retary, healer, and teacher to all of them. “I’m running out of

reasons why we cannot increase the rice taxes and corvee at the

same time. You would think they would know that the men are

needed to work the fields if there is to be a harvest.”

Seimei looked mysterious. “Not this time, sir. These are

really important visitors.”

Tamako’s face lit up. “Important visitors?” Cradling the

baby to her chest, she joined them. “Really? From the capital?

Oh, it must be good news at last.”

“Well, who are they?” Akitada asked, getting to his feet and

brushing the wrinkles out of his second-best silk trousers.

“They did not give me their names, sir. I hope it is good

news. It’s been six months since you finished your tour of duty.

A dreadful winter, especially for your lady.”

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

7

“It has not been so bad,” Tamako said quickly, but she

hugged the child a little closer and looked at the broken shutters

of their house.

It had been dreadfully hard for them all. Akitada had feared

for their lives, his young wife’s because she was with child, and

Seimei’s because he was old. What had started as a temporary

assignment to take care of legal matters and paperwork for an

absent governor had quickly turned into a nightmare. Akitada

had been only a junior clerk in the ministry of justice when his

stubborn pursuit of a murderer brought him to the notice of a

powerful noble. When his name was put forward for the job in

Echigo, Akitada had been flattered and excited by the distinc-

tion. He had taken his young and pregnant wife to this snow

country, expecting to serve for a few months and then return to

a better position in the capital.

But they had spent a long and bitter winter fighting the

climate and hostility against imperial authority without sup-

port from Heian-kyo, and now they were apparently forgotten.

Another winter loomed, though Akitada had written many let-

ters to ask for his replacement and his back salary, for they were

also nearly destitute by now.

Perhaps, he thought hopefully, his letters had borne result and

they could finally leave this godforsaken place behind forever.

Perhaps a duly appointed governor was about to arrive with his

own staff and take over the duties that had overburdened Akitada.

But even as he clung to this thought, he doubted it. It was very

strange that the visitors had not given Seimei their names.

Akitada glanced at his wife and saw the naked hope in her eyes.

“Oh, Akitada,” she breathed. “Oh, I do hope it is the recall.

Your mother’s letters have been so worrying. She says her health

is poor and that she will die before she sees her grandson.”

Actually, the older Lady Sugawara was an ill-tempered tyrant

who demanded total obedience from her son and everyone else

8

I . J . P a r k e r

in her household. She was at least part of the reason Akitada had

welcomed this assignment. He had thought it would get them

away from his mother long enough to give his marriage a chance.

He said diplomatically, “Yes. It will be good to return to the

old home.”

Seimei cleared his throat. “Sir, the gentlemen seemed very

anxious to speak to you.”

“Such haste after all this time?” Akitada mocked, but he

adjusted his collar, touched his neatly tied topknot, and fol-

lowed Seimei to the tribunal.

“I seated them in your office and served them some

herbal tea,” Seimei told him on the way. “Mint and ginger root

to refresh the mind after a long journey, and a bit of ground-up

iris root to purify the sluggish blood. They seemed out of sorts.”

Seimei’s herbal teas, changed according to the season and

the recipient’s needs, were not the best way to put important

visitors at ease. They tended to be malodorous and bitter to the

tongue, but since the old man believed they promoted good

health and a long life, Akitada and his family submitted to his

concoctions to make him happy.

The tribunal hall was the main building in the provincial

compound. Here the provincial governor held his receptions,

heard court cases, maintained the provincial archives, and con-

ducted the business of the province. Today the hall was empty

and the corridors lay silent. Such peace was a welcome change

after the hectic days of the past winter. Akitada glanced around

the cavernous hall critically. The floors were swept and the

worst holes in the rafters had been closed with new boards, the

repairs paid for from Akitada’s private funds. In the archives his

three clerks were bent over their desks, studiously copying doc-

uments. And in the main courtyard outside he could hear the

voices of his two lieutenants drilling the constables. He hoped

this orderly regimen had impressed his visitors favorably.

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

9

Seimei flung back the door to his office and announced

proudly, “Lord Sugawara.”

The title was his due, for Akitada was a direct descendant of

the great Sugawara Michizane, but the Sugawaras had fallen on

hard times after his famous ancestor’s exile and death, and his

present status in the world was more than modest. Not only was

he poor and without influence, two serious shortcomings for

which he tried to make up by carrying out his duties to the

letter, but he had managed to irritate his superiors.

Two middle-aged men in ordinary dark travel robes and black

caps sat on the threadbare cushions near Akitada’s scratched and

dented desk. They had to be of considerable rank, for neither

rose at his entrance, merely turning their heads to stare at him

curiously.

One of the men was tall and thin, with a long, yellow-tinged

face which looked vaguely disapproving. His shorter compan-

ion had an unnaturally ruddy complexion and glowered. Aki-

tada’s heart sank, but he reminded himself that they had come a

long way. Exposure to sun and wind during long journeys had

unfortunate effects on the normally pale features of noblemen

and probably also on their temper. And, to judge by their rude-

ness, these two must possess considerable rank and irritability.

Their rank was a problem. Etiquette prescribed that Aki-

tada adjust his greeting to bridge the distance between his own

rank and theirs precisely, but they were complete strangers to

him and neither wore the colors of his rank on his plain black

cap. His heart beating uncomfortably, he decided on a modest

bow to each before taking his seat behind his desk. His visitors’

cool response boded ill.

The shorter man made a face. “Well, you took your time,

Sugawara,” he complained, then waved his hand impatiently at

the waiting Seimei. “What are you standing about for? Leave

us alone.”

10

I . J . P a r k e r

Seimei bowed deeply and backed from the room.

When the door had closed, Akitada said, “Allow me to bid

you both welcome,” and faltered, looking from one forbidding

face to the other. Apparently they resented his casual greeting,

but he was at a loss how to address them.

“Not much of a welcome,” grumbled the short one. “This

tribunal looks a disgrace. The walls are falling down, your con-

stables look like scarecrows, and your stable is unfit for horses.

And what is this poison your senile servant tried to palm off

on us?”

Akitada flushed. “Just some herbal tea. It is considered very

healthful. No doubt Seimei—who is my secretary, by the way—