I Parker - The Fires of the Gods

He knelt beside his friend and supported his shoulders while Seimei held the cup to Tora’s dry, cracked lips. Tora drank thirstily. When he was done, he croaked, ‘Sorry, sir. Don’t know what’s come over me. I feel as weak as a baby.’

And in pain, to judge by his expression when he made the slightest move. But the water had refreshed him a little. After a moment, he tried a smile. ‘A great day for you, sir,’ he said. ‘I bet you’ve been busy receiving guests.’

‘Fairly busy. Even Kobe sent a token.’

‘No! The big man came himself?’

‘To the gate only.’

Tora tried another grin. ‘He’ll come around now, you’ll see.’

Akitada shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. To change the subject, I’m free at the moment and thought I’d take up the search for the abbot’s lost boy.’

Tora looked alarmed and struggled upright again. ‘You can’t. It’s too dangerous. If it’s that urgent, I’m sure I could get up in a little while.’

Akitada pushed him back gently. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d feel insulted,’ he chided. ‘Do you think I cannot handle it myself?’

Tora flushed. ‘N-no, sir. It isn’t that. The trail leads to those hoodlums, and I expect they’re out to get me after what happened. If you show up asking questions, you’ll have both gangs hunting you down.’

Akitada frowned. ‘Gangs? I thought we were talking about some young troublemakers. Maybe it’s time the police looked into activities around the Western Market. I assume that’s where you made contact?’

Tora looked very uncomfortable. ‘Hoshina has her wine shop there. She knows where Jirokichi is, and Jirokichi knows something about the fires. But the gangs hang out farther west from there.’ He described the warehouse area and the Fragrant Peach. ‘If you do go there, sir, you must take some police constables with you. The local warden is no use whatsoever. They all protect each other.’

Akitada attempted to get more information about his progress with the missing acolyte, but Tora had exhausted his strength. He rambled on about the fires, a serving wench and her boyfriend, and the young lord. He shivered a good deal and seemed to have trouble concentrating. At one point, he did grasp the urgency of all the questions and argued about getting up again. Eventually, his voice faded, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

‘Sir,’ whispered Seimei, ‘I think we’d better go now. I’ll make him a strengthening broth for his supper later and mix in something to dull the pain and help him rest. After that we must hope that his strong young body will heal quickly.’

Akitada was very worried about Tora. He returned to his room and wandered out into the garden. It was dusk, and the warm air was heavy with the scents of summer. The sky was that lavender hue just before it would dull to gray. A few pale clouds scudded across it, their skirts still gilded by the last rays of the sun. One of the carp in the pool jumped and fell back with a soft splash. For a moment, the sound took his eyes to the thickening darkness below. When he raised them again, even that last faint light had gone.

The joy of the day had passed.

It seemed strange that nobody had become suspicious that the fires always started at night when most householders were asleep with their hearth fires and lamps extinguished. Some had been blamed on lightning. There had been thunderstorms around the time of the fires. That, too, seemed strange. Why set a fire, if the rain would put it out again? And why had the police not investigated? Of course, if the arson was connected to extortion, the victims might have covered up the truth for fear of further retribution.

Akitada had reached that point in his rumination when Seimei came out. The old man’s face told him that there was bad news. Akitada’s thoughts flew to Tora, but Seimei said, ‘A messenger from the Board of Censors, sir.’

Akitada went inside and found a stiff-faced, stiff-backed young man in the uniform of a lieutenant of the outer palace guard. The lieutenant did not bother to salute. He demanded, ‘Are you Sugawara Akitada of the Ministry of Justice?’

Akitada’s heart plummeted into his stomach. ‘Yes, but I no longer serve there.’

‘You are to report tomorrow.’ The lieutenant handed over a rolled document, turned sharply on his heel, and marched out of the room, followed by Seimei.

Akitada untied the ribbon and unrolled a formal letter. It ordered him to appear before a committee of censors to answer charges of ‘acts against the public interest and for personal gain.’

His knees felt so weak he had to sit down. If he was found guilty, he could well be banished from the capital. And even if they did not go that far, he would never get another position. His hopes of a new future for his family were gone, wiped out as if they had never been – immaterial and fleeting as the clouds.

The Danjodai, or Board of Censors, occupied buildings directly across the street from the Ministry of Justice. During the performance of his duties as ministerial clerk and secretary, Akitada had had occasion to deal with these feared investigators of all sorts of offenses committed by officials. Some of those occasions had been most unpleasant, but none more so than this one.

These days, the forty-odd censors had little to occupy them beyond inspections of the books of outgoing governors. Most of their judicial tasks had been taken over by the Ministry of Justice or the Capital Police. But the bureau persisted and guarded its ancient privileges jealously, reporting on officials from the sixth rank up and examining misdeeds of those below that rank. The censors enjoyed the status of the office, along with the income, without being overly burdened with work or responsibility.

But this made them doubly dangerous to Akitada, a former member of the Ministry of Justice. He would have to argue his case against their prejudice, and not only his livelihood, but also his honor was at stake.

He wore his second-best official robe and court hat and carried his notes in his sleeve. These he had reviewed during the sleepless hours of the night until he knew the points by heart, but such was his insecurity that he did not dare leave the details up to his memory. The mind plays tricks at the worst moments, and he could not afford to be struck dumb during the interrogation.

The sky was overcast. There had been talk that the long-awaited rainy season would finally start. The summer heat with its ineffectual thunderstorms had been enervating in the capital and disastrous for the rice farmers. Akitada eyed the clouds with misgiving. With his luck, he would arrive wet and bedraggled, his fine robe and trousers splashed with mud. He walked faster and managed to arrive dry, if out of breath and perspiring.

Lack of sleep and a general sense of impending defeat put him at a disadvantage, and things did not start well. A servant showed him into a small, airless room used as a waiting area, leaving the door to the hallway wide open. People passed back and forth, glancing curiously at Akitada, who began to feel like a condemned man on public display before his execution.

Eventually, the five official censors who would hear his case arrived also. They, too, looked in at him, some of them coldly, others frowning. Akitada bowed, recognizing a few faces: three were Fujiwaras and cousins of the emperor and the chancellor, the other two were unfamiliar. Not one of them looked as if he would deal fairly with a Sugawara.

He continued to wait. The perspiration on his skin dried into assorted itches, and the tie of his hat dug uncomfortably into the skin under his jaw. It seemed to take a long time for them to arrange themselves. Perhaps they were already discussing his punishment among themselves. Even exile became a distinct possibility. He thought of Sado Island and shivered in the warm, close air of the anteroom in spite of his heavy formal robe and full trousers.