Takahashi glared. “Mind your own business. The gentleman is a stranger who was merely asking about the neighbors. Go back and eat. I shall come in a moment.”
The youth pouted, but gave Akitada a regretful smile and a graceful wave of the hand before retreating.
Looking after him, Akitada said, “Perhaps your companion…?”
Takahashi interrupted him. “My student. He heard nothing. We have been at our studies. I resigned from the university and now devote myself to private teaching.”
“I see. Since you have lived here all your life, perhaps you can tell me if any of your neighbors may be likely to shelter a nun.”
“I pay no attention to my neighbors. The place across from me has an absentee owner. He spends most of his time on his estates. I doubt that a man so lacking in any spiritual qualities, or indeed intellectual ones, would have acquaintance with nuns or priests, but he does at least maintain his property. The others are either too young or have outlived their relatives. If that is all…?”
“Thank you. You have been most obliging,” Akitada said with some sarcasm.
Takahashi ignored his tone and unlatched the gate.
Back on the street, Akitada turned. “Who is that rather strange old man in a robe of colored silk patches?”
“That’s Enshin. Calls himself a lay priest now, but he used to be head of the Bureau of Divination. Gone quite mad, of course.” With that, Takahashi slammed the gate in Akitada’s face.
So the beggar had been no beggar at all, but a man who had once held higher rank than Akitada. And he had called him uncle! Akitada hoped that Takahashi was right, and that the old gentleman had lost his mind.
He walked a little farther, found that the next block was taken up by a small overgrown park, hardly a place where a frightened nun would hide, and gave up the search.
It had been a bad day. Not only had he lost the nun, and a promising lead in Tora’s case, but he had been attacked. As he made his way back to the Greater Palace, his good robe in tatters and one side of his face throbbing with pain, he became very angry.
Conditions had never been safe in the capital, but street crimes used to take place at night. These three hoodlums had attempted to rape a nun in broad daylight, and in a quiet upper-class residential area, only blocks from where Tamako tended her garden. She was supposed to take Genba or Tora along on her visits, but Akitada was by no means sure that she did.
It seemed to him a great wrong that nothing had been done to curb crime in the capital. The nobles called meetings and wrung their hands, and the robbers laughed at them. The thugs had felt secure enough to mock him, a ranking government official. The criminal element had seized the power to themselves. Little wonder conditions were bad when men like Soga simply enriched themselves and took to their heels at the first sign of trouble. A man who cannot observe order and restraint in his own conduct cannot instill order and restraint in his subjects.
But Soga was gone and he, Akitada, was now in his place-however temporarily. He had been taught that you must support rectitude if you wish to end corruption, and the Chinese masters placed the responsibility for a peaceful nation squarely on the shoulders of each individual citizen. Well, he would do something about it.
Filled with righteous anger, Akitada stormed into the ministry and his office. He hardly noticed that the sun had set. There was a light in his office. Nakatoshi knelt at his desk, sorting through the day’s letters and appeals. He looked up in surprise. “I didn’t expect you so late, sir,” he stammered. “Everyone has gone home already.” His eyes widened and he rose. “What happened to you?”
“Get your writing things,” snapped Akitada, waving him away and sitting down on his cushion. He pushed the pile of papers aside. “I was attacked by robbers, and this time they have gone too far.”
“How terrible! Let me make you a cold compress for your eye, sir.”
“Never mind my eye. I want you to take this down before I lose my train of thought. And get another candle. It’s too dark in here.” The truth was that he could not see out of his eye and the throbbing pain now extended to the rest of his head.
Nakatoshi gulped and rushed out. When he returned, Akitada waited impatiently for the lighting of the candle and the rubbing of the ink, drumming his fingers on the desk and reviewing points in his mind. When Nakatoshi was ready, he began to dictate a memorial addressed to the emperor. His anger having overcome his natural diffidence, the words flowed from his lips so rapidly that Nakatoshi had a hard time keeping up.
The memorial was a long one. It recited the history of outrages which had occurred in recent memory as well as events from more distant history. Akitada outlined the mistakes which had been made in the past and linked them to their dire results. He spoke of unenforced and unenforceable laws, of poorly trained constables, of the inadequacy of the police force to deal with the rampant conditions of lawlessness in all parts of the city, and of the sweeping imperial pardons which all too frequently released even the most violent criminals to prey again on the inhabitants. He cited past administrations that had dealt with unrest and crime effectively, touched on the present conditions, and proposed new methods of law enforcement and punishment to address them.
Finally he suggested to His Majesty that here was an opportunity to be remembered forever as the sovereign who had brought lasting peace and prosperity to his capital and nation by ending a legacy that had made his officials the mockery of every low criminal roaming the streets. How long, he asked, would it be before foreigners saw the nation’s weakness and invaded the country?
When he was done, Nakatoshi laid down his brush and rubbed his hand. He stared at Akitada with shining eyes. “That was magnificent,” he said. “Will you really send it?”
Akitada found he had a fierce headache and massaged his neck. “Of course. Tomorrow. As soon as I fill in a few missing dates and polish it a little. I’m too tired now.” He rubbed his eyes and winced.
“Will that be entirely wise, sir?”
Akitada looked at the young clerk in surprise. “Wise? I don’t know if it is wise. I only know it must be done and you and I must pray that His Majesty will listen.”
“But, sir, you cannot have thought how this will sound to His Majesty and his present administration. You as much as tell him that he and his ministers are responsible for the present unrest.”
Akitada frowned. “Hmm. Mistakes have been made by previous administrations but, yes, I suppose I do suggest that. The worst abuses have been going on for fifty years or more. They could have done something, anything. Of course, the emperor is still very young, but I’m counting on the fact that this memorial will pass through the chancellor’s hands first.”
“I’m afraid it will.”
Akitada suddenly grinned. “Why are you so worried, Nakatoshi? I’m nobody. If it were not for the fact that I shall be sending this under Soga’s authority, nobody would bother to read it.”
Nakatoshi’s eyes widened. “Surely you won’t sign the minister’s name to it?”
“Of course not. It will bear my name and my seal, but be transmitted through channels under Soga’s cover.”
Now Nakatoshi grinned also. “The minister won’t like that at all.”
“You mean he will demand my resignation?”
They both laughed. Akitada was tired and in pain, but he was also filled with great excitement, suddenly seeing a thousand things he could do, must do, looked forward to doing. He glanced at the stack of papers on his desk-Soga’s desk-almost longingly. But he was too tired tonight and could not concentrate as he should. And revising the memorial would require a clear head. Then there was Tora’s case to look forward to. Or Tomoe’s murder, rather. He thought of the nun. He would find her, but not tonight.
Akitada left the ministry happier than he had felt for a long time and walked into a cheerful gathering at home, where his family was celebrating Tora’s release with a special feast. His swollen eye caused a brief outcry. He had to submit to the application of herbal packs prepared by Seimei and to a scolding from the old man because he had ruined his best robe.
He told them about the mysterious nun and the three thugs and his memorial to the emperor. Then he ate and drank some wine, listening drowsily to Tora’s plans, Yori’s chatter, Seimei’s discussion of herbs to reduce swelling, and wondered only once why Tamako was so quiet.
That night he slept very well.
