I Parker - The Fires of the Gods

At long last, the servant reappeared to call him into the hearing room. There had been a time in Akitada’s life when he would have knelt immediately inside the door and touched his forehead to the floorboards. But he had risen in the world since then and was no longer a callow and timid youth. He swallowed his fears and walked in, head held high, telling himself that his past accomplishments had surely made him a better man than the five stiff, black-robed officials lined up on the dais.

Apart from the censors and himself, the room also contained a scribe, who sat to the side behind a low desk to take down the proceedings, and a secretary, who hovered behind the censor in the middle.

When he reached the cushion placed for him, Akitada bowed and said, ‘I am Sugawara Akitada and hope to be allowed to explain the matter that caused the present inquiry.’

Waiting for a response, he looked from face to face. The chief investigator was one of the Fujiwaras and surprisingly young. He was flanked by the two other Fujiwaras, men in their forties or fifties with dull round faces and heavy bodies. The two men on the ends were the strangers to him: one elderly, with a neatly trimmed white beard, the other thin and long-jawed. They barely stirred or changed expression when his eyes met theirs. Were they waiting for more, for signs of abject humility, for pleading? He stiffened his resolve. They would not see him grovel or beg for leniency.

Finally, the young man in the center said petulantly, ‘You may be seated.’

Akitada sat, removed his notes from his sleeve and placed them carefully before him. Then he looked up expectantly. He thought he saw some signs of unease; they looked at each other, fidgeted, frowned. Akitada said, ‘I am at your service, gentlemen.’

More fidgeting. It occurred to Akitada that they found themselves saddled with a problem they did not know how to address. His self-confidence rose marginally.

The Fujiwara in the center was senior in rank even though he was the youngest. The colored strips on his court hat marked the upper fourth rank. He was in his twenties and still slender, unlike most of the chancellor’s family. Akitada thought he looked the sort of young man who would have done well as an officer in the guard. Perhaps he wished himself there. Now, he clearly struggled to live up to his duties and resorted to bluster.

‘You stand accused of very serious crimes,’ he announced with a frown. ‘I would have expected more humility under the circumstances.’

‘I am guilty of no crime and have no reason to be ashamed of the way I have performed my duties,’ Akitada returned, staring back.

This angered the young man. He leaned forward, pointing his baton at Akitada. ‘What? Do you deny your transgressions while assigned to the Ministry of Justice? Do you deny that you have disobeyed your superiors? And that you have set yourself against the proper authorities by interfering in an official murder investigation? These are serious offenses, and there is strong suspicion that you may be guilty of the crime.’

Akitada regretted angering the man for the sake of self-respect. Puppies such as he could be dangerous even when they were ineffectual.

He bowed deeply and said, ‘I deny the charges, My Lord. I am here today to serve his Majesty as I have done all of my life.’

His reply left the other at a loss how to proceed. He glowered, opened and closed his mouth, but found no words. Akitada scanned the faces to his right and left. Not one offered to speak. All looked irritated. A bad start.

The bearded older man bit his lip, then glanced towards his superior and said, ‘Perhaps the scribe may read out the charges so that Lord Sugawara can respond to them. If necessary, the members of the Board can then question him as to details.’

There was a murmur of agreement.

The ranking Fujiwara flushed. ‘Thank you, Akimoto. I was about to say so.’

It occurred to Akitada that the older man must be the career soldier Minamoto Akimoto. He had the look and was known for a fine military career in his youth. Akimoto did not look happy to be here, and that, too, might work against Akitada.

The scribe bustled up to help the chief censor find the correct document, and the reading of the charges commenced.

The account cited his angry outburst against his superior and the subsequent ill-fated visit to the Kiyowara mansion the day the counselor was murdered. Unnamed witnesses reported on Akitada’s reaction to his demotion and his determination to find the man responsible.

Clearly, his former colleagues at the ministry had been eager to provide this information.

The document next outlined a long list of past offenses. For this, they had gone all the way back to the beginning of his career. Almost all of the examples fell in the category of disobedience or neglect of duty. They went on and on from his disobedience in attending criminal trials when he was still a mere apprentice clerk, to his other appearance before the Board of Censors upon his return from Kazusa when he had been charged with exceeding his powers in the investigation of missing tax payments.

Akitada clenched his hands inside the full sleeves and gritted his teeth in silence.

They had built a case against an arrogant official who had consistently overreached himself, disobeying instructions and behaving in the manner of someone so power-hungry that he would stop at nothing. The complaints of his previous superior, Minister Soga, featured prominently.

The reading eventually concluded. Akitada wished he could simply blank out the reminders of past struggles and disappointments. When the final word faded, he took a deep breath.

‘If I may be permitted-’ he started, but the ranking censor raised a warning hand.

‘There is additional information,’ he said, making a face. ‘And it is of a most serious nature. It appears that you are about to be arrested for the murder of the late counselor.’ He described how Akitada had found out that it had been Kiyowara Kane who had raised questions about Akitada’s suitability to serve and had recommended demotion, how Akitada had then called on Kiyowara, clearly in anger, and how he had been seen rushing away only moments before the counselor was found dead in his office. ‘Apparently, Sugawara then tried to cover up his crime by pretending to investigate the case.

It was a frightening catalogue of crimes and misdemeanors. When the chief censor stopped, the others looked at Akitada with fixed expressions that proclaimed his fate.

Akitada pulled his wits together and tried to stifle his anger. ‘I am not guilty,’ he said, glad that his voice was reasonably steady. ‘My being there the day Kiyowara died was a mere coincidence. Any number of others were also there, and at least one of them had a much stronger motive to kill the counselor than I did. I merely wanted to ask him why I lost my position. I suspected that Lord Kiyowara must have based his judgment on the same old trumped up charges I have just been listening to. I could hardly have blamed him. He was a relative newcomer to the capital. But I thought there would be some gentlemen among you who knew better – or that you would at least have checked the facts. In fairness, I should be allowed to present the true record of my service to the emperor.’

The young Fujiwara sneered. ‘Shouldn’t you have done this in a more timely manner? The Board took care to notify you. I am very much afraid that this is just another example of your defiance of authority, and I for one refuse to waste any more time on this case.’

Akitada’s heart sank. He would not be allowed to defend himself. His experience with similar cases in the past told him that there was rarely recourse once a verdict was given. Those who ruled the nation had no wish to alienate colleagues or to undermine the powers of another office. It was as ridiculous as it was frightening. Would they now also find him guilty of murder?