Free Black Arrow by I. J. Parker Page A

anything useful, get word to Lieutenant Hitomaro.”
     
    “With the greatest pleasure.” Okano rolled his eyes at the muscular Hitomaro and tittered. On the way out, he made a show of stumbling and grasped Hitomaro’s arm, but he found his hand quickly removed.
     
    When the door had closed behind them, Tora burst out laughing. “Hitomaro’s finally made a conquest.” He swished across the room and fluted in falsetto, “‘With the greatest pleasure.’”
     
    Akitada watched him sourly. “Okano’s another one who worries more about trivia than his life. But his accounting for the gold is as unbelievable as Umehara’s trust in total strangers.”
     
    Tora stopped prancing. “Maybe not. In the capital, rich men take actors for lovers, and when they get tired of them, they pay them off. If they don’t, the bum-boys haunt their doorstep. Okano’s getting a bit past it as a pretty boy, so he could be telling the truth.”
     
    “He is thirty-one according to the record, Excellency,” offered Hamaya. “And he is, of course, an outcast. By law, he was not permitted, to sleep at the inn. I expect that’s why they shaved his head.”
     
    “They shaved his head? I suppose that explains the red scarf,” Akitada said. “Make a note to look into the matter. I do not approve of wanton cruelty toward those who cannot defend themselves.”
     
    Hitomaro returned with the last man, the young farmer who had carried the bloodstained murder weapon among his belongings.
     
    Unlike the other two, he walked in with a firm step, wearing nothing but a loincloth and a shirt of rough hemp which left bare his thick muscular thighs and legs and revealed a good deal of barrellike chest. With his low forehead and vacant look he reminded Akitada more of a docile beast than a man. Hitomaro had to push him down into a kneeling position, where it became obvious that the back of his shirt was soaked in fresh blood.
     
    “Takagi, sir,” said Hitomaro. “Son of the headman of Matsuhama village in the mountains.”
     
    The young man grinned and nodded.
     
    “Let me see his back,” Akitada said.
     
    Tora and Hitomaro turned the prisoner around and lifted the crimson cloth. Akitada recoiled. This man’s back was one huge open wound. It seemed impossible that a mere flogging could have done so much damage. Or that he should still be able to walk upright or kneel.
     
    “Has he been seen by a doctor?”
     
    Hitomaro answered. “No. They just got through with him an hour ago. He never confessed, but they ran out of bamboo canes and complained of muscle cramps. Chobei told them to take a rest and continue later.”
     
    “Tell them I forbid it. And have a doctor sent for.”
     
    They repositioned Takagi and covered his back again. The peasant submitted passively, staring around the room with a vacant expression.
     
    Akitada leaned forward. “Takagi, look at me. Where did you get the gold you had?”
     
    “Three pieces of gold.” Takagi nodded proudly, holding up three fingers. “The soldiers took the gold. I got to have it back. It belongs to the village.”
     
    “What do you mean?”
     
    “It’s for the bowls and the oxen. My father said, ‘Takagi, go sell our bowls in the markets of Shinano province where they have much gold, and sell the oxen, too. Then we don’t have to feed them in the winter when they are no good to us.’ And so I go and I bring home three gold pieces.” He held up the three fingers again.
     
    Akitada nodded. “A good plan. How many oxen did you take?”
     
    “Two. To carry the bowls.”
     
    “So you were on your way home. Why did you stop at the inn so early in the day?”
     
    “Tired. I walk and walk, and then I rest and walk again. Sometimes I rest at night, sometimes in the day.”
     
    “So you went to sleep at the inn as soon as you got there? Did you sleep all day?”
     
    Takagi looked puzzled. “I wake up hungry. I ask for food, but no food. The girl is with the mistress. So