The distance to Hakata was modest and over the same road he had come by before. But this time, Akitada enjoyed the ride and looked about him with less foreboding. The road was still crowded with traffic moving in both directions, but he now noted comforting details. Trees were about to bloom and rice fields newly planted. The farmers with their carts piled with early vegetables were going to the market in Hakata. On the Mikasa River, fishermen worked in their boats. Soon the low roofs of Hakata appeared, stretching out across the plain between the Mikasa and Naka Rivers all the way to the blue sea beyond. The larger islands beyond the distant horizon were the provinces Iki and Tsushima, two of the nine which had given the large island Kyushu its name “Nine Provinces.”

He left his horse at the Hakata post station, and started walking. It was good to get some exercise. He had become stiff and lazy on the long boat journey. The people he saw differed little from those at home. They looked like decent, hard-working people. He took courage from this, but those he must discover were no ordinary men. They were almost certainly already on their guard about the new governor.

At Hakata police headquarters, he paused, hoping to see Captain Okata and the capable Sergeant Maeda. But when one of the constables noticed him, Akitada moved on.

The main street was busy. It led to the harbor, and goods were transported in both directions by hand carts, ox carts, and porters bent under heavy loads. At the harbor, he located the harbor master’s office and watched as clerks ran about between piles of goods or argued with ship captains and merchants. Each clerk had an abacus tied to his belt and carried fistfuls of lists. Good, he thought, the harbor master must be conscientious.

He turned next toward the market, a more modest version of the markets in the capital but otherwise very similar. It was crowded. The vendors shouted their wares, and the shoppers bargained with farmers who sat amid their produce. These vegetables were still modest at this time of the year, but already some greens and fresh herbs were for sale in this warm climate. He also saw eggs and rice cakes, as well as fish and other creatures from the sea. The abundance and low prices cheered him. The low rice supplies in the provincial store house would not be needed for the coming months.

The smell of the hot foods was tempting, and when he saw a restaurant where guests sat outside on benches in the warm spring sunshine, he decided to go there. He was tired from the walking and would eat his midday meal in comfort while watching the people of his new province going about their business.

Choosing a seat near the street, he ordered noodle soup. He was fond of the sort served as a cheap meal in the capital and encountered it all too rarely at home or during the elaborate formal dinners he had to attend. A steaming bowl arrived quickly, costing only three coppers, and pleased him so much he finished it quickly and asked for another. His aching legs also appreciated the rest, and so he took his time over the second bowl as he watched the people passing by.

He soon noticed a man, a gentleman by his somewhat formal blue robe and small stiff hat. It seemed to him he had passed by earlier and was now coming back. Not only was this his second appearance, but he looked very sharply at Akitada as he passed.

Had he been recognized? Come to think of it, the man looked vaguely familiar. Elderly, though not really old. Given to some corpulence, but still straight-backed and with a firm step.

There were two occasions when they could have met: on his recent visit to Dazaifu or immediately after landing in Hakata. He was still searching his memory, when the gentleman returned a third time with a quicker step and took a seat at a nearby table. He ordered, then looked at Akitada again.

This was becoming awkward. Should he leave or should he confront the man?

The waiter brought the new guest a flask of wine and a cup. The man picked these up and came across to Akitada.

Making a deep bow, he said, “May I join you, Excellency? Forgive me, but I think you must have forgotten me.”

It was embarrassing, but at the last moment Akitada remembered. He smiled and returned a slight bow. “Not at all, sir. Please sit down. You’re Kuroda, the local shrine priest. We met briefly on my arrival.”

Kuroda looked a little disappointed. Perhaps he had expected apologies, or greater respect. He sat, saying rather stiffly, “I didn’t mean to intrude on your thoughts, but it seemed improper not to acknowledge the acquaintance.”

This was clearly a reprimand for ignoring Kuroda. Akitada took a dislike to the priest, but such men enjoyed considerable respect in their communities. It would not be wise to aggravate him further. He said politely, “I’m very glad you did. Perhaps you can tell me about Hakata. I’m very much a stranger here.”

Kuroda seemed slightly mollified and puffed himself up a little at being consulted. “Come, you’re not truly a stranger, Excellency. You are, if I recall, a direct descendant of our revered Tenjin.”

Tenjin was the posthumous name bestowed upon Sugawara Michizane on the occasion of his deification. Akitada’s ancestor had become a god, and shrines were built to him all over the country. Miracles had allegedly happened over the past century. Akitada might have felt proud except for one circumstance: all this veneration was due to fear.

Michizane’s death from an unjust exile with inhuman conditions had produced a crisis of conscience among his enemies. They had ascribed all disasters befalling the nation to the vengeance of Michizane. An abnormal number of diseases, earthquakes, typhoons, droughts, and imperial illnesses had brought about his deification and veneration. This appalled Akitada, who did not much believe in vengeful ghosts and certainly did not wish to have Michizane remembered as one.

However, in this instance he merely nodded.

“Have you visited his shrine, yet? It’s magnificent. We pride ourselves on having made a special effort because Kyushu is the place of the Great One’s death.”

“I shall give myself the honor as soon as immediate duties permit it. I wonder if you’d be so kind and tell me a little of local conditions?”

“Gladly, Your Excellency. Is there anything special you want to know?” The priest smiled.

Akitada decided smiling was not one of his habits. It was merely an infrequent social gesture. He said, “I’m ill at ease about the large number of foreign persons who seem to be resident in my province. Perhaps you might enlighten me a little about them?”

“Ah. Well you’ve met Feng and Yi, the two men who administer their respective settlements. They are both most respectable gentlemen. Feng is a very successful merchant, third generation of merchants who have worked tirelessly to further trade between our countries. And Yi is a schoolmaster. He runs Hakata’s school and has prepared many a hopeful son of the local gentry for entry to the imperial university. He’s a very learned man. Under such men, the two communities are exceedingly well-run and will not give you any problems.”

“Thank you. That’s good to hear, but what about the trading situation?”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but Kuroda seemed startled by the question. He looked away, clearly gathering his thoughts before replying. “Hakata derives its income from trade, particularly from shipping,” he said. “Tax shipments pass through here, and most of the common people are employed in shipping and transport. I’m not sure what aspect you’re interested in.”

“As there are many Chinese and Koreans here, apparently comfortably and permanently settled, foreign trade comes to mind.”

“Ah. But you’re aware, I think, that our laws restrict the exchange of goods with China and Koryo. Since the Toi invasion, the government in Dazaifu has kept a close eye on this.”