Akitada nodded. “So it is. I take it an imperial inspector cleared the accounts before Lord Tachibana left?”

“Inspector? No, Excellency. The governor cleared them with the Assistant Governor General.”

It was certainly against regulation, but perhaps different laws prevailed in Kyushu. Again he felt his lack of experience with a painful stab. He said, “Saburo, go see if you can make some tea. There’s some in the saddlebag.” Then he asked the secretary to show them the rest of the residence.

They returned first to the reception hall. This, the old secretary explained, also served the governor when he heard court cases. Akitada looked about him in dismay. There was a narrow dais which probably served the governor and his scribes while the accused, his guards, and the populace would all cram into the modest space in front of it. “It’s not very large,” he said doubtfully.

“His Excellency rarely heard cases. Most are handled in Hakata. And the local population is small.”

“There is a jail, I hope?”

“Yes. A room next to the stables. As I said, we don’t have much occasion to arrest anyone.”

This was ludicrous, given the fact the locals had just emptied the contents of the tribunal, but Akitada said nothing.

The rest of the house held the usual number of smaller rooms under the eaves, most emptied of their contents, four slightly larger, central rooms that could be subdivided with folded screens, and two short hallways separating the central reception hall and his private office from the rooms to either side. The hallways led to a rear veranda which overlooked a tangled garden.

Akitada sighed. They had a roof over their heads, but that was all. He was about to walk down into the garden to see what needed to be done there, when they heard the sounds of voices and horses from the forecourt. Their baggage had arrived. Tora and Saburo were already there to supervise the bearers as they carried boxes and trunks into the house. There was not much of it, certainly no furniture. The trunks contained clothes, a few books, Akitada’s writing box, and his favorite sleeping quilt. Tora and Saburo had traveled with much less. All of it was quickly deposited, and the bearers left with their horses.

It was completely dark by now. They walked back through the eerie, shadow-filled reception hall to Akitada’s office. Apart from one of the small rooms under the eaves, which the secretary apparently inhabited and which had contained little besides his writing utensils and desk, the building was empty. A scavenger hunt produced some oil lamps and two braziers. The light of the oil lamps somehow made the room seem even more desolate.

Akitada looked around and said, “It will do until tomorrow.” Remembering the secretary, who hovered uncertainly, he asked, “Mori, where do you sleep at night?”

“I have a house in town, Excellency. It isn’t much, but you are very welcome there.”

“Thank you, but we will stay here. You may leave now, but I want you to report for work early tomorrow. There’s much to be done.”

Mori bowed and started to make more apologies, but Akitada cut him off with a firm, “Tomorrow.”

Saburo found a broom and swept the floor. The tea stood on the small writing desk and a candle lit the familiar trunks and saddlebags. A clean cushion lay beside the desk. Suddenly exhausted, Akitada sat down with a sigh of relief. Pouring himself some tea, lukewarm by now, he reached for the provincial documents.

Tora cleared his throat. “Er, food, sir! We haven’t eaten since early this morning, and then it was only some cold rice cakes. That storm put out the fire on the ship, remember?”

Akitada remembered. “We can’t leave. The place is surrounded by thieves.”

Tora grinned. “True, but I saw a restaurant just down the street from us. I’ll run out and get us something to eat.”

Later, after a rather odd meal of fish and pickled vegetables wrapped into some large leaves, Akitada studied the provincial papers and records. He sighed from time to time and finally closed the last document box. “A sad state of affairs,” he said to Saburo, who sat nearby, nodding off. Tora was snoring in a corner.

Saburo jerked upright. “S-sad, sir? How so?”

“There are no funds beyond what we found. And no new payments are expected until early next month. I have a suspicion Lord Tachibana was less than diligent in collecting dues and taxes. Hakata seems a prosperous place. Did you look into the granary when you went to the kitchen to make the tea?”

“No, sir. I didn’t see a granary. It was dark outside.”

“Well, that too will wait for morning. Go to bed now. It’s been a long day.”

“What about your bedding, sir.”

Akitada gestured to the pile of bags and trunks they had brought in. “I’ll put my head on one of those and cover myself with my robe. I’m afraid you and Tora will have to do the same.”

*

Though he was very tired, Akitada could not fall asleep. It was not the unfamiliar surroundings or the unknown problems lying ahead. He was finally at leisure to remember his family. Nearly every night since he had left the capital had begun this way. His heart contracted with love and longing, and his fear for Tamako’s life twisted in his belly.

They had greeted him with such joy when he returned with his promotion. Flags waved in the breeze and streamers adorned the eaves. That had hurt almost more than the shock of his assignment. He had paused just inside the gate, put a smile on his face, and expressed his surprise and gratification. The four musicians hired for the occasion plucked and fluted happily on their instruments, the dog Trouble woofed and twisted his crippled body, and the children came running to clasp his knees.

His eyes had met Tamako’s. As they made their way into the house and to the fine banquet they had prepared for him, she had drawn him aside.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“I’m to be governor of Chikuzen,” he whispered back.

“But that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Chikuzen is in Kyushu.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened and a hand went to her mouth. “Why?”

“Later. Come, we mustn’t spoil everyone’s pleasure.”

It had been a fine meal, eaten by his family and the families of his three retainers. Only the house servants were excluded in order to serve the meal, but their own festivities came later, along with the gift of a gold coin from their “fortunate” master.

When Akitada had finally been alone with his wife, he had not known how to begin with what must be discussed.

She had seen his face and said quickly, “I admit it’s bit of a shock, especially just now. But we will manage.” Her hand had gone protectively to her belly. Her pregnancy was just beginning to show under the full gown. The child was expected in early summer, four months from now—when he would long be gone. Giving birth was always a dangerous business. She was paler and thinner than she should have been.

“I’m sorry,” he had said miserably. “I wish I could be with you.”

Her features had sharpened. “You cannot mean to leave me behind?”

“I must. It’s far too dangerous for you to travel so far in your condition, and the children are much too small. The climate is unhealthy, and there may be other dangers.”

She had looked utterly bereft. “I see,” she murmured and turned away.

“It’s not a tragedy,” he had said, feeling blamed for something that was not his doing. “I will see how things stand, and then perhaps you may be able to join me later.”

She said nothing. They had both known this would not happen. She would give birth, and the new child would be unable to travel. Besides, they did not have the money to move an entire household by ship to a distant island and back when his term expired.

Four years!

“Whom will you take?’ she had asked tonelessly.

How could he deprive her of the protection Tora, Genba, and Saburo provided? Besides, both Tora and Genba had their own families now.