They were walking out of the bathhouse when Jinzaemon hurried up, smiling broadly.
Saburo muttered, “Don’t give that bastard any more money. We don’t have any to spare.”
Jinzaemon bowed. “A pleasant bath, gentlemen? I pride myself on having the roomiest tubs and the hottest water. And it’s always clean. Kamo river water from above the shrine, where it comes from the sacred mountains.”
“It was all right,” Tora remarked. “We had a chat with some of your customers.”
Jinzaemon looked anxious. “You didn’t trouble them, I hope?”
“Oh, no. They wanted to talk about the murder. That’s what brought them here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you arranged the crime yourself to drum up some business.”
“Don’t make jokes like that!” cried Jinzaemon.
“Well, the police will be around. If I were you, I’d watch my step. From what I’ve seen and learned here, you act as a pimp, selling the favors of the neighborhood whores and forcing decent women to service your customers on the premises.”
The bathhouse owner paled. “That’s a lie!”
“No, it isn’t. Sachi’s talking to the police! And furthermore, you allow swindlers like Nakamura to come here to sell their services to poor people. Did he pay you for pointing out clients? Maybe you quarreled over the arrangement? Yes, you’d better watch it, Jinzaemon. The truth will out!” With that, he and Saburo left to a volley of curses from the owner.
Outside, the icy wind made short work of the pleasant warmth left by the bath.
15
In Disgrace
The Office of Central Affairs, or Nakatsukasa-sho, was not far from the Justice Ministry, but Akitada’s feet became heavy as he made his way there. The Nakatsukasa-sho was the most powerful ministry of the government, but its enclosure was deceptively modest. Akitada passed under a simple gate into a small graveled courtyard. Nobody stopped him. A few clerks walked quickly between halls, and two senior officials stood chatting. He climbed the steps to the main hall, his feet like lead. Inside the building, a servant finally approached and asked his business.
“My name is Sugawara. I came to make my report. Will you please advise His Excellency’s secretary?”
The servant bowed and disappeared. Akitada stood, gathering his courage. Within the next half hour he might be ruined. Actually, he might be ruined already and merely have come to get confirmation of the fact. He thought what he would do in that case and came up with nothing.
A clerk in a black silk robe appeared. He bowed. “May I confirm that you are Lord Sugawara Akitada, governor of Chikuzen province?”
“I resigned that post, but yes.”
The clerk’s brows shot up. “Resigned?” he asked. But he corrected himself quickly. “If you will please follow me.”
So the news of his resignation had not reached the Office of Central Affairs. This would be awkward. Akitada’s heart started to beat unpleasantly fast. He tried to calm himself by breathing deeply as he followed the clerk.
He was led into a large office, furnished plainly with a desk and some cushions, as well as the customary assortment of books on a stand. Three men stood in its center, looking curiously at him. He saw by the rank ribbons on their hats that all three outranked him by several steps, and one held the lesser third rank. He did not know any of them but bowed deeply.
The oldest man, gray-haired and smooth-shaven, was the highest ranking official. He had tired eyes that studied Akitada morosely as if he wondered who had saddled him with this new nuisance.
The next in rank was middle-aged and portly. The last was a young man, only in his early twenties. He had a stylish mustache as many young sparks did these days. He smiled, but not in a friendly manner. He seemed to be enjoying the coming confrontation.
The elderly man said, “I’m His Excellency’s senior secretary, Soga. His Excellency is unavailable. Did I understand the servant to say that you wished to report?”
Akitada bowed again. Another Soga? He still chafed under the memory of the late Minister Soga, his superior and Kaneie’s predecessor. It was unlikely that this man would treat him more fairly. “Yes, your Excellency. I had the honor to serve briefly as governor of Chikuzen province while certain crimes were committed there, and these led me to look into treasonable activities between Hakata businesses and China.”
The three men looked at each other. Secretary Soga said, “The Grand Minister has received a report from the Assistant Governor General at Dazaifu. It does not explain what you are doing here.”
Akitada swallowed. “Sir, I resigned my post when I received news of my wife’s death. I came home to look after my family.”
The portly man harrumphed. “You cannot resign. I assume you took unauthorized leave,” he said.
The young man’s grin broadened. It struck Akitada that they knew already what he had done and had merely waited for him to show up. That he had walked in on their meeting must give them great satisfaction.
The secretary asked, “Well, was it authorized leave?”
“Authorized?” Akitada felt himself flush. Did they not understand how a man might feel about the death of a beloved wife? No, clearly they did not. He said, “I properly informed my superior, the Assistant Governor General of the situation. I have two young children who were left without a parent. I also formally resigned my position, seeing that my return to the capital would take months. I thought it best to allow His Excellency, the Assistant Governor General, to appoint a replacement.”
A silence fell while they stared at him.
Then the young man said in a high, nasal voice, “You surprise me. I thought only the emperor made such appointments.”
“I meant an interim appointment,” Akitada corrected himself. He was beginning to sweat and could feel the moisture on his face and back.
The secretary frowned. “I see. Do I take it that the Assistant Governor General authorized your departure?”
“I assume so. I left before he could respond.”
Another silence. Akitada saw satisfaction on their faces. They had him now. He had left his appointed position without permission.
The heavy-set man asked in a silky tone, “And you returned to the capital when?”
“Early in the sixth month, sir.” Another pregnant pause ensued. In desperation, Akitada added, “I have been ill.” It was not a lie, though it hurt him to say it. He had been unable to function all this time, all these weeks, the entire summer. No wonder he was in deep trouble.
The admission, however, won him a temporary reprieve. The secretary said, “Well, it does explain some things. However, I think you will find that His Excellency, and indeed His Majesty himself, will consider your leaving your post so abruptly a serious offence. I shall inform His Excellency of your visit. You will, no doubt, hear from him.”
He was lost. The faces of his children and of his people, all trusting him to provide for his family, flashed across his mind. He bowed deeply again. Then, in despair and rising anger, he looked the secretary in the eyes and said, “Given the fact that I have served His Majesty well in uncovering the conspiracy and perhaps averting an invasion by our enemies, I had hoped for more understanding, sir.”
They were taken aback by his daring. The secretary cleared his throat and said coldly, “You will have to leave the decision regarding your service to His Excellency.”
Akitada bowed again and left.
Outside in the corridor a cluster of officials had gathered. They ducked away when he appeared or pretended to be in conversation. He bit his lip and walked away quickly. Behind him, he heard whispers and suppressed laughter.
It was the most humiliating moment of that day. He had been a fool to think that his reputation would see him through this trouble. His effort had been as pointless as hitching a horse with a rotten rope.