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prefect?
    Okura was sitting at one of the outside tables. Also waiting was a flask of wine and two cups. Tora cheered up.
    “The next round is mine,” he said, emptying the cup Okura handed him. He smacked his lips. “Not bad. You know your suppliers.” He held out the cup for a refill.
    Okura obliged, then asked, “What happened to you?”
    “A small disagreement with some fractious monks. Four of those sohei raided the laborers unloading a boat and tried to take one of the men away. I interfered. What’s going on here?”
    Okura’s face fell. “Those cursed sohei ,” he muttered. “They’re always at it. They’re either recruiting new soldiers or arresting men for hard labor on their land. They own just about all the land in Omi.”
    Shocked, Tora said, “Surely not.”
    “Well, close to it. Onjo-ji and Enryaku-ji between them own or control hundreds of hamlets. The peasants and landowners signed over their estates to gain tax-free status. The temples allow them to keep their harvest and buy their rice at a discount. That way, both profit.”
    “That should be against the law.”
    “Who’s going to oppose a powerful temple? The court always decides in favor of the monks.”
    “Surely the governor can put a stop to what I just saw?”
    Okura shook his head. “He’s a good man, but he will not tangle with either temple.”
    “Well my master’s here to do just that,” Tora said angrily. “I’ll let him know what’s going on.”
    “Good luck!” Okura grimaced. “I’d like to see it. We’ve had too much trouble, and it’s been getting worse lately. But drink up. You owe me some stories concerning that warlord Uesugi. We heard about it in our camp, but it was winter and the news was hard to come by.”
    The wine was good and Tora complied.

Chapter Six

In a Spring Garden
    Akitada returned to provincial headquarters to check on the progress of the temple dispute and found the work progressing to his satisfaction. Then he went to Kosehira’s office. His friend was deep in paperwork, three young clerks standing by and a scribe scribbling furiously as the governor dictated.
    “Akitada!” said the governor, emerging somewhat dazed from a document. “Dear me, is it time already?” He glanced through the open doors. The sun was well past midday. “Forgive me. A sudden press of work. Would you mind going back by yourself? Tell my people that I expect to get home by sunset. I have neglected you shamefully.”
    “Not at all,” said Akitada. “I’ve had a very pleasant time with Chief Takechi. We were doing a bit of reminiscing. I’ll see you later then.”
    He got back on his horse and enjoyed the short journey back up the hillside. At the villa, he turned the animal over to the stable boy and then went to deliver Kosehira’s message. He found the younger children romping in the garden with Kosehira’s eldest daughter.
    They greeted him eagerly. Yukiko, in a charming red embroidered jacket and pale green gown over white trousers, claimed he looked tired. “Come, Cousin Akitada,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to a small summerhouse overlooking the shimmering lake, “you must rest and admire the pretty view. I love it here.”
    Made uncomfortable by the familiar way she treated him, Akitada withdrew his hand and said stiffly, “It’s very beautiful, Lady Yukiko.”
    And so was she, truth to tell. The light green silk gown with the embroidered Chinese jacket suited her slender figure perfectly. Her hair was thick and glossy and tied in back with a white silk bow, a hairstyle that Tamako had also favored as more practical than loose hair. But she was nothing like Tamako in other ways. Yukiko’s movements were quick, and her laughter frequent. She had a disturbing way of casting smiling glances at him from the corners of her eyes.
    “Oh,” she said now, blushing rosily. “Forgive me for calling you ‘cousin.’ It was very forward of me. But you see, Father calls you ‘Elder