Island of Exiles (48 page)

The sky was clouding up a little, and the brightness of the afternoon sun had become like light shining through gossamer silk. The sea, instead of brilliant silver and blue, now stretched before him faintly green, pale celadon fading to the color of wisteria. He looked at the softened greens of the mountains, themselves turning to a bluish lavender, and at the russet houses below, and found the world both sadder and more beautiful than before.

The return voyage was swift and unexpectedly pleasant. Neither storms nor seasickness spoiled Akitada’s homecoming.

The skies were as clear as they sometimes are in autumn, a limpid blue which swept from Sawata Bay past the headlands of Sadoshima all the way to the shore of Echigo. A brisk wind carried them smoothly toward the mainland.

Akitada stood at the bow, watching the approach of the long rugged coastline that protected a green plain and distant snow-covered mountains, and was filled with an astonishing affection for the place. He resolved to make the best of his future there, for he was going home to his family, the firm center of his turbulent life.

His deep joy in being alive was increased by Tora’s cheerful presence and, to a lesser extent, by the exuberant spirits of Turtle, who had decided to follow his new master. Killing Wada, a man who had tormented him repeatedly in Mano, had given Turtle self-confidence and an altogether more optimistic outlook on life. Even his limp seemed less noticeable, perhaps because it was modified by a distinct swagger. Turtle had become “somebody” in his own eyes by ridding his fellow drudges of a cruel and petty tyrant. Turtle was now a man to be respected, even feared, by other men, and so he had offered his talents and services to Tora and Akitada.

But the ship carried far more important travelers. Okisada was returning to the capital under heavy guard. Akitada had twice visited the prince in his cabin and doubted that Okisada would survive the overland journey to Heian-kyo. Soft living and repeated doses of
fugu
poison had undermined his health to such a degree that he was in constant pain and frequently vomited the little food he consumed.

Akitada had not escaped unscathed, either. He still limped, and his knee ached when he walked too much or the weather changed. Spending long hours sitting cross-legged on the dais during the court hearings in Mano had not helped.

Three officials had been present for the hearing which had cleared young Mutobe of the murder charge. The judge, a frightened rabbit of a man, expected ignominious dismissal for having ordered the governor’s son jailed in the first place. He kept looking to the governor and Akitada for approval.

The third man on the dais was so far above the judge that he did not dare look at him. He was the imperial advisor who had sent Akitada to Sadoshima. It was widely assumed that he was there to protect Prince Okisada’s interests, but this was not quite true. He had come to take the prince back to Heian-kyo to face the punishment chosen by the emperor. Unlike his shorter, more irascible assistant, he had not returned to the capital, but remained in Echigo to await the results of Akitada’s mission. He had taken ship when the news of Kumo’s death and Okisada’s arrest had reached the mainland.

After lengthy deliberations and many nervous recitations from his legal codes, the judge had found Taira and Nakatomi guilty of laying false charges against the governor’s son. He was not, of course, competent to deal with Okisada’s treasonable intentions. That would be judged by a higher court in the capital. However, the sovereign’s advisor, along with the governor and Akitada, had extracted private confessions from all three conspirators. Afterward Taira had requested a sword. When this was naturally refused, he had broken a sharp sliver of bamboo from a writing table in his cell, forced this into the large vein in his throat, and died during the night. The physician Nakatomi, on hearing the news, hanged himself the next night by his silk sash from the bars in his cell door. Only Okisada, protected by his imperial blood from public execution, seemed apathetic to his fate.

That left Sakamoto. Akitada had long since decided that the poor and elderly professor had been duped by Taira and Kumo.

They had not trusted him with their real plans or the details of the plot but had played on his adulation of Okisada to use his home for their meetings and his good name to cover their activities. Not unlike Shunsei, though the relationship had been different, Sakamoto had been the victim of his own foolish sentiment. The thin gentleman from the emperor’s office had, once he had spoken to Sakamoto, agreed. Sakamoto was left with a warning that he faced arrest if he returned to the capital. It amounted to unofficial exile, much like that imposed on Mutobe many years earlier, but since Sakamoto had no wish to leave, he expressed tearful gratitude.

Kumo’s mines were confiscated and closed, and their workers were dispersed among other public projects. Osawa, newly wed and in rotund health, had provided useful testimony that 392

I . J . P a r k e r

the mines had not produced enough silver to justify their continued operation. Akitada wrestled with his conscience about the gold. Gold was vitally important to the nation, but more intensive mining and abuse of prisoners were sure to follow if the government heard of the gold deposits. Eventually he told the emperor’s advisor. The thin man asked some searching questions and had Kita, Kumo’s bird-faced mine supervisor, brought in. Kita saved his life by making a full report, which caused the thin gentleman to remark that the distance from the capital and the difficulty of transport made it highly unlikely that His Majesty would be interested.

And so Akitada was returning home, a man so changed that he felt like a stranger to his former self. As he strained his eyes for the shore, he was seized by a dizzying sense of unreality. For a man who had lived like a common criminal, subjected to vicious beatings and backbreaking labor, who had been buried alive and barely survived against all odds a battle to the death, this uneventful and untroubled homecoming seemed more dream-like than the nightmares that had plagued his feverish brain underground.

To steady himself, he searched for his wife and son among the people waiting on shore. The shoreline began to swim before his eyes, and the snow-covered peaks fractured into green and white patches floating against the blue of the sky. As he reached up to brush the tears from his eyes, the thin gentleman interposed his tall frame between Akitada and the view.

“Not long now,” the emperor’s advisor said in his dry voice, averting his eyes quickly from Akitada’s face. “You will wish to be with your family after we land, so I shall make my farewells here.”

“Thank you, Excellency.” Akitada managed to choke out the words. To cover the awkwardness of the moment, he asked,

“You have been to see His Highness? How is he?”

“Not well. He may survive the journey, but his mind is weakening rapidly. I doubt that he will be able to say much in his defense. He seems to be under the impression that he is to assume the throne.”

Akitada said, “I am sorry.” It was the strongest expression of sympathy he could find. He thought of the dying Haseo and found difficulty in adjudging proper levels of regret to the tragic lives of the men he had met. What, for example, of the little thief Jisei? Would his soul rest more happily knowing that the two pirates who had beaten him to death had been captured on Okisada’s ship? Akitada had identified them in the provincial jail and brought murder charges against them, based on Haseo’s account. Ironically, they, like Akitada, had been in the stockade under false pretenses. They were there to deal with Jisei if he decided to make trouble about the gold. And, of course, he had done just that, hoping to buy himself freedom with his knowledge.

“I wished to thank
you
,” the thin man continued more cordially, “for your help and your loyalty. Without your brilliant exposure of the prince’s clever sham, all of our efforts would have been in vain. You have certainly confirmed the high opinion your friends have of you. If it had not been for your determination and courage, we would be involved in a major war by now.”

Akitada bowed. “I have done nothing,” he murmured. It was the polite response to a compliment, but he knew it was painfully true. There was little to be proud of in the way he had handled his assignment, and he had almost paid with his life for his careless mistakes.

The thin gentleman said, “I do not need to tell you that you have made enemies in the capital. Your requests to return to your former position in the ministry have been blocked by your superior, for example.”

Akitada glanced at the other man’s profile. Soga’s dislike was no news to him, but he had not known that the minister hated him so much that he would condemn him and his young family to permanent misery in Echigo. He turned his eyes back to the approaching land. Green and golden, the shoreline stretched before him until it faded into a misty horizon. Those waiting on shore were waving now. And there, in front, he now saw a slender figure of a young woman holding a child. Tamako and Yori. He raised his arm to wave, and saw Tamako lift up Yori in response. Warm, joyous gratitude flooded over him. Whatever the hardship, he still had his work and his small family.

Injustice flourished everywhere, in Sadoshima, Echigo, the capital, and also in the place where Haseo had lived. Akitada had survived, and that was all that mattered.

But his companion still waited for a comment. “Thank you for telling me,” Akitada said. “I shall have to be patient and work harder to win the regard of my superiors, that’s all.” The thin man smiled and put his hand on Akitada’s shoulder. “Courage! You may have enemies in the capital,” he said,

“but you also have a new friend.”

During the Heian Period (794-1185) the Japanese government loosely followed the Tang China pattern of an elaborate and powerful bureaucracy. The junior official Sugawara Akitada is a fictional character, but his ancestor, Sugawara Michizane (845-903), was very real. His life exemplified the dangers faced by even the most brilliant and dedicated officials who made enemies at court. Michizane, a superb administrator and great poet, rose to preside over the sovereign’s private office but ended his life in miserable exile.

By the time of the present novel, two hundred years after Michizane, the administrative power is almost exclusively in the hands of the Fujiwara family, whose daughters had consistently been empresses. The Fujiwara women had borne emperors who tried to rule briefly before resigning under pressure from their in-laws in favor of sons who were often too young to interfere in Fujiwara policy. The tale of the Second Prince illustrates the political uncertainties inherent in the imperial succession and the numerous incidents of rebellion by claimants to the throne or to the position of prime minister. The real power, the prime minister, was almost always a senior Fujiwara and he headed, assisted by brothers, cousins, and uncles, an enormous central government located in Heian-kyo (Kyoto). They controlled more or less successfully the rest of the country through provincial governors, men of rank and birth with university training and Fujiwara support. A governor’s duties encompassed overseeing tax collection, law enforcement, and civic improvements in his province. He normally served four years but might choose to serve longer or absent himself altogether while his duties were carried out by a junior official. Akitada is such a substitute, while Mutobe has taken permanent residence. Their provinces, Echigo and Sadoshima, are so remote from the capital, and life there is so dangerous for officials that more favored individuals considered such assignments not only undesirable but punitive.

Sadoshima, or Sado Island, is located in the Sea of Japan, about thirty-five kilometers from Echigo (modern Niigata) Province. In the eleventh century, it was an independent province with provincial headquarters, several towns, and Buddhist temples. It was also a place where people were sent into exile for serious offenses, and where gold was discovered fairly early. Though there was no government mining of gold until 1601, panning for gold in rivers and streams had been known for centuries. Kumo’s secret mining operation described in the novel is fictional. The descriptions are based on other early gold mining practices and on the pictures of the Sado mine in a contemporary scroll (
Sado Kozan Emaki
). According to the scroll, both silver and gold were taken from the same mine. In the absence of Japanese historical sources, I am indebted to Angus Waycott’s
Sado: Japan’s Island in Exile
, a charming journal of his eight-day hike around the island, in which he describes the local geography, flora, and fauna, and gives brief accounts of the island’s history.

Provincial law enforcement was carried out by three distinct authorities: the local imperial police-present in Sadoshima since 878; a high constable, usually a local landowner with man-power at his disposal, who was appointed or confirmed by the central government; and the governor, who appointed and supervised local judges. Because of Buddhist opposition to the taking of life, the death penalty was rarely imposed. Exile, often with extreme deprivation and hard labor, was the punishment of choice for serious offenses. This was, as in the case of Haseo, commonly accompanied by confiscation of property and dispersal of the rest of the family.

In addition to the practice of Buddhism, the other state religion recognized in Heian Japan was Shinto. Shinto is native to the Japanese islands and involves Japanese gods and agricul-tural rituals. Buddhism, which entered Japan from China via Korea, exerted a powerful influence over the aristocracy and the government. It was common for emperors and their relatives to shave their heads and become monks and nuns in their later lives. The Buddhist prohibition against taking a life accounts for Kumo’s strange behavior. The shrines mentioned in the novel, along with the
tengu
sculpture, belong to the animistic Shinto faith which was more closely tied to peasant life.