Island of Exiles (12 page)

She finished emptying the soup kettle. “We are friends, because we grew up together.”

“You must know him very well, then. Well enough to share secrets, as children do. Would you tell each other things you might not mention to your fathers?” He tried to make it sound like gentle teasing.

But she was too sharp for that. “Why do you want to know?” she demanded suspiciously.

He retreated. “No reason. Or rather, there are so many mysteries about you that I . . . Never mind! It was just idle conversation.”

She came then and looked up at him searchingly. “Was it, Taketsuna?” she asked, her voice suddenly husky. Akitada started to back away, but she put her hand on his arm to stop him. “Who are you really?”

This startled him. “You know who I am. Yoshimine Taketsuna.”

“No. I mean, who are you inside? You ask about me, but what are your thoughts? What is your family like? What did you wish for before you came here? What sort of life will you make in the future?”

He moved away from her and started sweeping again. “What I was does not matter here,” he said, “and I have no future.”

She followed him. “Your past matters to me, and so does your future. Many exiles have settled to a comfortable life here.

They have taken wives and raised families.” Appalled by where this conversation seemed to be leading, he kept his back to her. “I will never rest until I return to my home and family,” he said firmly.

“Tell me about your family.”

He turned then. “I have a wife and a young son.” She flinched a little at his fierceness. “Oh,” she murmured. “I should have thought of that. I’m sorry. You must love them very much.” Tears rose to her eyes, making him sorry for his cruel frankness. “Taketsuna,” she whispered, “you may not see them again for many, many years, or perhaps never. What will you do meanwhile?”

“Nothing. Hope. What else can a man do?” Her eyes pleaded. “He can make another life.” He put away the broom then. “I have no life,” he said in a tone of finality. “And now, if you have no other chores for me, I think I’ll go clean up before the evening meal.” Outside, at the well, he started to strip off his gown, but a strong sense of being watched made him stop and look over his shoulder. Masako stood in the kitchen doorway, a small, secretive smile on her pretty face. When their eyes met, she turned abruptly, took up the container of bean soup, and walked away humming a song.

They took their evening meal-the leftover bean soup with some pickled radish-as always on the veranda in front of Yamada’s study. For Akitada it was a difficult meal. Masako had appeared a little late. She was again in her faded blue silk gown, but she had put a new ribbon in her shining hair.

Her father was in his usual abstracted mood, and she attempted to make conversation with Akitada, making sure he had enough soup, that it was to his liking, that the setting

sun was not in his eyes. All of these overtures Akitada met with a monosyllabic “Yes” or “No,” and she finally turned to her father.

“When will you get paid again, Father?” she asked, startling Yamada, who cast an embarrassed glance toward Akitada.

“Not for another five days, child,” he said. “I am very sorry.

It must be difficult for you.”

“Not at all,” she said lightly. “I’m a very good manager. But the guards were demanding fish today, and it has been days since we’ve had any. I expect you would like some, too.”

“Fish?” He seemed surprised. “You have no money left? I am very sorry, my dear. You shall have some tomorrow. The truth is I had not noticed the absence of fish.” He added with a smile to Akitada, “Masako makes even the plainest dish taste like something fit for the emperor. Isn’t that so?” The meals had been adequate but hardly fit for an emperor, or even one of their own class. A farmer or a monk might have approved, though, of the vegetarian dishes. Millet and beans were their main staples. The flavor was due to herbs, fruit, or vegetables, all things which were raised in their garden or gathered in the woods. However, Akitada agreed politely, then changed the subject.

“I noticed a document in the archives today which refers to a rather peculiar institution of which you seem to be the overseer, sir. It’s called a Valuables Office. Apparently it pays out rice against securities like silver? I thought such operations are usually carried out by temples.”

Masako dropped her bowl with a crash and stared at him wide-eyed. Her father turned rather pale. His hands shook as he put down his own bowl. After a moment, he took a deep breath and said, “Clean that up, child.” He waited until Masako had scooped up the shards and food bits and left the room. Then he asked, “What is your interest in this matter, young man?”

Akitada knew now that he was on the right track but said only, “Curiosity, mainly. Sadoshima is a strange place to me.

There are private silver mines here, when I thought all the mined silver belonged to the emperor. Why is so much silver in private hands, and what is the reason for the valuables office?” Yamada relaxed a little. “Some of the mines belong to the emperor, and the silver from them goes into storage in the gar-rison until it is shipped to the mainland. But the landowners do their own mining under special permits. This created a problem in the past. There is very little minted currency in Sado, and people began to barter in silver, which caused it to become devalued, even the silver coins minted by the emperor, and so it was thought best to control the matter by allowing people to trade their silver for rice from the government storehouses.

Now the value of the silver is fixed. In addition, many people are leaving their valuables in our hands for security. There are, after all, many criminals on this island.” Akitada thought he had a pretty good idea what had plunged Yamada into sudden but temporary poverty. The man was trying to make restitution before the next inspection. For the time being Akitada had to let the matter rest. There were far more urgent worries on his mind.

After the evening meal, Akitada made his way in the dark to a storage shed and climbed on its roof. From here he could see over the tribunal walls down to the city and the peaceful bay.

The moon was nearly full and shone very brightly on the shimmering water. Below him huddled the dark roofs of the houses of the city, and beyond rose the dusky headlands which stood between him and his home and loved ones. The bay looked like molten silver where the moonlight touched it. The distant coast of Echigo was hidden behind the dark mountains, but he fixed his eyes on the faint silver line which marked the separation of land and sky and thought of Tamako and their son.

He had almost died on the way here, and he might die in the attempt to carry out his orders. The possibility of never seeing his wife or child again threw him into a stomach-twisting panic, and he was tempted to give up this mad assignment and go home.

Oh, how he longed for safety from the tangled and deadly schemes of men, and from the tear-drenched eyes of a brave and lovely girl.

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.