The strange “thwack, thwack” noise coming from outside penetrated the warm, scented tangle of silk robes under which Akitada dozed, his face burrowed in his wife’s warm neck. The curious noise warred for a time with some rather pleasant stirrings of desire for Tamako until Akitada opened his eyes and saw the lines of gold made by sunshine falling through the closed shutters.
Tamako turned to him with a soft rustle of silk, her bare feet seeking his. Her pretty face was flushed with sleep, her eyes heavy, perhaps with desire.
But he decided it was too late for lovemaking. With a smile for Tamako, he rose, pushed back the shutters, and walked out onto the veranda.
It was one of those perfect mornings: blue skies, bird song, the wisteria heavy with purple blooms scenting the warm air. Then, from beyond the garden wall, came a ferocious, “Take that, you son of a mangy rat!” Thwack! “And that, you foul piece of dung!” Thwack! “And that, you empty gourd not good enough to hold dog’s piss!” Thwack!
Akitada smiled, his heart filled with almost perfect contentment.
“Yori!” murmured Tamako, stepping out behind him and covering her ears.
Akitada laughed softly. “Ssh! He is practicing with his new sword. Tora must have built a straw man for him. I think Yori may grow up to be a famous swordsman. We have never had anything but dry poets and clerks in the Sugawara family.”
His wife shuddered. “I hope not and I wish you would not encourage him. His language is abominable. That was also To ra’s teaching, I suppose?”
Akitada thought how very pretty she was, standing there in her thin white under-robe, the silken hair rippling down her back and shimmering where the sun touched it. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms, whispering in her ear, “Yori is almost five and I have a great desire for more children. Let us go back inside.”
To his delight he could feel the warmth of her flush against his cheek, and through the thin silk his palms sensed the merest shudder of desire. For a moment she relaxed against him, but then she pulled away gently. “The sun is high already. Aren’t you going to the Daidairi today?”
The Daidairi, or Greater Palace, was the walled and gated government complex occupying the northernmost center of the capital. It encompassed the imperial residence and all the ministries and bureaus. Akitada worked in the Ministry of Justice.
With his wife’s question, memory returned and drowned his joy. He released Tamako. “You’re right. It’s late.” He clapped his hands sharply.
From the other side of the wall a child’s voice called out, “Good morning, honorable father and mother. Shall I bring your morning rice?”
Akitada shouted back, “Good morning, Yori. Thank you, but Seimei will do it. Ah, here he comes now. Keep up your practice.”
Seimei had served Akitada’s father before him. He was well past seventy now and his thin back was bent from years of service. He moved slowly, but carried himself with the natural dignity of a respected family elder. There was no need for him to perform such humble services for his master, but the old man insisted, and his presence was a comfort to Akitada.
Seimei bowed as he entered the room and set down the tray with two bowls of rice gruel. “Will you be wearing your ordinary robe today?”
“Yes.” Akitada eyed his food with distaste. The thought of his problems at the ministry had taken his appetite.
Seimei departed with another bow, and husband and wife sat on the veranda, sipping their gruel to the accompaniment of more thwacks and ferocious language. From time to time, Tamako glanced uneasily at her husband’s thin features. She was too well-bred to pry into her husband’s affairs, but after a long silence, she said cautiously, “I suppose your new position entails many difficult cases?”
“What? Oh. Not at all. Just dull routine. Though there is enough of it.” He fell back into his black mood and stared into his half-filled bowl. When she reached across to touch his forehead, he raised his eyes, surprised.
“You’re not eating. I wondered if you might be feverish. There has been talk about smallpox.”
“I’m perfectly well.” He took a small sip from the bowl to prove it. “There are always rumors about some disease. We’ve had twenty years without a major outbreak of smallpox in the capital. You must not pay attention to such tales.”
“They say if the illness has stayed away for many years, it returns with much greater virulence,” she said defensively.
“Nonsense.”
Tamako bit her lip. She was becoming impatient with her husband’s mood. “Then what is the matter?” she demanded bluntly, adding for form’s sake, “Please forgive my rude curiosity.”
Akitada looked at her and set aside the half-eaten gruel. “I ran into an old acquaintance yesterday. Do you recall the very important guest we entertained in Echigo?”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “His Majesty’s private secretary?”
Her husband nodded. “He has retired and become a monk. They all seem to do that nowadays. Afraid of death, I suppose. He asked about you and Yori.”
She bowed slightly. “I am honored, but I have not forgiven him for putting you in such danger on that terrible island.”
“We owe him our present comfortable life. But he reminded me…” Akitada stopped himself. He had never told her-partly to spare her the details of the horror he had lived through, and partly because Haseo’s story was still unfinished, the solemn promise made to a dying friend still unkept. Only Tora knew, because he had been there with them after that final, terrible battle. Since then, nearly five years had passed, five years during which Akitada had been chained to his duties in Echigo and after his return had dealt with a series of family catastrophes. And now there were new duties in the ministry: a promotion to first secretary, all the meetings and attendance at official affairs that entailed, piles of paperwork, and a bitter enemy for his superior.
Some days he felt the shame of that half-forgotten promise almost like a physical blow, or a sword thrust into his belly, like the agonizing wound that had taken Haseo’s life.
Tamako still waited for an explanation, and he forced himself to smile. “I suppose it brought back some bad memories.”
“Oh.” She smiled also, relieved. “Yes, it’s a wonder you don’t have nightmares. But you’re home now and must not let the past trouble you. We are all healthy and happy, and you finally got your promotion this year. All will be well. It will be a fine year for you, you’ll see.” Slowly a faint pink crept up her slender neck and into her smiling face. “And perhaps there will soon be another child, too.”
Though Akitada forced himself to show her a happy face, depression returned when he left for his office.
The fact was, the previous day had been a disaster. A small quarrel between the two young ministry clerks had led to an unpleasant confrontation between himself and the minister. Nakatoshi, an intense young man who wrote a very elegant hand and was therefore Soga’s clerk, had lost his temper with Akitada’s clerk, Sakae. Sakae’s characters resembled chicken scratches, though he insisted that his speed produced a cursive script much admired among the younger courtiers. The two were jealous of each other.
Yesterday Nakatoshi had followed Akitada to his office, a large room furnished with a low desk and many shelves holding document boxes and rolls of book scrolls. Akitada had moved up in the world since his promotion, much against the will of Minister Soga, to be sure, who had done his utmost to banish Akitada from his sight permanently. He had failed because Akitada had a few friends who interceded for him, and now Soga relieved his frustration by heaping as much work as possible on his detested senior secretary. The large desk had been covered with papers.
Akitada had stopped in astonishment. “What happened? We worked late last night and finished all the pending cases. There was nothing left. What is all this?”
“I am very sorry, sir, but the minister sent a messenger. You are to have these ready for him when he arrives.”
“Where is Sakae?”
“He stepped out for a breath of fresh air.” Nakatoshi bit his lip. “Could I help, sir?”
Akitada had considered the offer. Nakatoshi was by far the brightest young law clerk to pass across the ministry’s threshold for some time, and he was eager for work. Therein lay the problem. Soga had instantly chosen Nakatoshi as his personal amanuensis, and Soga hardly ever did any work. That meant that Nakatoshi spent most of his time sitting outside the minister’s room, waiting to write a letter from Soga to a friend, or to copy a memorial or proposal with which Soga hoped to curry some favor or justify his position. All the real legal work was done by Akitada, with some minimal assistance from Sakae.
“It’s not as if I ever do anything important,” Nakatoshi had grumbled, eyeing the documents almost hungrily. “Soon I will have forgotten all I ever learned. I would be so grateful, sir, if you would allow me to help you and Sakae sometimes.”
But it would not do. If nothing else, Soga knew Nakatoshi’s brush too well. And so Akitada had said, “I’m afraid that anything which passes His Excellency’s desk is out of the question, but if you just want to keep your hand in and have spare time, you might check on an old case in the archives,” and he had told him about Haseo, condemned to exile for a crime he had not committed.
“It sounds like a fascinating project,” Nakatoshi had cried. “I shall need the family name and the date and nature of his crime.”
Haseo had revealed his former name reluctantly, and only at the brink of death. For serious crimes, a man’s name was taken from him as part of his sentence. This had hampered Akitada’s own searches. “I believe the family name was Utsunomiya, but since it was confiscated along with his property, it won’t do you much good. Most references have been expunged.”
“Ah,” Nakatoshi had cried, “that must have been a very significant case, sir. What are the details of the crime?”
“I don’t know. He died before he could tell me anything else.”
“You don’t know? But how am I to…?”
“You may not find anything. I didn’t. But I had too little time for a thorough search. Whatever happened, happened over five years ago. When I reached Sadoshima, Haseo had already been there several months, perhaps as much as a year. Longer he would not have survived.” Nakatoshi had stared at this and Akitada had explained. “Conditions for prisoners on the island were very bad then. I believe they are more humane now. There is a chance that some reference to the Utsunomiya name escaped the attention of the clerk who was charged with removing it. Also, it is highly unlikely from what I know of the man that his crime was political. That leaves a possible domestic offense. His punishment suggests that the crime was particularly vicious. Or, alternatively, he may have become involved in a private dispute with a high-ranking noble and killed him. The latter seems the most likely scenario to me. If you were to look at cases that happened five to seven years ago and would justify his particular sentence, you might come across something.”
“Did it happen here in the capital, do you think?”
“Not necessarily. From what he said, he was raised in the country.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, I know. Like looking for a particular pebble in a very long stream. You don’t have to do it.”
“Oh, no, sir. I’ll get started as soon as His Excellency is finished with me.”
And at that moment, Sakae had walked in.
“Start what?” he had asked, his short, round-faced figure slipping in silently through the open doorway.
Akitada did not like his clerk, who was uncooperative, lazy, and insolent. He had greeted him with a frown. “I’ve been wondering what has become of you. There seems to be quite a bit of work here.”
Sakae had looked at the pile of documents and instantly protested, “I really don’t feel up to it today, sir. Why can’t Nakatoshi do it? I don’t understand why I always get all the work, while Nakatoshi has the time to stand around and chat.”
Nakatoshi cried, “You can have my job, Sakae. Take it. Right now! Go and wait for the minister to run his errands and take care of his social correspondence. You should find it most interesting, as it presents little challenge to your pitiful mind. And I’ll gladly do your work, which is at least related to legal matters, something that does not seem to hold much interest for you.”
Sakae did not take this well, and Akitada had intervened in the squabble of raised voices, when a sharp voice from the corridor demanded, “What is going on here?”
Instant silence followed.
The minister, portly and with his usual air of impatient superiority, typically focused his irritation on Akitada. “If you must reprimand the clerks, Sugawara, there is surely a more seemly way than shouting at the top of your voice. And what are you doing with Nakatoshi anyway?”
“It is my fault, Excellency,” Nakatoshi had said quickly. “I was arguing with Sakae. It was very wrong of me, and Lord Sugawara was quite right to correct me. I apologize, sir.”
But Soga was undeterred. “You should not permit arguments between the clerks, Sugawara. It shows a lack of proper authority. But I suppose your present position is perhaps, how shall I say, a bit too much for you?”
Akitada had bitten his lip. “Not at all, Excellency. May I be of some assistance to you?”
“Ah, yes. I came for your report.”
“I am afraid I’m not quite ready, Excellency. Perhaps in an hour?” More like four hours, but Soga might get busy with other things and forget.
“Not ready? What do you mean? You have had all morning. Surely you are not that incompetent? What is taking so long?”
At that moment, Sakae had murmured, “Lord Sugawara just arrived and has not really had time to read the documents, Excellency. I’m certain he will prepare a brilliant report as soon as he puts his mind to them.”
Soga had stared from Sakae to Akitada. “Just arrived? Not had time to read? How so, Sugawara? I sent a messenger at dawn and it is almost midday now.”
“I worked late last night clearing up the other cases and overslept, Excellency.”
“Hah!” Snapping his mouth shut after the single outraged syllable, Soga had stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Bad as that scene had been, it had not ended there, and that was why Akitada dreaded the coming day. He approached Suzaku Gate along with a stream of government officials, clerks, scribes, and servants. Beyond rose the many green-tiled roofs of government buildings and palaces, some two hundred halls, great and small, in their own walled and gated compounds, their red-lacquered columns bright in the morning sun. Because of his stiff silk robe and the black hat with the colors of his rank, the guards saluted him. He nodded and turned left in front of the Grand Administration Hall, walking briskly along the wide avenue past the Festivals Hall, then turned left again and entered the courtyard of the Ministry of Justice.
He grew hot with anger when he recalled walking into So ga’s office after finishing the report. The minister had been seated at his desk, drumming his fingers impatiently on the glossy expanse. No piles of documents there. “Finally!” he had grunted, extending his hand. Akitada bowed and offered the stack of documents he was returning. “Not those, you fool,” snapped Soga. “The report only.”
Nakatoshi had rushed up to relieve Akitada of the documents. Akitada was too shocked to speak. For a moment, he considered a challenge, but killing Soga, while it would be a satisfying gesture, would also earn him exile. On the other hand, if word got out that he had allowed Soga to call him a fool, his reputation and career would be in shreds. In the end he had demanded, “What did you say just now?”
Soga had flushed and looked away. “What? Oh, I was speaking to Nakatoshi. Youngsters always have their minds on foolish things when they should be alert. Alertness is all, Nakatoshi. Remember that and be quicker next time. Er, you do have your report, Sugawara?”
“Yes, but I had hoped to give it orally. I had to send my clerk home. He was not well.”
Soga’s eyes had sharpened. “Sakae? Was it serious, do you think? A fever? There’s talk of smallpox in the city. Is he the sort of fellow to seek out bad company?”
“I don’t think so, sir. More likely he was at some poetry party and drank too much wine.”
“Ah, yes, I forgot. That boy has good connections. But you should have been done with the report when I arrived. I have already missed an important meeting because of your inattention to your duties. I hope you will not allow this to happen again.”
“No, sir. What about my report? Don’t you want to hear it now?”
“Certainly not. Write it out and leave it on my desk.” And without another glance at Akitada, Soga had left his office.
Today he found Nakatoshi waiting for him again. He looked tired and disappointed. His robe was creased and dusty, and a smell of stale candle wax hung about him.
“I found nothing, sir, even though I looked all night. I had all the document boxes down, every year from the beginning of Jian to the end of Chogen. You did say that it must have happened about five or six years ago, or perhaps a little more? I must have read all the major civil cases in the country in a ten-year period. Either there’s some mistake or another name has been substituted. Nobody by the name Utsunomiya was accused of anything during those years, and only one Haseo occurs and he was some peasant who killed both his parents. I’m sorry, sir. Did I overlook something?”
“Heavens, man,” cried Akitada, aghast, “I didn’t mean for you to stay up all night. No, I don’t think you missed anything. As I suspected, the name was expunged, and apparently rather thoroughly. I shall go to the Ministry of Popular Affairs later and have a look at the tax rolls.” Hearing a movement behind him, he swung around. He had left the door open. Steps padded away softly in the corridor outside.
“I think that was Sakae, sir,” offered Nakatoshi. “He’s punctual for once.”
The footsteps returned and Sakae made his official appearance with a bow and “Good morning, sir.” Then he turned with an accusing look to Nakatoshi. “Did you burn all those candles in the archives? The night watchman said you were here all night, and there are fifteen stubs lying beside the candleholder.”
“What business is it of yours? I had some work to finish.”
Sakae flushed with anger. “Not for the minister, surely? Have you taken on private consulting work? It’s about time you spent some money on a new robe. You look filthy.”
“Sakae,” snapped Akitada, “you will never again have the ill manners to insult a colleague in my presence. What Nakatoshi was doing is, as he said, none of your business, but it was not private work, which is, as we all know, forbidden. He was looking up some information for me. If you recall, you were too ill to do much of anything yesterday.”
Sakae bit his lip and muttered an apology. Akitada was rather pleased with himself for having disarmed Sakae so easily.
The next few hours passed with the usual routine. Sakae was quiet and cooperative for once. Akitada closed the last file he had been working on and told Sakae, “I have some business in the Popular Affairs Ministry. If you will put away the documents, you may leave early for your midday rice.”
Glad to have escaped another unpleasant meeting with Soga, Akitada walked quickly across the government compound. The senior archivist in the stuffy and dusty tax office greeted him as an old acquaintance. Akitada had paid prior visits when he was investigating a case against an official who had been appropriating the rice tax for his private use.
“I know I’m a bother, Kunyoshi,” Akitada said loudly, for Kunyoshi was rather deaf, “but I mislaid a document and must finish a report tonight. It concerns allotment land, a rather large parcel as I recall. Until about five years ago it belonged to a family called Utsunomiya, but the name was officially removed due to some crime. I need to know the location of the land. Both province and district.”
Kunyoshi pursed his lips and studied the cobwebs on the ceiling. “Not much to go on. I see so many names every day. Still, Utsunomiya? It’s an unusual name. Why do I think Izumo Province?”
Akitada’s heart sank. Izumo was far from the capital. But at least Kunyoshi recognized the name. He said encouragingly, “It might be. What do you remember?”
“Oh, there was some reference just the other day. Now why does that name remind me of Izumo?” He scratched his head, dislodging a small shower of dust particles, and turned to study the long rows of shelving that held the nation’s tax records, records of land rent, lists of public lands, stipendiary lands, and possessory fields. “I think I may be getting it confused with another allotment case. The claimant was very unpleasant but definitely not called Utsunomiya.” He made a sudden dash along a wall of documents, pushed a short ladder up to one section, climbed it nimbly, and began to shuffle boxes around. Clouds of dust rose. “Not this one. Perhaps this?” He sneezed. “Ah! An interesting case. A temple, cultivating public land, wants to claim tax exemption. No doubt it will come your way soon. Would you like to take a peek?”
“Is it Utsunomiya land?” Akitada shouted.
“Oh, no. Another case altogether. You don’t want it? All right. It must be here somewhere. I recall when I was putting it back I was so angry I almost dropped the box… there! I put it in the wrong place.” Kunyoshi clambered down and brought over a large box. Brushing more dust off the top with his sleeve, he undid the silk clasp and lifted the lid. Inside was a small pile of papers, rolls of documents, and some maps. Akitada’s fingers itched to go through them, but he waited patiently as Kunyoshi slowly and lovingly inspected the contents. “Hmm, yes. It was in Izumo. I see it also involves abandoned fields in Hoki Province. But no reference to anyone by the name you mentioned. No. Sorry. My mind must have been playing tricks on me. Perhaps it was some other matter.” He replaced everything and closed the box again.
“Wait. What other matter?” Kunyoshi shook his head and dashed back to his ladder. Akitada called after him, “Can you not recall anything at all? It’s important. Think, man!”
The archivist peered down from the top of his ladder. “I wonder,” he asked, “would you care to consult the main register? An awful lot of entries, but maybe the right place will pop out. Just a moment.” He scrambled back down and disappeared into the depths of the archival hall.
Discouraged, Akitada stepped out onto the veranda for some fresh air. To his surprise, he almost fell over Sakae, who yelped and jumped out of his way.
“What are you doing here?” Akitada demanded. “I thought I sent you home quite a while ago.”
Sakae’s look of having been caught out at something forbidden changed to smug satisfaction. “Yes, sir, but the minister wants you. I am so glad I remembered that you would be here. When I saw how angry he was about Nakatoshi doing all that work for you, I rushed over here. Now you can explain the matter to His Excellency yourself.”
“What’s this I hear, Sugawara?” the minister demanded. “You have had the audacity to ask my clerk to do your personal work for you?”
Akitada glanced at Nakatoshi, who stood behind the seated Soga, pale to the roots of his hair and very angry. Nakatoshi grimaced and inclined his head slightly toward Sakae.
So the malicious little toad had made trouble for Akitada and Nakatoshi both, no doubt out of resentment for having been asked to do some work for a change. But Akitada was even angrier with Soga for using this tone with him in front of two juniors.
“It was a private matter, Excellency,” he said through stiff lips, “and Nakatoshi did the research after working hours.” Akitada was afraid that Soga was about to overstep the line again, and this time he would not let it pass.
“What private matter?” demanded Soga.
“Surely Your Excellency understands the meaning of ‘private’?”
Soga turned a deep red and sputtered, “What? How dare you? Nothing that takes place on these premises and involves one of my clerks is private. I demand an answer.”
Akitada glanced at the two clerks. Nakatoshi looked at him beseechingly; Sakae’s face, caught in a little smirk, became wooden. “Perhaps,” Akitada told Soga icily, “we can discuss this between ourselves.”
He was desperately trying to avoid what would happen if this ridiculous scene continued. Soga was much too angry to keep a rein on his tongue, and Akitada could not swallow another open insult.
Soga seemed to realize it, too. In a much calmer voice, he said, “My clerk told me that you are looking into a case involving someone called Utsunomiya. Is that correct?”
No point in denying it. “Yes. It concerns a promise I made to a friend who died five years ago. Neither I nor our clerks have used working hours on this matter. That is what I meant by it being ‘private.’”
“You know very well that I frown on any of my people dabbling in criminal investigations. I trust this is not a police matter?”
“No, it is not.” At least not yet.
Soga smoothed the ruffled feathers of his anger, obviously reluctant to lose such a tasty example of his hated assistant’s insubordination. He rose abruptly. “You have been warned, Sugawara. Do not let me catch you again.”
Akitada flushed and bowed.
“I must go home,” Soga said. “I have decided to move my household to the country and shall be absent for a few days. See to it that things run smoothly in my absence.”
Akitada bowed again. He was still too angry to trust himself to speak. When Soga had left the room, he took a deep breath and asked Nakatoshi if the minister had received any special duties or new cases.
“No, sir. Just the usual calendar. I’m really sorry…”
“Never mind,” interrupted Akitada. “It was not your fault.” During Soga’s tirade, he had come to a decision. Turning to his own clerk, he said, “Since there is no urgent business at the moment, I have some other work for you, Sakae. Report to me in my office.”
Back in his office, he tried to control his temper. He wanted to strangle the malicious little beast but decided instead to keep him busy with a long overdue reorganization of the filing system in the archives. As for Soga-well, the next few days would tell.
When Sakae arrived with his writing utensils, Akitada began by dictating a report to Soga that laid out the details and advantages of a new filing system, while watching with satisfaction the dismay on Sakae’s face when the clerk began to suspect that this project would involve him. As soon as the report was written, Akitada signed it and had Sakae take it to Nakatoshi. “Then come back so that I can show you where to start,” he said. “I hope to present the minister with the finished product when he returns. It is very important that you pay attention and follow instructions precisely, as I shall not be able to be here myself.”
Sakae stared at him. “You are leaving me to do all this alone?”
Akitada smiled. “Yes, Sakae. I have other duties. It will be your chance to impress the minister. I have the utmost confidence in you and shall make it a point to tell him that you did the job all by yourself. Of course, if you don’t feel up to it…?”
“Oh, I’m definitely up to it, sir,” cried Sakae, flushing. “But shouldn’t you be here? What if I have a question?”
“Well, I rely on your judgment. If you cannot handle it, consult Nakatoshi.” He watched the conflicting emotions on Sakae’s round face and knew that ambition and malice would win out over his indolence. Sakae planned to impress the minister with his industry while proving Akitada unfit for his post.
“I can handle it, sir,” said Sakae.
After leaving Sakae to his chore, Akitada went to see Nakatoshi. “I’m leaving you in charge. If there is any unforeseen business, send a message to my house. My secretary Seimei will find me. I expect to be back tomorrow or the day after.”
Nakatoshi looked extremely uneasy but did not argue.
As Akitada walked homeward, he wondered if, by this unprecedented act of rebellion and dereliction of duty, he had just taken an irreversible step toward a permanent break with Soga and ended his career in the government. Was his desire to honor his promise to Haseo merely a pretext to shed a burden which had become intolerable? He did not know the answer, only that he had to get away from Soga, from his office, and from this life, even if only for a day or two. Fate would decide. If his defiance of Soga’s orders went unnoticed, and if that little weasel Sakae kept his mouth shut, he would continue his drudgery. If not, he would find other work. If worse came to worst, he could become a farmer on the little piece of land his family owned in the country. But his steps slowed as he approached his residence. He did not know how to tell Tamako.