seized by outright panic at this idea and rose abruptly. “Thank you, no. This has been a lavish entertainment and most pleasant company, but I must not impose on your hospitality any longer,” he said. “Urgent duties await me back in the city.”
A general bustle ensued. Most of the others also made their good-byes, intending to join Akitada’s cortege on the journey back to the city.
Uesugi made only the barest of protests to the sudden exodus. He accepted Akitada’s formal thanks, his face devoid of expression, but his small eyes glittered and moved about strangely in the flickering light. Perhaps it was Akitada’s illness, but suddenly Uesugi appeared menacing, and the shadows in the corners of the great hall seemed alive with danger.
Akitada knew his escape into the snowy night was craven and irrational, and a fitting end to the most unpleasant and unproductive evening he had ever spent. He was filled with foreboding.
* * * *
FOUR
THE THREE PRISONERS
T
hree days after the visit to Takata, on a clear and cold morning, the tribunal’s dilapidated buildings huddled inside the broken-down palisade and looked more depressing than usual with patches of dirty snow in piles and corners. The brief snowfall had changed to watery sleet, then back to snow, and to sleet again during the past days.
When Akitada stepped out on the veranda, he saw that the main gate was still closed even though the sun was up and it was well into the day. Tora and Hitomaro were below, shouting for the constables who trotted out reluctantly, some still chewing their morning rations. The creaking gate finally opened— somewhat pointlessly, since no one waited outside and access to the tribunal could be gained anywhere a man wished to kick down a few rotten timbers in the fence.
Akitada descended the steps into the courtyard and looked sourly at the ragged line of constables drawn up for inspection, their breath steaming in the cold air. Hitomaro was in full armor and exhibited stiff military bearing. When he saw Akitada, he gave a shout, and the ragtag constables in their mostly unmatched garb fell to their knees and bowed their heads to the ground. From their sullen expressions, Akitada gathered that Hitomaro was about to put them through a drill.
Their headman, Chobei, lounged against the gate, his arms crossed and a mocking grin on his coarse face.
The insolence of the brute! Akitada could feel his blood rise and lost his temper. Glaring at Chobei, Akitada snapped, “Make that dog kneel, Lieutenant.”
Hitomaro shouted an order, then drew his sword and approached the headman. Chobei stared stupidly, his grin fading slowly. For a moment it looked as though he would ignore the order, but then he went to his knees, placing his hands on the icy patch of gravel before him.
Tora, also armed, walked across till he towered over the kneeling man. “Head down!” he ordered. Chobei started up with a curse. Tora drew his sword and brought its flat side down on the man’s bare head. With a cry of pain, Chobei assumed the proper position.
“Pity you didn’t bother with mittens and a warm coat this morning, Sergeant,” Tora said conversationally. “My guess is that your hands will freeze to the gravel in less time than it takes to fill your prisoners’ water bowls. And you won’t budge till you’re ready to crawl all the way to his Excellency to apologize for your lack of manners.”
Akitada already regretted the incident but could not take back his words without losing face. “See to it that he remains until he has learned proper respect!” he snapped. Then he strode back to the main hall.
This building was in better repair than the others, but it was large and extremely drafty. In the chilly front area, the public part of the building, his senior clerk, a sober, middle-aged man, waited.
“The documents about rice storage are on your desk, sir. They
A general bustle ensued. Most of the others also made their good-byes, intending to join Akitada’s cortege on the journey back to the city.
Uesugi made only the barest of protests to the sudden exodus. He accepted Akitada’s formal thanks, his face devoid of expression, but his small eyes glittered and moved about strangely in the flickering light. Perhaps it was Akitada’s illness, but suddenly Uesugi appeared menacing, and the shadows in the corners of the great hall seemed alive with danger.
Akitada knew his escape into the snowy night was craven and irrational, and a fitting end to the most unpleasant and unproductive evening he had ever spent. He was filled with foreboding.
* * * *
FOUR
THE THREE PRISONERS
T
hree days after the visit to Takata, on a clear and cold morning, the tribunal’s dilapidated buildings huddled inside the broken-down palisade and looked more depressing than usual with patches of dirty snow in piles and corners. The brief snowfall had changed to watery sleet, then back to snow, and to sleet again during the past days.
When Akitada stepped out on the veranda, he saw that the main gate was still closed even though the sun was up and it was well into the day. Tora and Hitomaro were below, shouting for the constables who trotted out reluctantly, some still chewing their morning rations. The creaking gate finally opened— somewhat pointlessly, since no one waited outside and access to the tribunal could be gained anywhere a man wished to kick down a few rotten timbers in the fence.
Akitada descended the steps into the courtyard and looked sourly at the ragged line of constables drawn up for inspection, their breath steaming in the cold air. Hitomaro was in full armor and exhibited stiff military bearing. When he saw Akitada, he gave a shout, and the ragtag constables in their mostly unmatched garb fell to their knees and bowed their heads to the ground. From their sullen expressions, Akitada gathered that Hitomaro was about to put them through a drill.
Their headman, Chobei, lounged against the gate, his arms crossed and a mocking grin on his coarse face.
The insolence of the brute! Akitada could feel his blood rise and lost his temper. Glaring at Chobei, Akitada snapped, “Make that dog kneel, Lieutenant.”
Hitomaro shouted an order, then drew his sword and approached the headman. Chobei stared stupidly, his grin fading slowly. For a moment it looked as though he would ignore the order, but then he went to his knees, placing his hands on the icy patch of gravel before him.
Tora, also armed, walked across till he towered over the kneeling man. “Head down!” he ordered. Chobei started up with a curse. Tora drew his sword and brought its flat side down on the man’s bare head. With a cry of pain, Chobei assumed the proper position.
“Pity you didn’t bother with mittens and a warm coat this morning, Sergeant,” Tora said conversationally. “My guess is that your hands will freeze to the gravel in less time than it takes to fill your prisoners’ water bowls. And you won’t budge till you’re ready to crawl all the way to his Excellency to apologize for your lack of manners.”
Akitada already regretted the incident but could not take back his words without losing face. “See to it that he remains until he has learned proper respect!” he snapped. Then he strode back to the main hall.
This building was in better repair than the others, but it was large and extremely drafty. In the chilly front area, the public part of the building, his senior clerk, a sober, middle-aged man, waited.
“The documents about rice storage are on your desk, sir. They
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