ordered the fires to influence the succession. It would have been easy enough to force Watanabe’s suicide before he could talk to the police.
Justice is frequently elusive.
Akitada concentrated on his own problems. Crews were clearing away the construction debris around his new stables. Reconstruction had been speedy, thanks to Lady Kiyowara’s final payment. The small house belonging to Tora and his family was already finished, and Hanae was busy moving in new household goods and furnishings.
Tamako’s pavilion had been cleaned, and thick new mats covered the floor where Takeo had died. Fortunately, Akitada’s wife was not given to imaginary terrors and had moved back in with baby Yasuko and her maid.
Into this satisfactory state of affairs rode the censor Minamoto Akimoto with a small retinue of uniformed imperial guards. The workers dropped their tools and gaped. An excited Trouble chased, barking, around the horses, causing half of them to shy. It was a while before the dog was caught and Akitada could properly welcome the old warrior.
He did so with fear in his heart. He had been lulled into a sense of security even though the censors were not done with him.
Still, Akimoto was smiling, so perhaps the news was not all bad.
Akitada took him to his study, where Seimei was working on the accounts. Seimei excused himself, and Akimoto looked around at all the books generations of Sugawaras had accumulated. He said, ‘You must be a remarkably learned man. It grieves me all the more that you should have been treated so shabbily.’
Perhaps this was just a kindness before giving bad news. Akitada said, ‘Bookishness does not compare with military service, Lord Akimoto. The nation is deeply indebted to men like you. I merely shuffle papers.’
Akimoto cocked his head. ‘You do yourself a disservice. I have read the documents describing your service very carefully, and it seems to me that you are no stranger to the sword yourself.’
It was generous, especially from a man who had spent his life on battlefields, but Akitada shook his head. ‘That was never by choice, sir. And I was younger then.’
The much older Akimoto chuckled.
Seimei returned with wine and served them. Akitada was glad that some of the good wine was left. The rebuilding had once again brought them to the brink of penury.
Akimoto sipped appreciatively. ‘You must forgive me,’ he said. ‘I should have said right away that I’ve come on official business for the Censors’ Bureau, and that you have been cleared of the charges against you.’
Akitada, slightly dazed with relief, refilled the wine cups. ‘Thank you, sir. That is very good of you, but surely personal visits are not part of your duties.’
‘I volunteered. Somebody has to apologize, and I find that the older you get, the easier this becomes.’ He chuckled again. ‘The others were embarrassed, and our esteemed chairman withdrew in a huff.’
Akitada, remembering the pompous young Fujiwara, laughed. ‘I had prepared myself for dire news. Apart from the birth of a little daughter, I seem to have tumbled from one disaster to the next lately.’
Akimoto raised his cup. ‘My felicitations. To your little daughter and your lady wife.’
They drank, smiling at each other. ‘It seems I’m a very lucky man after all,’ Akitada said.
‘I bring other good news also. You have been reinstated at the ministry. I made a point of seeing your minister to report the findings of the censors. He was distraught over what happened to you and begs you to return. Official word should reach you soon.’
Akitada was glad, but then he remembered Kobe, whose position was in danger because he had tried to help him. ‘By any chance, is there news about Superintendent Kobe?’ he asked.
Akimoto said, ‘Kobe is to be reconfirmed in his position by the new administration.’
Perhaps it was too much good news, thought Akitada as he climbed the steps to the Ministry of Justice a week later. He would find it impossible to work under Munefusa, but a man with a family to support must make sacrifices.
It was late in the morning, and the hallways of the ministry were empty. Akitada went first to Munefusa’s old office, assuming it would be his, but here he found a stranger busily writing notes on a document. The man looked up with a frown. Akitada apologized and went to see the minister.
The minister’s secretary was another stranger. What had happened to Munefusa? When Akitada gave his name, the secretary bowed quite deeply and went to announce him.
Fujiwara Kaneie came out himself to receive Akitada. He was smiling, but clearly embarrassed. Akitada felt much the same. He owed the man an apology for his extremely rude behavior.
Kaneie took him into his office and poured some wine that was standing ready.
‘My dear Akitada,’ he said, ‘it is good to have you back.’ He managed to sound both sincere and apologetic.
Akitada steeled himself for his own apology. ‘I behaved atrociously to you, sir, and beg your pardon for my rash words. I assure you, I regretted them as soon as I left this room.’
Kaneie gave a nervous laugh. ‘Not at all. You were very angry. I should not have blamed you for that. I, too, regret what I said.’ He paused a moment, then added, ‘You know, I would have explained if I had been allowed to do so. Even now, my dear Akitada, I am restrained from speaking. It was all very unpleasant, and I was extremely relieved when new instructions arrived, rescinding the earlier orders. Please allow me to apologize on behalf of my superiors.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’m very glad to have your trust again.’ He hesitated. ‘But I’m not quite sure what the arrangements are. There was a stranger in my office.’
Kaneie looked puzzled. ‘A stranger? Munefusa should have left your old office ready for you.’ He shook his head. ‘That man, Akitada. You can have no notion what a horrible muddle he made of things. We had some very difficult cases, and I think all the findings will have to be rewritten. I would have fixed matters, but you know I have no head for the finer points of the law. You have been missed.’
‘Where is Munefusa?’
‘Munefusa and a number of clerks have been dismissed. It seems he was second cousin to Kiyowara Kane and gold changed hands to… umm… contrive false charges against you. Munefusa will face the censors.’ He added, ‘There are all sorts of rumors. I hear the Minister of the Right will resign – officially as part of the reorganization of Michinaga’s retirement, but he is a known enemy of the crown prince.’ Fujiwara Kaneie smiled and got up briskly. ‘But all is finally back to normal here. Come and let me introduce you to your staff.’
The news stunned Akitada. So his demotion had not been some dark plot directed at him by his unknown enemies. It had merely been due to a greedy upstart using his personal connections to advance himself. He was not sure if that made it better.
His ‘staff’ consisted of three men: two junior clerks and one senior. The juniors were recent graduates and looked pleasant enough. The senior was well known to him. He was Shinkai, the same elderly man who had run after him to express his regrets the day Akitada had been dismissed. This pleased Akitada until he saw the enormous, nearly toppling stacks of documents on his desk.
‘Umm, yes,’ said the minister, ‘I’m afraid things have stacked up a bit under Munefusa.’
As if he had heard his name called, the door opened and Munefusa himself appeared. He paled when he saw them and attempted to retreat.
‘Come in, Munefusa,’ snapped the minister. ‘I expect you wish to apologize to Akitada for your unconscionable lies about him.’
Munefusa inched in and bowed. He flushed and avoided looking at Akitada. ‘I did not know Lord Sugawara would be here,’ he said. ‘I came for my notes.’ He swallowed and added in a murmur, ‘I shall need them to refresh my memory.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said the minister. ‘When will you appear before the censors?’
Munefusa mumbled something inaudible and scurried to a shelf to pick up a thin book. He dashed back to the door so quickly that he tripped over his feet and nearly fell out of the room.
They all burst into laughter.
Akitada returned home full of the good news and found that his house had been decorated with many-colored flags and sheets that fluttered gaily in the summer breeze. They turned out to be clothes and blankets of all sorts. Apparently, Tamako had decided to air out the clamminess left by the recent rains.
