Island of Exiles

CHAPTER SIX

Midmorning of the following day the governor paid a surprise visit to the archives. He came accompanied by a small, round-bellied man who walked with short, quick steps and cast a curious glance into Akitada’s cubicle. The governor passed by without a nod and made straight for Yutaka’s office. A murmur of voices told Akitada nothing, but after a few minutes Yutaka, his face stiff with disapproval, put his head in and told him the governor wished to see him.

“This,” said Mutobe, when Akitada had knelt and bowed, “is Inspector Osawa. He is leaving on an inspection tour, and you are to accompany him as his secretary. One of Yutaka’s scribes will also go along.”

Akitada bowed again, suppressing his amusement. A promotion from scribe to secretary? Mutobe must really be uncomfortable with his lowly status. He bowed also to Osawa, who merely stared back. Primly attired in brown robe and black cap, the inspector was in his late forties, and looked like a typical midlevel provincial official. Such men were born and trained in their own provinces, where they made themselves indispensable to the governors with their knowledge of local conditions. Here on Sadoshima, such a man might have allegiances with the wrong factions, and Akitada decided not to trust him.

Mutobe told Osawa, “Perhaps you had better just look into the matter of the Valuables Office before you leave. I will send word to Yamada to have the books ready tomorrow morning.”

Akitada cleared his throat.

“Yes?” asked Mutobe. “Is there a problem?”

“No, Your Excellency. Superintendent Yamada mentioned that he had some copying work for me to do in my spare time.

Since I am indebted to him for my lodging, may I take your message and offer my assistance in getting the accounts ready for Inspector Osawa’s visit?”

Mutobe looked momentarily confused, no doubt wondering what possible interest Akitada might have in an inspection of the Valuables Office, but he said only, “Good idea. Why don’t you go now?”

Akitada bowed to Mutobe and Osawa and went to tell Yutaka that the governor had dispatched him to Yamada.

“Oh, all right,” muttered the shijo, pursing his lips. “But it is very disappointing. First he sends you here, then he sends you away. Yes. Very disappointing.” He shook his head, sighed, and bent to his copying work.

Akitada found Yamada in the small garden behind his house. He was digging radishes and putting them in a basket which already contained some leafy vegetables. When he saw Akitada, he looked embarrassed. “Ah, hmm,” he said. “Back already? You find me at my hobby. Gardening is very good for health and useful, too.” He pointed to the basket. “For our evening meal. I wish the radishes were bigger, but I don’t seem to have the touch. And caterpillars have been in the cabbages.

Do you happen to know about such matters?” Akitada had no time to discuss gardening. He said brusquely,

“I’m afraid not. The governor sent me to tell you that Osawa will inspect the books of the Valuables Office tomorrow.” Yamada was too shocked to take note of Akitada’s abruptness or his lack of courtesy titles for Mutobe and Osawa. He dropped his spade, turned perfectly white, and began to sway on his feet. Akitada caught his arm and helped him to the veranda steps.

“All is lost,” groaned Yamada, putting his head into his muddy hands. “All the hard work in vain. Poor Masako. Poor child. And what will become of my son when his father’s disgrace is known?” He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head in hopeless despair.

Akitada sat down beside him. “What precisely is wrong in the Valuables Office?” he asked.

Yamada raised his head. His mud-streaked face and disordered hair would have looked comical, if it had not been for his tears. “I discovered a month ago that two bars of silver were not what they were supposed to be. Masako and I have been trying ever since to save the money to replace them. One has already been purchased, but we shall not be in time to replace the second one. Osawa was not supposed to visit until the end of the month, and I would have received my salary by then, as well as Masako’s pay for prison maintenance. It was enough to make up another bar. Now it is all for nothing.”

“What do you mean, ‘two bars were not what they were supposed to be’?”

“I accidentally dropped one of them and it broke. It was only clay covered with a thin layer of silver foil. I frantically checked and found another one. Now it will be thought that I made the substitution. They will say I stole the silver to equip my son, who is an officer with the northern army. But that is not so. I sold everything we owned to do that. Then I started this garden and dismissed all my servants. We were so poor when I discovered what had happened to the silver that I could not make good the loss. I was desperate, but Masako thought we might save and earn some extra money and put the silver back before the annual inspection. She took over the duties of the kitchen staff for the prison. I was against it, because it would ruin her reputation. But she argued that my disgrace would also ruin her, and this way we might salvage a great deal, particularly my son’s career. And now, poor child, she has suffered to no purpose.” Yamada fell to weeping again, the tears leaving wet tracks on his dirt-smudged cheeks. Akitada’s heart went out to him and to the girl who had borne her hardship without complaint.

“But,” he said, still mystified, “why didn’t you arrest the person who deposited the fake bars?”

Yamada’s misery deepened. “I couldn’t,” he whispered. “No record.”

“The thief gave a false name?”

“I wouldn’t know. There was a small fire. It destroyed a ledger.”

“Good heavens! Are you the only one who takes care of the Valuables Office?”

“I used to have a clerk, but had to let him go. I discovered the clay bars when I checked the stored goods against my own records after the fire. I was trying to piece together some sort of documentation from the charred remnants of the ledgers.” Akitada mentally raised his brows that Yamada had not checked deposits regularly before but only said, “The governor has given me permission to help you get ready for the inspection.”

“Very kind of him,” muttered Yamada, “but it won’t do any good. I might as well go to him now and confess the whole thing. I will be dismissed, of course, but the worst part is the dishonor. It will ruin my son’s career and Masako’s prospects of marriage.” He brushed fresh tears from his face and rose.

Akitada caught his sleeve. “Wait!”

“Oh, I forgot.” Yamada turned, his expression, if anything, more dismal than before. “Masako must be told. Would you do it?” He raised his hands in a pathetic gesture of entreaty. “I don’t have the belly for it.”

The thought of facing Masako with this bit of news daunted Akitada also. “Don’t give up yet,” he urged. “Perhaps we can buy some time. Could I have a look at the Valuables Office?” In spite of Yamada’s distress, he looked shocked. “There are rules against allowing people into the storage area,” he said.

“And you being a prisoner-well, I don’t think-”

“In that case,” said Akitada, “I don’t see how I can help you.

But surely if you are with me, an exception might be made?” Yamada hesitated. “Why do you want to see it?”

“To get an idea how the theft was done and perhaps find the thief.”

“It could be anyone. I told you, the records are gone.” But Yamada’s fear was so great that he took Akitada across the compound to a small building in the far corner.

The Valuables Office had been fitted into the outer wall so that its front faced out into the main street, where it was acces-sible to merchants and farmers, while the rest of the building was within the walls of the guarded compound. Apart from the front, its plaster walls were windowless and it had only one rear door.

Yamada and Akitada entered through this back door, which Yamada unlocked with a set of keys he carried. He lit a lantern that stood on a shelf beside the doorway. By its light, Akitada could make out rows of shelving filled with all sorts of objects. In one corner was an iron-bound chest for money and many bags of rice. Silver and copper coins were a more practical form of tender, but less common than the ubiquitous rice as a medium of exchange.

Yamada passed through this room and unlocked a second door, which led into the front area where business was trans-acted. Here some light filtered in through high and narrow paper-covered windows. The walls still bore traces of smoke damage. From outside they could hear the voices of passersby and the sounds of wheels and horses’ hooves.

“We only open for business on the first and tenth day of each month,” explained Yamada.

Against the back wall stood shelves which held scales for weighing precious metals, an abacus, various writing tools, candle holders, and ledgers. Both the front door and the heavy door they had just passed through were protected by metal locks and a series of iron bands and studs.

“Who, besides you, has keys to this place?” asked Akitada, walking over to the new-looking ledgers and turning the pages idly.

“Nobody.”

“Not even the clerk who used to work here?”

“Certainly not. I did not trust him. He drank and made careless mistakes.”

“And where do you keep your keys when you don’t carry them?

Yamada frowned at this interrogation. “With me at all times.

Why? The torch was thrown in from the street. Nobody broke in or unlocked any doors.”

Akitada turned to look at Yamada in surprise. “A torch was thrown from the street? Why?”

Yamada shook his head. “Who knows? There are too many criminals on this island. The fire was put out quickly, and we did not pursue the matter when we found the deposits safe

behind their locked doors. The only loss was one ledger and a broken window screen. We moved the shelves against the back wall after that, and I copied what information I could gather from the charred ledger.”

Akitada nodded and studied the entries. “You wrote all this?

I see you loaned five strings of cash on five bars of silver. Is that the going rate?”

“It’s generous but not unusual. If the person is known to us and reliable, as much as a thousand copper cash or fifty sho of rice are advanced for one bar of silver. About half its value.” Akitada whistled. “So two bars would have got a man enough to feed himself for a year. Let’s have a look at your treasures.”

“Is this really necessary? If someone found out-”

“You would be no worse off.”

Yamada sighed and turned back into the storage room, taking the keys from his sash again to relock the door. Holding up the lantern, he led the way to the shelves which filled an area two or three times the size of the front room.

Akitada saw that the shelves bore numbers, each number corresponding with a deposit. He walked along picking up this or that, while Yamada followed, watching nervously to make sure he replaced it in its assigned spot. The goods consisted of rolls of silk and brocade, lengths of cotton, various art objects, books, musical instruments, swords, elegant utensils in lacquer and inlaid metals, and numerous stacks of silver bars. He thought of the death of the Second Prince and the murder of little Jisei. Silver figured in both instances. The prince’s plot, if indeed there had been one, would have been financed with local silver, and the little convict had worked in one of the mines.

“Here,” said Yamada, pointing to three silver bars in a corner of one of the shelves. “These are the two clay ones. The third one is the silver bar I purchased.”

Akitada took them up one by one. The first two seemed a little lighter than the third, and he saw that a piece had broken off one of these, revealing the red clay underneath. The second bar showed clay beneath some scratches, no doubt made by Yamada to verify that it, too, was counterfeit. Whoever had accepted these bars was criminally negligent. The scales in the other room would have revealed the problem instantly. “You said you checked all the rest?” Akitada asked, looking around at the many small piles of silver.

“Yes, I checked them all.”

“Hmm. Only two out of all of these. When did your clerk leave?”

Yamada frowned. “It was before the fire. A very unreliable person. I had to speak to him repeatedly about sleeping during working hours, but after the fire I wished I had kept him on.”

Akitada looked at another deposit. It was a large one, consisting of some fifteen silver bars and various boxes. Noting a small silk pouch, he picked it up. It was astonishingly heavy.

“That is raw gold,” Yamada said.

“Gold?” The contents felt lumpy. Akitada opened the bag and saw small irregular chunks of the yellow metal inside. None was larger than the average pebble. “Where did this come from?” he asked.

“Sometimes a farmer or some youngster finds a piece in a stream. Often they don’t know what it is and take it to a temple.”

“And you don’t know its owner either?”

“But I do. It belongs to the Kokubunji Temple. I remember the little bag of gold. Silver bars are more common.”

“Yes. Hmm.” Akitada fell into deep thought, and Yamada began to fidget with the keys and shuffle his feet. “Yes,” said Akitada again, coming out of his reverie, “it might work. Here is what we’ll do to catch our thief.”

Yamada’s eyes grew round as he listened, and he shook his head violently at first. But the more Akitada explained, the more he came around, and finally he nodded reluctantly.

“Mind you,” warned Akitada, “you must tell the governor what happened. Throw yourself on his mercy. I believe he is an understanding man and will forgive you if you get the loan back and arrest the thief.”

“But what about Masako? Do we tell her or not?” Akitada wanted to say no, but the girl deserved to be told.

She had proven her devotion to her family and could be trusted with the secret. Akitada feared that she might feel some obligation to him. “Tell her, but don’t mention me,” he advised.

Yamada shook his head. “No. I’m going to the governor now before I lose my courage. You should know that I am a very bad liar. Perhaps I may manage to claim credit for your idea with him, but Masako would have the truth out of me in a minute. You had better speak to her. Oh, dear! She’s at home, waiting for the vegetables. Would you mind taking them? I suppose people must eat.”

“You had better wash before you see the governor.” Yamada looked at his hands and touched the drying mud on his face. “Oh, dear!” he muttered and made for the door. Outside he stopped and came back to pull Akitada out with him and relock the Valuables Office. Then he rushed off again.

Akitada followed more slowly, amused to see Yamada washing himself at the kitchen well in order to avoid his daughter. He went through the garden to pick up the basket of vegetables. In the entrance he set down the basket and kicked off his sandals before stepping up on the wooden floor. There was no sign of Masako.

“Anyone home?” he called out.

“Yes.” Her voice came from the back, and he followed the sound.

“It’s me,” he said loudly, faced with a hallway of closed doors. One of the doors flew open, and Masako looked out.

“Taketsuna?”

She was wearing the old scarf around her head, but her hair had escaped and was slipping down her back and across one cheek. Her face was hot and flushed, and she appeared to be wearing a man’s cotton shirt over an old pair of trousers. There was a smudge of dirt on her nose and one cheek. With her eyes wide and her lips half opened, she had never looked more desirable to Akitada, who stood transfixed.

“I did not expect you at this time of day. Is anything wrong?”

“No. I had a message for your father.”

“Oh.” She became aware of his eyes on her, brushed helplessly at her hair and then wrapped her arms about her middle, looking at the floor in mortification. “I’m ashamed you caught me like this,” she murmured. “I was cleaning the floor and-”

“You look beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

“Oh, no. Oh, I wish I were more like other women, with their beautiful gowns and their elegant manners. I wish you . . .” And she burst into tears.

Later he would find all sorts of excuses for what happened next: having embarrassed her so deeply, he had to reassure her-he merely wished to calm her so he could give her the news-he was only offering her brotherly support.

None of these was true, of course. Akitada took the three steps separating them and opened his arms because he had wanted to hold her for a long time now, had wanted to feel that lithe body against his, had wanted to comfort her with his caresses and be caressed in turn.

Masako came to him with a small cry of joy, nestling against him, murmuring endearments, and responding with a passion which startled him into partial sanity. He loosened his embrace and caught her hands on his bare chest where she had slipped them under his robe.

“No, Masako,” he pleaded. “Please don’t tempt me. Your circumstances are sufficiently improper without this.”

“I don’t care,” she cried. “I have wanted you to love me since I first saw you. I don’t care about me. I don’t care about anything but you.” She pulled him into the room, closed the door behind them, and drew him down onto the matting, tugging feverishly at his sash.

Kneeling above her, he caught her hands again. “No, Masako,” he said, “I cannot take a wife, and you must save yourself for a husband.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Save myself? Don’t be ridiculous.

I’m not a woman of your class.” She flushed. “Besides, it’s too late to worry about that.” When he still hesitated, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh. You do find me disgusting.”

“No,” he cried. “You are beautiful. I want you. More than anything, but . . .” Weakening, filled with desire, he released her hands.

She reached for his face, bringing it so close to her own that he could taste her breath as she whispered, “Prove it, then.” Her breath was so sweet that he tasted her lips with his own and was lost.

Afterward, as they lay together, he cradling her nude body in his arms, she with her eyes closed and a smile curving her lips, he said in wonder, “I came to speak to you about your father’s problem and now I do not know how to face him.”

“Father’s problem?” She sat up and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Tell me.”

It was difficult to concentrate. She had a lovely and utterly desirable body. “I am sorry, Masako,” he said, touching a long tress of hair and following it across one breast and down her small, flat belly. “I should not have done that.” She shivered at his touch, but caught his hand with hers.

“What problem?” she demanded.

He told her about the inspection. She paled and reached for her trousers. Putting them on and then slipping on the shirt, she asked, “Does this mean that the shortage is known?” He marveled at her. One moment she was all passionate seductive female, and the next as levelheaded and businesslike as any man. He said, “No, your father has a plan and, with the governor’s approval, we shall put it into operation tonight.” Reaching for her scarf, she cried, “Oh, no. The governor must not know. I hope Father has not had another urge to bare his soul.” She twisted her hair up and tied it quickly under the scarf. Akitada admired the way her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her shirt. Starting toward the door, she said, “I must talk to him immediately.”

“Too late. He has already left to discuss the matter with His Excellency.”

She turned with a wail. “Oh, no. Then all is lost. How could you let him do such a stupid thing?”

“Because,” he said, getting to his feet and rearranging his own clothes, “I will not take part in an illegal act even if it is to catch a thief. And what we plan is against the law unless it has the approval of the governor.”

“What?” She suddenly looked furiously angry. “So! I see it was your idea. To catch a thief according to the letter of the law, you will ruin my family. And you a convict yourself! What sort of man are you? Did you trade my father’s honor for your freedom?” He flinched and tried to mend things. “You misunderstand.

What we have in mind will clear your father and allow you to return to a normal life. And your father will receive the credit for the capture of the thief.”

After a moment, she asked suspiciously, “What is this plan?” He told her and watched her face begin to relax and her eyes to shine with excitement. “It might work. Very well, let’s get started right away. You and I can move the goods here, and then, after dark, we’ll make a hole in the outside wall.”

“That will not be necessary, Masako. A torn paper covering on one of the windows, a broken lock, and an abandoned iron bar, and it will look convincing enough.” She nodded after a moment. “Yes. You’re right. Less damage is easier to fix.” That settled, she became suspicious again. “How did you find out about the silver bars?”

“It’s a bit complicated.”

Her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms across her chest.

“Never mind! I want to know.”

“Well, I wondered what would cast a family like yours into such abject poverty that you had to work like this.” He gestured at her clothing. She blushed, ripping off the unflattering cotton scarf so that her glossy long hair fell freely about her shoulders again. His fingers yearned to touch it, but he continued, “At first I wondered if either your father or your brother was a gambler, but then you said the hard times would soon be over. Since gamblers don’t change their habits, it occurred to me that some other costly mishap had befallen your father. Then I found out about his stewardship of the Valuables Office. Your reaction when I asked you about it proved that I had guessed correctly.

Your father admitted the rest a short while ago when I told him about the inspection. That was all.”

“Very clever. Do you always pry into other people’s affairs?”

“Yes,” he said quite seriously.

She chuckled, thinking he had joked. “Oh, very well. But don’t try to tell me that this was Father’s idea. He is a dear man and a most honest official, but he has never been devious.”

The trap was set during the night. Having made the necessary arrangements, Akitada returned to his room for a few hours’ rest. Masako had laid out his bedding, and he took off his robe and got under the quilts. A moment later, his door opened quietly, and she slipped in and joined him. He wished she had not come, but when he felt her naked body searching with eager passion for his embrace, he gave in.

Very early the following morning, notices appeared all over town. The notices read:

To the people of Sadoshima

Robbers and thieves have broken into the Valuables Office.

I, the governor, order all those who have made deposits to appear in person with their receipts to identify their property or receive compensation for their loss. It is the duty of all citizens to report any knowledge of the criminals.

These orders must be obeyed.

A noisy crowd gathered in front of the message board outside the gates to the tribunal, and within minutes a short line had formed at the door to the Valuables Office. Two guards stood watch outside. People chattered excitedly, pointing up at the broken window. Inside Yamada and Akitada had been joined by the governor.

Yamada stood on a small cask and peered through the torn paper down at the waiting people.

“Do you recognize anyone?” the governor asked.

“No, but it’s still early.”

“Yes,” said Akitada, “if he isn’t here yet, he will be. He’s a greedy man who expects to collect two bars of real silver in exchange for two of clay, and without having to worry that the theft will ever be laid at his door.” The governor muttered, “Perhaps. But this is most inconvenient. You were supposed to leave right after the inspection today. Now we have to wait another day. I cannot imagine what made you so careless, Yamada. You should have inspected all the silver daily.”

Yamada stepped down from his cask and hung his head. “I am most sorry, Excellency. I wish you would accept my resignation.” Mutobe waved the offer away irritably. “I told you, I cannot spare you. At least you thought of a way to rectify your carelessness-even if, as the saying goes, we are twisting a straw rope after the thief has escaped. Still, if you catch the man, we will say no more about it. Well, I must be off. Taketsuna can help you interview the claimants. If nothing else, you will be able to confirm ownership that way.”

When the governor had left, Akitada said encouragingly,

“There. I told you it would be all right. Now let us get busy twisting that rope. We’ll tie that thief up yet.” He opened the door and admitted the first claimant.

By midday they had interviewed nearly fifty people and produced two hundred bars of silver and assorted other items of value demanded by their nervous owners. Seeing their property safe, most claimants decided to leave it on deposit. Yamada was able to update and correct his ledgers. Of course, no one had any information about the robbers, although one old man attempted to trade information for wine. The old-timer told a rambling story about a man in his quarter who had been brag-ging only that morning about a sudden windfall. The windfall turned out to be no more than some fifty or a hundred coppers, and they more than likely had been earned by his wife, who was a potter. They refused the old-timer’s offer and sent him away in disgust.

Yamada fell to brooding, and Akitada did not feel much more cheerful. Why had the thief not come or sent an associate?

From the beginning, Akitada had suspected the former clerk.

The clay bars differed in weight from the real thing and anyone accustomed to handling silver bars would have known they were a sham. In fact, they should have been weighed. Short of Yamada himself, the clerk was the only other person who could have accomplished the fraud. But there was no proof until he claimed the two bars of silver, and this he would hardly do in person. No, he would send someone else. As Akitada considered the matter of a likely accomplice, a memory stirred, and he turned to Yamada. “Do you suppose the man whose wife makes pottery could be involved after all?” Yamada shook his head despondently. Outside a cart rumbled past. The guard posted at the door yawned loudly. It was almost closing time.

“We have failed,” Yamada said.

“Perhaps our man is out of town and did not hear of the notice,” Akitada offered, but he did not really believe it himself.

“It was kind of you to try to help,” Yamada muttered glumly,

“but I’m afraid it’s no good. I shall tender my resignation in the morning.”

There was nothing Akitada could say. He was racked by guilt over his affair with Masako, and his failure to solve Yamada’s problem made him feel worse. It struck him that this matter was trivial by comparison with his true assignment. If he could not even catch a petty thief, how was he to succeed in his much more complex and dangerous undertaking?

And now there was a new complication in his life. In a moment of weakness, he had made Masako and her family his responsibility. Many men of his class had several wives or concu-bines, but he had hardly sufficient income for one wife and small son. How could he maintain additional families? And he shuddered at the prospect of bringing Masako home with him. Quite apart from the fact that such an act so soon after their marriage and the birth of his son was a profound insult to his wife, the two women had little in common. Feeling wretched, he got up to put away the ledgers and clean out his brush.

But just then the guard outside hailed someone, then ush-ered in a thin, dirty-looking man in his thirties.

The scrawny individual clutched a token and a bag of coins.

With a nervous glance at the guard, he sidled up to Yamada’s desk. “It’s about my silver,” he said. “I’m a bit late, but I’m just back from a trip. The minute I got home, my neighbor comes running and tells me to hurry over here. He says there was a robbery and to bring my claim token. A poor man like me can’t afford to lose his hard-earned savings. Two bars, it was.” He extended the wooden token. “I brought the two strings of cash.” He lifted the bag of coins.

Akitada took the token, recorded the name in his ledger, and checked the date. Then he passed it to Yamada.

Yamada stared at the characters, then at the man. “Your name, profession, and place of residence?”

“Tobe, Your Honor. I’m a vegetable farmer. Me and my wife live in Takase.”

“Takase? Where is that?” asked Akitada, looking up from the entries.

“It’s a village down the coast,” explained Yamada.

“When did you bring in the silver bars?” Akitada asked.

“I forget. It says on the token, doesn’t it?” Yamada glanced again at the token. “I might have known the drunken sot was too careless to weigh them,” he muttered in a tone of outrage.

“What?” The thin man blinked. “It’s all proper and right, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Akitada said quickly. “But we have to check these things. Anyone could claim two bars of silver with a stolen token. How did you come by that much silver as a farmer?” The man shuffled and tried an ingratiating grin. “I work hard and save my earnings.”

Yamada frowned. “Surely that is an extraordinary amount to have saved at your age. I think we had better check to make sure your claim is legitimate.”

The man paled. “It’s the truth,” he whined. “My wife and me, we both work hard.”

Akitada said, “Hmm,” and gave him a sharp look. “Can you bring any witnesses who saw you depositing two bars of silver here?”

Tobe looked panic-stricken. “I . . . I’ll be back tomorrow.

Give me back my token.”

“No. We’re getting to the bottom of this now,” said Yamada with uncharacteristic firmness.

The man gasped a little. “It’s not urgent. I can wait,” he cried, bowing and backing toward the door while clutching his coins to his chest.

Yamada rose and called the guard when another man ran in and collided with the retreating Tobe. It was the old drunk, considerably more unsteady on his feet than earlier. He clutched at Tobe for support, and for a moment the two swayed together like an odd pair of lovers.

The drunk cried, “It’s you. Now I get my reward.” He wrapped both arms around Tobe’s thin figure and announced, “He’s your robber. Arrest him quick.”

The other man cursed and pushed the drunk away viciously.

The beggar hit the wall with a thud, and Tobe made a dash for the door, where the guard caught him in mid-flight.

Akitada bent over the old drunk to help him up. “Are you hurt, old man?” he asked.

The beggar felt his shoulder and ribs, started to shake his head, then croaked, “I’m a bit dizzy. Could I have a drop of wine?”

“No more wine,” Akitada said firmly. “What’s this about a reward?”

“I was here before. Don’t you remember? That fellow’s called Shiro. He’s the mat mender. He’s the one robbed the Valuables Office. I want my reward.”

“You say his name’s Shiro and he lives right here in town?

Are you sure, old man?”

“Of course I’m sure. He lives in my quarter. His wife makes clay pots and sells them on the market.”

“Aha!” Yamada eyed their claimant, still in the clutches of the grinning guard, with grim satisfaction.

The man’s haggard face was covered with sweat. His eyes moved about the room like a cornered animal’s. “I’m no robber.

I’m a respectable tradesman,” he protested. “And he’s only a drunken beggar and he lies.”

“Tradesman? I thought you said you are a farmer,” Akitada reminded him.

“Yes, and you also claimed to live in Takase,” Yamada put in.

When the man said nothing, Yamada told the guard, “Put him down. Then close the door and wait outside. We may need you.” The guard released his captive, saluted, and left, slamming the door behind him. The sound caused their captive to start trembling.

“Well, what is your name?” Yamada snapped.

“Shiro. I . . . I go by both names.” Their suspect started to inch toward the door again. “If it’s too much trouble, I can come back tomorrow,” he offered.

Akitada laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s no trouble at all. It must be a great thing for a man to have a wife who helps him earn a living. I suppose, being appreciative, you lend her a hand every now and then, do you, Shiro?”

The man thought about this and decided to agree. “Of course. I’m a considerate husband. I’m always carrying clay for the little woman and taking her pots to the market.”

“And you help her fire her pots, no doubt? Perhaps even shape a simple clay object yourself?” The other man gulped. “N-no, n-not that. No.”

“Oh, well. Just a guess,” said Akitada. Picking up the token, he disappeared into the storage area. When he reappeared, he carried two silver bars. “Here you are.” He tossed the bars to Shiro, who was so astonished that he was a bit slow catching them. One bar fell and broke.

The man put the other one down on the desk as if it burned his fingers. Perspiration beaded his face again. “There’s been some m-mistake,” he mumbled. “These are not mine.” The old drunk staggered over to stare at the broken pieces.

Picking up a shard, he squinted at the red clay inside the silver foil. “Looks like your wife made this one,” he told Shiro. “Why did you rob the place when you’ve been making your own silver bars?” He burped loudly.

“I didn’t.” Shiro clutched his bag of coins. “It doesn’t matter.

I’ll go now. Thank you very much. So sorry for the inconvenience.”

But Yamada had lost his patience. He rose, glowered at Shiro, and snapped, “Not so fast. This man has accused you of a crime.

You are under arrest pending a full investigation. Guard!” Shiro fell to his knees and began to weep. “I didn’t want to do it. Tosan made me do it, your honor. And I gave him most of the money. I only got thirty coppers for my trouble.”

“Tosan? Who’s Tosan?” Akitada asked.

“He’s Shiro’s neighbor,” volunteered the old drunk.

“Tosan used to work here,” muttered Shiro.

Yamada was dumbfounded. “You mean my own clerk planned this?” he asked. Both the beggar and Shiro nodded their heads. Yamada looked at the waiting guard. “Send someone to bring Tosan here this instant!” The guard saluted and left.

Akitada said, “You made the clay bars from your wife’s clay and fired them in her kiln, didn’t you, Shiro?” The man nodded miserably. “Then you covered them with foil and brought them to the Valuables Office, and the clerk Tosan paid you two strings of cash for them, and you and Tosan divided the money later?” Again the man nodded. “Did Tosan help you set fire to the office, too?”

“Oh, the evil creature!” Yamada cried, his eyes round with shock.

“I didn’t set the fire,” whimpered the thin man.

“Never mind,” said Akitada. “The judge will have the whole story out of both of you with a good flogging. And then, you dog, it will be the mines for a skinny fellow like you.” It was an inspired threat.

“No! Not the mines. I’ll talk, but not the mines.” Prostrating himself before them, Shiro knocked his head on the ground.

“Let’s hear the whole story, then,” demanded Akitada.

“We’ve been wondering how an ordinary thief could pull such a trick, but as you had clay handy and a clay oven hot enough to bake it and melt a bit of silver, that part is clear as water. How did you get involved?”

“Tosan made me do it because I owed him money.” Yamada said disgustedly, “I should have fired that crook a long time ago.”

At this the man calmed down a little-thinking perhaps that he had two sympathetic listeners-and poured out his story.

Leaving aside the fact that he cast himself as the helpless victim of Tosan, the mastermind, it had a strong element of truth. As neighbors, Tosan and Shiro had spent their evenings together, drinking as they watched Shiro’s wife making her pottery. Tosan complained about his work, his low wages, and his master’s unfair reprimands, while Shiro blamed his misfortunes on ill luck. Tosan often described the stored wealth in glowing terms to Shiro, and the two men would discuss the pleasures that could be had with just one bar of silver. Once Tosan picked up some fresh clay to shape into an approximation of a silver bar. That moment the idea was born. Shiro shaped the clay, glazed and baked it, wrapped it in a few sheets of silver foil, and thus produced two replicas of silver bars which met with Tosan’s approval. The next day, Shiro deposited the bars and took away two strings of a thousand cash each. They split the proceeds that very night. Soon after, Yamada dismissed Tosan for laziness.

On Tosan’s instruction, Shiro had given a false name and place of residence, but as the entry was in Tosan’s handwriting, the ex-clerk decided that a bit of arson might serve to destroy the evidence and also be a nice revenge, since Yamada would have to replace the ledgers or suffer severe reprimands himself.

Shiro claimed his part in this had merely been to carry the ladder Tosan used to break the high window panel and toss the torch down on the ledgers.

At this opportune moment, two constables arrived with Tosan. He was a fat man with the red, puffy face of a habitual drinker, and he took in the situation at a glance.

Yamada greeted him with a shout of fury. “You miserable dog! Not enough that you spent half your time here drunk out of your head or asleep; you had the ingratitude to reward my trust and patience by stealing and setting fire to the Valuables Office.”

“What?” cried Tosan. “Who told lies about me?” He looked at the old drunk, who grinned back impudently. “Him? A beggar? He’s a piece of dung who makes up stories to get wine.” He turned to Shiro, who still knelt weeping in front of Yamada’s desk. “Or him? He’s owed me money for months and is probably trying to weasel out of paying me.”

For a moment, Yamada looked dangerously close to having a fit. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding his voice. “We’ll see who speaks the truth,” he finally said, his eyes flashing. “You are both under arrest. And the charge is plotting to overthrow His Majesty’s government. You, Tosan, have misused your official position to steal goods placed into the government’s safekeeping for the express purpose of stirring up popular unrest against the emperor.” Akitada’s jaw dropped. The charge was as ridiculous as it was brilliant. Treason on a penal colony warranted the death penalty. The clerk knew it, too. He uttered a strangled croak and fainted.

Yamada stood beside Akitada outside the Valuables Office when they took away their two thieves. “Thank heaven it’s over,” he said with a deep sigh of relief. “I had given up all hope, but now all is well. And I even have my silver back.”

“Well, yes,” said Akitada, “though you might express your appreciation to the drunk. He did identify the thief.”

That night, Tosan and Shiro signed their confessions, and Masako came to Akitada for the third time.

Her eyes shone as she slipped under Akitada’s blanket.

“Thank you, Taketsuna,” she whispered, reaching for him.

“Father could never have done it without your help.” Akitada put her hands from his body and sat up. “No, Masako,” he said, “not tonight or any other night. You are beautiful and you know quite well that I find you most desirable, but I cannot take you to wife. What has happened between us was a mistake, my mistake, which I regret deeply. I’m already married, and there can be no formal relationship between us. Because I value your father’s good opinion, I will not make love to you again.”

Making this speech had been extraordinarily hard. He had lain awake wondering what to say to her. Having spent every moment since their first encounter in self-recriminations, he had added self-disgust after he succumbed to his desire for her a second time. A third time would, by custom, formalize their relationship, and he could not bring himself to take that step.

But he did not like hurting her and watched her face anxiously, expecting a torrent of grief and arguments.

But Masako neither wept nor argued. She said calmly, “I did not expect you to marry me. But I thought we might be lovers.

I like to pay my debts.”

He flinched a little. “You owe me nothing. You and your father have offered me hospitality and I have done little enough in return. I am in your debt.”

“As you wish.” She got up then and bent for her discarded undergown. Turning away a little, she slipped it back on. The flickering candlelight made the thin silk transparent, and in her modesty she was more seductive than she had been when she had pressed her warm naked body to his. “When you leave us, will you remember me?” she asked without looking at him.

He felt ashamed. “I will never forget you, Masako,” he said and caught her hand to his cheek. “I am half in love with you.” She smiled a little then, and left.

The following morning, after Osawa approved Yamada’s books, Akitada departed on his journey to find Prince Okisada’s killer.