Death of a Doll Maker (3 page)

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

H
orses 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.”

“I’m not blaming you. But how could this have happened?”

“After Lord Tachibana left, some of the dismissed servants and their friends came back and helped themselves to things. They hadn’t been paid for a long time.”

“I see. Saburo, set the box down. Well, we must make the best of it. What about the official seal and administrative funds? Or did they disappear also?”

“No, Excellency. I took those to my room. If you’ll allow me …” He hesitated. “The money box is rather heavy. Perhaps your er …” He glanced at Saburo.

“Right. Saburo, give Mori a hand, please.”

Akitada was gathering up the scattered papers and putting them back into the document boxes when Tora walked in with a face like thunder. “They’re all gone, and they’ve taken everything with them. Horses, fodder, carts, everything. And that boy Koji isn’t right in the head. That’s probably why he didn’t run away, too. Should I go back to Hakata for that police captain?”

“No. The former governor’s secretary is still here. He says Governor Tachibana left after dismissing his staff. They hadn’t been paid, so they helped themselves to whatever wasn’t broken or nailed down. I’ll have to leave for the Dazaifu in the morning. They should have some answers there. Meanwhile we’ll manage. By the way, you will go by your full name while we’re here.”

Tora nodded. Given the fact that he would have to fill the role of assistant to a governor, his master had decided that he must have an official name. Many years ago Tora had adopted the name Tora, or Tiger, when he had been in fear of being arrested as a deserter and highwayman. He had eventually divulged his given name Kamatari, and they had decided that his family name ought to be that of the district where he was born. So he had become Sashima Kamatari and gained the status of a well-born man, much to his secret satisfaction.

Mori came back, reverently carrying a beautifully carved wooden container in both hands. Behind him, Saburo lugged a large iron-bound chest. Tora went to help him.

“Never mind. It’s nearly empty,” Saburo told him. They set it down together.

The old secretary passed the box to Akitada. “The seal, Excellency. There is some money in the trunk, as well as papers for properties belonging to the tribunal.”

Akitada took out a heavy seal carved from soapstone. “Saburo, please hand me my orders.”

Saburo opened the leather box with a key tied to his sash and handed Akitada a document. Akitada compared the seal to the imprint on his orders. “Yes. Thank you, Mori. That was well done. Now let’s see what funds we have.”

The old secretary unlocked the trunk. Inside were more official-looking papers and a small brocade bag. In the bag were twenty-two pieces of gold and about fifty pieces of silver.

Akitada replaced the money. “Is this all?” he asked, aghast.

“I’m afraid so, sir. It hasn’t been a good year, and His Excellency drew some funds for his removal.”

Tora grunted. “Bet he travels in style.”

Akitada shot Tora a reproving look.

The old man flushed. “It’s a long way to the capital from here,” he pointed out.

Akitada nodded. “So it is. I take it an imperial inspector cleared the accounts before Lord Tachibana left?”

“Inspector? No, Excellency. The governor cleared them with the Assistant Governor General.”

It was certainly against regulation, but perhaps different laws prevailed in Kyushu. Again he felt his lack of experience with a painful stab. He said, “Saburo, go see if you can make some tea. There’s some in the saddlebag.” Then he asked the secretary to show them the rest of the residence.

They returned first to the reception hall. This, the old secretary explained, also served the governor when he heard court cases. Akitada looked about him in dismay. There was a narrow dais which probably served the governor and his scribes while the accused, his guards, and the populace would all cram into the modest space in front of it. “It’s not very large,” he said doubtfully.

“His Excellency rarely heard cases. Most are handled in Hakata. And the local population is small.”

“There is a jail, I hope?”

“Yes. A room next to the stables. As I said, we don’t have much occasion to arrest anyone.”

This was ludicrous, given the fact the locals had just emptied the contents of the tribunal, but Akitada said nothing.

The rest of the house held the usual number of smaller rooms under the eaves, most emptied of their contents, four slightly larger, central rooms that could be subdivided with folded screens, and two short hallways separating the central reception hall and his private office from the rooms to either side. The hallways led to a rear veranda which overlooked a tangled garden.

Akitada sighed. They had a roof over their heads, but that was all. He was about to walk down into the garden to see what needed to be done there, when they heard the sounds of voices and horses from the forecourt. Their baggage had arrived. Tora and Saburo were already there to supervise the bearers as they carried boxes and trunks into the house. There was not much of it, certainly no furniture. The trunks contained clothes, a few books, Akitada’s writing box, and his favorite sleeping quilt. Tora and Saburo had traveled with much less. All of it was quickly deposited, and the bearers left with their horses.