“There you are,” Mouse said. “I been drinkin’ and waitin’ in this inn forever. Where did you get to?”

I leaned against a column and scanned the crowded room, trying not to look like I was talking to him but give the impression I was looking for a place to sit. “I see you have been working hard at the drinking part, anyway. I was trying to find the high priestess. I had some business to conclude with her.”

Mouse leered. “Lookin’ to get a ‘reward’ for your heroism?”

“No!” I briefly glared at him, then continued scanning the room. “She can’t go to the shrine because of her defilement, so they have hidden her away somewhere. No one will tell me where.”

“You do have the worst luck, don’t you Yoshi?”

It was time to change the subject. “I’m heading over to the provincial governor’s residence to see what they will tell the imperial inspector,” I said in a soft voice. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’ll be nearby,” he said, looking out the window. “I’ll keep an eye out for you and follow you when you leave.”

By mid-afternoon, I was knocking at the gates of the provincial governor’s headquarters. It was located in the center of the capital of Isé, a town of about five thousand residents named Uji Yamada.

The governor’s headquarters was a smaller version of the Daidairi, the greater imperial palace in Kyoto. When I inquired at the gate, I was informed the governor had left for the day, and they directed me to his personal residence. It was a beautiful mansion, as fine as anything I had visited in the capital. I was surprised to see such an exquisite building among the drab houses and utilitarian structures surrounding it. It was like finding a breathtaking flower standing alone in a field of weeds, mud, and dung.

I presented my credentials. One of the gate guards slipped inside the grounds and returned to report the governor was out but would be back shortly. A servant accompanying the guard offered to escort me to one of the guest rooms where I could rest while I waited for him.

The layout of the estate was of the same shinden-zukuri configuration as the Spring Palace. Three buildings making a partial rectangle open to the south overlooked a garden. Streams flowing in from the north provided water. Where the walkways between the buildings crossed a watercourse, they arched into open bridges, allowing those passing to admire the beauty of the scenery. The grounds were covered in an attractive combination of gravel and sand, with smooth stones arranged in aesthetically pleasing patterns. Paths marked by pebbled borders wandered in and around the buildings. Unfortunately, I had no chance to see the central garden on my way to my room.

I lay down for a short rest. I must have been more fatigued than I realized. Very shortly, I fell asleep.

A discreet knock at the door awakened me. It was the same servant who had brought me to my room. “The governor is here and would be pleased if you would join him for dinner. When you are ready, I will escort you.”

I took the time to change into my best robes. First impressions are important, and Surei had thoughtfully provided me with a full set of informal court dress. It included a hunting jacket in brown and crimson with a formal eboshi. Generally, I hated wearing court garb. The robes were uncomfortable and stiff, and the garments reminded me unpleasantly of my childhood. My father forced me to wear formal robes for ceremonial functions at the palace and when we visited the mansions of high-ranking nobles.

It felt vaguely unreal to play the role of a man of rank again. Nonetheless, looking at myself in the mirror, I felt a belated gratitude to Surei for insisting I have a proper wardrobe for the trip. Had I worn my travel clothes, no one would have taken me seriously.

As we made our way to dinner, I finally got a look at the central garden. It filled the courtyard. A simulated landscape reproduced, in miniature, three of the most famous scenic views in the land. The centerpiece was a reproduction of Lake Awaumi. The two streams I had noticed earlier fed the lake from the north. A large river at the south end of the lake handled the outflow. The water of the river passed over a miniature waterfall fashioned to resemble the falls at Uji, near the capital. Finally, at the southern edge of the property, the banks of the river were sculpted to resemble the pine-clad sandbar at Amanohashidate. Hundreds of miniature pine trees planted along the riverbank completed the effect.

The governor had erected a silk pavilion alongside the river. They were close enough to the waterfall so the roar of the cascading river was clearly audible yet far enough away to avoid getting soaked from the spray. Inside, several well-dressed men sat surrounded by copious amounts of food and drink. They were looking out over the garden and chatting, enjoying the view of the flowing water and the swaying of the pines in the light breeze. Servants flitted quietly among the guests, ensuring saké bowls remained full and food platters were never empty.

As we crossed the sand and gravel, a man stood to greet me. “Inspector, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Governor Abé. I must apologize for my poor hospitality. Usually, when we receive important visitors such as yourself, we have prior notice from the capital. That gives us enough notice to prepare a proper welcome. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with what I was able to arrange on the spur of the moment.” He waved to the men around him. “These are some fellows of mine who have joined us for this informal get-together.” He turned to the other guests. “This is Imperial Inspector Minamoto. He is here on behalf of the Ministry of Public Affairs.”

The governor was a vigorous man of middle years, medium weight and height. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly noteworthy about him until I looked into his face. From the set of his jaw to the unwavering eyes, he gave an impression of solid determination and even ruthlessness. Although his manner was easygoing and familiar, I got the impression he would be a dangerous man to cross.

I bowed. “This was a hastily arranged trip. With the new high priestess coming down this way, the chance to travel with her caravan was too good an opportunity to miss. I am simply here in Isé to look around and get a general feeling for how things are going. I wouldn’t even have bothered you, except I am unsure exactly where to find some of the localities Ikeda Minbukyou told me to check on. I was hoping you could help me.”

The governor acted insulted. “Bother? Not at all! Why am I here if not to help His Imperial Majesty’s representatives?” He turned to the other men. “Allow me to introduce my fellows.” He pointed at one of his guests. “This is District Magistrate Taira, one of our most prominent citizens.” The district magistrate’s face bore a singularly unpleasant expression, equal parts arrogance and condescension. He wore an extravagantly rich Chinese silk jacket in saffron chased with enormous amounts of pure gold thread. The way it wrapped around his protruding stomach gave him a strong resemblance to a giant yellow egg. His under-robe was a sky-blue silk gown worn over a set of red silk trousers. The lurid display of color marked him as wealthy, but utterly lacking in taste.

After Taira, the governor introduced the rest of his guests, a diverse group of district magistrates and other provincial luminaries. Various members of the group began asking me about my purpose in coming to Isé, but the governor enjoined everyone, “Enough of this! We can discuss business tomorrow. Tonight, I plan to enjoy the rare chance to hear the latest news and gossip from the capital. Come! Let us eat, drink, and talk.” With these words, the governor, following his own advice, set to with a will.

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We engaged in idle banter for a time. With a mischievous smile, the governor said, “The inspector is as modest as he is courteous. We have a hero with us tonight.” He looked over at me and gave a slight bow. “You gentlemen may not know it, but the high priestess was attacked on her way here. I am informed the inspector here saved the imperial princess and her ladies-in-waiting. He held off an army of assassins until her guards could rally their forces.” It was clear he relished his role as host to a minor celebrity, and he considered my presence at the party a social coup of the highest order. He commanded me, “Inspector, tell us what happened.”

I was both embarrassed and flattered by the attention. I said, “Well, it wasn’t anything, really. One man got into the high priestess’ lodgings before I could catch him. The high priestess herself took care of him while I was fighting the others.” I tried to be matter-of-fact about the whole incident, but I was afraid even a bare recitation of the facts cast me in a better light than I deserved. Everyone listened intently to my tale.

When I finished, Governor Abé stood and raised his bowl of saké. “Well, that was quite an adventure. Excellent work!” Everyone raised their bowls and joined him in drinking more saké.

Talk soon turned to the news from Kyoto and goings-on in the imperial court. Eager for news from the capital, the men pressed me for every tidbit of hearsay and gossip I could recall.

It would seem odd if I disclaimed any knowledge of the court, so I decided to pass along the news Surei had fed me on the way to Akiko’s. “Rumor has it Senior Retired Emperor Toba is quite ill. People are concerned as to what Junior Retired Emperor Sutoku and Emperor Go-Shirakawa will do once he is gone. People say Sutoku is hiring bushi from the provinces to support him. There could be fighting in the capital.”

This led to some heated debate among the partygoers as to the merits of the rival claims of the two imperial brothers.

Our host let this go on for a bit but then turned the talk back to less controversial topics. He turned to me and said, “Tell us about the rest of the trip, when you weren’t busy saving the high priestess.” Everyone chuckled at that.

I regaled them with portrayals of my various companions, particularly the inept captain and his feats of riding. They listened raptly to my overblown account of the dance troupe and the excessively endowed Amaterasu. I described the poetry competition. My report of the captain’s boorish behavior elicited gales of laughter.

The governor slapped me on the back, “You really told them, didn’t you? Too bad more people don’t have your backbone.”

I could tell Governor Abé was feeling his saké. For the first time that night, he seemed not fully in control. He leaned closer. “It angers me sometimes. The people in the capital have no idea what they’re doing. Strictly speaking, I’m not actually the governor here. I am merely the zuryou, the assistant governor. The ‘real’ governor is the son of some well-bred sycophant in the capital. He holds the appointment as governor, but if he had to actually move out here to the provinces, it would interfere with his social calendar. So, he stays in the city and collects a nice salary, and I live here and do all the real work.” The other guests nodded in agreement.

I agreed with his assessment of the uselessness of the nobility in the capital. Still, he had little reason to complain. Looking pointedly around at the magnificent shinden-zukuri surrounding us, I said, “Well, you don’t seem to be doing so badly for yourself as all that.”

He got a momentary look of irritation, and I was afraid I had gone too far. Then, his face split in a wide grin. “Yes, yes, you’re right, I’m ‘not doing so badly for myself,’ am I?” He slapped his nearest companion on the back and bellowed at him. “Well, what do you think? ‘Not doing so badly for myself,’ right?” He roared with laughter.

When he finished laughing, he said, “I admire what you did there at the poetry competition, but I have to confess I find poetry rather tedious.”

I nodded in half-assent. “It is an acquired taste. Having received a classical education, I was taught the poetic phrases and standard literary conventions. Still, I don’t really enjoy poetry competitions either. But, what you get at these competitions is not the only type of poetry.” I quoted:

Among the flowers, a single jug of wine

Here by myself, I pour myself another.

Raising my drink, I salute the shining moon,

Along with my shadow, this makes us three,

Although, the moon doesn’t comprehend wine,

And my shadow only follows me around.

Yet, in a shared experience with moon and shadow,

We’ve discovered the eternal optimism of spring.

I sing, and the moon marks time with me,

I caper, and my shadow splits and then disappears.

Sober, we rejoiced in harmony;

Drunk, we celebrate alone.

Pledging eternal fellowship, we take our leave,

Promising to meet again beyond the stars.

Governor Abé nodded his head slowly, his eyes wide. “That’s really good. Poetry about drinking and wine. There’s a subject to be passionate about.” He grinned, then repeated, “‘Sober, we rejoiced in harmony. Drunk, we celebrate alone.’ Li Po, isn’t it? It’s been a long time, but as I recall my boyhood lessons, he was a poet of the Middle Kingdom several centuries ago.”

I nodded. “Many poets write about their tortured love and the tragedy of their lives. That’s all well and good, but Li Po’s work speaks to a universal human experience—drinking and getting drunk.”

By this time, the saké was really affecting me, and I had a bit of trouble speaking. I was also having trouble concentrating on what I was saying. It seemed really important, for some reason, to convey to the governor and his guests that Li Po was no ordinary man. “He was not just a poet, though. I love the stories of his exploits as a young man. He is said to have been a yóuxiá, a hero who traveled the countryside as a knight-errant. He protected the weak from the strong, righted wrongs committed by evil officials, and helped those in need. An admirable man in all respects.”

The governor and his guests had drunk even more saké than me since I had spent so much time talking. They seemed a bit confused by what I was telling them. After pondering my words for a bit, one of the guests blurted out, “What? This fellow went around attacking officials?”

“Not just any officials, corrupt officials. The officials that oppressed the people, used their offices for personal gain, and perverted the law.” Inspired by the saké, I warmed to my topic. “Imagine it. Traveling the land, carrying only what you can fit on your back, a force for justice. Fighting inequity wherever it is found. A champion of the poor and oppressed. Ah, that would be the life! I would love to be a yóuxiá.”

Governor Abé said uncertainly, “Oh, well, that sounds all right, I suppose.” The guests seemed to share his uncertainty.

One of the guests said enthusiastically, “Yes, that would be the life. Fighting against the lackeys of that usurper, Go-Shirakawa, to restore rule to the rightful Emperor!”

One of the other guests got quite angry, and he stood and shoved the first guest to the ground yelling, “Go-Shirakawa is the rightful emperor, not that rebellious traitor, Sutoku!”

The party dissolved into chaos as guests shouted at one another or tried to separate the two combatants. The governor bellowed for his servants while he urged his guests to calm down. Several large, young men appeared and soon brought things under control. The belligerent guests were restrained, and order restored.

Governor Abé stood, swaying a little from the effects of the saké. “I think this is a good time to call it a night.” He turned to me. “Please, make use of the room I provided and stay the night. It is far too late to go home or seek an inn now.”

He bade the rest of his guests farewell as his servants escorted them out. Finally, when only the two of us were left, he said, “I’ll see you in the morning, Inspector. It was certainly a memorable evening.”