by I. J. Parker
The memory of Kosehira’s letter did not surface until an acquaintance approached him one morning while he was on his way to the ministry. “My heartiest congratulations, Sugawara. Well done!” he had cried. “Another step in rank. Fortune truly knocks on your door.”
Akitada had stopped. “How so?”
“You haven’t heard? Your name is on the promotions list.”
It was!
Akitada could not account for such a thing. The past year had been so ordinary he had become bored with his work and passed much of it on to younger men. He had felt a strange shiver of premonition.
But sudden and inexplicable promotion was usually an example of the peculiar workings of government. He had decided to enjoy it, along with the other pleasures of the season.
And now they were entering Hakata Bay in Kyushu on an early spring day while gulls danced against a limpid blue sky and a green land beckoned ahead, and Akitada could not shed a sense of foreboding.
Tora said, “Is something going on here that requires someone like you rather than one of their usual picks?”
Trust Tora to see through his subterfuge.
“I’m here to serve as governor of Chikuzen province. I gather you feel that doesn’t require special skills,” Akitada said, his lip twitching.
Tora laughed.
*
But of course there was a great deal more to it. His secret orders were to find and arrest the man or men engaged in illicit trade with China. He was told no one was above suspicion. And that made his assignment not only difficult, but dangerous. He had postponed telling Tora and Saburo about this because he was afraid that in their eagerness they would give something away and warn his unknown adversary.
It had all started so innocently. On the fifth day of the New Year, Akitada had presented himself at the imperial palace in full court finery to have his new rank bestowed. The ceremony took place in the Shishinden, the main ceremonial hall of the emperor’s palace. The regent himself read out the names and the new ranks, while his secretary added flattering comments on the performance of each recipient. Akitada’s turn came somewhere toward the end of the long list. Like those before him, he had approached the front of the great hall, knelt, and touched his forehead to the floor, so overcome he barely heard the rank increase—a mere quarter step, but very welcome anyway—and the praise for his valuable assistance in stopping piracy on the Inland Sea.
They were a mere two years late in their recognition of his work in Naniwa, an assignment that had almost cost his life and those of Tora and Saburo as well. Still, it had felt good to be acknowledged at all, and Akitada had basked in the warmth of official approval, a rare enough occurrence in his long service.
After the ceremony. Fujiwara Kaneie, his immediate superior at the Ministry of Justice, caught up with him and took hold of his sleeve.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he had asked, looking upset. “I would have thought we were on better terms after all this time.”
“It was posted a few days ago, sir,” Akitada had replied. “I hadn’t expected it.”
“I don’t mean the promotion, which is long overdue and you have my felicitations, of course. No, I meant the fact you’re leaving.”
“I’m leaving?”
“Yes, you’re going to Kyushu. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
Kyushu? Akitada had felt an icy chill passing down his body.
When he found his voice, he had said. “Are you certain? Why the promotion if they merely want to get rid of me?”
“Don’t jump to silly conclusions. It’s a fine assignment. They are impressed with your work.” Kaneie grimaced. “Though it will certainly create massive problems at the ministry. I wish they’d think before they make such changes.”
“But what assignment? No one has told me anything.”
“Oh-oh.” Kaneie was looking past him. “I think they are about to correct the oversight.”
A pale young man joined them, introduced himself as Akisuki Masanobu, and took Akitada to Fujiwara Kinsada, a major counselor who held the second rank and advised His Majesty on matters of state.
This interview, which took place in the Dajo-kwan, a large complex of halls devoted to the important national decisions, had decided Akitada’s fate. He still had only a vague memory of it.
He had bowed deeply to an elderly man in a black court robe. Fujiwara Kinsada was middle-aged, on the thin side, and pale. His slightly bulging eyes studied Akitada, but his face gave nothing away.
Nervous, Akitada had barely managed the customary “May I extend the best wishes of the season to you and your family, Your Excellency?”
The answer had been brusque: “Thank you. You may wonder why you are here. I’ll come to the point. No sense in postponing celebrations, is there?” The thin lips had twitched without quite smiling.
“No, Your Excellency.” Kyushu was no cause for celebration.
“His Most Gracious Majesty has decided to send a trusted man to Kyushu to look into certain irregularities there. Information has reached the court that someone there may be engaged in secret negotiations with China. Your name was suggested because of your familiarity with trade and piracy on the Inland Sea.”
Akitada protested, “I am honored, but I have no knowledge of Kyushu or of the situation there. There must be many men more qualified than I am.”
This had angered the great man. “It is indeed an honor, Sugawara. There are reasons why we want to send someone unconnected with anyone there. In any case, you are to take up your duties as governor of Chikuzen immediately. It will place Hakata city and Hakata port under your authority. The Korokan, where foreign visitors stay, and the Dazaifu will only be a few hours away. A governorship in such an important province is a significant position, and one would hope you are properly appreciative.”
Akitada had stammered, “Indeed, I am deeply appreciative, Excellency, and I hope to justify His Majesty’s confidence.”
“So do I.” Kinsada’s voice had been cold and the implied threat palpable.
“May I beg for more information?”
“No. It is best that you don’t arrive with preconceived notions. And you are to keep our suspicions to yourself. The assistant governor general in Dazaifu has been informed.”
*
Their ship worked its way slowly and cautiously toward land. When the boat traffic increased, the captain took in the sails and they progressed at a snail’s pace as the sailors plied their long oars.
Saburo, who had been gathering their belongings, came out to join them. “Magnificent,” he said in a rapt voice.
Tora scanned the harbor and the city beyond. “It looks ordinary enough.”
“Not really. Look at it. Foreign ships and foreign houses.”
Akitada said nothing. His entire youth had been filled with images of wilderness and deprivation as his father had spoken of the suffering of his illustrious ancestor. Now he felt strangely disappointed. It was ordinary. Kyushu bustled with life and commerce. Not only was the scene not in the least threatening, the land was positively beautiful. Green fields and forests stretched to many mountains, volcanoes by their shape, and hence home to the many powerful and protective gods of the land. And all around stretched the bay, flecked with small islands. It reminded him of the eastern part of the Inland Sea, but this harbor was much larger, and the city was far more significant than the rapidly declining Naniwa.
But like Saburo, he felt a stirring of excitement. It was certainly an adventure.
When their ship had docked, they saw a reception committee had gathered on shore. A small group of well-dressed men waited in front of a contingent of armed men. Some of them wore official robes and hats, but there were also commoners among them. News must have traveled fast. Akitada had hoped for less advance warning.
As they stepped on land, Tora muttered, “There’s an odd-looking fellow for you. The one at the end. What do you suppose he is?”
“Chinese, I think,” Akitada said
. “A merchant probably. There’s a large Chinese settlement here. And a Korean one as well.”
“I thought they were our enemies.”
“Not any longer, though they bear watching,”
Akitada wore a traveling robe and his long sword. Both Tora and Saburo were armed as well. Tora carried the saddlebag with their funds and valuables, and Saburo had the leather box with Akitada’s papers. He had not been given the money for additional staff.
The past three weeks afloat had been at best uncomfortable. The danger of pirate attacks increased the closer they came to Kyushu. Whenever they touched land, warnings were passed on to the captain and Akitada. They had not been attacked, but bad weather had nearly capsized them two nights before.
After he had become accustomed to the motion of the ship, the ground felt unsteady under Akitada’s feet; it seemed to rise to meet each step. The group who awaited him watched and whispered, startled perhaps by the fact he arrived with only two attendants, one of whom had a scarred face.
Saburo had been horribly disfigured when he had undergone torture in his murky past as a spy. He had survived the ordeal, but had become useless in his profession. For years, he had eked out a desperate living in the streets of Naniwa, frightening adults and children alike, until Akitada had found him and, somewhat reluctantly since he disliked spies, hired him.
He had since made himself very useful as his secretary. Recently, Akitada’s wife had suggested hiding the worst of his deep red scars under a thick paste of make-up, tinted to match his normal skin tone. The result had been amazing. While certainly not handsome—the puckered cheek and permanently scarred lips gave his face a lopsided look—he was no longer frightening children and, what was more useful, could pass in a crowd without attracting stares.
The face of the senior official in the middle expressed disapproval. “Lord Sugawara?” he asked, looking dubious.
“Yes.” Akitada stared him down. “And you are?”
His brusque answer convinced the man. He bowed deeply, as did his companions. “Allow me to bid you welcome on behalf of the city Hakata, Your Excellency. I am Nakamura, the mayor.”
Akitada nodded and listened to the introduction of the others. By rank, they were the shrine priest Kuroda Omaru, the Abbot Genkai, the head of the Hakata merchants’ guild Hayashi, the local police chief, Okata, the oddly dressed Merchant Feng, in charge of the Chinese settlement and his Korean equivalent Yi. Apart from Feng and Yi, whom Akitada noted with interest, it was the sort of welcome he could have expected in any province. But there was a striking difference. Apparently nobody from the provincial headquarters had come to greet him. Neither the outgoing governor, Tachibana Moroe, nor his representative, was present. This was curious, but Akitada did not remark on it.
He turned down an invitation to dinner at the mayor’s house and asked instead for horses in order to push on to provincial headquarters. Their baggage could be brought later. The local dignitaries dispersed, looking puzzled.
They stood waiting for the horses and watched their possessions being unloaded. Tora shook his head. “I don’t understand it, sir,” he said. “If they knew we were coming, shouldn’t they have told the out-going governor?”
“Perhaps they did. The provincial authority is in Minami, on the road to Dazaifu.”
“That’s no excuse. He could at least have sent someone. Is this Minami a big city?”
“No. I understand it’s not even a city. There are many military installations and forts nearby guarding the road to Dazaifu. Previous governors apparently opted for safety rather than keeping an eye on local business.”
Tora pursed his lips. “Sounds cowardly to me.”
“The Kyushu coast used to be a dangerous place. Besides, Dazaifu is the true administrative center. The governor general stays there. The nine provincial governors report to him.”
Tora whistled. “A governor general. A bit like being a king in your own country, isn’t it? Doesn’t that worry the bigwigs in the capital?”
Akitada chuckled. “Not at all. The governor general is always an imperial prince. As such, he stays in the capital while the assistant governor general does the work here. In our case, it is Fujiwara Korenori, one of the sons of the regent.”
“Ah.”Tora pondered. “A lot of ships here. More than in Naniwa. I suppose all this protection of the noble officials leaves the locals free to do as they please. The place is crawling with foreigners.”
“I expect we’ll keep a close eye on Hakata,” said Akitada lightly. “Saburo looks forward to exploring the town, don’t you, Saburo?”
Their companion’s mouth twisted into a grin. “With pleasure, sir. It looks fascinating.”
3
THE EMPTY TRIBUNAL
Horses for them and packhorses for their luggage appeared quickly, along with drivers and a guide.
They left the escort and the packhorses behind and passed through Hakata city as rapidly as the crowded streets allowed. The sun was setting, and people hurried from their workplaces to their homes. The market looked large and busy.
Tora sniffed the air. “Their food smells good. I could do with some fried fish or even just a bowl of noodles.”
Akitada shook his head. “Later. It will soon be dark. We don’t have time. They’ll have something to eat when we get there.”
“Did you notice those strange houses a while back, sir?” asked Saburo. “They were all plaster and tile, short, ugly, squat little things.”
“It must be the Chinese settlement,” Akitada said. “I’m very interested in that myself. You’ll get your chance to explore, Saburo.”
Akitada’s own curiosity had been aroused by the size and prosperity of Hakata. Trade must be good, he thought, and remembered the instructions passed to him in the capital.
Riding inland on an excellent road that followed a river and connected Hakata with Dazaifu, they reached Minami and the provincial headquarters at dusk. Minami itself was small and had little or no fortifications. It was essentially a large village. But Akitada had been told there were forts manned with soldiers on the mountains all around.
Still, it was a disappointment after Hakata and the impressive signs of road construction and fortifications along the way. The relatively small and plain walled enclosure of the provincial headquarters seemed to contain little more than a modest residence and stables. A flag hung limply above the gate, which stood open. There was no sign of either soldiers or servants.
They rode into the forecourt, dismounted, and looked about them in consternation.
“Ho? Anybody home?” Tora shouted.
Where were the guards? Where were the servants and the tribunal staff? Where was the outgoing governor? What had happened here? Was the man merely too rude or angry to receive him, or had something happened to him and his people? Akitada put his hand on his sword hilt and scanned the buildings.
Tora had to shout again before a young groom finally appeared to take their horses. The boy looked unkempt and frightened.
“I’m the new governor,” Akitada told him. “Where is everyone?”
The boy spoke in a strange dialect. He made out, “Gone. All gone. Old man inside.”
“Gone where?” Akitada asked, but the answer was incomprehensible.
Tora muttered a curse and gave the groom a hand with the horses. “Wait for me, sir,” he said. “I don’t like this one bit.”
“It’s all right. We’ll be careful.” Akitada headed for the residence, followed by Saburo, who still carried the small trunk.
“The old man” met them at the door. He was a thin, gray-haired, bent figure with the face of an ascetic. To Akitada’s surprise, he had a large bruise on his cheek. “I am Mori Kiyomi,” he said, bowing deeply. “The tribunal’s secretary. Welcome to Kyushu, Your Excellency.”
“Thank you, Mori. Where is everybody?”
“Governor Tachibana left two weeks ago after dismissing his staff.”
Akitada raised his brows. “He dismissed his
staff? Why?”
“It was thought your Excellency would bring your own people.” The secretary peered past Akitada, encountered Saburo’s visage and stared.
“This is Saburo, one of my two retainers. The other is Sashima Kamatari, also known as Tora. He’s outside putting the horses in the stable. I brought no one else.”
“Oh. Oh dear.” Mori wrung his hands. “That’s a problem. What about baggage? The house is empty.”
“Don’t tell me my predecessor has also removed all the furnishings.”
The old man twisted his hands. “Well, there were some things, but I’m afraid they are gone. They came last night and took everything.” He touched his bruised cheek with a trembling hand.
Akitada felt like cursing, but he could not express his disgust with ex-governor Tachibana. Some of the governors were known to enrich themselves during their terms of office, but walking off with the contents of the governor’s residence and abandoning the compound to thieves was a bit much. He said, “Very well, Mori. It’s not your fault. Take me to my office first. We’ll sort out the other accommodations later.”
The room designated as the governor’s office had been stripped of everything. Pale spaces on the yellowed plaster walls must have held picture scrolls, and darker squares on the wooden floor marked the locations of mats. Akitada saw a small desk, badly worn and of a size customarily assigned to a scribe. It lay on its side in a corner. A rickety bamboo rack held document boxes, but most of them were piled on the floor. Some had been opened and the papers scattered across the room. A bent candlestick lacked its candle, and the cushion near the desk had a big tear in its cover.
Akitada stared at all this and heard a sniffling sound. When he turned around, he saw the old man was weeping. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I couldn’t stop them. I’m only one old man, and the boy was useless.”
