The Crane Pavillion

13

Akitada was on his way out when Tora and Saburo returned. They met in the courtyard. Akitada, still chafing from the many ways he had been manipulated by his people, his friends, and his own sister, glowered at them.

Saburo shrank back, but Tora, not easily discouraged by his master’s moods, grinned, flashing his fine teeth. “A chilly day, sir. Winter may be early this year. We’re just back from speaking to the superintendent. Seems Saburo here is on the trail of a vicious killer.”

Akitada shot Saburo another resentful look. “I told him to leave it to the police,” he snapped.

Tora chuckled. “I can’t believe my ears, sir. That’s not been our custom in the past. You’ve caught many a killer the police would’ve let get away. We talked to Sachi-with the superintendent’s permission-and it looks like someone pinned the murder on the blind girl, sir. She’s frightened and lost.”

Akitada glanced at the gray sky. He hoped it would not rain again. He was in his best court robe and hat. “I’m on my way to the ministry,” he said. And on more unpalatable visits to regain my income, he thought. “I cannot be bothered with this. Since you’ve talked to Kobe, it seems to me you can now leave it to him. And I’ll remind you not to make remarks about the incompetence of the imperial police. It isn’t true and will lose us Kobe’s friendship.”

With this he brushed by Tora and walked out through the gate.

The halls and streets of the Daidairi greeted him like a soldier returning from frontier service. It felt at once familiar and strange. He saw no familiar faces, and people passed without a greeting. He felt awkward and embarrassed when he walked into the ministry. A young servant was sweeping the corridor and did not recognize him. Akitada had already become a stranger.

To his credit, the youngster leaned the broom against the wall and came to greet Akitada with a bow. “May I announce you, sir?” he asked in a voice that had not quite broken yet.

“I’m Sugawara Akitada. Would you let the minister know that I’m here to see him?”

The youngster shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. His Excellency is not available. May I take you to someone else?”

The boy had memorized his little speech well, but Kaneie’s method of keeping interruptions to a minimum was causing a problem. Akitada knew the minister was in. If he had not been, the boy would have said so.

“Please just tell him I’m here,” he told the youngster.

“I shall announce you to Senior Secretary Sakanoue. Just a moment.”

He scampered off before Akitada could stop him. Senior Secretary Sakanoue? They had replaced him already. He searched his mind for Sakanoue and failed to remember him. Perhaps he was a provincial official who had been given Akitada’s position.

He decided not to stand about to be further embarrassed and walked quickly toward Kaneie’s office. As he passed the archives someone inside noticed him. He heard him call out but did not stop. Excited chatter followed him to Kaneie’s door, where a senior servant stood guard. This man recognized Akitada.

Before he could speak to the man, someone hurried up behind him.

“A moment, sir,” said a clipped voice.

Akitada turned to see a pale, tall man in elegant silk robes. He was younger than Akitada and had a hard glint in his eyes. “You are Sugawara?” he demanded.

Akitada nodded.

“I did not give it credence. That boy is an idiot. You should not have come here.”

“I beg your pardon,” Akitada said. “Do I know you?”

“Sakanoue. Senior Secretary. Perhaps you’d better come to my office.”

“Why? I came to see the minister.”

“Impossible. He will not see you.”

Akitada stared at the man for a moment, then turned to the servant at the door. “Please announce me, Kunyoshi.

The servant smiled broadly. “Welcome back, sir,” he said, forgetting to bow in his excitement. “We’ve missed you, sir. It hasn’t been the same.” He shot a glance toward Sakanoue. “Oh, this is a very lucky day!”

Sakanoue snapped, “You forget yourself, Kunyoshi!”

The servant’s simple joy moved Akitada greatly after his humbling reception. “It’s very good to see you also, Kunyoshi,” he said. “Do you suppose the minister will see me?”

“Oh, yes. Just a moment.”

Kunyoshi opened the door and put his head inside. “Your Excellency, Lord Sugawara is here.” Then he threw it wide.

Akitada walked in. Kaneie was at his desk, looking startled.

Sakanoue pushed past Akitada. “I protest, Excellency. I told Lord Sugawara you were busy, but this stupid man defied me and let him in anyway.”

Kaneie’s face took on an expression of distaste. “I’ll take care of it, Sakanoue. Go away.”

Sakanoue bowed, gave Akitada a hard look, and walked out.

“Can’t stand that weasel,” muttered Kaneie. “Sit down, Akitada.”

Akitada sat. “Has he taken my position?” he asked as calmly as he could manage.

“Not my doing.” Kaneie gave Akitada a searching look. “How are you?”

“As well as can be expected. Thank you for your letter. I’m afraid I haven’t answered it. Please accept my apologies. Things have been … difficult.”

“I can see you’ve been ill. Terrible climate in Kyushu.”

Akitada did not know what to make of this. “Umm, it wasn’t too bad, as I recall. I left before the summer heat.”

Kaneie frowned. “Problems at home?”

“Yes. I’m just beginning to get matters in order.” He reflected that this could not well be achieved unless he had some income. And the fact that Sakanoue now occupied his position did not promise well. “It was my plan to speak to report to Central Affairs to apologize for leaving my post so suddenly.”

Kaneie looked uneasy. “Forgive me, but why did you leave so suddenly? There have been questions.”

“But … surely you knew? The assistant governor general in Kyushu had my letter of resignation and must have reported. I left because my wife died.” He swallowed. Saying it was still very hard. My wife died. Three words that could not possibly encompass what the loss had meant, still meant. He added weakly, “My children are still small.”

Kaneie’s eyes widened. “Yes, but … surely the other ladies … it’s none of my business, but I think it has caused some raised eyebrows among our superiors.”

For a moment, Akitada did not understand. What other ladies? Then he realized for the first time that most men in his position could not conceive of a man having only one wife and a household too small to cope with her loss. He said quietly, “Tamako was my only wife. There was no one else. I needed to return to take care of my children.” Anger rose again, as it had in Kyushu. He said more sharply, “It seems to me that I did the country a significant service by clearing up the murder of my predecessor in Kyushu. I arrested several individuals who had plotted against the nation and could have involved us in a war with China. The least the chancellor and the senior minister could do was to allow me some time to mourn my wife and look after my children.” He found he was so upset that his hands were shaking and got to his feet. “Thank you for warning me. I see that I have a battle on my hands.”

Kaneie said, “Please sit down again, Akitada. Don’t rush off in a fit of anger. We must devise some strategy. I’m your friend, you know. I tried to hold your position but was overruled.”

Akitada subsided onto his cushion. He felt ashamed for having doubted Kaneie, who had always supported him. Yes, they were friends, or at least had been. This matter might well have strained their relationship.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I forgot for a moment what I owe you. Please let me hear your thoughts on the situation.”

“Well, you know you’ve always had your detractors in high places. I’m afraid they’ve been very busy. Your friend, Fujiwara Kosehira, has tried to counter the attacks, but he isn’t in the capital and has lost much of his influence. I’m not sure if matters were handled properly by the Dazaifu either. You may have followed procedure by tendering your resignation there, but that news should have reached the Ministry of Central Affairs by now and it hasn’t.”

Akitada recalled his visits to the Dazaifu and the unorthodox way in which affairs had been handled in Kyushu. This thought was not reassuring.

“What do you suggest? I suppose I had better go to explain. But to whom?”

Kaneie pursed his lips. “Hard to say. Your case may have gone to the censors by now.”

The censors were the dreaded watchdogs of the emperor. They investigated officials, even the highest-ranking ones, when they were suspected of malfeasance in office.

Akitada said blankly, “The censors? But what have I done wrong?”

“You left your post.”

“Yes, but I resigned because I could not desert my family.”

Kaneie sighed. “I know and I do understand, my dear Akitada, but those in power do not consider that an adequate excuse. Now if you had been too ill to function …” His voice trailed off, and he gave Akitada a sidelong glance.

“I wasn’t ill. I was mourning my wife.”

“Hmm. And of course you won’t try to make excuses. Yes. I don’t know, Akitada. It’s difficult. Most of the officials I know would make the round of all their friends and supporters and call in some favors.”

Appalled, Akitada said, “Favors?”

“Never mind. Well, I don’t know what to suggest. I suppose you must throw yourself on their mercy. Why not start with Central Affairs? Your appointment for the post in Kyushu originated there.”

Akitada said nothing. He had already made up his mind to making his apologies, but from what Kaneie said, his case was conceived to be far worse than he had naively supposed. Those in power in the government did not consider the death of a spouse to be cause for more than the customary ritual withdrawal. After that, a man was expected to return to work as if nothing had happened. Furthermore, Akitada had neglected to inform everyone of the death and beg dispensation to attend to his family. He, of all people, should have known to follow the rules.

Strangely, he felt a little relieved that his own actions had caused the situation. It was better than having undeserved misfortune brought down upon oneself.

He sighed and said, “You’re quite right. Thank you for being so frank. I will follow your advice.” He paused. “By the way, do you happen to know anything about Abbot Genshin?”

Kaneie was startled by this change of subject and looked at Akitada uncertainly. “Does this have anything to do with your situation?”

Akitada smiled. “In case I find myself without an income, I had thought to take up private investigations again, and there has been a rather strange death at the abbot’s residence.”

“Oh, surely things aren’t going to come to such an end.” But Kaneie’s interest was raised. “When you refer to his residence, I take it you don’t mean the monastery?”

“No, his mansion here in the city. It seems he has allowed an odd assortment of people to make use of it. One of his guests, a Lady Ogata, has hanged herself.”

“Lady Ogata?” Kaneie frowned. “It sounds vaguely familiar.” He shook his head. “Sorry. It escapes me. But why investigate a suicide?”

“It may not have been a suicide. I knew the abbot in his womanizing past, and that has raised certain suspicions in my mind.”

Kaneie sat up, alarmed. “Oh, you cannot get involved. It will ruin you. Genshin is the special pet of the empress.”

“Is he? You know that doesn’t surprise me at all. His Majesty had better see to his household, I think.”

“Akitada, you’re playing with fire. Don’t say such things! Not to anyone!”

Akitada smiled again and rose. “Thanks, Kaneie, for the warning, but I expect you know me by now. Please try to remember what you know about Lady Ogata. Now I’d better make my report to the Office of Central Affairs.”