Fuhito threw himself on his knees before Kobe. ‘You may take my life if Tojiro escapes or does any mischief whatsoever. Tojiro, show your gratitude!’
Tojiro, looking a little confused, knelt and bowed.
Akitada cleared his throat. ‘Good, that settles that. Can I rely on your visiting the abbot together to explain the situation and apologize?’
Tojiro nodded, and Fuhito said, ‘Yes, of course. It is all my fault anyway. I am very sorry that His Reverence has been troubled.’
Akitada thought of Fuhito’s old mother, and of the empty house in its beautiful garden. Three lives had been salvaged. Of course, their future was by no means clear. But there was hope that the friendship between the two sons of the late Kiyowara might bridge the gulf their father had created, and perhaps the new lord would make use of Fuhito’s learning and help his brother rise in the world.
EPILOGUE
Towards the end of the summer, the political disarray that had begun when Michinaga relinquished his powers to his sons finally sorted itself out, but none of that affected Akitada. In the general amnesty in honor of Michinaga’s service to the nation, Koichi and the others were freed.
Lord Kiyowara’s death was officially due to a fall. Of all the news that circulated, only one rumor was of interest: Lady Kiyowara’s cousin Aoi had asked for imperial permission to resign her shrine duties and return to her family, and this had been granted.
One day, not long after Koichi and his daughter had been freed, Kobe sent Akitada a note that the police had found the rice merchant Watanabe hanging from one of the rafters and his wife dead from strangulation. Watanabe had left a letter explaining that he was taking this way out for himself and his wife because he could not face the shame of his actions. He claimed that some of the fires had been set on his orders because certain merchants owed him money or had in some other way offended him, but that the youths soon discovered the fires caused enough distraction to allow them to steal money and valuables from empty houses.
On the surface, this sounded believable, but Akitada would always believe that a high-ranking nobleman had ordered the fires to influence the succession. It would have been easy enough to force Watanabe’s suicide before he could talk to the police.
Justice is frequently elusive.
Akitada concentrated on his own problems. Crews were clearing away the construction debris around his new stables. Reconstruction had been speedy, thanks to Lady Kiyowara’s final payment. The small house belonging to Tora and his family was already finished, and Hanae was busy moving in new household goods and furnishings.
Tamako’s pavilion had been cleaned, and thick new mats covered the floor where Takeo had died. Fortunately, Akitada’s wife was not given to imaginary terrors and had moved back in with baby Yasuko and her maid.
Into this satisfactory state of affairs rode the censor Minamoto Akimoto with a small retinue of uniformed imperial guards. The workers dropped their tools and gaped. An excited Trouble chased, barking, around the horses, causing half of them to shy. It was a while before the dog was caught and Akitada could properly welcome the old warrior.
He did so with fear in his heart. He had been lulled into a sense of security even though the censors were not done with him.
Still, Akimoto was smiling, so perhaps the news was not all bad.
Akitada took him to his study, where Seimei was working on the accounts. Seimei excused himself, and Akimoto looked around at all the books generations of Sugawaras had accumulated. He said, ‘You must be a remarkably learned man. It grieves me all the more that you should have been treated so shabbily.’
Perhaps this was just a kindness before giving bad news. Akitada said, ‘Bookishness does not compare with military service, Lord Akimoto. The nation is deeply indebted to men like you. I merely shuffle papers.’
Akimoto cocked his head. ‘You do yourself a disservice. I have read the documents describing your service very carefully, and it seems to me that you are no stranger to the sword yourself.’
It was generous, especially from a man who had spent his life on battlefields, but Akitada shook his head. ‘That was never by choice, sir. And I was younger then.’
The much older Akimoto chuckled.
Seimei returned with wine and served them. Akitada was glad that some of the good wine was left. The rebuilding had once again brought them to the brink of penury.
Akimoto sipped appreciatively. ‘You must forgive me,’ he said. ‘I should have said right away that I’ve come on official business for the Censors’ Bureau, and that you have been cleared of the charges against you.’
Akitada, slightly dazed with relief, refilled the wine cups. ‘Thank you, sir. That is very good of you, but surely personal visits are not part of your duties.’
‘I volunteered. Somebody has to apologize, and I find that the older you get, the easier this becomes.’ He chuckled again. ‘The others were embarrassed, and our esteemed chairman withdrew in a huff.’
Akitada, remembering the pompous young Fujiwara, laughed. ‘I had prepared myself for dire news. Apart from the birth of a little daughter, I seem to have tumbled from one disaster to the next lately.’
Akimoto raised his cup. ‘My felicitations. To your little daughter and your lady wife.’
They drank, smiling at each other. ‘It seems I’m a very lucky man after all,’ Akitada said.
‘I bring other good news also. You have been reinstated at the ministry. I made a point of seeing your minister to report the findings of the censors. He was distraught over what happened to you and begs you to return. Official word should reach you soon.’
Akitada was glad, but then he remembered Kobe, whose position was in danger because he had tried to help him. ‘By any chance, is there news about Superintendent Kobe?’ he asked.
Akimoto said, ‘Kobe is to be reconfirmed in his position by the new administration.’
Perhaps it was too much good news, thought Akitada as he climbed the steps to the Ministry of Justice a week later. He would find it impossible to work under Munefusa, but a man with a family to support must make sacrifices.
It was late in the morning, and the hallways of the ministry were empty. Akitada went first to Munefusa’s old office, assuming it would be his, but here he found a stranger busily writing notes on a document. The man looked up with a frown. Akitada apologized and went to see the minister.
The minister’s secretary was another stranger. What had happened to Munefusa? When Akitada gave his name, the secretary bowed quite deeply and went to announce him.
Fujiwara Kaneie came out himself to receive Akitada. He was smiling, but clearly embarrassed. Akitada felt much the same. He owed the man an apology for his extremely rude behavior.
Kaneie took him into his office and poured some wine that was standing ready.
‘My dear Akitada,’ he said, ‘it is good to have you back.’ He managed to sound both sincere and apologetic.
Akitada steeled himself for his own apology. ‘I behaved atrociously to you, sir, and beg your pardon for my rash words. I assure you, I regretted them as soon as I left this room.’
Kaneie gave a nervous laugh. ‘Not at all. You were very angry. I should not have blamed you for that. I, too, regret what I said.’ He paused a moment, then added, ‘You know, I would have explained if I had been allowed to do so. Even now, my dear Akitada, I am restrained from speaking. It was all very unpleasant, and I was extremely relieved when new instructions arrived, rescinding the earlier orders. Please allow me to apologize on behalf of my superiors.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’m very glad to have your trust again.’ He hesitated. ‘But I’m not quite sure what the arrangements are. There was a stranger in my office.’