Death of a Doll Maker

by I. J. Parker

  But these days there was no need for such measures, and he soon saw Dazaifu ahead.

  Though much smaller than the capital, Dazaifu resembled it at least in its overall plan. The government center was a walled and gated enclosure to the north of the residential area. No expense had been spared there to erect many large halls and the official residence of the governor general. Like the capital, Dazaifu had a central avenue lined with willows and called Suzako. It took Akitada past offices and dwellings of the officials who oversaw the nine provinces of Kyushu and controlled trade with foreign nations. There was a preponderance of officialdom here. This was not a normal city, filled with ordinary people, and their markets, temples, and shrines. He saw only one pagoda rising above the many roofs.

  Akitada felt out of his element. Regardless of the supervision by the capital and the impressive presence of the military, he knew himself in a different world where different rules and laws applied. He could not be more poorly equipped to take on his new duties.

  At the main gate to the administrative compound he identified himself again and was admitted and given directions. Once he had reached the assistant governor’s palace, he was taken to him rather quickly. In passing the people waiting in the anterooms, he met with curious stares and a buzz of murmurs. Senior officials walked about in their blue or green robes and official black hats. They looked much the way he did himself, yet someone must have passed the word that the new governor of Chikuzen had arrived.

  Fujiwara Korenori, a senior Fujiwara noble holding the third rank, was in his late forties and pudgy like most of his family. He looked businesslike enough in his large office, surrounded by secretaries and scribes bent over documents.

  Korenori rose to greet Akitada with a smile. “Welcome, my dear Sugawara,” he said jovially. “You’re early. Had a good journey, I hope? No pirate troubles? Good, good. Let’s go into my private office.” He waved to a clerk. “Somebody bring some wine.” Taking Akitada’s arm, he walked him into an adjoining smaller room. It was furnished elegantly with books, paintings, silk cushions on thick mats, fine lamps and ornate braziers. Akitada thought of his own stripped quarters. He also wondered why he had been hustled away so quickly for a private meeting.

  As soon as they had sat down, he passed his imperial orders to Korenori, presenting them with both hands and a bow. Korenori received them in the same manner, raised the imperial seal to his forehead and then placed them on a desk.

  He said, “I’ve been informed of your assignment by my cousin, the regent, and also by Counselor Kinsada. You are to take over the administration of Chikuzen while you look into the illegal trading with China.”

  Akitada wondered how much Korenori knew of his assignment. When you have been told to find a traitor who might be a very high-ranking man, you tend to suspect even the assistant governor general. Akitada confined himself to agreeing with Korenori about his assignment.

  When a clerk brought the wine, neither of them spoke until he had gone again.

  Korenori poured. “To your health and a long life, Sugawara.”

  “Thank you, sir, and may you have the same good fortune.”

  They drank.

  Akitada asked, “Do you have additional information for me?”

  “Nothing, I’m afraid. Things have been very quiet.” Korenori frowned. “Too quiet.”

  “How so?”

  Korenori shook his head. “If I knew, you probably wouldn’t be here. I think it will be best if you take things easy at first. No sense in making our man suspicious before we have solid proof.”

  Akitada cleared his throat. “I agree completely, sir, but I am faced with some unexpected problems. I am to replace Governor Tachibana who was recalled for cause. May I be allowed to make an initial report on how I found the provincial headquarters upon my arrival?”

  Korenori raised his brows. “What do you mean?”

  “I had expected to meet Governor Tachibana in person but was told he had already left.”

  “Oh, yes. Tachibana was in a hurry to get home. I let him go. Can’t blame the man for wanting to set matters straight. Embarrassing to be recalled before your term is up.”

  “I see. But it raises the question about how he left Chikuzen affairs. It is customary for the central government to send an inspector general to approve a governor’s books before a new man takes over. This apparently did not happen.”

  “Oh, they dispensed with it. They already knew or suspected the worst and the distance makes it more practical for us to handle the matter here. Tachibana has been properly released, so you needn’t worry about it.”

  Actually this news did not reassure Akitada, but he could hardly say so.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said and took a sip of his wine. “However, when Lord Tachibana left, he seems to have dismissed his staff. His entire staff. Without pay. Apparently the servants returned after his departure and helped themselves to anything of value left behind. I don’t know what the former governor may have taken or sold, but at my arrival I found neither furnishings, nor horses, guards, servants, or tribunal staff, with the exception of one elderly senior clerk and a young stable boy. The clerk had the seal and a small amount of gold in his safekeeping, but it is hardly enough to cover expenses.”

  Korenori had listened with astonishment. “How extraordinary! What shall we do? I suppose you’d better hire people. Perhaps a couple of the clerks and scribes here in Dazaifu won’t mind moving. And soldiers. Yes, I can supply those. We’ve got plenty of soldiers. The rest is difficult. I just don’t have ready funds. But Chikuzen is a rich province. You’ll raise money there without trouble. Tachibana always did. Just go to the Hakata merchants for a loan.”

  Akitada gulped more wine. “I rather suspect it may be the reason why Lord Tachibana was recalled.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell. Then Korenori said, “I did not suggest that you engage in anything illegal. In any case, I cannot supply you with funds.” He fidgeted. “I think it will be best if you return to your post immediately. Meanwhile, I’ll set things in motion here. You will have your people shortly. Keep me informed about your activities, both the official duties and the unofficial ones.”

  Akitada cleared his throat again. “Under normal circumstances, a province of Chikuzen’s size has a senior secretary and a senior clerk, both of whom hold rank and are appointed by the central government. In addition, there should be an inspector, three junior clerks and a certain number of trained scribes.”

  “I’m aware of the rules.” Korenori frowned. “Kyushu is different. Since most of the administrative duties are handled here in Dazaifu, you will not need so many people. As for appointing ranking noblemen, I’m afraid you are all that is allowed. Appoint your own men. I hope you brought retainers with you?”

  “Only two men, sir, but they are capable.”

  “Under the circumstances, it’s a much better solution than using local staff, don’t you think?”

  Akitada bowed, expressed his thanks, and rose. The issue of funds, he now knew, was not a topic Korenori would entertain now or in the future.

  6

  FLUTE PLAY

  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 b
oy 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 sti
ck 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.