Sometimes he wished Tamako were a little less correct about her duties. Before the birth of his son there had been intimacy between them. In their nights together she had begun to open up to him, to share her secret thoughts after sharing her body.
Because he was quite deeply in love with this slender, intelligent woman, he wanted her to be more to him than a dutiful wife and mother of his children. He loved his new son dearly but was jealous of the attention she lavished on him. It seemed that she had little time left for her husband now, that all her love and devotion were given to the child. But these feelings he kept to himself.
When old Seimei shuffled out on the veranda with his news, Akitada laid down his flute with a regretful glance toward his young family. “More messengers from Heian-kyo?” he asked, looking up at the thin white-haired man, who was servant, secretary, healer, and teacher to all of them. “I’m running out of reasons why we cannot increase the rice taxes and corvee at the same time. You would think they would know that the men are needed to work the fields if there is to be a harvest.” Seimei looked mysterious. “Not this time, sir. These are really important visitors.”
Tamako’s face lit up. “Important visitors?” Cradling the baby to her chest, she joined them. “Really? From the capital?
Oh, it must be good news at last.”
“Well, who are they?” Akitada asked, getting to his feet and brushing the wrinkles out of his second-best silk trousers.
“They did not give me their names, sir. I hope it is good news. It’s been six months since you finished your tour of duty.
A dreadful winter, especially for your lady.”
“It has not been so bad,” Tamako said quickly, but she hugged the child a little closer and looked at the broken shutters of their house.
It had been dreadfully hard for them all. Akitada had feared for their lives, his young wife’s because she was with child, and Seimei’s because he was old. What had started as a temporary assignment to take care of legal matters and paperwork for an absent governor had quickly turned into a nightmare. Akitada had been only a junior clerk in the ministry of justice when his stubborn pursuit of a murderer brought him to the notice of a powerful noble. When his name was put forward for the job in Echigo, Akitada had been flattered and excited by the distinction. He had taken his young and pregnant wife to this snow country, expecting to serve for a few months and then return to a better position in the capital.
But they had spent a long and bitter winter fighting the climate and hostility against imperial authority without support from Heian-kyo, and now they were apparently forgotten.
Another winter loomed, though Akitada had written many letters to ask for his replacement and his back salary, for they were also nearly destitute by now.
Perhaps, he thought hopefully, his letters had borne result and they could finally leave this godforsaken place behind forever.
Perhaps a duly appointed governor was about to arrive with his own staff and take over the duties that had overburdened Akitada.
But even as he clung to this thought, he doubted it. It was very strange that the visitors had not given Seimei their names.
Akitada glanced at his wife and saw the naked hope in her eyes.
“Oh, Akitada,” she breathed. “Oh, I do hope it is the recall.
Your mother’s letters have been so worrying. She says her health is poor and that she will die before she sees her grandson.” Actually, the older Lady Sugawara was an ill-tempered tyrant who demanded total obedience from her son and everyone else in her household. She was at least part of the reason Akitada had welcomed this assignment. He had thought it would get them away from his mother long enough to give his marriage a chance.
He said diplomatically, “Yes. It will be good to return to the old home.”
Seimei cleared his throat. “Sir, the gentlemen seemed very anxious to speak to you.”
“Such haste after all this time?” Akitada mocked, but he adjusted his collar, touched his neatly tied topknot, and followed Seimei to the tribunal.
“I seated them in your office and served them some herbal tea,” Seimei told him on the way. “Mint and ginger root to refresh the mind after a long journey, and a bit of ground-up iris root to purify the sluggish blood. They seemed out of sorts.” Seimei’s herbal teas, changed according to the season and the recipient’s needs, were not the best way to put important visitors at ease. They tended to be malodorous and bitter to the tongue, but since the old man believed they promoted good health and a long life, Akitada and his family submitted to his concoctions to make him happy.
The tribunal hall was the main building in the provincial compound. Here the provincial governor held his receptions, heard court cases, maintained the provincial archives, and conducted the business of the province. Today the hall was empty and the corridors lay silent. Such peace was a welcome change after the hectic days of the past winter. Akitada glanced around the cavernous hall critically. The floors were swept and the worst holes in the rafters had been closed with new boards, the repairs paid for from Akitada’s private funds. In the archives his three clerks were bent over their desks, studiously copying documents. And in the main courtyard outside he could hear the voices of his two lieutenants drilling the constables. He hoped this orderly regimen had impressed his visitors favorably.
Seimei flung back the door to his office and announced proudly, “Lord Sugawara.”
The title was his due, for Akitada was a direct descendant of the great Sugawara Michizane, but the Sugawaras had fallen on hard times after his famous ancestor’s exile and death, and his present status in the world was more than modest. Not only was he poor and without influence, two serious shortcomings for which he tried to make up by carrying out his duties to the letter, but he had managed to irritate his superiors.
Two middle-aged men in ordinary dark travel robes and black caps sat on the threadbare cushions near Akitada’s scratched and dented desk. They had to be of considerable rank, for neither rose at his entrance, merely turning their heads to stare at him curiously.
One of the men was tall and thin, with a long, yellow-tinged face which looked vaguely disapproving. His shorter companion had an unnaturally ruddy complexion and glowered. Akitada’s heart sank, but he reminded himself that they had come a long way. Exposure to sun and wind during long journeys had unfortunate effects on the normally pale features of noblemen and probably also on their temper. And, to judge by their rudeness, these two must possess considerable rank and irritability.
Their rank was a problem. Etiquette prescribed that Akitada adjust his greeting to bridge the distance between his own rank and theirs precisely, but they were complete strangers to him and neither wore the colors of his rank on his plain black cap. His heart beating uncomfortably, he decided on a modest bow to each before taking his seat behind his desk. His visitors’
cool response boded ill.
The shorter man made a face. “Well, you took your time, Sugawara,” he complained, then waved his hand impatiently at the waiting Seimei. “What are you standing about for? Leave us alone.”
Seimei bowed deeply and backed from the room.
When the door had closed, Akitada said, “Allow me to bid you both welcome,” and faltered, looking from one forbidding face to the other. Apparently they resented his casual greeting, but he was at a loss how to address them.
“Not much of a welcome,” grumbled the short one. “This tribunal looks a disgrace. The walls are falling down, your constables look like scarecrows, and your stable is unfit for horses.
And what is this poison your senile servant tried to palm off on us?”
Akitada flushed. “Just some herbal tea. It is considered very healthful. No doubt Seimei-who is my secretary, by the way-
felt that you might need a restorative after your long journey.” The short stranger turned down the corners of his mouth.
“He must be demented. Do you drink this stuff?” Akitada assured him that both he and his family had found Seimei’s teas most helpful in the past.
“Then you must be demented also.” He turned to the thin man. “I think we are wasting our time here.”
