didn’t have enough trouble. I wish he’d left the cursed thing in the capital.”

Hitomaro, who was in an unusually good mood, laughed. “Don’t complain, brother. It means he’s feeling better.” He looked up at the sun. “I must go, but I should be back for the evening rice.”

Tora watched him stride out the gate. Something was up with Hito. He had never seen him so excited. Or so concerned with his appearance. One would almost swear he was on his way to meet a girl.

Several hours after Akitada had wrapped up his flute again and returned to his paperwork, he was startled by the loud clanging of the bell outside the tribunal gate. This was meant to be rung by persons who wished to lay a complaint against someone or report a crime. Finally! He sat up in anticipation.

Hamaya showed in three people. “Mr. Oshima and his wife, sir, and their daughter, Mrs. Sato,” he announced, looking unhappy. “Mrs. Sato is the widow of the slain innkeeper.”

The elderly couple in their neat cotton gowns knelt and bowed their heads to the mats. The young woman lifted her veil, then followed their example more slowly and gracefully. Akitada tried not to stare. She was quite beautiful and wore silk, very inappropriate for the widow of a mere innkeeper. But his primary reaction was disappointment. No new case after all. Still, at least these people acknowledged his authority.

“You may sit up,” he told them, “and inform me of your business.”

The parents settled themselves on their knees and cleared their throats. They cast uneasy glances at Akitada’s official brocade robe, at the elegant lacquer writing set and the document stacks on the desk, and at the thick, silk-trimmed floor mats- Akitada’s own property, which his wife had insisted on installing when she saw his office.

“Don’t be afraid,” Akitada said pleasantly. “I am glad you came and will do my best to help you.”

The old man murmured, “It’s our daughter, your Honor. She says that her husband’s death must be avenged because she’s troubled by his spirit.”

Astonished, Akitada asked, “The dead man’s ghost appears to her?”

“My husband’s ghost resides in our inn,” said the widow in a surprisingly firm voice. “He’s everywhere, in all the dark corners. I live in fear that one of the guests will see him. And at night he hovers over me as I lie on my mat. Sometimes I hear his blood dripping. I have not slept since he died.” She touched a sleeve to her eyes.

“But surely you should call an exorcist.”

“Of course I did that. It was no use.”

Akitada frowned. “I don’t see how I can be helpful.”

The widow’s chin came up and her eyes flashed. “Where am I to find justice, if not from the law? And is not the tribunal the place where we have our wrongs redressed? Ghosts walk only when murder goes unpunished.”

Akitada thought her manner lacking in respect and humility, but he only remarked, “I assure you, madam, I am giving your case my personal attention. The day after tomorrow I shall preside over a public hearing of the matter. You would have been notified shortly.”

“A hearing?” she cried, a flush staining her porcelainlike complexion. “What good is a hearing? The criminals have confessed and must be sentenced.”

The old lady gave a frightened cry. She scooted a little closer to Akitada’s desk and bowed deeply. “Please forgive my daughter’s bad manners,” she murmured. “It is her grief and worry speaking. We came to town for a visit and saw the notices. It is merely to ask about them that we came, your Honor.”

Akitada opened his mouth, but Mrs. Sato was quicker. “No!” she cried. “I have no more patience. I want justice now. And since I’m not getting it, I am filing a complaint.”

Akitada’s mouth snapped shut. He locked eyes with the widow. She did not lower hers, and he read a challenge in her set face which told him negotiations were futile. Suddenly there was no doubt in his mind that this was the beginning of a well-planned campaign. “Very well,” he said coldly. “It is your right to do so. See my clerk. But you will all three attend the hearing anyway.”