The Fires of the Gods (19 page)

‘Kobe brought this himself?’ Akitada asked, amazed.

‘With his best wishes for the honorable little daughter.’

‘How very strange!’

Akitada unwrapped the parcel, half expecting some poisonous creature to emerge. But it contained only a child’s fan, exquisitely made and painted with birds and butterflies playing among pink cherry blossoms.

Seimei peered at it short-sightedly. ‘Dear me,’ he said, ‘that must have cost a good deal for such a bauble.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Akitada and thought how very much it was like his image of his little daughter. With some regret, he added, ‘Of course, we must return it.’

‘Return it? Why?’

Akitada shot Seimei a look of reproach. ‘Have you forgotten his insult? I’m surprised he dared send this.’

‘Perhaps he thought the occasion warrants forgetting the past.’

‘Never!’ Akitada pushed the little fan away and rose to his feet. ‘If he thinks he can wipe out all that he has said and done with a child’s toy, he is very mistaken. Wrap it up again and send it back.’

‘Sir, perhaps it would be better to reconsider. Superintendent Kobe has been helpful to you in the past, and at the present time he could still be useful. Why offend the man when he clearly still retains feelings of friendship?’

‘Feelings of friendship?’ Akitada looked at the old man in surprise and wondered if Seimei was becoming senile and forgetful. It was likely, considering his advanced age. Come to think of it, there had been other times when he had seemed out of touch with reality. The sudden thought of Seimei’s approaching death filled him with sadness and calmed his anger. ‘We’ll leave it for the time being,’ he said. ‘Shall we go look in on Tora?’

Tora was clearly miserable. He raised glazed eyes and asked for water. He was not a water drinker. When Akitada touched his forehead, it was cold and clammy rather than dry and hot. When Seimei turned to pour some water from a pitcher into a cup, Akitada saw his face. It filled him with dread. He almost burst out with a question, but bit his lip. There was no point in scaring Tora.

He knelt beside his friend and supported his shoulders while Seimei held the cup to Tora’s dry, cracked lips. Tora drank thirstily. When he was done, he croaked, ‘Sorry, sir. Don’t know what’s come over me. I feel as weak as a baby.’

And in pain, to judge by his expression when he made the slightest move. But the water had refreshed him a little. After a moment, he tried a smile. ‘A great day for you, sir,’ he said. ‘I bet you’ve been busy receiving guests.’

‘Fairly busy. Even Kobe sent a token.’

‘No! The big man came himself?’

‘To the gate only.’

Tora tried another grin. ‘He’ll come around now, you’ll see.’

Akitada shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. To change the subject, I’m free at the moment and thought I’d take up the search for the abbot’s lost boy.’

Tora looked alarmed and struggled upright again. ‘You can’t. It’s too dangerous. If it’s that urgent, I’m sure I could get up in a little while.’

Akitada pushed him back gently. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d feel insulted,’ he chided. ‘Do you think I cannot handle it myself?’

Tora flushed. ‘N-no, sir. It isn’t that. The trail leads to those hoodlums, and I expect they’re out to get me after what happened. If you show up asking questions, you’ll have both gangs hunting you down.’

Akitada frowned. ‘Gangs? I thought we were talking about some young troublemakers. Maybe it’s time the police looked into activities around the Western Market. I assume that’s where you made contact?’

Tora looked very uncomfortable. ‘Hoshina has her wine shop there. She knows where Jirokichi is, and Jirokichi knows something about the fires. But the gangs hang out farther west from there.’ He described the warehouse area and the Fragrant Peach. ‘If you do go there, sir, you must take some police constables with you. The local warden is no use whatsoever. They all protect each other.’

Akitada attempted to get more information about his progress with the missing acolyte, but Tora had exhausted his strength. He rambled on about the fires, a serving wench and her boyfriend, and the young lord. He shivered a good deal and seemed to have trouble concentrating. At one point, he did grasp the urgency of all the questions and argued about getting up again. Eventually, his voice faded, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

‘Sir,’ whispered Seimei, ‘I think we’d better go now. I’ll make him a strengthening broth for his supper later and mix in something to dull the pain and help him rest. After that we must hope that his strong young body will heal quickly.’

Akitada was very worried about Tora. He returned to his room and wandered out into the garden. It was dusk, and the warm air was heavy with the scents of summer. The sky was that lavender hue just before it would dull to gray. A few pale clouds scudded across it, their skirts still gilded by the last rays of the sun. One of the carp in the pool jumped and fell back with a soft splash. For a moment, the sound took his eyes to the thickening darkness below. When he raised them again, even that last faint light had gone.

The joy of the day had passed.

It seemed strange that nobody had become suspicious that the fires always started at night when most householders were asleep
with their hearth fires and lamps extinguished. Some had been blamed on lightning. There had been thunderstorms around the time of the fires. That, too, seemed strange. Why set a fire, if the rain would put it out again? And why had the police not investigated? Of course, if the arson was connected to extortion, the victims might have covered up the truth for fear of further retribution.

Akitada had reached that point in his rumination when Seimei came out. The old man’s face told him that there was bad news. Akitada’s thoughts flew to Tora, but Seimei said, ‘A messenger from the Board of Censors, sir.’

Akitada went inside and found a stiff-faced, stiff-backed young man in the uniform of a lieutenant of the outer palace guard. The lieutenant did not bother to salute. He demanded, ‘Are you Sugawara Akitada of the Ministry of Justice?’

Akitada’s heart plummeted into his stomach. ‘Yes, but I no longer serve there.’

‘You are to report tomorrow.’ The lieutenant handed over a rolled document, turned sharply on his heel, and marched out of the room, followed by Seimei.

Akitada untied the ribbon and unrolled a formal letter. It ordered him to appear before a committee of censors to answer charges of ‘acts against the public interest and for personal gain.’

His knees felt so weak he had to sit down. If he was found guilty, he could well be banished from the capital. And even if they did not go that far, he would never get another position. His hopes of a new future for his family were gone, wiped out as if they had never been – immaterial and fleeting as the clouds.

THE CENSORS

T
he
Danjōdai
, or Board of Censors, occupied buildings directly across the street from the Ministry of Justice. During the performance of his duties as ministerial clerk and secretary, Akitada had had occasion to deal with these feared investigators of all sorts of offenses committed by officials. Some of those occasions had been most unpleasant, but none more so than this one.

These days, the forty-odd censors had little to occupy them beyond inspections of the books of outgoing governors. Most of their judicial tasks had been taken over by the Ministry of Justice or the Capital Police. But the bureau persisted and guarded its ancient privileges jealously, reporting on officials from the sixth rank up and examining misdeeds of those below that rank. The censors enjoyed the status of the office, along with the income, without being overly burdened with work or responsibility.

But this made them doubly dangerous to Akitada, a former member of the Ministry of Justice. He would have to argue his case against their prejudice, and not only his livelihood, but also his honor was at stake.

He wore his second-best official robe and court hat and carried his notes in his sleeve. These he had reviewed during the sleepless hours of the night until he knew the points by heart, but such was his insecurity that he did not dare leave the details up to his memory. The mind plays tricks at the worst moments, and he could not afford to be struck dumb during the interrogation.

The sky was overcast. There had been talk that the long-awaited rainy season would finally start. The summer heat with its ineffectual thunderstorms had been enervating in the capital and disastrous for the rice farmers. Akitada eyed the clouds with misgiving. With his luck, he would arrive wet and bedraggled, his fine robe and trousers splashed with mud. He walked faster and managed to arrive dry, if out of breath and perspiring.

Lack of sleep and a general sense of impending defeat put him at a disadvantage, and things did not start well. A servant showed him into a small, airless room used as a waiting area, leaving the door to the hallway wide open. People passed back and forth, glancing curiously at Akitada, who began to feel like a condemned man on public display before his execution.

Eventually, the five official censors who would hear his case arrived also. They, too, looked in at him, some of them coldly, others frowning. Akitada bowed, recognizing a few faces: three were Fujiwaras and cousins of the emperor and the chancellor, the other two were unfamiliar. Not one of them looked as if he would deal fairly with a Sugawara.

He continued to wait. The perspiration on his skin dried into assorted itches, and the tie of his hat dug uncomfortably into the skin under his jaw. It seemed to take a long time for them to arrange themselves. Perhaps they were already discussing his
punishment among themselves. Even exile became a distinct possibility. He thought of Sado Island and shivered in the warm, close air of the anteroom in spite of his heavy formal robe and full trousers.

At long last, the servant reappeared to call him into the hearing room. There had been a time in Akitada’s life when he would have knelt immediately inside the door and touched his forehead to the floorboards. But he had risen in the world since then and was no longer a callow and timid youth. He swallowed his fears and walked in, head held high, telling himself that his past accomplishments had surely made him a better man than the five stiff, black-robed officials lined up on the dais.

Apart from the censors and himself, the room also contained a scribe, who sat to the side behind a low desk to take down the proceedings, and a secretary, who hovered behind the censor in the middle.

When he reached the cushion placed for him, Akitada bowed and said, ‘I am Sugawara Akitada and hope to be allowed to explain the matter that caused the present inquiry.’

Waiting for a response, he looked from face to face. The chief investigator was one of the Fujiwaras and surprisingly young. He was flanked by the two other Fujiwaras, men in their forties or fifties with dull round faces and heavy bodies. The two men on the ends were the strangers to him: one elderly, with a neatly trimmed white beard, the other thin and long-jawed. They barely stirred or changed expression when his eyes met theirs. Were they waiting for more, for signs of abject humility, for pleading? He stiffened his resolve. They would not see him grovel or beg for leniency.

Finally, the young man in the center said petulantly, ‘You may be seated.’

Akitada sat, removed his notes from his sleeve and placed them carefully before him. Then he looked up expectantly. He thought he saw some signs of unease; they looked at each other, fidgeted, frowned. Akitada said, ‘I am at your service, gentlemen.’

More fidgeting. It occurred to Akitada that they found themselves saddled with a problem they did not know how to address. His self-confidence rose marginally.

The Fujiwara in the center was senior in rank even though he was the youngest. The colored strips on his court hat marked the upper fourth rank. He was in his twenties and still slender,
unlike most of the chancellor’s family. Akitada thought he looked the sort of young man who would have done well as an officer in the guard. Perhaps he wished himself there. Now, he clearly struggled to live up to his duties and resorted to bluster.

‘You stand accused of very serious crimes,’ he announced with a frown. ‘I would have expected more humility under the circumstances.’

‘I am guilty of no crime and have no reason to be ashamed of the way I have performed my duties,’ Akitada returned, staring back.

This angered the young man. He leaned forward, pointing his baton at Akitada. ‘What? Do you deny your transgressions while assigned to the Ministry of Justice? Do you deny that you have disobeyed your superiors? And that you have set yourself against the proper authorities by interfering in an official murder investigation? These are serious offenses, and there is strong suspicion that you may be guilty of the crime.’

Akitada regretted angering the man for the sake of self-respect. Puppies such as he could be dangerous even when they were ineffectual.

He bowed deeply and said, ‘I deny the charges, My Lord. I am here today to serve his Majesty as I have done all of my life.’

His reply left the other at a loss how to proceed. He glowered, opened and closed his mouth, but found no words. Akitada scanned the faces to his right and left. Not one offered to speak. All looked irritated. A bad start.

The bearded older man bit his lip, then glanced towards his superior and said, ‘Perhaps the scribe may read out the charges so that Lord Sugawara can respond to them. If necessary, the members of the Board can then question him as to details.’

There was a murmur of agreement.

The ranking Fujiwara flushed. ‘Thank you, Akimoto. I was about to say so.’

It occurred to Akitada that the older man must be the career soldier Minamoto Akimoto. He had the look and was known for a fine military career in his youth. Akimoto did not look happy to be here, and that, too, might work against Akitada.

The scribe bustled up to help the chief censor find the correct document, and the reading of the charges commenced.

The account cited his angry outburst against his superior and
the subsequent ill-fated visit to the Kiyowara mansion the day the counselor was murdered. Unnamed witnesses reported on Akitada’s reaction to his demotion and his determination to find the man responsible.

Clearly, his former colleagues at the ministry had been eager to provide this information.

The document next outlined a long list of past offenses. For this, they had gone all the way back to the beginning of his career. Almost all of the examples fell in the category of disobedience or neglect of duty. They went on and on from his disobedience in attending criminal trials when he was still a mere apprentice clerk, to his other appearance before the Board of Censors upon his return from Kazusa when he had been charged with exceeding his powers in the investigation of missing tax payments.

Akitada clenched his hands inside the full sleeves and gritted his teeth in silence.

They had built a case against an arrogant official who had consistently overreached himself, disobeying instructions and behaving in the manner of someone so power-hungry that he would stop at nothing. The complaints of his previous superior, Minister Soga, featured prominently.

The reading eventually concluded. Akitada wished he could simply blank out the reminders of past struggles and disappointments. When the final word faded, he took a deep breath.

‘If I may be permitted—’ he started, but the ranking censor raised a warning hand.

‘There is additional information,’ he said, making a face. ‘And it is of a most serious nature. It appears that you are about to be arrested for the murder of the late counselor.’ He described how Akitada had found out that it had been Kiyowara Kane who had raised questions about Akitada’s suitability to serve and had recommended demotion, how Akitada had then called on Kiyowara, clearly in anger, and how he had been seen rushing away only moments before the counselor was found dead in his office. ‘Apparently, Sugawara then tried to cover up his crime by pretending to investigate the case.

It was a frightening catalogue of crimes and misdemeanors. When the chief censor stopped, the others looked at Akitada with fixed expressions that proclaimed his fate.

Akitada pulled his wits together and tried to stifle his anger.
‘I am not guilty,’ he said, glad that his voice was reasonably steady. ‘My being there the day Kiyowara died was a mere coincidence. Any number of others were also there, and at least one of them had a much stronger motive to kill the counselor than I did. I merely wanted to ask him why I lost my position. I suspected that Lord Kiyowara must have based his judgment on the same old trumped up charges I have just been listening to. I could hardly have blamed him. He was a relative newcomer to the capital. But I thought there would be some gentlemen among you who knew better – or that you would at least have checked the facts. In fairness, I should be allowed to present the true record of my service to the emperor.’

The young Fujiwara sneered. ‘Shouldn’t you have done this in a more timely manner? The Board took care to notify you. I am very much afraid that this is just another example of your defiance of authority, and I for one refuse to waste any more time on this case.’

Akitada’s heart sank. He would not be allowed to defend himself. His experience with similar cases in the past told him that there was rarely recourse once a verdict was given. Those who ruled the nation had no wish to alienate colleagues or to undermine the powers of another office. It was as ridiculous as it was frightening. Would they now also find him guilty of murder?

He bowed. ‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘I did prepare these documents in my defense, but expected that I would present the facts in person.’

‘Then you were wrong and should have informed yourself better,’ snapped the young nobleman.

Akitada looked at them dumbly. There was nothing else for him to say. What were they waiting for?

The silence stretched.

It was again Akimoto who cleared his throat apologetically. He made a small bow towards his younger colleague and said, ‘The senior censor is, of course, quite right, but perhaps in this instance we might make an exception. I’m somewhat familiar with Lord Sugawara’s history and think we would all benefit from having a look at his version of the facts before we make our decision. A mistake made in haste would be embarrassing.’

The senior censor started to bluster, but there were murmurs
of consent from some of the others. His face stiffened, and he said coldly, ‘Since Lord Akimoto expresses concern, far be it from me to urge a speedy resolution. By all means, let us take our time. The chancellor will appreciate our thoroughness… if not our dilatory handling of the case.’ He waved his baton, and the secretary approached to collect Akitada’s notes. Akitada was told to return the following day.

He had no illusions that the intercession by Akimoto meant the case against him would be dismissed. If anything, it had rankled the senior secretary and would make him even more determined to find Akitada guilty – if only to make a point. What Akitada had gained was half a day’s freedom, perhaps his last. The fee paid by Lady Kiyowara would have to be returned. He doubted that there was enough gold left in his money box. He must earn the Abbot’s fee somehow.

The skies still hid behind clouds. It was warm, but there was the smell of rain in the air. He walked home to change his clothes. Seimei met him with an expression that was anxious and hopeful at the same time.

‘Is it over, sir?’

‘No. I’m to report again tomorrow. It doesn’t look very good. For the moment, though, I need to get into old clothes. How’s Tora?’

‘The same.’ Seimei’s expression was bleak. ‘I don’t like this fever. We have tried everything. Where are you going?’

‘To find out what it was that Tora stirred up and perhaps to earn my fee from the abbot. We’ll have to return the Kiyowara gold.’

Seimei gasped and put a hand to his mouth.

‘Don’t worry.’ Akitada felt guilty for having been so blunt. ‘We’ll weather this, as we have worse things. Just make sure that Tora gets what he needs.’

Seimei nodded. He tried a smile. ‘At least Her Ladyship and the little one are thriving.’

Akitada patted Seimei’s frail shoulder. ‘There, you see? We mustn’t despair. Now, can you help me find some rags suitable for associating with crooks?’

Seimei balked. ‘You aren’t thinking of looking for those young monsters who attacked Tora? They tortured some poor creature for days! You must not risk your life at this time. We shall cope.’

Akitada smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I shall be very careful.’

‘Please, sir.’ The old man’s voice rose a little. ‘Think of your wife and child if you won’t think of yourself.’

They had a right to worry and that made it doubly hard, but Akitada had no choice. Guilt made him peremptory. ‘Enough! This is no different from any other work I have ever done and certainly less dangerous than exile on Sado Island.’