The gatekeeper directed him to a hall that looked like a venerable building perhaps dating back to a time when Naniwa was an imperial capital.  It was now in rather poor repair with the lacquer peeling from its columns.  Akitada climbed the wide stone steps and walked through open double doors.  The building appeared to be empty.  He gave a shout, and after a moment, footsteps approached.  A pale and serious young man in a black robe approached with a deep bow.

“Welcome, sir,” he said, checking Akitada’s rank ribbon with a glance.  “His Lordship is in his office.  May I announce you?”

“Secretary Sugawara from the Ministry of Justice.I left my baggage at the post station.”

The young man looked momentarily startled, as well he might.  Ranking imperial officials did not arrive on foot and alone.  But he caught himself and bowed again. “You are expected, my Lord.  Someone will bring your things.  Please follow me.”

He showed Akitada into a large room, containing numerous boxes, crates, and piles of bundles.  The bundles were tied with ropes, and the wooden chests bound with metal and secured with enormous locks.  An amazing assortment of loose odds and ends — casks, lacquer ware, scrolls, porcelain, piles of silk fabrics, and leather goods— was piled so high and wide that, at first, he thought he was in a large and poorly organized treasure house.  He cleared his throat.  That raised a grumble from beyond the pile.

A deep voice growled, “More interruptions!  How many times do I have to tell you fools that I’m busy.  What is it this time?  Who’s there?”

“Sugawara.  From the Ministry of Justice,” Akitada snapped back, irritated by the tone.

“What?”

A clatter, an “ouch,” then quick steps.  Given the voice, a surprisingly small man shot around the corner of the pile and peered at him.  “Amida,” he said, flapping his hands apologetically.  “I thought those rascals were playing another joke on me.  You really are Sugawara.  At least, I take it that you are, because you said so.  It must be so. Unless those rascals have hired one of those good-for-nothing actors.”  He laughed nervously.  “You aren’t an actor, are you?”

It was hardly a proper reception, but Akitada was amused.  “No.  And who are you?” he asked, suppressing a smile.  This little man with the voice of a giant wore a green silk robe, somewhat stained across the chest.  His head was nearly bald except for a thin braid twisted on top and tied with a large amount of silk ribbon, perhaps to give the few gray hairs more substance.

“Nakahara, at your service.”  The short man peered more closely at Akitada’s face and said, “Hmm.  Can’t be too careful, you know.  Everybody and his dog walks in here.  So, you’re here, Sugawara, and what d’you think of the place?  Ever been to Naniwa before?  Know any of the local luminaries?  Got connections?”  He paused and moved quickly to look past Akitada.  “You’re alone? Tsk, tsk.  Should’ve brought your people.  You’ll have to do your own work then or use my people.  Well, let’s not stand here.  Come in, come in.”  Nakahara dashed back behind the pile of goods.

Akitada followed more slowly.  This did not promise well.  He had been told that Nakahara probably could be trusted, but this official seemed an oddly careless person and lacking in good sense.

On the other side of the pile of goods was a reasonably large area with Nakahara’s desk and several smaller desks.  Doors stood open to a courtyard.  Nakahara grabbed one of the new silk cushions from the pile and dropped it on the floor beside his desk.  The desk was large but barely visible underneath mounds of loose papers and open document boxes.  An abacus balanced precariously on top.

Nakahara waved at the cushion.  “Make yourself comfortable. It’s a little cluttered here, but for all that, it’s handy.  Well, mostly.  I think, I misplaced the lists of tribute goods from Chikuzen.”  He sat down and began to rummage.  The abacus slipped and would have struck his head if Akitada had not caught it.

“Oh, Morito?” a youthful male voice called from beyond the pile of goods.  A smiling young face looked around the boxes. “Dear me, you’ve got company.  Hello, there.  Morito, we’re sending out for food.  We thought Uzura’s Crabhouse would be nice.  Can we order something for you and your friend?”

Akitada’s jaw nearly dropped at this young man’s casual manner.  Nakahara seemed to see nothing wrong with it.  He smiled.  “No, thank you, Yuki.  This is Lord Sugawara.  Just arrived from the ministry in the capital.  You might tell Tameaki to find a room for him in my house.  I expect we’ll walk into town for a while.  He’ll want to have a look around.” To Akitada, he added, “You never said if you’ve been here before.”

Akitada shook his head, still speechless.

“Good,” said Nakahara, rubbing his hands briskly.  “That’s what we’ll do.  But it was very good of you to ask, Yuki, and the crab rolls at Uzura’s are very fine.  Very fine.”  He licked his lips. “ Perhaps we’ll . . . but never mind, I’ll leave it up to our guest.  So run along, Yuki.”

The youth grinned.  “Well, if you’re headed there, stay away from the sake.  Uzura spikes it with something that’ll curl your hair.  You know what happened last time.”  His chuckle turned into a peal of laughter and he vanished.

Akitada found his voice.  “Who was that?”

Nakahara looked a little shamefaced.  “Oh, that’s my senior clerk, Nariyuki.  We call him Yuki.  A very funny fellow.  Likes to tease.  You’ll like him.”  He lowered his booming voice to a whisper, “Nothing like that stiff and proper black crow Tameaki.  That one has no sense of humor or friendliness.”

Akitada took it that Tameaki was the very serious young man who had shown him in.  His opinion of Nakahara plummeted further.  He took his papers and the documents from his sleeve and passed them across.  “The Minister of the Right has asked me to deliver these letters and to assist you in any way I can.  He has signed my credentials himself, as you will see.”

Nakahara stared at the batch.  “Did he now?  You must be important, then.”  He flipped through them.  “Where is it?  Oh, never mind.  I’ll read it all later.”  He shuffled Akitada’s documents together, found a loose piece of silk cord and tied them up.  “Now, what do you say?  Shall we walk into town?”  Not waiting for an answer, he hopped up and headed past Akitada to the door.

Being accustomed to the bone-chilling formality of the court, Akitada was stunned.  Far from reading the minister’s missive after raising it reverently to his forehead, Nakahara had pushed it and the other papers under his piles of unfinished work.  And now he was off, no doubt having crab rolls and sake on his mind.  The man was not just eccentric;  he must be demented.  And what was more worrying, apparently any number of people had access to his documents.  Even pirates might learn all about the richest shipments.

With a sigh, he got up again and followed Nakahara.  Nakahara passed through the hall and out into the entrance courtyard, waving gaily to the guards and shouting that he would be gone for the rest of the afternoon.

Making things easy for spies, thought Akitada.

As they left his compound, Nakahara pointed to a building near the prefecture.  “Look, over there is the government lodging house for couriers and those on official business.  Of course, I hope you’ll be my guest while you’re here.”

The government quarters looked adequate, and Akitada could have stayed there.  There was much to be said for maintaining a neutral distance, but in this case it seemed better to meet the people around Nakahara.  He accepted the invitation.

They walked back down to the harbor.  Nakahara talked about the river and canal silting up and making shipping difficult, but the fate of the Naniwa harbor was of little interest to Akitada.  The theft of imperial goods had taken place on the high seas, not here.