Soga finally raised his head and looked slowly at each of them. When his round black eyes reached Akitada, he compressed his lips and a prominent vein in his temple began to throb. But his voice was calm.

“I have returned today to give you instructions about running the ministry in my absence. I must say what I found on my arrival has not encouraged me to think this possible. Nevertheless, it cannot be helped. You, Sugawara, are in charge. Sakae, who seems to have shown some initiative in your absence, can handle the routine business of your department. Nakatoshi will assist you. I expect daily reports. Sakae will draw these up and all three of you will sign them. They are to be sent every night to my house in the country. You will not make any decisions other than routine ones without my express permission in writing. That is all.”

Akitada was completely taken aback. What was taking Soga away so suddenly? And how could he, Akitada, run the ministry with any efficiency while his hands were tied by this ridiculous reporting system which would cause delays and expenditures? How was he to deal with the patent insult that Soga did not trust him to carry out the duty without constant oversight—and that by the clerks, Sakae in particular? And how would this affect Tora’s desperate situation?

“Sir,” he began.

But Soga cut him off instantly. “The clerks may leave and tend to their duties,” he snapped.

When Sakae and Nakatoshi were gone, Soga wasted no more time. “You were late and your appearance suggests that you have spent the night in some house of assignation. Furthermore, you were absent again yesterday,” he said. “I am sure you were aware of my opinion of your work, of your suitability for your position, and of your character before this latest dereliction. If you had not somehow impressed certain people with your exploits in places too distant from the capital to verify your outrageous claims, you would not be where you are now. As it is, I must tolerate you and, in the present emergency, leave you in charge. Let me assure you that the slightest infraction during my absence will result in my demanding not only your removal from your rank and position but also severe punishment for malfeasance in office.”

For a moment, the room lost its stability. The floor under Akitada’s feet behaved as in an earthquake, and the walls faded in and out before his eyes. There was a ringing in his ears, and when he tried to speak, he had lost his voice. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and tried to fix his eyes on Soga. “Under the circumstance,” he said in a shaking voice, “I shall, of course, resign.”

Soga rose. Something like triumph flashed in his eyes. “You may prepare a letter of resignation and leave it on my desk. I shall sign it upon my return. For the time being you will remain in your position and carry out your duties as ordered. If all goes well I shall not count the latest demerits against you. As you know, the annual fitness reports are due in another month, and yours is already sadly deficient. A charge of flagrant dereliction of duty would cost you the chance at another position.”

“When will you return?”

“You will be kept informed.” Soga glanced at his desk. “Take care of the correspondence, but pass on all private letters. And remember what I said.” With that final threat, he walked past Akitada and out the door.

Akitada stood lost in a tumult of emotions until Nakatoshi’s touch on his arm brought him back to reality.

“Can I bring you some wine, sir?” Nakatoshi asked anxiously.

“No.” Akitada ran a hand over his face as if brushing away cobwebs and took a deep breath. “Yes, perhaps. Thank you.” A cup of wine would put some warmth into his body, would thaw out the icy fury that seemed to paralyze his muscles and his brain. He walked stiffly around Soga’s desk and sat down. Outside, thunder growled again, and the pines in the courtyard tossed in the wind. A gust of air stirred the papers on the desk. He got up to close the shutters and lit the tall candlesticks.

The correspondence. He looked through it. Apparently Soga had already removed anything he considered too important for Akitada’s eyes. The rest was routine. When Nakatoshi returned with the warm wine, Akitada gulped it thirstily, then told him to take dictation. For the next hour, Akitada dealt with the business of the ministry.

“Is anyone waiting outside?” he asked, when the paperwork was done.

“Nobody important. It’s time for the midday rice.”

Akitada glanced at the closed shutters. He was not hungry. The sound of rain had been with them for a while now without his having noticed. And he had forgotten Tora. “One more letter,” he said. “It must be delivered immediately. Then I shall see the petitioners.”

The letter was addressed to Kobe, superintendent of the capital police. He hated to ask the man for this favor, but his concern for Tora was too great. Besides, a request to transfer Tora from the Western to the Eastern Prison was not unreasonable since Tora resided in the eastern half of the capital. The problem was that Kobe would assume other concessions would be expected later.

Then he had Nakatoshi show in the people who had waited patiently outside (some of them, as it turned out, for many months) to lay a problem before the minister of justice. He discovered that several had come bearing gifts, which he refused. The ones who had waited for months appeared too poor to curry the minister’s favor in this way. This was not surprising. Akitada had always known that Soga enriched himself in his office. Indeed, most officials considered it a perquisite of their posts. Also, not surprisingly, the ones with gifts rarely deserved consideration, while the poor fellows who had lingered for months in the waiting area seemed to have legitimate cause for review. With a sigh, Akitada took down their information and sent them away until their cases could be studied. The others he dismissed brusquely. Still, hours passed in this manner until it became difficult to read the documents, because darkness was creeping from the corners of the room.

Impatiently, Akitada called for more lights. Nakatoshi came and threw open the shutters. The rain had stopped and it was clear again, but the sun had set and left behind a steamy dusk. Only now did Akitada become aware of the stiffness in his back and neck. He also realized that it was late and that he had done nothing about Tora.

“How many more?” he asked Nakatoshi.

“None, sir. And Sakae asks if he can leave.”

“Dear heaven, I forgot all about him.” Akitada rose, stretching his painful legs and back. “Don’t tell me there is always this much business,” he said with a grimace.

Nakatoshi grinned. “No, sir. A lot of stuff accumulated in His Excellency’s absence. Besides, he doesn’t see very many of the petitioners.”

“I gathered that. There was one old man who had been here every day for the past three months.”

“That would be Mr. Chikamura? The one who claims that his property has been taken by his nephew?”

“His home actually. I cannot imagine where he lays his head. He seems afraid for his life if he sets foot in his own house. I told him we would look into the matter. Have one of the scribes check the property deeds and then send someone from the police to his home to see what is going on.”

Akitada walked across to his own office, where he found Sakae pacing the floor impatiently. He said, “Sorry, Sakae, but there was a great deal of work. How did you manage?”

Sakae pointed to a stack of documents. “All finished, sir. And here’s the report for the minister. We’ve already signed.”

This was so unlike the Sakae he knew that Akitada looked quickly through the papers. Not only did they seem in order, but Sakae’s handwriting had improved materially. Light dawned belatedly. “I see you called on one of the scribes to assist you.”