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."

Kaibara, flushed with wine, gave a short bark of laughter. "And how! Most of them saw no need to spend the long winters here. They paid extended visits to friends and relatives in more temperate provinces. Some never came back."

Perhaps this was the official version of what had happened to at least two previous governors who seemed to have disappeared in the middle of their tenure here. The thinly veiled suggestion that he, too, belonged to this type of corrupt official made Akitada angry. And the exchange had reminded him of the state of the provincial granary.

"I meant to ask you about recent rice harvests," he said to his host. "I am told they were good, yet the granary seems nearly empty."

Uesugi raised his brows. "Don't tell me you have not been informed. The granary, as I am sure you noticed, is in very poor condition. We have been storing the provincial rice privately for a number of years now. As custodians of provincial taxes, we have borne the expense ourselves. Kaibara, make a note to send a full accounting to the tribunal."

It was a very undesirable state of affairs, but Akitada had to accept it and thank Uesugi.

A sudden, painful cramping in his belly brought new perspiration to his face. Then the nausea was back, and he felt violently ill. With a muttered excuse, he stumbled up.

A servant came quickly and led him out into the gallery. Cold air blew in through the latticed openings and cooled Akitada's moist face, but he silently cursed his treacherous stomach, the slowness of the servant, and the long way to the privy.

There he purged his body of everything he had eaten and drunk and emerged shivering and weak-kneed into a blast of air from an open shutter. The servant was waiting patiently, but Akitada needed to clear his head and drive away the remnants of sickness. He stepped up to the opening and looked out over the rocky and wooded terrain below the residence. Snow had already turned the world into an ink painting. Bluish black, the night brooded over broad sweeps of white. In the distance, where the drifting snow obscured hills and forests, light and darkness faded into mysterious grays. Carried by gusts of wind, thin flakes danced past Akitada's eyes, and a thick coating of white covered the sill. There was a terrible, deathly beauty about the scene.

With an effort, Akitada shook off his morbid mood and breathed in deeply. He gathered a little snow to cool his face, and when he felt better, he leaned out to get an idea of where he was.

To his right, the building ended at a corner and he saw a part of a courtyard below. To his left, the gallery continued, its dark wood sharply traced against the snowy roofline. It terminated in a pavilion, its curving roof white against the night sky. Golden lamplight escaped from the pavilion's shutters, making it seem to float in the blue darkness like a magical lantern. The picture was unexpectedly romantic, and Akitada imagined for a moment that Uesugi kept a lover there.

Behind him the servant cleared his throat. Poor man. No doubt he was freezing. Akitada closed the shutter and returned to the gathering, determined to assert his authority. He found that the conversation had turned to magic.

The captain was in the middle of a tale about one of his men who claimed he had been seduced by a fox spirit in the shape of a woman. He had succumbed to a strange illness. Neither medicines nor a priest's prayers could cure him until someone sent for one of the mountain priests to exorcise the evil spirit. The mountain priest brought with him a female medium who had chanted her spells and caused the fox spirit to leave the soldier and slip into the old woman's body where it had cursed and complained bitterly before finally departing.

Akitada, who disapproved of such superstitions, thought this an appropriate opening to address the abbot beside him. "You must be troubled by unholy practices among the natives, Reverence," he said.

But Hokko shook his head. "You misunderstand, Excellency. It is not another faith. The yamabushi practice both Buddhism and exorcism. Sometimes they use a female to aid them. The priests are skilled healers who look after the mountain people very well and may be said to tread in the Buddha's footsteps more sincerely than many a learned disciple of the holy Saicho himself."

Akitada was still coping with astonishment at this testimonial to unorthodox practices, when the pharmacist leaned forward to say earnestly, "It's true. Some of their medical skills surpass anything I know, your Excellency. They gather medicinal herbs and roots in remote areas of the mountains and have, to my own knowledge, cured patients I gave up for lost. His Reverence and I have made every effort to communicate with these yamabushi, but they are extremely shy and secretive, and the local people protect their privacy."

Uesugi listened with every sign of impatience. "Nonsense, Oyoshi. They're a pack of outlaws! Those you are pleased to call yamabushi are nothing but hinin and escaped criminals. It is absurd to discuss them in polite society."

Hinin. Outcasts. Akitada knew that Echigo had many of these, descendants of Ezo prisoners of war and of Japanese exiled for various crimes. Outcasts were not permitted to live or work in ordinary people's houses. They lived in their own villages, and came into the cities only for menial, dirty, and taboo jobs like cutting wood, tanning leather, sweeping streets, cleaning stables, and burying the dead. But he did not like Uesugi's high-handed manner.

"All the people in this province interest me," he said sharply, "and most particularly those who seem to stand outside the law. We also have such people living near the capital. Many of them perform useful trades, and they maintain order among themselves by electing headmen and elders. In any case, since I am sworn to uphold law and order in this province, I am much indebted to his Reverence and Dr. Oyoshi for the information about local customs. As you and your steward reminded me earlier, I have much to learn about local matters, and I intend to do so to the best of my ability."

After a moment's uncomfortable silence, Uesugi muttered, "Very laudable, I am sure," and changed the subject by waving to one of the maids. "Here, girl. Fill his Excellency's cup! And your Excellency must try these pickled plums. They are delicious."

"I should be careful with the plums, Excellency," Oyoshi said quickly, "unless you have a strong stomach." Seeing the angry look on his host's face, he added, "They are said to test a warrior's stamina."

"In that case," Akitada said, "I am greatly flattered, but will pass. I am afraid I am a scholar rather than a soldier."

Uesugi exchanged a glance with the captain. An awkward silence descended on the party. Akitada was less nauseated but he was afraid to eat or drink anything else. He knew that he had failed in his efforts to bring Uesugi to his. side and wished himself elsewhere. As he looked around the gathering, he noticed that Kaibara had left. Kaibara's neighbor, the merchant Sunada, met his glance and smiled. His teeth were almost as good as Tora's.

"Mr. Sunada," Akitada responded, "I take it you are very well informed about the local merchants and their guilds. I would be grateful if I could call on you sometime in the future."

Sunada looked startled. He glanced at Uesugi before bowing. "Certainly, your Excellency. I'm deeply honored. Anything I can do. You need only send for me. I live in Flying Goose village near the harbor."

"Thank you. That is most kind of you." Akitada's throat was parched and he could not rid himself of the sour taste in his mouth. Besides, the heat from the brazier was worse. He wished for cool water, but having none, he drank deeply from his cup. The wine produced an unpleasantly feverish feeling, and he pulled impatiently at the neck of his gown. The silk of his under-robe clung to his skin. He brushed new perspiration from his forehead and cheek. To add to his discomfort, he could feel more painful cramps starting in his belly. Shifting uncomfortably, he found Oyoshi's sharp eyes on him.

To forestall a question, Akitada said, "You mentioned the yamabushi earlier. It so happens I had a visit from one this afternoon. I took him for a beggar."

Oyoshi was surprised. "Ayamabushi in the tribunal? What did he look like?" The abbot also looked up with interest.

"He was a very old man with long white hair and beard, but quite healthy and strong for his age. He was barefoot in this cold."

The pharmacist and Abbot Hokko exchanged a glance. Oyoshi said, "You have been honored by the master himself, Excellency. He never comes down from his mountain for ordinary visits."

Akitada made a face. "Oh dear, and I sent him to the kitchen for something to eat and a place to sleep."

"I expect he was pleased," the abbot said with a chuckle. "Should he still be there in the morning, would you send for me? I am very eager to speak to him."

"The man will hardly wait around to be arrested," the judge snapped. "I expect he has good reason to hide on his mountain. Half of those people are hiding from the authorities. He is probably a criminal or a traitor. I wonder that he slipped past the constables."

This caused a heated debate between the abbot and Hisamatsu, during which Akitada was forced to rush off down the drafty gallery again.

When he emerged from the convenience this time, he felt physically and mentally drained and stood for a moment, leaning against the wall. He wondered if his food or wine had been tampered with. The same servant, who had followed him with a lantern, was squatting on the cold wood floor, watching him. Outside the wind whistled past the shutters. Suddenly there was a brief distant sound, something between a shriek and a wail, borne on a gust of wind and snatched away again. Akitada and the servant both straightened up to listen.

Akitada strode to the shutter and threw it open. The snow was still blowing outside, but there was no sign of life in the white landscape below or in the courtyard. In the corner pavilion a shadow moved across the lighted shutter. Perhaps someone else had been startled by the sound.

The servant looked frightened. "Come away, sir. They say the ghosts of the dead cry for justice."

More superstition. "Nonsense," said Akitada. "It was probably some animal. A wolf or an owl." But he recalled Tora's tale about the Uesugi family. With a shiver he closed the shutter.

When he returned to his seat, his host had disappeared. Akitada was uneasily aware that his repeated absences had caused curious glances from the guests. To cover his embarrassment, Akitada asked the judge about criminal activity in the province and got another dreary lecture on the need for harsher penalties. When Uesugi returned soon after, he looked tense and preoccupied. "The snow is getting worse," he announced, "and the road to Naoetsu may become impassable. I hope you will all honor my house by spending the night."

Akitada was seized by outright panic at this idea and rose abruptly. "Thank you, no. This has been a lavish entertainment and most pleasant company, but I must not impose on your hospitality any longer," he said. "Urgent duties await me back in the city."

A general bustle ensued. Most of the others also made their good-byes, intending to join Akitada's cortege on the journey back to the city.

Uesugi made only the barest of protests to the sudden exodus. He accepted Akitada's formal thanks, his face devoid of expression, but his small eyes glittered and moved about strangely in the flickering light. Perhaps it was Akitada's illness, but suddenly Uesugi appeared menacing, and the shadows in the corners of the great hall seemed alive with danger.

Akitada knew his escape into the snowy night was craven and irrational, and a fitting end to the most unpleasant and unproductive evening he had ever spent. He was filled with foreboding.

FOUR.

THE THREE PRISONERS.

T.

hree days after the visit to Takata, on a clear and cold morning, the tribunal's dilapidated buildings huddled inside the broken-down palisade and looked more depressing than usual with patches of dirty snow in piles and corners. The brief snowfall had changed to watery sleet, then back to snow, and to sleet again during the past days.

When Akitada stepped out on the veranda, he saw that the main gate was still closed even though the sun was up and it was well into the day. Tora and Hitomaro were below, shouting for the constables who trotted out reluctantly, some still chewing their morning rations. The creaking gate finally openeda" somewhat pointlessly, since no one waited outside and access to the tribunal could be gained anywhere a man wished to kick down a few rotten timbers in the fence.

Akitada descended the steps into the courtyard and looked sourly at the ragged line of constables drawn up for inspection, their breath steaming in the cold air. Hitomaro was in full armor and exhibited stiff military bearing. When he saw Akitada, he gave a shout, and the ragtag constables in their mostly unmatched garb fell to their knees and bowed their heads to the ground. From their sullen expressions, Akitada gathered that Hitomaro was about to put them through a drill.

Their headman, Chobei, lounged against the gate, his arms crossed and a mocking grin on his coarse face.

The insolence of the brute! Akitada could feel his blood rise and lost his temper. Glaring at Chobei, Akitada snapped, "Make that dog kneel, Lieutenant."

Hitomaro shouted an order, then drew his sword and approached the headman. Chobei stared stupidly, his grin fading slowly. For a moment it looked as though he would ignore the order, but then he went to his knees, placing his hands on the icy patch of gravel before him.

Tora, also armed, walked across till he towered over the kneeling man. "Head down!" he ordered. Chobei started up with a curse. Tora drew his sword and brought its flat side down on the man's bare head. With a cry of pain, Chobei assumed the proper position.

"Pity you didn't bother with mittens and a warm coat this morning, Sergeant," Tora said conversationally. "My guess is that your hands will freeze to the gravel in less time than it takes to fill your prisoners' water bowls. And you won't budge till you're ready to crawl all the way to his Excellency to apologize for your lack of manners."

Akitada already regretted the incident but could not take back his words without losing face. "See to it that he remains until he has learned proper respect!" he snapped. Then he strode back to the main hall.

This building was in better repair than the others, but it was large and extremely drafty. In the chilly front area, the public part of the building, his senior clerk, a sober, middle-aged man, waited.

"The documents about rice storage are on your desk, sir. They seem accurate."

"Ah. Is there any new business, Hamaya?" Akitada asked, as they passed through to the quiet archives where two shivering junior clerks were shuffling papers. Akitada was headed for a corner room under the eaves that he had made into his private office.

"Nothing, Excellency," said the thin Hamaya, hurrying after him.

In his office, Akitada removed his quilted coat. Hamaya received it respectfully and waited as Akitada sat down at the low desk.

"I don't understand it," Akitada muttered, rubbing his chilled hands over the charcoal brazier filled with a few glowing pieces of coal. "The notices have been posted for days. A province of this size must have a tremendous backlog of civil cases. My predecessor not only departed without explaining the empty granary, but he left unfinished business."

The clerk still stood, clutching Akitada's clothing. "Under the circumstances, I suppose," he ventured, "it is a good thing, sir. Only two of the clerks have reported for duty."

Akitada rubbed his belly morosely. He still suffered from occasional bouts of cramping and had refused breakfast as well as another dose of Seimei's bitter brew. Now his stomach grumbled also. And he still felt ashamed of his outburst in the courtyard. By losing his temper he was playing into the hands of enemies who apparently manipulated both the tribunal staff and the local people. Since his visit to Takata, Akitada thought he understood the reasons for his difficulties.

Now he looked at his clerk. "Tell me, Hamaya, are you and the other clerks afraid to come to work here?"

Hamaya hesitated, then said, "I believe that the two youngsters outside have great need of their salary because their families are very poor. As for me, I have no family and need not fear anybody"

Akitada clenched his fists. "This is intolerable!" he muttered. He thought for a moment, then said, "Tell my lieutenants to report when they are free. 1 know you and Seimei are still organizing the archives, but have one of your clerks make a search for information about the outcasts and their dealings with the Uesugi family."

He spent the next hour as he had for the past week, reading reports left by his predecessors. Some of these were woefully sketchy and tended to cover up the fact that the incumbent had been unable to cope with matters. A pattern began to emerge. Of the four types of major reports each governor or his representative had to dispatch to the capital every year, three showed adequate levels of productivity for the province. These were prepared carefully and signed off on by the governor. The fourth report, called the court report, was a different matter. It indicated the condition of the provincial administration, both of its buildings and supplies and of its staff. These reports listed woeful shortages, were poorly written and prepared, and liberally laced with complaints by the incumbents. They pointed to inadequate staffing, insufficient funds, lack of labor, and lack of grain delivery to the provincial granary. The specific details were better than the conditions Akitada had found, but they explained to some extent why governors and their representatives had eventually absented themselves from the provincial capital. The tribunal was "uninhabitable" and the staff "nonexistent," one recent official had written.

The documents Uesugi had provided to account for rice collection and storage were as neat and careful as the earlier three. They specified what amounts were stored locally and what had been shipped north as provisions for the fighting troops.