lady’s hand and whispering in her ear. Perhaps the old crone

was just happy to see him depart. But there was something

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proprietary in the way Osawa regarded the inn, and something

equally proprietary in the way its owner clutched his arm. Aki-

tada realized that Takao had used her charms to a purpose. She

needed a man, and it looked as though she had caught Osawa.

Apparently he intended to give up his government job in order

to run an inn and be pampered by a devoted wife. Mutobe had

not only lost an undesirable scribe, but also his tax inspector.

Understandably, with a comfortable and leisurely future as-

sured, Osawa washed his hands of Genzo and seemed to want to

get through the rest of his duties as quickly as possible. He told

Akitada to bring out the horses while he made his farewells to

the “ladies.” He probably planned to hand Mutobe his resigna-

tion as soon as they reached Mano.

Shifting their saddlebags and Genzo’s empty ones to the

mule, Akitada led all three animals into the courtyard. Osawa

ignored the mule and climbed on his horse, waving to the

women, who followed them to the gate.

It was a good day for travel. The weather continued clear and

sunny, and Akitada relaxed for the first time in many days. He

was glad to be rid of Genzo, whom he would have had to watch

continuously. Osawa was in a pleasantly distracted mood, and

Akitada felt that he had learned all he could in Minato. The rest

of the puzzle would fall into place as soon as he saw Shunsei.

They headed south along the shore of the lake, the way they

had come, but this time under a blue sky and with a light,

refreshing wind at their backs. They trotted along easily, Osawa

in front, and Akitada, leading the mule, following behind.

Osawa’s riding skills had improved as much as his mood.

When they had left the last houses of Minato behind and had

the road to themselves, he suddenly broke into song.

“Ah, on Kamo beach, on Kamo beach in Sadoshima,

The waves roll in and splash my love.

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Ah, on the beach, my girl, as pretty as a jewel,

As pretty as the seven precious jewels,

Beautiful from head to toe,

As we lie together on the beach,

On Kamo beach in Sadoshima.”

Osawa’s voice was powerful but far from melodious. He

made up for this with great enthusiasm and after his rendition

of “Kamo Beach” he plunged straight into “Plum Blossoms,”

following up with “Summer Night,” “The Maiden on Mount

Yoshino,” and “My Recent Love Labors.” Finally he rendered

“Kamo Beach” a second time and turned around to ask Akitada

how he liked the song.

“Very appropriate,” said Akitada with a straight face, “and

your voice is truly amazing.”

Osawa smiled complacently. “Do you think so? Your praise

is very welcome, since you are someone who has visited the cap-

ital and is bound to have heard many singers. Of course, I am

strictly an amateur, but singing is a hobby of mine. Ha, ha, ha!

It’s very useful with the ladies sometimes.”

Akitada raised his eyebrows. “I did not hear you sing to our

charming hostess. Surely you made a conquest there without

displaying your remarkable musical gifts.”

Osawa laughed again. “I did, too. You just didn’t hear me.

You were at Sakamoto’s. I entertained the little woman all after-

noon. In fact, Takao had mentioned you playing your flute

for her, so I thought I’d show her what I could do. She was

impressed.” He laughed again, a happy man. “How about taking

out your flute now and playing along with me?”

Osawa’s present good humor was an immense improve-

ment over his previous irritability, but Akitada cringed at riding

down the road while playing his flute to accompany Osawa’s

off-key love songs. Still, he could not offend him. He needed a

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205

free hand with Shunsei and could not hope for another distrac-

tion like a cold or an attractive landlady. So he dug the flute out of his saddlebag and played whatever suited Osawa’s repertoire.

They attracted a certain amount of embarrassing notice.

In one lakeside village, a group of children abandoned their

games to follow them, adding their own, astonishingly rude

variations to Osawa’s song, and later an old woman gathering

berries by the road clapped both hands over her ears as they

passed. But Osawa was irrepressible.

Finally, toward noon, his throat rebelled, and they stopped

for a rest at the crossroads to Tsukahara. A small grove of trees

provided shade from the sun which had blazed down on them

more and more fiercely as the day progressed. Osawa produced

a basket of food and wine, which his betrothed and her mother

had packed for him, and shared generously with Akitada while

praising his bride’s talents and business acumen. Then he

stretched out under a pine tree for a short nap.

Akitada went to sit on a rock near the two horses and the

mule, who were grazing under a large cedar. From here he had a

view of the road, the lake, and the mountains embracing them

from either side. Far, far in the distance lay the ocean that sepa-

rated him from all that mattered to him in this world. He

wished he could solve this case and return. The trouble was

he seemed to be no closer to finding Okisada’s murderer than

before he started.

He thought about the four men in Minato and their meet-

ing in the lake pavilion. There was no longer any doubt that

they had been plotting and were still determined to rid them-

selves of Mutobe and son. Was Kumo planning a rebellion?

Sakamoto was too weak to be more than a minor player. From

the cavalier fashion in which Taira had spoken to him, it was

clear that the others thought the same. Taira and Nakatomi

were unknown factors. Nakatomi had sounded both sly and

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I . J . P a r k e r

clever, but his relatively modest status as a mere physician made

it unlikely that the others would treat him as an equal. He had

probably been used only to prove that Okisada had died from

young Mutobe’s stew. And if so, what had Okisada really died

from? And who had killed him? And why?

Akitada’s thoughts turned to Taira. He had been closer to

the prince than anyone else, and even the few words the man

had spoken before the fat servant’s accident proved that the

others looked up to him. The trouble was that Taira was too old

to lead a rebellion on his own account. And so Akitada came

back to Kumo, a man he had come to respect, even admire. And

to the prince’s murder.

He shook his head, dissatisfied, and glanced up the dirt road

toward Tsukahara. Buddhist monks had settled in the foothills

above Tsukahara, seeking higher ground to build Konponji,

their temple. Shunsei lived there. Tsukahara was close enough

for Okisada’s periodic visits to his friends at the lake and at least once, on his last visit, his fondness for Shunsei had caused him

to bring the young monk along.

Akitada would have preferred not to probe into the details

of a private love affair of two men, but Kumo had been worried

that Shunsei might reveal some secret during the trial. Had the

four men been talking about the fact that prince and monk had

been lovers? It was possible, but given both Kumo’s and

Sakamoto’s nervousness, Akitada suspected that there was an-