The Fires of the Gods (2 page)

OBLIGATIONS

A
fter the night’s brief rain, it should have been another fine summer day in the capital, but Akitada woke to the acrid smell of smoke. The Sugawara house was built of wood and cedar shingles.

He got up quickly and stepped on the veranda, looking anxiously about and sniffing the air. The smoke hung like a thin dark fog above the cedar-bark roof of his house and the tree-tops of the garden, but the fire had been elsewhere. The reassurance was brief.

There had been too many fires in the capital lately. Homes and businesses had been destroyed and some people had lost everything. Of course, the danger of fire was always present, what with candles, oil lamps, open braziers, and torches. It was particularly bad in the inner city, where people lived in flimsy houses built close together. Not infrequently a whole quarter went up in flames, and if the wind was high and blew northward, the fires could reach even the imperial palace, though this year there had been fires started in the palace grounds.

Frowning, Akitada went back inside to put on his clothes and prepare to go to work at the ministry. He already had a bad feeling about the day.

When Seimei crept in, balancing his master’s gruel and a pot of tea on the household account ledger, Akitada shifted his worries to more personal matters. Seimei was well past seventy and plagued by aches and pains that were always much worse in the morning, yet he insisted on serving his master as he had done all his life.

Because he felt guilty, Akitada said a little peevishly, ‘Thank you, but I wish you’d let me fend for myself. I’m perfectly capable of going to the kitchen to get my breakfast. Where is the fire, do you know?’

Seimei placed the dishes carefully before answering. ‘It was in the merchant quarter again, sir. The rain put it out, but the wind still carries the smoke our way. People are talking of divine retribution.’

Akitada paused with his cup halfway to his lips. ‘Why?’

‘They demand reinstatement of Prince Atsuyasu as crown prince. He was passed over in the succession.’

‘Nonsense.’ Akitada took little interest in court politics and did not believe that the gods started fires because they disapproved of political shenanigans. Whenever such notions took hold of the simple-minded populace, great mischief ensued. Seeing Seimei still hovering with the account book, he said, ‘Sit down and have a cup of tea. What’s this all about?’

Seimei accepted the invitation. ‘There have been so many fires lately. People say it isn’t natural. They also say there have been omens and portents that a great disaster will befall the capital.’

‘Unsubstantiated rumors.’ Akitada did not know the prince. He was a mere secretary in one of the ministries, and lower-ranking officials did not come into contact with those who lived ‘above the clouds’.

But Seimei was not so easily deterred. ‘His Majesty has ordered the reading of sutras by eight priests and the reciting of prayers and making of offerings in all the Amida halls of the temples.’

Akitada frowned. ‘Hmm. They do that sort of thing frequently anyway.’ Putting the matter from his mind, he changed the subject. ‘How is my wife this morning?’

Tamako, who was due to give birth, slept very poorly these days, and he had not wanted to disturb her during the night. The fear of losing her and his unborn child was with him all the time.

Seimei smiled. ‘Her Ladyship was in good spirits yesterday. She walked a little in the garden with Oyuki. I believe she is still asleep.’

Oyuki, Tamako’s maid, had returned to her service after the death of her husband. Akitada had reason to be grateful to Oyuki these days, and to Tora’s wife Hanae. He was useless in matters of pregnancy and childbirth, and seeing his wife in her present shape terrified him. He said, ‘I’m glad. In that case, I won’t trouble her, but tell her I’ll see her tonight.’

Seimei nodded. He watched his master finish the bowl of gruel, then said, ‘Tora just came home.’

‘What? At this hour? Is he visiting the wine shops and gambling houses again?’

Seimei pursed his lips. ‘I cannot say, sir, but he looks terrible.’

‘The rascal is probably drunk.’ Akitada suspected he had slept in some harlot’s bed and felt angry on Hanae’s account. He had come to like Tora’s pretty wife, who filled the house with her singing and had given Tora a bouncing baby son. Tora did not know how lucky he was in having her and that fine little boy.

The door opened, and Tora walked in. His clothes were in tatters and his face and hands were an angry, sooty red. Gray ashes covered his hair, making him look prematurely old.

‘What happened to you?’ Akitada demanded. ‘Where’ve you been all night?’

Tora’s eyes were red-rimmed. He made a choking sound and swallowed. ‘There was a fire,’ he rasped.

Akitada looked him over. He did not like the labored breathing or the dazed look in Tora’s eyes. ‘Are you hurt?’

Tora shook his head and winced. ‘Don’t think so. Passed out and got singed a little. A constable pulled me out.’ He cleared his throat and coughed. ‘I don’t seem to be able to catch my breath.’

Akitada glanced at Seimei. The old man was frowning. ‘But how did you come to be at a fire?’ he asked.

Tora hung his head. ‘Went out for a cup of wine. Was going home when I smelled smoke. Went to see if I could help.’ He paused to cough again.

‘Don’t talk any more,’ Akitada said, regretting his earlier suspicions.

‘The old guy was dead when I got to him,’ Tora said. ‘I know it was stupid.’

Akitada did not like the way Tora looked and sounded. He seemed dazed and sick. ‘Well, go now and get cleaned up,’ he said. ‘Seimei and Hanae can tend to your injuries. If you feel well enough afterwards, you can tell me all about it.’

Tora struggled to his feet and walked out slowly.

Seimei cleared his throat. ‘He must have breathed in too much hot smoke,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘And there is some blood in his hair. I wonder if the house fell on him. I’ll go and prepare an ointment for the burns and perhaps a special tea for his throat. Purslane and honey, I think.’

Akitada poured another cup of tea and looked at Seimei’s
household accounts. Though meticulously accurate, they were unsatisfactory, as expected. The income from his farms had disappeared after the smallpox epidemic. The harvest had been lost because some of the peasants had died or fled the land. Meanwhile, there were more mouths to feed here on the modest salary of a senior secretary in the Ministry of Justice. He wondered again if he could afford to continue keeping two horses in the city.

Tora returned quickly. He had washed and changed his clothing and looked much better, his eyes steady, and his color back to normal.

Akitada gestured to a cushion. ‘Sit down. Are you sure you feel well enough?’

‘Yes.’ Tora touched his head gingerly. ‘A few blisters don’t matter, but I got hit on the head pretty hard. And then later the smoke got to me.’ He swallowed. ‘Seimei made me drink something.’ He grinned. ‘It tasted pretty good for once.’

‘You got hit? By accident?’

Tora grimaced. ‘No. The bastards meant it.’

Akitada wondered how badly Tora had been injured. ‘What bastards? I thought constables pulled you from a burning house?’

‘Yes, later. I was attacked on my way home. Some female jumped from an alley and knocked me down. The thieving bitch was scooping up my money when a bunch of street kids came, and one of them hit me on the head with a piece of wood.’ He rubbed his head. ‘Come to think of it, maybe
she
was really a
he
. What I had a hold of didn’t much feel like a woman. Didn’t fight like a woman either.’

Akitada stared at Tora. ‘What money?’

Tora blushed. ‘I won it at dice. Silver and a few pieces of gold. Enough to pay off my little farm. I hope the bastards roast in hell where they belong.’

‘You’ve been gambling?’

‘Don’t tell Hanae, sir. She wouldn’t understand.’

Akitada was about to snap that he did not understand either – or rather, that he understood only too well that Tora had returned to his old ways. He swallowed his words and asked, ‘What of the fire?’

‘When I got up, I smelled the smoke. The fire was one street over. A shopfront was blazing when I got there, and the owner was jumping around looking like some demon. His clothes were
on fire – that’s how my hands got burned. He asked me to get his father out. I tried, but as I said, the old man was gone. Smoke, I think, because the fire hadn’t reached the back of the house yet.’

Akitada said, ‘I see. Well, I’m very glad you’re live. We’ll forget about the gambling in view of the good deed you tried to do. I’m sorry that you lost the money, but if you waste your time in low pursuits, you attract the notice of criminals. No doubt they worked together, your attacker and his or her companions.’

Tora pulled something from his shirt and laid it on Akitada’s desk. It was an amulet bag with a broken string. One of them dropped this,’ he said. ‘I was hoping you could tell who it belonged to and I could try to get my money back.’

Akitada reached for the small bag. The material was blue silk with a pattern of golden wheels. ‘I doubt this will help. The wheels are symbols of Buddha’s law. I expect they stole it also. Or if you tangled with a female, she may have dropped it. Prostitutes are superstitious and get such presents from wealthy clients.’ He fingered the pouch. ‘The silk is very good, and there’s something inside.’ He started to open it.

Tora said quickly, ‘Don’t! You’ll break the spell.’

‘What do you care? It’s not your spell.’

‘Oh.’

In the bag was a small but finely made ivory figurine of the Bodhisattva Fugen riding a crouching elephant. Akitada turned it this way and that. ‘This carving is extraordinarily good. I doubt anyone would give it to a woman of the streets. More likely, it’s stolen.’ He put the figurine back, pulled the drawstring and returned the amulet to Tora. ‘Sorry.’

Tora opened the pouch and peered in. ‘Is it worth a lot of gold?’

‘I don’t know. You’d have to take it to a dealer in religious objects.’

Tora sighed. ‘Will you keep it for me? I’d rather not explain it to Hanae.’

DISMISSED

A
kitada’s day did not improve at work. Munefusa, an unpleasant and ignorant junior secretary, had made several mistakes in a legal document. Akitada did not relish discussing the matter with him. He missed Nakatoshi, that bright and eager young man who had worked with him a year ago during that dreadful summer. But Nakatoshi had moved on and now served as junior secretary in the Ranks Office of the Ministry of Ceremonial.

He made the corrections and was debating how to present the matter most diplomatically when a clerk appeared with a summons from the minister.

Since the minister seldom appeared at work, Akitada decided to have a word with him about Munefusa. Fujiwara Kaneie was approachable and seemed to like Akitada. Today, however, he greeted Akitada stiffly and would not meet his eyes. After Akitada was seated, he said, ‘You may be aware that His Excellency, the new chancellor, has been reviewing the positions in the various ministries?’

Akitada’s first thought was that Kaneie, a pleasant and harmless young man, had lost his position to another stupid purge of anyone connected to the previous crown prince. A number of high-ranking noblemen had resigned lately or accepted reassignments. He said cautiously, ‘I hope there is no bad news, sir.’

Fujiwara Kaneie was younger than Akitada by nearly ten years. He had the sort of smooth skin that flushes easily and he flushed now. His eyes briefly met Akitada’s, then he looked down at the sheaf of papers studded with official seals on the desk before him. ‘I am afraid you will think it so,’ he said in a voice so low that Akitada leaned forward. ‘You are to be demoted to the rank of junior secretary.’ He heaved a sigh and raised his head. ‘Believe me, Sugawara, this was none of my doing. I was told that one of the controllers, Kiyowara Kane, questioned your qualifications. Kiyowara has the chancellor’s ear. I tried to tell them about the good work you have done for me, but you probably know that my voice has no weight these days.’ He sighed again unhappily.

Akitada had difficulty digesting this news. ‘Junior secretary? But we already have a junior secretary. Not that he is qualified. I had my hands full this very morning with the mistakes he’s been making. Still, the position is filled.’

‘Hmm, er, not exactly.’ The minister shifted on his cushion and bit his lip. ‘Er, Munefusa will trade places with you.’

‘What?’ Akitada was shocked. ‘The man knows nothing of the law, let alone of the duties of a senior secretary. You know very well that you have always relied on me to see that things are done properly.’

The minister flushed more deeply. ‘I wish you would not imply that I am also unqualified for my duties,’ he said testily.

Akitada was only dimly aware that he had overstepped his bounds. He was still wrestling with the unfairness the decision. Of course, Fujiwara Kaneie
was
unqualified to run the Ministry of Justice. Most of the high-ranking nobles were merely figure-heads. Only a year ago Kaneie had taken the place of the villainous Soga, who had died in the epidemic. At the time, Kaneie had admitted to Akitada that the work was beyond him. Akitada had covered for him. What would happen now if the inexperienced minister had to depend on an incompetent secretary to carry out the duties normally assigned to this office? More to the point, what of all the hard work Akitada had done to make sure that no one realized the minister was unfamiliar with all but the social and ceremonial functions of the office? Meanwhile, Akitada’s reward for his loyalty and effort would be a drastic loss of income just when they needed the money most. And to be replaced by the incompetent Munefusa was an insult.

Clenching his fists, Akitada snapped, ‘Don’t pretend you tried to defend me. I don’t believe it. I think there’s some political advantage to you. You know very well that you were unqualified for your duties the day you arrived. In my view you’ve made little effort since to grasp the basic aspects of our work here. I have covered for you, and the thanks I get is a demotion. No, worse than that. You’re putting an idiot in my place.’ Seeing the minister begin to bluster, Akitada raised his voice a little. ‘Don’t bother to deny it. You’ve buckled down to the new chancellor’s demands. And that was not only ungrateful, but also cowardly, sir.’

He regretted his outburst the moment the words left his mouth, but it was too late. Kaneie shot to his feet, his face an alarming shade of scarlet. ‘I believe,’ he said in a shaking voice, ‘it will
be best if you take a leave of absence. Immediately. Clearly, the news has deranged your mind. You will be told when – or if – to report back.’

Akitada stood also, his face hot with anger and embarrassment. He considered resigning or apologizing, but in the end he just bowed and left.

Breathing hard, he stalked back to his office, thinking to sit down to gather his thoughts and calm the rage that had caused him to lash out at Kaneie. The minister was the last man he should have attacked, and he had acted with little foundation, too. He had no proof that Fujiwara had not made an attempt to defend him. In fact, the minister himself was on shaky ground with the present administration. Besides, Kaneie had always been fair with him, had even been a friend in the past.

He was considering the situation more rationally until he walked in on Munefusa rearranging the furnishings in his office.

‘What are you doing?’ Akitada snapped, seeing his desk pushed against the opposite wall.

‘Oh,’ said Munefusa with a silly grin, ‘I got the news before you and thought I might have a look at my new office. You’re to take mine, I believe.’ He turned to eye the array of books and scrolls on the shelves and went to take down a large tome.

‘Those are mine,’ said Akitada quickly. ‘Aren’t you rushing things a bit?’

Munefusa put the book back and turned, smiling more widely. ‘Not at all, Sugawara. You’ve always said yourself we shouldn’t waste time. Do you want some help moving these things?’

Disarmed by the offer, Akitada nodded sourly. Munefusa was not to blame for the vagaries of fate.

Munefusa clapped his hands and told the man who appeared, ‘You will assist the junior secretary by taking a few things to my old office.’ Then he looked around one more time and said, ‘I’ll leave you to it, Sugawara. Make sure to take the inventories in the Tomonori case with you. I’d like to see them finished and on my desk by this afternoon.’

Akitada glared at him, then said coldly, ‘I am to take a leave of absence. You’ll have to find someone else to do your work.’

Munefusa raised his brows. ‘Dear me, it’s worse than I thought. What did you do?’

Akitada turned away. By now completely demoralized, he made no attempt to settle into Munefusa’s small office, but took
only a few of the most valuable books and his father’s writing box before leaving the ministry. In better days, he could have summoned one of the ministry’s servants to carry his things, but seeing the secret smirks and blank stares, he did not have the courage to ask. He had thought he was well liked, but in this world a man’s value was judged by his influence.

The smoke had been dispersed by a hot wind. Walking from the ministry in his official robe, while carrying a heavy and awkward armful of objects, caused him to perspire. He thought of Tamako and the bad news he was bringing, thought of her condition and the discomfort she must feel in this heat. They could ill afford it, especially now, but he would go later and purchase some lengths of hemp. Oyuki and Hanae could soak the panels in water and hang them around Tamako’s room. Then fanning the air might bring her some relief. He envied the wealthy, who were accustomed to large vessels of ice cooling their houses. The ice was brought into the capital in winter by their servants and slaves and stored in cellars or earthen pits until it was needed during the summer heat. But the Sugawaras could not afford such luxuries. And now, after the way he had insulted the minister, he would surely be dismissed, and times would get much harder.

He expected his early return with his books and writing box would cause instant consternation among his people, but only an astonished Seimei greeted him.

‘Back already, sir?’

Akitada said, ‘I shall want to speak to you about our expenses.’

Seimei stared at the box full of books. ‘But we discussed the accounts only this morning, sir. Is anything wrong?’

‘Later,’ Akitada said brusquely and went to Tamako’s pavilion, clearing his throat outside to give her warning and steeling himself for the sight of his grossly pregnant wife. It was strange that he had not felt either fear or this shameful reluctance to be near Tamako during her first pregnancy. But they had both been younger then and full of life and hope. Tamako had been rosy and healthy and happy. When they had lost that child, his beloved Yori, a few short years later, they had both changed.

Tamako called out, and he opened the door. The room was nearly dark with the shutters closed against the heat. Tamako sat alone, enveloped in a loose gown of stiff rose-colored silk, and moved her fan listlessly to stir the stagnant air.

‘How are you?’ Akitada asked, scanning her pale face and the
dark-ringed eyes. As he came closer, he sniffed the air. It smelled vaguely still of smoke, but also of sweat and illness.

‘Well. Thank you,’ she said and looked away. ‘I’m sorry this is taking so long. You must be tired of waiting.’

‘No, not at all,’ he said quickly, but he knew she was right. Instead of a wife and companion – a lover, even, in happier moments – she was an invalid and, frighteningly, a reminder of death waiting just beyond the closed shutters. Would he be trading her life for that of another son? Men everywhere faced that fear and bore the guilt of having caused their wives’ deaths.

He sat down beside her, taking the hand that rested on the swollen belly. ‘I’m afraid, Tamako,’ he said more honestly, bowing his head. ‘You’re not as strong as last time. I blame myself.’

She squeezed his hand and, for a moment, her eyes twinkled. It occurred to him that he had not heard her laugh for weeks now.

‘No, no,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t worry. I wanted this child as much as you. Besides, I’m quite strong. I’m just tired, and it has been so hot. It won’t be long now. I can feel it. Be just a little patient with me.’

That almost brought tears to his eyes. He said nothing and raised her hand to his cheek and lips.

‘You’re home early,’ she said. ‘Is it because of me or has the ministry run out of interesting cases?’

He lowered her hand, cradling it in both of his, and looked away. ‘Neither,’ he said bleakly. ‘I’ve been given a leave of absence.’

‘Oh, how nice!’ she said brightly.

For a moment he considered hiding the truth from her, but he knew she would guess, perhaps had guessed already. Yes, she was searching his face. He heaved a sigh. ‘It may well be a mistake, but someone close to the new chancellor decided that my promotion to senior secretary was premature.’

‘What? How stupid! You’re the best man they have.’

He liked the fierceness in her voice and squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you, but I’m not as wise as you think. I lost my temper with the minister and that is why he told me to take a leave of absence. I expect it will be permanent unless I can convince them to reconsider.’

Tamako was silent. She just looked at him and curled her fingers around his. He had not really intended to beg for reinstatement,
but seeing Tamako’s eyes full of faith and loyalty, her free hand on the unborn child, he suddenly felt a powerful bond between the three of them. Yes, of course he would humble himself for Tamako and his unborn son.

He smiled at her. ‘I still have friends and must see what can be done. Don’t lose faith, my dear.’

‘Never,’ she said.

He returned to his study, pondering his options. His friend Kosehira, who had once briefly filled the post of minister of justice, had long since been dispatched to the desirable assignment of governor of Yamato province. It was not too far from the capital, but Akitada did not want to make the journey when Tamako was so close to her time. He must, of course, apologize to the current minister. That was only just, even if it would be shameful and likely be interpreted as an attempt to reverse the demotion. He imagined the detestable Munefusa’s sneering comments. Then a dim memory surfaced. The minister had mentioned the name of the man who had spoken against him.

He cursed his inattention. The name had not registered because he had not recognized it, but it must be someone important to have the chancellor’s ear. The family name escaped him, except that it was not Fujiwara.

Seimei waited, his face anxious.

Akitada sighed. ‘I’m afraid there’s bad news, old friend. I expect to be dismissed from the ministry.’

Seimei’s eyes widened. ‘What happened? You’ve been promoted, and you’ve always been hard-working. Whatever you are charged with, sir, it must be a mistake.’

Akitada winced. People would quite naturally assume that he must have committed a serious offense – or at least a stupidity – to be treated as he had been.

‘I don’t know what happened,’ Akitada said, ‘but I suppose I shall find out. Only, don’t expect that the matter will be righted. In my experience, that never happens to men in my position.’