Death of a Doll Maker

6

Upon his return, Akitada found some changes. For one thing, the barefoot boy in a torn shirt and short pants stood guard at the gate and stepped into his path with a bow.

“Who’ll Koji zay, zir?” he asked with a gap-toothed grin.

His local dialect did not help, but Akitada made out that he offered to announce him. To whom was another question. Mori had said he was not right in the head.

His appearance also was hardly appropriate, but his cheerful manner and the way his bushy hair stood up in stiff tufts pleased Akitada nevertheless. “I’m the governor, Koji” he said, returning the smile.

The boy goggled up at him. “Himzelf?”

“Yes.”

The boy knelt on the ground, touching his head to the gravel.

“Please get up,” Akitada said. “What is your job here?”

The boy stood, still looking awestruck. “Koji’s guardin’ the gate, zir. Koji’s ox herd by perfession. Also good fisherman and growin’ melons. Happy to zerve your honor.” A wide smile showed off the gap in his front teeth.

Akitada kept a straight face. “Thank you, Koji. You can let me pass now.”

“Yezzir.” He hopped aside, and Akitada rode in and dismounted. “Take the horse to the stable.”

Koji looked at the horse, then back at the gate and at the horse again. “Can’t do.”

“Of course you can. What do you want me to do with the horse?”

Koji twisted in agony. “Maybe you take him?”

It was funny, and Akitada chuckled. Perhaps this new servant was just another example of the many difficulties facing him, but the boy’s difficulty over deciding which of his duties was more important made him likable.

And perhaps Akitada’s own problem was not so dissimilar. Should he make the administration of the province his first priority or the secret assignment he had been given?

“Koji,” he said patiently, “I’m the governor. What I tell you to do must be obeyed before anything else. Do you understand?”

Koji’s face brightened. “Very good!” he cried and came for the horse. “You got it, zir. Very smart, bein’ a governor.”

Chuckling again, Akitada walked into the tribunal hall. The wooden floors shone. The dais held a brocade cushion in its center and two small scribes’ desks on either side, each with its own pillow of plain stuff.

Nodding his approval, he passed into his office. Here, too, changes had been wrought. New shelves held document boxes, and two desks faced each other, each with a cushion and a set of writing utensils. Mori sat at the smaller desk doing some paper work. He rose and bowed. Akitada looked around. “What happened?”

Mori was clearly uncomfortable. “I’m afraid you may not like it, Excellency. They brought back what they took.”

Akitada shouted, “Saburo?”

Saburo, neatly dressed in blue robe, black sash, and hat came in. “You’re back, sir. Sorry. The gate guard leaves much to be desired. He didn’t announce you.”

“He will learn. Besides, I made him take my horse.”

“Oh. That should have been done by the stable boy.” Saburo frowned. “I’m afraid they’re pretty uncouth still, sir.”

“Give them time. I’m amazed by what you and Mori have accomplished. What about the furniture?”

“People have been showing up all day, carrying this and that, saying ‘We were keeping it safe for the new governor.’” Saburo grimaced. “They hoped for a reward, but I merely thanked them, reminding them it was their duty to maintain good relations with the governor and his staff.”

Akitada laughed. “You think they were our thieves?”

Saburo exchanged a glance with Mori. “Oh yes. They got worried we’d find out and punish them. Mind you, there are some hold-outs, and we still only have four horses and an ancient ox back, but I thought it best to accept the returns for the time being. Come see your private rooms. They look much better already.”

They did indeed. Akitada’s study now had some nice reed mats on its floor, and there was another desk and two rather plain old screens to keep out drafts. Bamboo shelves stood ready to receive his books, far more than he had brought with him. A small stand held a brazier and a small iron pot to heat wine or water for tea. Several lamps, both lanterns and pottery oil lamps stood about. His clothing trunks were neatly arranged against a wall.

But there were no pictures. The lighter rectangles on all the walls remained blank. Lord Tachibana had taken all the art. Perhaps the scrolls had belonged to him, but given the many pale rectangles in the tribunal, Akitada did not think so. Three years did not produce such changes.

He took off his sword and placed it on its rack and complimented Saburo on all the work he had done, remarking on how clean the rooms were.

Saburo said, “Oh, the servants have returned to stay. Having handed over the furnishings, they assumed their former positions. There’s even a cook now, so we can have hot meals. Mori was opposed, but we needed servants.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to employ people who’ll rob you blind in the blink of an eye, but let it be for the time being. We’ll keep an eye on the whole pack of them and fire anyone who doesn’t give complete satisfaction.”

“Exactly my thought, sir. Do I assume I’m to be major domo then?”

“Betto rather. You’ll be in charge of the entire tribunal staff. And you’ll also continue as my private secretary. Mori will be senior clerk, since he is familiar with the work. Tora will serve as inspector. I suppose he’d better become Lieutenant Sashima. It appears such appointments are left to me. Both of you will receive official salaries.”

Saburo grinned and rubbed his hands. “I’m going to enjoy this, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to organize the servants.”

He disappeared and Akitada sat down with a sigh. He was quite sure he would not enjoy his assignment. As always when he was alone and at leisure, he thought of Tamako, and his insides twisted with fear for her and brought tears to his eyes. He missed the children, too, and all the others, even the dog Trouble. How simple and happy his life had been, and how foolish he had been to be bored.

With a sigh, he rose and unpacked his books, placing them on the waiting shelves. Last, he laid his flute next to them, wondering if he should feel like playing it again. It had been so much a part of his family life as he had played for the children, or sometimes for the koi in the small pond below his veranda. His heart contracted and tears rose to his eyes when he imagined that he would never see any of it again.

He was interrupted in his morose memories by Tora, who walked in, saying, “That’s more like it! Did Saburo tell you what happened?”

Akitada nodded.

“It’s the work of a nice fellow who’s a mere sergeant with the Hakata police. He went behind his chief’s back to talk to the people here and threaten them into returning the stolen goods.”

“Really? What’s wrong with Captain Okata? He seems to have a dislike for governors. Or perhaps only for me.”

“He’s incompetent. They laugh at him behind his back. All the real police work gets done by Sergeant Maeda.”

“Hmm. I wonder if Okata is covering up the shady activities in Hakata. It suggests he’s either one of the criminals or too incompetent to be a threat.”

“Well, he’s incompetent all right, though he may also be a crook.” Tora reported on the murder of Mrs. Mitsui and the progress of the investigation.

Akitada nodded. “Hakata and its affairs are part of the provincial administration. Perhaps they need to be reminded of it. Can you keep in touch with developments through Sergeant Maeda? I’d like to know the outcome of this investigation. Perhaps it’s merely another domestic crime, but if the Chinese are involved, I want to know about it.”

“Glad to, sir. Maeda and I are making friends, and Hakata is an interesting place.”

“Yes. Saburo will also do some exploring as soon as his domestic chores are taken care of. You’ve done well, both of you. By the way, I’m appointing you provincial inspector with a rank of lieutenant. Saburo is to be the betto and manage the tribunal staff. Mori will become senior tribunal clerk.”

Tora grinned. “Thanks. I’ll have to see about a uniform.”

But their satisfaction would be short-lived. The big problems still existed. Akitada said, “We must be careful what we say around the local people, even Mori and the stable boy. You will remember, won’t you?”

“Saburo said the same thing, but the old man and the boy were the only ones that made us welcome. Surely they can be trusted.”

“Someone may have placed them here to find out our plans. At the moment, we seem to have restored some order and sanity, but it can be dangerous to trust too much in appearances.”

“Oh.” They looked at each other, both serious now. Then Tora walked softly to the door and pushed it open to stick his head out and look up and down the corridor. When he had closed the door again, he said, “We may have to talk outside in the garden.”

“At least it’s the season for it.”

As soon as Tora left, Akitada went back to the tribunal office. Mori was arranging the provincial documents on their shelf.

“Anything missing?” asked Akitada.

“Not so far, Excellency. But what a thing to do! If I find out who is responsible, I’ll take his name for punishment.”

“I have decided to appoint you senior clerk, Mori.”

The old man gaped. “S-senior c-clerk, sir? I was only a junior all these years. The senior clerk is always someone of higher rank and with university learning. I am neither.”

“It doesn’t matter as long as you’re familiar with the work required of a senior clerk. Are you?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve done it in the past when the senior was not available.”

“Very well. You are now senior clerk.”

Tears rose to Mori’s eyes. “Thank you, Excellency. Thank you very much. I shall endeavor to give satisfaction.” He knelt and touched his head to the floor.

“Don’t do that,” said Akitada. “Remember your new position.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry.” Mori popped back up, saw the smile on Akitada’s face, and chuckled, rubbing his hands.

Afraid of more outpourings of joy, Akitada said quickly, “To work then. I have many questions about the daily affairs of the province. You can be a great help to me. I’m not Lord Tachibana and will probably do things differently, but let’s start with the routine you’re familiar with.”

Mori was eager to explain. As it turned out, the last governor had only spent an hour or two each day in the tribunal office. He had rarely heard criminal cases, leaving this to the judge and court attached to the Hakata police station. During the hours he had spent with Mori, he had gone over the account books and tax registers.

His Excellency was very particular about assessments,” said Mori. “He was forever finding reasons to raise taxes, and many a time we set out to inspect rice fields and manors. Almost always he found some reason to raise the assessment.”

Akitada frowned. “I see. The content of the granary doesn’t show much profit from this.”

“Oh, the expenses of the administration are paid in rice. And so was his Excellency’s salary.”

Akitada nodded. He knew anything beyond the moneys paid out to him in the capital, funds meant to cover travel expenses and his first year’s salary, should come from Chikuzen’s taxes. It was a reasonable arrangement, given the danger of shipping gold on the pirate-threatened Inland Sea. But the granary had contained a very small amount of rice, not enough to see the inhabitants through a season after a bad harvest or some other crisis. He did not say this, though.

Mori produced the tax registers. They sat together looking at the entries, most in Mori’s neat writing with occasional broader and more careless brush strokes marking changes Lord Tachibana had made.

“Did you like your master?” Akitada asked.

This startled Mori. “I … I admired him. He was a man of elevated learning, a connoisseur of the arts. He was quite brilliant.”

The tax registers were dull work. Akitada closed them and looked at the old clerk. His question had made the man nervous. “It’s all right,” he said with a smile. “I won’t tell him what you said. So he liked art?” He glanced up at the walls where scrolls had been hanging. “I noticed he took his pictures with him.”

“Oh, yes. He was very particular about having us pack them correctly. To protect them against moisture on the ship. I was surprised he didn’t go with them.”

“You mean he sent them on a different ship?”

“Yes. He decided at the last moment to change his plans.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It happened after he left here.” Mori frowned. “His captain sent one of his sailors to ask if the governor had really changed his mind, but his lordship was already gone by then, and so the captain had no choice but to leave without him.”

Well, Tachibana’s travel arrangements were none of his business. Akitada reached for another document box.

This contained papers relating to the various harbors and shipping in Chikuzen province. Hakata and Hakozaki were the biggest ports, but there was another landing stage near the Korokan. Akitada set the box aside. “I shall study these later at greater leisure.”

Mori nodded. “Lord Tachibana also took a great interest in shipping and harbor dues when he first arrived.”

“But not later?”

“Not so much. I expect he regulated matters so they needed less attention. He spent a good deal of time in Hakata.”

“No doubt,” said Akitada dryly. “Are you from Hakata yourself?”

“No, Excellency. I came here many years ago with another governor. I was a single man then, but I married a local woman and stayed.”

“So you have family here in Minami?”

“Not any more. My wife died, and so did my three children. I live alone now.”

Akitada’s thoughts went to his own family, and his fears rose again. He said, “It must be a lonely life.”

Mori smiled a little sadly. “It’s quite all right, Excellency. I need little and my life is here.”

Akitada could not afford to trust anyone, yet this old man had proved his loyalty to the provincial administration. He said, “I’m sure you will do very well, Mori. And I’m sorry about all the work falling on your shoulders now. The Assistant Governor General has promised to send us more staff, including some clerks.”

They worked past the middle of the night. When a guard outside struck the gong and shouted out the hour of the ox, Akitada stretched and closed the last document. “Tomorrow is another day. Thank you for your help, Mori.”

Left alone in the office, Akitada felt again the amorphous threat of the place. The darkness and silence of the night outside seemed to close in on him. He sat quite still and listened. Mori’s steps had long since receded, but somewhere a door closed, and a small draft set the candle flickering. He got up quickly and flung open the office door. The corridor was a black tunnel. He returned for an oil lamp and walked down the corridor, holding the lamp high. Nothing! All was empty and silent.

Ashamed of his panic, he returned to the office to extinguish the candle, then walked to his own room.