the constables about their duties and then helped Tora go

through the motions of observing the evidence of what had

happened here. Wada looked much the worse for wear when

they turned their attention to him. His lip was split, his nose

was purple and bloody, and both eyes were nearly swollen shut.

When they asked him questions, he mumbled unintelligibly.

Together they dragged him out into the garden. Tora cast a

glance toward the back fence. Beyond lay the densely wooded

shrine precinct. He hoped Turtle was waiting with the horses.

“Tell you what, Sergeant,” he said. “We don’t want to attract

too much attention. You’ve got to make sure the coast is clear.

Go out front to wait for your men and post one of them at the

gate. Then come back.”

As soon as Ikugoro had trotted off, Tora slung Wada over his

shoulder and headed for the back fence. Dropping Wada over

like a big bag of rice, he vaulted after, and dragged him off into

the shrubbery.

C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N

E SC AP E

Akitada lay among the bracken and looked at the tops of

gently swaying trees and at the winking stars until he was dizzy.

The world was filled with the scent of grass and clover, the clear

chirruping of waking birds, the touch of a cool, dew-laden

breeze. He had no wish for more.

But Haseo did. “The chains,” he said softly, creeping up.

“We’ve got to get the chains off. Do you still have your chisel or

hammer?”

Akitada knew he did not, but he sat up and felt his clothing.

“I lost them somewhere inside.” He looked at the dark form of

his companion and felt ashamed and irresponsible. “I’m sorry.

That was careless,” he said humbly. “I should have remem-

bered.” All that work and now they would be caught because

the chains would keep them from getting away from the search

parties which would soon start combing the mountainsides. He

glanced at the sky again. There was a faint but perceptible light-

ening toward their left. The east. As far as he could make out,

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I . J . P a r k e r

they were on the far side of the mountain, well above and to the

back of the cliff with the badger holes. This was good, because

they could not be seen or heard from the work site.

Haseo sighed. “Never mind. I lost mine, too. Look, maybe

you’d better tie up my leg. I’m getting a bit faint. Here. Tear up

my shirt.”

Akitada could not see much of Haseo, but he felt the fabric

thrust at him and groped for Haseo’s leg. His fingers touched

blood, lots of it, warm and slick under his touch. He ripped the

shirt into strips, folded a part of the fabric, and told Haseo to press it over the wound, then tied it into place as firmly as he could.

“Stay here,” he told Haseo, “while I look for a rock to work

on those chains.”

After much trial and failure, they found that draping the chain

over a rock outcropping and then hammering away at it with a

loose stone would eventually break a link. The small chinking

noise terrified them in case someone should hear, and they paused

many times to listen. All remained quiet, and they decided finally

that they were too far from the mine entrance to be heard. But

they were both exhausted by the time they had freed themselves.

And it was no longer night. The light had changed to a

translucent gray, and the mountainside around them was filled

with ominous dark shapes and obscure forms. They were far

from safe, for with daylight their pursuers would find them

gone. All around rose other peaks, wooded and rocky. Night still

hung over the west, or they might have seen the sea. They would

have to make their way down this mountain and get as far away

from the mine as possible. The trouble was that neither knew

exactly where they were. Haseo explained apologetically that

he had not thought of escape when he was brought here, and

Akitada had been unconscious.

Akitada looked curiously at Haseo in the growing light. He

noticed for the first time how much thinner he had become

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

325

since they had met inside the harbor palisade. Haseo was look-

ing him over also and smiled. No doubt, thought Akitada, I look

a great deal worse than he, even without a blood-soaked band-

age around my leg. Two less likely creatures to make a success-

ful escape from the top of a mountain guarded by Kumo’s men

could hardly be imagined. But they were free and had a chance,

and that was wonderful. He chuckled.

“Why do you laugh?” Haseo asked.

“We look terrible, but by heaven, we will make it,” said

Akitada, and raised a grin on Haseo’s drawn face. “Your leg still

bleeds. Can you walk?”

Haseo got up and took a few steps to look down the moun-

tainside. “Come on,” he said. “This way. It’ll stop bleeding, and

if it doesn’t, I’ll at least put some distance between myself and

those bastards before I collapse.”

As the sun slowly rose over the mountains, they scrambled

through gorse, brambles, and shrubs, sliding part of the way on

their backsides, until they reached a small stream. It bubbled

and splashed downhill, making its way around rocks and over

them until it reached a small basin, where it pooled, clear as air, before washing over a rock outcropping in a small waterfall.

Here they drank thirstily and then washed themselves. The

water was cold, but it removed layers of dust, sweat, and dirt

and made both of them feel nearly human.

It was such a pleasant place, and so peaceful—the only

sign of life a rabbit, which scampered off—that they paused

to tend to their injuries. Akitada tore up his shirt and re-

placed the blood-soaked bandage on Haseo’s leg. The bleed-

ing seemed to have lessened, but Haseo was pale and shivered

even though the day was warming and they were sitting in

the sun.

“I’m going to slow you down,” Haseo said, when he got to

his feet.

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I . J . P a r k e r

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m limping myself.” Akitada’s knee

had not taken well to the hurried descent. It was painful, and

Akitada feared it would swell again.

Haseo glanced at it and chuckled weakly. “Two cripples.”

They smiled at each other, though there was little to smile

about, and followed the stream downhill. Akitada liked Haseo’s

cheerfulness. The silent, glowering prisoner in the stockade had

been a different man. This Haseo had both courage and a sense

of humor. And he spoke like an educated man.

“Why weren’t you speaking when we first met?” Akitada

asked after a while. “I thought you hated us.”

Haseo’s face darkened. “I did. I found that when the consta-

bles and guards heard me speak, they were quite likely to use the

whip on me. Mind you, it took me a while to work this out. I

used to think that a man with my background might make a

difference in the way the prisoners were treated. But my sugges-

tions and comments were not well received by either the guards

or my fellow prisoners. When one of the other prisoners ratted

to the soldiers that I planned to complain about their brutality to the next official I encountered, I learned my lesson. My back’s a

constant reminder not to trust anyone. So I stopped talking

altogether.”

“But you spoke to me in the mine.”

Haseo smiled crookedly. “By then I knew you were like me.

Too clever to know when to shut up. Who are you, by the way?”

“Sugawara Akitada. I’m an official on temporary assign-

ment in Sadoshima.”