I. Parker - Death of a Doll Maker

She frowned. “I’ve never seen the daughter. The son comes sometimes to see the father. His stepmother cleans other people’s houses when she’s not dressing those dolls. They’re poor. You’d think his children would help out.”

“My thought exactly. Do you have children?”

She shook her head. “No.” She sounded sad and a little angry.

“I’m sorry. But you’re still young.”

She said bitterly, “I’m young, but my husband is old. Like Mrs. Mitsui, I’m the second wife. My husband has grown children and doesn’t care much for making the wind and the rain.”

This left Tora speechless. He quickly drank down the wine and sighed.

She tossed her head. “Never mind. At least my husband doesn’t beat me and make me work for others.” She looked down at her pretty dress and smoothed it over her thighs.

Tora got up. “I bet you make your husband happy,” he said awkwardly.

She was all smiles again. “I get lonely sometimes. Promise you’ll come back, Tora?”

Tora hesitated, then nodded,

“Are we almost done, Mori?” Akitada closed another document box and rubbed his tired eyes.

“Only one more,” said the old clerk. “It could wait till tomorrow.”

“No. Give it here.” With a sigh, Akitada delved into another box of tax-grain accounts for the various districts of Chikuzen. Sometime later a scratching at the door interrupted him. Mori shuffled over, opened the door a crack and whispered, “What do you want?”

Koji, newly assigned as houseboy in hopes that he would find it less confusing than gate guard duty or cleaning out the stables, stammered, “Zorry, Master Mori. Very zorry to make a disturbance. Knowin’ as I am that it’s forbidden to come scratchin’ at this door, mornin’ or night. Not even to ask questions is allowed. But I’m not askin’. And it’s not night yet.”

“Spit it out,” hissed Mori. “What do you want?”

“Nothin’, Master Mori. I’m not askin’ questions.”

“Come in, Koji,” Akitada interrupted this hopeless exchange.

Mori opened the door a little wider. Koji stepped in, grinned widely, and bowed. “How you doin’ today, governor zir?”

Mori muttered, “Kneel!” and kicked Koji’s ankle.

Koji turned in astonishment. “What you kick me for?”

Akitada asked, “What brings you here, Koji?”

Koji bobbed another bow. “Very zorry about disturbin’ you, zir, but zomeone’s come. Very important man.”

Mori gasped and ran out.

“Did he say who he is?”

“Yes, he’s the mayor, beggin’ pardon.”

“Thank you, Koji. I think Mori has gone to bring him in. You may return to your duties.”

Koji grinned more widely, sketched a salute he must have copied from the gate guards, and dashed out.

Mori returned, bringing with him Mayor Nakamura.

“Very happy to find you in, Excellency.” The mayor was resplendent in blue silk, fastened across his belly with a brocade sash. “I was passing through Minami and decided to give myself the pleasure of calling on you myself.”

Akitada rose to his feet. “You are honoring me, Mayor. Please sit down. Some wine?”

“No, no. I must dash on, and I see you’re busy. I just stopped by to extend my invitation to a little entertainment I shall arrange to welcome your Excellency to Chikuzen. Since you couldn’t stop when you first arrived, I hope to correct the situation. Would tomorrow night be convenient?”

Akitada heard the implied complaint. He did not relish formal banquets, but they were part and parcel of public administration, and clearly his high-handed refusal to dine with the local dignitaries had upset them. He said, “How very kind. It would suit me perfectly. I regret deeply my rushed arrival the other day. The late hour and urgent state of affairs made it necessary. You may have heard about the chaotic situation I found?”

The mayor relaxed a little and glanced about. “Yes, I heard. Shocking! Thieves stripped your quarters? I did notice the lack of amenities. You must let me know what is needed and it shall be supplied.”

Akitada disliked accepting gifts which might obligate him. “Thank you for the generous offer, but we have already recovered most of the furniture. We will manage quite well for the time being.”

The mayor studied the room again and shook his head. “Well, I’ll look forward to receiving you tomorrow then.” He bowed.

When the mayor had left, Akitada returned to his work. But the visit had broken his concentration. The invitation was to make up for a missed meeting between himself and the Hakata notables, and he doubted the mayor had merely been passing by on another errand. No, the man had wanted to see for himself how he was coping, and he had taken pleasure in expressing his disapproval of the new governor’s behavior.

When it was fully dark, Koji returned to announce that dinner was ready.

Akitada closed the document box and said, “I’ll eat in my rooms, Koji. Thank you, Mori. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

He was walking down the dark passage toward his quarters, when a stranger suddenly stepped from one of the rooms. Akitada jumped back, his heart in his throat. He reached for the sword he was not wearing. Angry at himself and the stranger who had somehow managed to get into the building, he demanded, “Who are you? What do you want?”

The intruder made a hissing sound, then said in Saburo’s voice, “I do beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Akitada’s relief was instant, but irritation followed, though he was mainly angry at himself. “What the devil are you doing with a beard, Saburo?”

“My disguise, sir. I thought it best if people don’t recognize me as your retainer.”

“Hmm. Yes. I see your point. Come into my room so I can get a better look at you.”

An oil lamp lit his study, making it almost cozy. He had arranged his trunk, his books, his sword stand and sword, and his writing box along the bare walls and on the few pieces of furniture. Now he took up the oil lamp to study Saburo’s appearance.

If Saburo had not spoken earlier, Akitada would still not have recognized him. A close-trimmed beard and mustache hid the worst scars of his lower face completely. The one damaged eye still had a cast, but this gave him merely a somewhat rakish appearance.

“I’m stunned,” he said. “Saburo, you’re quite handsome.”

The compliment astonished Saburo to such an extent that his eye started rolling again. “H-handsome, sir?” he asked, flushing.

“Have you looked in a mirror?”

“Why, yes. I had to, to glue on all this hair.”

“Can you control your eye the way you did before?”

“A little. I’ve been practicing.”

Akitada smiled. “Well,” he said, “the disguise is perfect. By the time my four years here are up, nobody in the capital will recognize poor Saburo.”

Saburo looked down. “Don’t joke, sir.”

“I’m not joking. You should consider growing that beard and mustache, but at the moment it’s better if you remain two different men.”

“Of course. I came to tell you I’m off to Hakata. To check on Hayashi. Anything else you’d like me to take a look at?”

“Well, the harbor. I suspect there are smugglers. And I’m interested in the shop of the merchant Feng. He employs a big brute with a broken nose and two fingers missing on his right hand. He has the look of a thug and made me wonder what sort of business Feng is engaged in.”

Saburo decided to check out Feng’s store first. It was not quite dark yet, and he wanted a good look at the premises from the outside. He saw immediately that they favored a clandestine visit. There were no living quarters for the owner above the store. Of course, this did not eliminate the possibility of an employee sleeping there at night. And such an amount of costly merchandise would require very careful locking-up at night.