The fisherman pointed at the body. "I saw him. Koichi. He was in front of Mr. Sunada. He looked angry. His hands were waving, and he cursed. Koichi is a very bad person. A jailbird."

"Did he hit Mr. Sunada? Put his hands around Mr. Sunada's throat? Throw stones? What did he do? What did he say?"

The fisherman looked at Sunada and twisted his hands together. "He may have been hitting. I couldn't hear the words."

At this point, another man in the dark brown ramie robe of a well-to-do merchant pushed through the crowd. After bowing to Sunada, he said to Hitomaro, "I am Tsuchiya, sake wholesaler. I live in the big house over there and saw everything from my upstairs window. Poor Mr. Sunada here was just walking along, when this dirty person stepped in his way. Mr. Sunada was trying to pass, speaking calmly, but the man was shouting and raising his arms. I myself thought he was mad and would kill Mr. Sunada. Thank heavens Mr. Sunada was quick. A great blessing to us all! What a loss Mr. Sunada's death would have been to this city! I will gladly testify to Mr. Sunada's total innocence and to his excellent reputation in this province."

Hitomaro regarded the sake merchant dubiously. Turning back to Sunada, he said, "What is your trade?"

Sunada flushed angrily. "Everybody knows I buy and sell rice and other goods here and in other provinces. My warehouses are in Flying Goose village near the harbor, and I keep a fleet of sailing ships at anchor there. Now are you satisfied that I'm an honest citizen?"

Hitomaro ignored the question. "Did you know the victim?"

"I don't keep company with criminals."

"If you have never seen the man before, how did you know his name? Koichi, I believe, you called him?"

"Of course I had seen him and knew he was called Koichi. Everyone in this town knew him as a dangerous criminal."

"Ah! Have you ever been attacked by him before?"

"No, but as you saw, I always carry a weapon."

Hitomaro nodded. "Very well. The rest can wait till later. You and your witnesses will follow me to the tribunal." He looked about, saw two brawny bearers mingling with the crowd and whistled to them. Before he could tell them where to take the body, Sunada seized his arm.

"Are you deaf or stupid? I told you that I don't have the time," he snapped. "If I can manage it, I shall stop by the tribunal sometime tomorrow." Looking over Hitomaro's shoulder at the sake merchant, he bowed slightly and said, "Good night, Tsuchiya. Give my best to your family."

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Hitomaro caught Sunada's elbow just as the man was turning and spun him around roughly. Sunada's hand went to his empty sash. Hitomaro bared his teeth and said, "Not this time, my friend. So. Resisting an officer of the law and threatening him with bodily harm? I believe I shall put you in jail."

Sunada stepped back, his face pale with fury. He scanned the crowd, then raised his left hand, making a curious gesture with his thumb and forefinger.

The ones close to them fell silent and moved back. Their places were taken by men in rough working clothes, brawny men with the deep tans of life outdoors, men with bulging shoulders and sinewy arms, men with the stubborn, dangerous faces of hired thugs.

And there was Boshu, Sunada's overseer. Boshu had a large iron spike in one hand and was tapping the palm of the other with it. "Mr. Sunada, sir," he said to his master without taking his eyes off Hitomaro, "we wondered if there was any trouble."

TWELVE.

THE TWISTED WAYS.

OF LOVE.

T.

he early morning gathering in Akitada's icy private office was subdued. Day was breaking outside, but the shutters were closed against the cold and a candle flickered in the drafts. Akitada himself sat white-faced with fatigue, his shoulders hunched against the chill, his shaking hands tucked into his wide sleeves. Tora had been nodding off and jerking himself awake earlier but was staring at Hitomaro now, who had just finished his report and was waiting with the rigid face of a man expecting a reprimand.

When Akitada said nothing, Tora could not restrain himself. "You mean you let that bastard walk away from a cold-blooded murder? Committed in broad daylight in front of a large crowd? By the same man who sent his thugs after you once before? I can't believe you'd be afraid to teach him a lesson when you caught him in the act!"

Hitomaro, who was seated stiffly next to him, compressed his lips but did not take his eyes from Akitada's tired face. "If I have acted improperly, sir," he said, "I offer my resignation."

Outside the wind splattered wet sleet against the shutters like fistfuls of small pebbles.

Akitada shivered again and blinked. "No, no. Pay no attention to Tora. He is half asleep with exhaustion. You did quite right. A confrontation would have availed nothing and innocent people would have been hurt. Sunada is not going to abscond." He gestured toward some documents on the desk. "I'll have a look at the depositions later." He sighed. "At the moment we have a more urgent problem. The Uesugi servant's grandson has disappeared. Tora and I spent the night turning Takata manor and the surrounding country upside down." In a weary voice he told Hitomaro of their investigation.

Hitomaro relaxed a little. "The boy must be dead or you would have picked up some trail."

Akitada clenched a hand. "I refuse to believe that. It's what they want us to think. Sooner or later there will be a clue."

"In that case," grumbled Tora, "I wish you'd gone home when the doctor did, instead of wasting a whole night searching that accursed foxes' den."

Hitomaro frowned his disapproval of such insolence, but Akitada said quite calmly, "It served its purpose. After we talked to everyone and searched everywhere, neither Uesugi nor his steward will dare punish the maid for reporting the disappearance. And it may have gained us some goodwill from the servants. They seemed genuinely fond of Toneo."

"Well," muttered Tora after a huge yawn, "I don't care what you two do next. I'm going to bed. Send for me later if you have any orders." He got up and stretched, yawning again.

"Tora!" hissed Hitomaro.

"Sit down, Tora. Hitomaro is not finished." Akitada's voice was flat with exhaustion. "Go ahead, Hitomaro. You met Genba later, after you had taken the depositions?"

"Yes, sir. Genba stayed in the crowd to watch and listen." Hitomaro smiled a little. "If there had been a confrontation, Sunada's thugs would've had their second surprise. You would not recognize Genba. He's huge and can toss a grown man farther than I can jump. He will win that match, I'm sure of it. After he saw that I was letting Sunada and his goons go, Genba went to Flying Goose village. The fisherman Rikio"a"Hitomaro tapped the depositions on the deska""is one of Sunada's men. He got in debt and Sunada helped him out. Now he's working off the debt in Sunada's warehouses when he's not fishing. A lot of fishermen are in the same ... er ... boat."

Nobody chuckled. Akitada was rummaging among the papers on his desk. "Yes, I thought so," he muttered, shivering. "No doubt the sake merchant is equally obligated to Sunada. Where is Seimei? Is there any hot tea? Wine will put me to sleep and there is too much work to be done."

Hitomaro rose to call for Seimei. The old man arrived quickly, bowing to Akitada, and placing the tea utensils on the desk. Coughing, he muttered something about hot water and left again.

"I wish there were even the smallest sign of support for imperial authority," Akitada said peevishly. "I dislike the idea of serving as high constable, although there is both precedent and cause for it. If I could count on just a small faction to oppose Uesugi, I would gladly forgo that dubious honor."

Seimei reappeared with a steaming pot and prepared the tea.

"Well, there's the doctor," Tora offered.

Akitada said, "Yes. Thank you for reminding me, Tora. Oyoshi is a good man and a loyal friend, I think."

Seimei poured water and offered Akitada a steaming cup. "Friendship is a rare jewel," he said, suppressing another cough. "It may take more than a year to make a friend, but only a moment to offend him. Remember that, Tora."

"Thank you, Seimei." Akitada drank, then warmed his stiff fingers on the cup. "Tell me about the victim, Hito."

"His name is Koichi. He was a porter when he could get work, but he had a bad reputation and several convictions for theft and robbery."

Akitada clapped his hands and shouted, "Hamaya!" When the senior clerk bustled in and knelt, he asked, "Do you remember a defendant by the name of Koichi?"

"Koichi the porter? Oh, yes. Theft, robbery, intimidation, assault, and rape. A familiar face in the courtroom and a man who does not seem to feel the pain of the bamboo. A hardened case, sir. Is he in trouble again?"

"He is the murdered man brought in yesterday. I suppose Sunada will claim to have performed a civic duty."

Hamaya looked astonished. "Koichi is the man Mr. Sunada killed? That is strange!"

"How so?"

"Mr. Sunada employed Koichi after his last jail term. I thought it most generous because Koichi's reputation is well known. And now he attacked his benefactor!" Hamaya shook his head in amazement.

"Thank you, Hamaya."

When the clerk had left, Akitada remarked sourly, "The reports of Sunada's good deeds multiply like flies on a dead rat."

Seimei, on his way out, paused at the door. "This Sunada sounds very suspicious to me. Best watch out for him. He is the kind they call a devil chanting prayers." He coughed again and left.

Silence fell. Akitada hunched more deeply into his robe and stared into space. Tora snored, began to topple sideways, and came awake. "Wha ... ?"

"Tora," said Akitada, "go get some sleep. We're done for now."

Tora nodded groggily and staggered from the room.

"Sir, I am unworthy of your great trust," Hitomaro said, as soon as they were alone. He shifted to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor. "I have let a personal matter interfere with my duty."

Akitada smiled a little. "Do not look so worried. I have no doubt that you will rectify whatever troubles you."

"Thank you, sir. I shall try harder in the future." Hitomaro paused, then said, "What Seimei said about friendship, sir? I shall not forget it again."

"He meant it for Tora," Akitada said, surprised.

"I know, sir. But I almost hit Genba yesterday, and he was very kind ..." Hitomaro broke off, overcome with the memory of his friend's generosity.

Akitada got up and touched his shoulder. "Never mind, Hito. These are difficult times for all of us." He sighed deeply. "That little boy asked my help. I cannot forget his eyes."

Hitomaro stood. "What can I do to help, sir?"

Akitada pulled his earlobe and frowned. "I wish I knew. There is Judge Hisamatsu. I am not sure he is mada"he struck me more as a foola"but what you told me about his association with Chobei is very strange. He is close to Uesugi and his home is on the road to Takata. You might see if you can find out anything."

Hitomaro nodded.

"But first there is the matter of the fishmonger and his missing brother. It is time that case was settled. Arrest the fishmonger, and ask Captain Takesuke for more information about the brother."

a Hitomaro glanced at the sky. The clouds were as low and thick as ever, and gusts of wind drove painfully sharp grains of sleet into his face and the backs of his hands. His armor was covered with a straw rain cape, and instead of a helmet he wore a straw hat which the wind would have torn off if he had not tied it on firmly. As it was, icy blasts pulled at the bow and quiver he had slung over his shoulder and blew wisps of straw into his eyes.

Back at the tribunal, Tora would be snoring in his warm quilts, and their master, no doubt, had also retired. Hitomaro did not begrudge them the rest after their night scouring Takata for the boy, but he, too, had lost sleep, though far more pleasantly. In fact, lost sleep had been a matter of both joy and shame to him for many days now.

He intended to do penance by working harder.

The garrison gates stood wide open in a welcoming manner. Hitomaro looked for guards and, finding them inexplicably absent, walked in.

Inside the palisades, among the wooden barracks and on the exercise fields, was more evidence of relaxed discipline, if that was the word for it. Garbage was stacked in corners, the courtyard was littered with horse droppings and dirty piles of snow, and the garrison flags, slapping wetly against their poles, were tattered and torn.

Hitomaro located the administrative building and entered. In the large hall, groups of soldiers were gathered about braziers, throwing dice, drinking, talking, or sleeping. After a casual glance at his bow and the sword protruding from under the straw cape, they paid no further attention to him, and Hitomaro walked past them to a corner that was screened off by makeshift stands covered with reed mats.

He had guessed that this must be the commander's office. Pushing aside one of the screens, he found Captain Takesuke engaged in mutual fondling with a round-faced boy recruit. The youngster wore only a light robe and a loincloth, but the cold did not seem to bother him; he was flushed with wine or desire, and slow to disengage when both became aware of Hitomaro.

"What do you want?" snapped Takesuke. "Who sent you in here?"

Hitomaro suppressed his disapproval, snapped to attention, and saluted. "Sorry, sir. There was nobody at the gate, and the men outside seemed occupied. Lieutenant Hitomaro from the tribunal, on orders of the governor."

Takesuke pushed the half-naked youth away. "Well, Lieutenant," he growled, "what is it that you want?"

Hitomaro avoided eye contact and instead kept his gaze just above the captain's right shoulder. "You are missing a soldier by the name of Ogai, and we have a mutilated body at the tribunal. Goto, a local fishmonger, has identified it as that of his brother Ogai. This Goto has laid murder charges against a neighbor, but we have reason to believe that Goto lied about the body. His Excellency has sent me for Ogai's military documents."

"Ogai? That lazy bastard?" Takesuke glowered. "You mean he's not dead after all? By the Buddha, he'll wish he were when I get my hands on him. Absent without leave again! He's deserted, that's what he's done. And that sly weasel of a brother has made up the story to save his own skin." He slapped his hands on his knees. "If only there were some action. That would keep the men out of trouble. Don't you worry, Lieutenant. We'll take care of the matter for his Excellency."

"May I ask, sir, why Goto would tell such a lie?"

Takesuke stared. "Are you joking?"

Hitomaro shook his head. "Of course not, sir. I am puzzled why a man would lay a false murder charge against another man. That's an offense punishable with a hundred lashes."

Takesuke laughed. "What's a hundred lashes to a man who's about to lose his property? Goto stands surety for his brother. If Ogai deserts, his brother is a beggar."

"Ah," nodded Hitomaro. "Thank you, sir, and forgive the interruption."

The prospect of punishing both Ogai and his brother made Takesuke jovial. "Not at all, Lieutenant." He smiled. "Give my humble regards to the governor. He'll have his report this very afternoon."

From the garrison, Hitomaro walked to Goto's shop. It was empty of customers, and the fishmonger was leaning on his slimy counter, swatting at flies. Several large wooden tubs held fisha"bonito and bream, tuna and eels packed in melting blood-flecked snow or swimming in filthy water. Fat flies crawled everywhere. Only the grossest stench from fish offal would attract flies in this cold, Hitomaro thought, and held his breath.

Goto recognized him and straightened up. "Lieutenant!" He bowed several times. "An honor. You bring me news about my poor brother's murder?"

"No. I'm here to arrest you for lying to the governor and accusing an innocent person of a capital offense."

Goto's jaw dropped. He tried a sickly smile. "You're joking. Ha, ha, ha. Soldiers will have their fun. My poor brother was just such a one."

Hitomaro slowly unwound a thin chain from his waist. "Put your arms behind your back!"

Goto backed away. His eyes measured the distance to the door, but Hitomaro's bulk blocked the way. "I didn't lie," he cried. "I could've made a mistake. The worry about my missing brother ... we were like two beans in one pod. I was expecting the worst. You know how it is, Lieutenant."

"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.