Akitada’s heart froze. The Ministry of Ceremonial? He would be keeping the records of all officials, their ranks, offices, appointments, and dismissals. During palace ceremonies, he would be responsible for program, entertainment, attendance, and protocol. The post provided status and income without challenge or future.

He rebelled. Meeting the president’s eyes, he said, “I respectfully decline, Your Excellency. My training is in law, not ceremonial. I had hoped for another assignment within my expertise. If this is not feasible, I should prefer to return to my old position as clerk in the Ministry of Justice.” As soon as he had spoken, he was aware of having committed an unheard-of breach of etiquette. In his confusion he prostrated himself.

For a while there was no sound but the president’s breathing and the tapping of his fingernails on the desk. Both sounds conveyed suppressed anger.

When the president spoke, his voice dripped icicles of derision. “So you refuse a promotion? You cannot be fully cognizant of your offenses,” he said with exaggerated patience. “Let me point out merely a few of your errors in judgment. You were sent to investigate a shortage, a mere accounting matter. Instead you took it upon yourself to employ military and civilian forces to uncover certain irregularities in a local temple. In the process you seem to have left a trail of murders and a mountain of paperwork.” He thundered suddenly, “Look up!” Akitada jerked upright. The president pointed to the stacks of records. “These documents are a small sampling of what your visit to Kazusa has wrought. Here are reports from four separate ministries you managed to involve in the investigation. These are the files pertaining to confiscated temple properties, accompanied by petitions from Buddhist clergy both here and in Kazusa. This stack is private correspondence from highly placed nobles and officials, either demanding that we outlaw Buddhism altogether or that we exile you as an enemy of the true faith.” The president’s cold eyes bored into Akitada. “Clearly you have exceeded your responsibilities. What can you possibly say in your defense?”

Akitada swallowed. He was only too aware of his many blunders, of his responsibility for the deaths of innocent and guilty alike. But his intentions had been pure, so he said, “I am afraid, Your Excellency, that I judged the activities of the monk Joto to be a threat to our government. In my subsequent decisions I acted at all times within the oath of office I swore when I became a servant of His August Majesty. Anything less would have been a dereliction of my duty.”

“You dare defend yourself?” The president leaned forward with a sneer. “You had neither the maturity nor the experience to make such a judgment. It was ridiculous! No mere provincial monk could pose a threat against our government. The proper move would have been to lay immediate charges in the local courts against this man and his supporters. Instead you waited, no doubt to win personal acclaim, and the criminals had time to kill more people.”

It was true. Higekuro would still be alive if Akitada had acted sooner. The child would be playing with his New Year’s gifts if Akitada had not put him and others at risk. The matter weighed heavily on his conscience, and he prostrated himself again.

“I mentioned earlier,” continued the president, “that you succeeded only by chance. Perhaps you need to be reminded that it was mere accident that the blind girl’s painting fell into your hands. You had the good luck of clearing up the murder of Lord Tachibana because of the incredibly careless manner in which his killers had left the body. Happily for you the garrison commander had an alibi, or you would have had him tried for murder. And the arrest of Joto’s supporters was only possible because of a convenient temple festival that allowed you to hide a whole garrison of soldiers in the temple grounds. An idiot would have succeeded. As it was, you managed the matter so badly that the fellow killed a child and attacked you. When the child’s mother had to kill this renegade monk to save your life, it cost us the testimony of the prime suspect.”

Akitada knocked his forehead against the floor mat. Seeing the justice of the president’s strictures, he was ashamed of the hopes for reward that had accompanied him on the long journey back to the capital. He sought for words of apology.

“Since you insist, you may return to your former duties in the Ministry of Justice. Naturally they do not justify a rank increase. You may go.”

Akitada rose, making a series of formal deep obeisances as he retreated backward to the door. When his heel touched it, he cleared his throat. The great man looked up impatiently from the document he was reading.

“I beg Your Excellency to forgive my impertinent curiosity,” Akitada began nervously, “but I had wondered about the disposition of the case.”

“It is hardly your business any longer, but we ordered that the guilty monks be defrocked and assigned to hard labor at the northern frontier. If they behave themselves, they will be allowed to enlist in the frontier armies. The former leadership of the temple has been confirmed, and a new prefect has been appointed to the district.” Noting Akitada’s dismay, the president added grudgingly, “The high praise of former governor Fujiwara for two of his people has resulted in their promotions. His secretary, Akinobu, will become assistant governor. Of course, the governor’s post itself will go to His August Majesty’s brother, who will remain in the capital. The other promotion concerns the garrison commander Yukinari, who will join the imperial guard. I believe that is all.”

Akitada was happy for Akinobu and Yukinari, but there was the other matter that troubled him more. “I brought a prisoner to the capital, Your Excellency,” he said. “He is charged in another case, in the disappearance of Lady—”

“Silence!” roared the president, jumping up. He pointed a quivering finger at Akitada. “You are to forget that matter or risk permanent exile. You are to ask no questions, mention no part of your investigation, nor contact anyone remotely connected with it, ever. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Forgive me.”

“Dismissed.”

Akitada fled out of the dim halls and into the graveled courtyard, where he took a deep breath of cold air and then passed quickly through the roofed gate into the street. To his right lay the vast enclosure of the Palace of the Eight Ministries, where the emperor presided over his administration to rule his people. Beyond it was another large enclosure, the Palace of Court Festivals. And beyond that, among many smaller courts, was the Ministry of Justice. It was his duty to go there to report his return immediately, but the look of loathing on Soga’s face was still vivid in his memory. He turned his steps toward the great gate and the city beyond.

A dusting of snow covered roofs and streets. Pine-bough decorations marked the coming new year. People on elevated wooden sandals hurried along with an air of excitement and happiness. Tomorrow the emperor would announce new assignments and promotions. Customarily, the happy recipients of the august benevolence would then celebrate their good fortune by inviting all who had not fared so well. Akitada himself was expected at Kosehira’s mansion for a great party given by his cousin Motosuke, who was staying there until his own residence was ready to receive the new councilor.