Island of Exiles

smoke rising above the tall cedars halfway up the mountainside.

Both nuns and priests withdrew to lonely mountain dwellings

to spend their days in prayer and meditation. And they were

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

331

probably not far from Mano. He asked the boy, “How far is it

to Mano?”

The youngster pursed his lips and looked at the sun. “You

might get there by night, maybe, but you’d better have her look

at your friend first. She set my arm after I broke it last year.”

In the distance a temple bell rang thinly. The boy straight-

ened his load. “I’ve got to go,” he said, and trotted away.

Akitada looked at the sleeping Haseo and decided to move

him a few feet into some shrubbery out of sight from the road.

Then he crossed the road and a field of tall grasses and began

his climb through the forest toward Ribata’s hermitage. He

found a footpath after a while, but it was steep and when he

finally emerged from the forest path into the small clearing,

he was drenched in sweat and could not control the trembling

in his legs.

A tiny wooden house, covered with morning glory vines

and surrounded by a small vegetable plot, stood in the clearing.

Below lay the grassy valley and beyond rose another wooded

mountainside. A few feet from him was an open cooking fire

with a large kettle suspended from a bamboo tripod. An appe-

tizing smell drifted his way. Ribata’s hermitage was simple but

adequate and resembled many such places in the mountains

around the capital. Only an abundance of flowers, the blue

morning glories which covered its roof, the golden bells of day

lilies, yellow rape, and purple asters, suggested that the her-

mit was a woman of refined tastes. The small place was so well

hidden among the trees and vines that only those who knew of

its existence would find it.

Greatly cheered by all of this, Akitada approached the hut

and called out, “Is anyone home?”

It was indeed Ribata who appeared in the doorway, looking

as slender and aristocratic in her white robe and veil as he

remembered her. He bowed. “Forgive this intrusion, reverend

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lady, but a boy from the village directed me here. I have a friend

who is wounded.”

She shaded her eyes, then came down the steps to peer

at him more closely. Half naked, dirty, and with his hair and

beard grown wildly about his face, he imagined he was hardly a

welcome visitor, but she recognized him. “Taketsuna? Praise to

the all-merciful Buddha,” she murmured. “Is it really you? We

had almost given you up.”

Akitada had not thought of himself as Taketsuna for such a

long time that her mistake made him laugh. Or perhaps it was

finally seeing a friendly face, being greeted with pleasure, being

made welcome—all of this signaling his return to safety, to a

world he knew, having crossed the threshold between a living

death and life. He found it hard to stop laughing, but then his

legs started shaking again, and he stumbled to the small porch

and sat down. “We escaped from one of Kumo’s mines,” he

explained. “But can you come with me to help my friend? He

has lost a lot of blood from a leg wound. We must get to provin-

cial headquarters in Mano as fast as possible.”

She asked no questions. Saying, “Rest while I get ready,”

she disappeared into the hut. Akitada leaned against one of

the beams supporting the roof and basked in the warmth of

the sun, unaware that tears gathered in his eyes and slowly

spilled. Bees swarmed in the morning glories above him. Doves

cooed in the branches of a cedar, and far above a kite rode the

breeze in leisurely circles. He closed his eyes.

“Masako? Toshito?”

Akitada jerked awake, not quite sure where he was for a

moment. Then his surroundings took shape and meaning, and

he saw that Ribata had come out of her hut. She held a bundle

and was looking toward the forest. Akitada stumbled to his feet.

“Masako? Masako is here? And Toshito? Mutobe’s son Toshito?

I thought he was in prison in Mano.”

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

333

“They are both here.” Ribata sca

did not return before the trial, the children decided to escape.

Masako helped Toshito by putting a sleeping powder in the

guards’ soup. They came to me and have been here ever since. I

ca

Akitada tried to make sense of this. Ribata had made it

sound quite natural that Masako should be with Mutobe’s

son. Whatever one might think of a young lady helping an

accused murderer escape from his jail cell by drugging his

guards, their coming here to hide had been smart. Perhaps the

nun had suggested it herself on one of her visits to the young

man. Perhaps she had even supplied Masako with the correct

herbs to mix into the guards’ food. Ribata seemed to have a

knack for appearing in interesting situations. But Masako here?

Akitada wondered what he would say to the girl when they met.

He had not thought of their lovemaking in many weeks. That

time seemed incredibly remote, though he found that her

involvement with Toshito did not sit too well with him.

“I must go back to my friend,” he said, moving toward the

path down the mountain. “He is beside the road near a small

stream and a stand of firs. If I go ahead, can you follow?”

She nodded. “I know the place.”

He limped down the mountain, crossed the field and the

empty road, and found Haseo still fast asleep in the grass where

he had left him. Shaking his shoulder gently, he waited until

his companion sat up groggily, then said, “Good news. I’ve

found some shelter for us with someone I know. It’s quite safe.

And there is a good chance that Kumo has not taken over the

island yet.”

Haseo tried to stagger to his feet and failed. “How do you

know it’s safe?” he demanded, looking around anxiously.

“My friends are also hiding. It’s too long a story to tell now,

but there is a nun who has healing skills. Her hermitage is up on

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that mountain. She will see to your wound.” Akitada’s eyes

searched the line of trees on the other side of the road. There was no sign of Ribata and the others yet. He was becoming impatient

and worried that they were too close to the highway. “Come, lean

on me. We will walk across to the forest and wait there.”

Haseo’s eyes followed his. “Sorry,” he said. “You’ll have to go

without me. I can stay here.”

“No. Just hold on to me. If I have to, I’ll carry you on my

back. You pulled me behind you in the mine, and this is nothing

compared to that.”

Haseo submitted with a weak chuckle, and they made their

way across the road, and from there through the field of tall

waving grasses toward the steep, wooded mountainside.

But Haseo sat down abruptly in the middle of the field. “It’s

no good,” he gasped. “I have no strength left.”

He looked dreadfully pale and, to Akitada’s dismay, blood

was seeping from his makeshift bandage again. They had noth-

ing left that could be turned into bandages and regarded each

other helplessly. Haseo gri

cial and nobleman you’re a remarkably generous and patient

man, Akitada. I was right to trust you.”

It was the first time Haseo had used his personal name.

Akitada felt touched and honored. “We put our reliance in each

other,” he said, squeezing the other man’s shoulder. “When we