Black Arrow (6 page)

When they had dismounted, he approached and bowed. “This humble one is Kaibara Danjo, steward to the Lord of Takata,” he announced loudly. “I bid your Excellency welcome.”

Akitada nodded and stretched his sore limbs. Then he removed his straw raincoat and handed it to Tora, who kept scanning the courtyard nervously. Firmly suppressing his own mounting sense of foreboding, Akitada glanced up at the double-storied block of wood and plaster which rose windowless for twenty feet before its projecting wooden balconies began.

Dismissing Tora and the others, Akitada nodded to Kaibara. “Lead the way.”

A narrow doorway gave access to an equally narrow winding stairway, stone at first, then wood. At the top, a servant helped Akitada remove his boots. The steward Kaibara also removed his shoes and donned a pair of brocade slippers. Akitada noted the gray in his hair and close-trimmed beard, though the steward’s movements were those of a much younger, and well-trained, soldier. They entered a large gallery, its’ walls covered with weapons and armor. Here Uesugi Makio, son and heir to the ailing lord of Takata, awaited them.

As a warlord, Makio was a distinct disappointment. A short man in his fifties, with thinning gray hair, mustache, and chin beard, he looked more like a self-satisfied civil servant. At one time perhaps well-muscled, he had become heavy, and his eyes were mere slits between rolls of fat. Perhaps his paunch or the stiff brown brocade robe prevented him from bowing more deeply. He murmured the formal phrases of greeting.

Akitada disliked him instantly, but much depended on his goodwill, and so he made an effort. “Ah, Uesugi,” he said genially. “A great pleasure to meet you at last. I hope I’m not late. The weather is turning and the wind was against us all the way.”

“Not at all. Your Excellency is most punctual. I apologize for the dreadful inconvenience of traveling so far only to be offered rough country fare in crude surroundings.”

The usual polite formula, delivered mechanically. Akitada tried again. “On the contrary, I have looked forward to this visit. You have a magnificent home.” It certainly made for a telling contrast with the tribunal accommodations. “And I congratulate you on the ingenuity of the fortifications. You need not fear enemy attacks.”

For some reason, Uesugi stiffened further. “Your Excellency is too kind. Fortunately our defenses have never been tested. If you will step this way, the other guests are waiting to meet you.”

Akitada sighed. It promised to be a difficult evening.

They entered a large room which would not have shamed an imperial prince. Heavy timbers supported it and crisscrossed its ceiling. Three of the walls were sliding screens painted with mountain landscapes and hunting scenes, The fourth consisted of shuttered doors. Akitada guessed that the doors led to the gallery he had seen from below. At the moment they were almost hidden by the woven reed curtains with large crimson silk tassels that surrounded a seating area in the center of the room.

Cushions lay on thick matting there, candles and oil lamps were placed around, and large bronze braziers filled with glowing charcoal heated the area.

Five men stood together in a small group. Four were strangers to Akitada. The fifth he recognized as the commandant of the garrison. Captain Takesuke, in his late twenties like Akitada, was not in uniform tonight. The others were an old monk; a very handsome, tall man in his forties; a short, fat man in his fifties; and another short, elderly, and very ugly individual. They approached and bowed as Uesugi made the introductions.

The cleric in the black robe and brocade stole was Hokko, abbot of the city’s large Buddhist temple. Akitada disliked Buddhism and avoided its clergy whenever he could. Now he was forced to apologize, with some embarrassment, for not having paid this man a courtesy visit yet. He was rewarded with a smile and a pleasant invitation.

Takesuke, who had mainly impressed Akitada with his standoffish manner on their last encounter, was, if anything, even cooler tonight. They nodded warily to each other. Uesugi smiled and clapped the captain on the shoulder. “My friend can be relied upon to keep the peace in the city,” he said to Akitada. “You may leave matters safely in his hands.”

What matters? Was Uesugi suggesting that he, as acting governor, could not or should not maintain law and order in his own province? Akitada was also unpleasantly surprised by the apparent friendly relations between the warlord and the commander of the military guard. As a rule there was jealous competition between such men.

The handsome man was Sunada. Since he was wearing a sumptuous dark silk gown and had a very refined manner, Akitada was startled when Uesugi introduced him as a merchant. Sunada bowed very deeply and murmured something about being honored.

The other three men Uesugi summed up dismissively with a wave of his stubby hand: “Oyoshi’s the pharmacist, Hisamatsu’s the judge, and you’ve already met Kaibara.”

So the ugly old man was a pharmacist, and the pudgy fellow the judge. The pharmacist was of no interest to Akitada, but the judge was another matter. He must be the one Tora and Hitomaro had had the run-in with earlier that day. That suggested a certain hostility toward the new administration. Akitada, who had placed first in law at the university and served in the Ministry of Justice in the capital, intended to take a personal interest in legal matters here.

But for the moment, he said politely, “I have been looking forward to meeting the local notables,” then took his place on a cushion next to his host.

The others seated themselves on either side by some prearranged system of protocol which placed the most important closest to Akitada and Uesugi. It put the abbot on Akitada’s left, and Captain Takesuke on Uesugi’s right. Sunada and Oyoshi sat farthest away. Uesugi clapped his hands, and four handsome serving women in softly colored silk gowns entered to pour wine into gold-speckled lacquer cups and to place these and pickled vegetables in small gilded bowls on the elegant lacquer trays before each guest.

Time for more compliments. Akitada leaned toward his host. “You spoil your Quests, Uesugi. The entertainment promises to be most impressive.”

“Thank you, Excellency, but the test of a banquet is the food and wine. I’m afraid that you will find our rough fare a sad disappointment after the capital.”

Akitada made a polite disclaimer. He inspected the food, which soon appeared in a rapid succession of pretty bowls and plates. His nausea had subsided, but he sampled cautiously. The prevailing taste seemed to be of some tongue-burning spice. “Excellent,” he told Uesugi. “Spicier than the food at home but very flavorful. And the wine is superb.” It served to put out the fire in his mouth and throat.

The stiff courtesies to his host over, Akitada turned to the guests, who were a curiously ill-assorted group. By cautious questioning he discovered that the merchant Sunada was a wholesaler with connections along the northern circuit and an intimate knowledge of shipping along the coast. He reconsidered his earlier judgment. Such a man had experience and could be very useful to a new governor. Unless, of course, he was already useful to his enemies.

The judge was a disappointment. Akitada’s inquiries about local crime met with a pedantic lecture on the advantages of instituting the harsh Chinese system of punishment. Akitada was a staunch Confucianist himself, but he knew that Japanese customs and conditions were quite different from those in China, and that anyone who applied Chinese precepts too rigidly knew little about legal history. In any case, it was the periodic release of violent criminals from jails, whenever the emperor felt like having an amnesty, that caused problems, not the lack of executions or mutilations. Under the Chinese system, a judge had to watch as his sentence was carried out, and Akitada wondered at Hisamatsu’s interest in the various torturous methods of killing a man or woman. He seemed to take inordinate pleasure in detailing their finer points.

Akitada tugged at his collar and shifted a little. He was getting hot. The wine, the spicy food, and the proximity of a large brazier at his back made perspiration bead his face and neck.

The pharmacist, who apparently also was a physician, puzzled him. What was he doing here? A small, ugly, and almost hunchbacked man, he had lively black eyes which kept watching Akitada in a penetrating and searching manner. He decided that Oyoshi was present because he was the Uesugi family’s doctor and there was illness in the house.

Reminded by this of an oversight, Akitada turned to his host. “How is your honorable father these days? I was very sorry to hear he is not well.”

“Your Excellency is most kind. My father’s poor health is the reason I have not left for the frontier. My place is in battle, defending his Majesty’s territories against the northern barbarians, but how can a dutiful son leave his father’s bedside when he fears for his life?”

Uesugi did not look the eager soldier, nor the doting son, but Akitada said, “I am sorry to hear his condition is so serious. Can nothing be done?”

“My father is in his eightieth year. At his age decline must be expected.”

A brief silence fell. Then Oyoshi said, “I shall be more than happy to look in on your honorable father now, if you wish, sir. Luckily I have brought my medicines with me.”

“Under no circumstance,” Uesugi snapped. “My father is already asleep.” Seeing Akitada’s astonishment at this rudeness, he flushed and added more quietly, “Besides, you are my guest tonight, Oyoshi. Enjoy your food and wine!”

Oyoshi bowed and turned his attention back to his tray.

They had done justice to three courses already, broiled salmon, stewed abalone, and a vegetable dish containing slices of bean curd, all of it highly spiced, when Akitada became aware of a peculiar gurgling discomfort in his belly. Recalling Seimei’s questions, he wondered if he would finish his dinner without disgracing himself. He dabbed at his streaming face with a sleeve and sighed inwardly. He had rarely been this uncomfortable.

His host leaned toward him. “Will your Excellency be sending any dispatches to the capital before the snows close the roads?” he asked.

“Certainly. I report on a regular basis,” Akitada said, momentarily distracted from his troubles by the intense interest in Uesugi’s face.

Uesugi laughed and some of the others joined in. “Oh, my dear sir. Nothing happens here on a regular basis once the snows come, least of all dispatches or mail. The roads will be impassable until the beginning of summer. We will be completely cut off from the capital. If your Excellency plans to send a messenger, it had better be soon. Takesuke has some good men. I ask because the matter of my confirmation as high constable of the province is overdue.”

So that was it! The real reason for this invitation: Makio Uesugi wanted that appointment shifted from his ailing father to himself. To save the expense of large standing armies in distant and unsafe provinces, the government had taken to appointing high constables from among local noblemen and landowners, and had given them the power to collect taxes and enforce laws by using their own retainers. Makio Uesugi’s father had held this position, and now his son aspired to it. It conveyed upon the holder not only power, but almost certain wealth, as a good portion of the collected taxes found its way, legally or otherwise, into a high constable’s coffers.

Akitada was on principle opposed to the practice because it gave too much power to local men and diminished the authority of the governors. He certainly had no intention of acceding in the present case. Now he said evasively, “I shall give your request serious thought. If the weather conditions are indeed as you say, I must make my recommendations as soon as possible. Still, the province seems very peaceable. There has been amazingly little legal business since I arrived.”

A flash of anger passed over the other man’s face, but he merely bowed.

Takesuke said, “A person like yourself, Excellency, newly arrived from the capital, will not yet have an idea of local conditions. I am certain that I speak for General Uesugi as well as myself when I offer your Excellency my full assistance in military matters.”

Before Akitada could ruminate on Takesuke’s insistence of pushing his guard on him, Uesugi returned to his own topic. “The office of high constable has been in Uesugi hands for generations,” he pointed out. “Without assigning blame to the many talented gentlemen from the capital who have served as governors here, serious matters have, as a rule, had to be resolved by the high constable. Our honorable governors from the capital have been most grateful to be relieved of onerous and dangerous duties.”