Magistrate Ueda regarded her with the helpless sorrow of a parent who cannot ease his child’s pain. Midori wore the same expression as she watched Taeko. Taeko had begged to attend the wedding, but her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Lady Yanagisawa sat so stiffly that the body inside her drab maroon silk kimono could have been made of stone. Her flat, homely face was still, except for her eyes; they darted as if chasing unruly thoughts between her husband, Kikuko, and Reiko. Her rouged lips were parted, and a flush reddened the skin at the opening of her robe, where the white powder applied to her face and neck stopped. A chill tingled through Reiko.
This was how Lady Yanagisawa had looked just before she’d tried to kill Reiko.
If the wedding proceeded, this woman would be Masahiro’s mother-in-law. Heaven only knew what she would do then.
* * *
AS LADY YANAGISAWA beheld her daughter, her outrage escaped her body like hot, poisonous wisps of smoke from a volcano. Poor, innocent Kikuko, blinded by the drape over her head, was like a white calf ready for slaughter. She didn’t know what was happening. Lady Yanagisawa had tried to explain, but the best she could do was playact a wedding using Kikuko’s dolls, to teach Kikuko how to behave at the ceremony. Kikuko thought marriage was a game. She didn’t understand that she was chattel in a pact her father had made with the husband of her mother’s enemy. Lady Yanagisawa desperately wished Masahiro wouldn’t show up. The boy would defile Kikuko for his own pleasure while scorning her because she was feebleminded. Murderous thoughts and impulses swirled through Lady Yanagisawa. She viewed Reiko through the black scribble of blood in her ruptured eye.
If only Kikuko had drowned Reiko’s son when he was a baby! This horrible day would never have come.
Lady Yanagisawa wanted to grab Kikuko and run, but the presence of her husband, seated beside her, held her down like an iron anchor. A small, craven part of her hoped that if she did what he wanted … love was too much to expect; she would settle for an occasional friendly word and visit to her bed. She couldn’t give up her hope that he would change. She would do anything to keep that hope alive. She would even offer up Kikuko as a sacrifice, no matter her awful guilt. Her husband and her daughter were her two loves; they had equal claims on her heart.
A stir rustled through the room. Lady Yanagisawa heard breaths released by the other people. An awful, sick sensation caved in her stomach as she looked in the direction of their gazes. There in the doorway stood Masahiro.
* * *
NO, NO, NO!
Taeko pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling the cries that rose in her. She’d been praying that Masahiro wouldn’t come for the wedding. All day she’d hoped he was making arrangements to run away with her and they would elope and then she could tell him about the baby. But now, as he stalked into the room, Taeko understood that his tardiness was the only protest he would make against this marriage. His loyalty to his parents was too strong to break.
Masahiro didn’t look at her, or anyone else, as he dropped to his knees beside Kikuko. He wore his ordinary clothes instead of the black ceremonial garments appropriate for a wedding. Taeko smelled liquor on him: He must have sneaked out to a teahouse. But his eyes were clear; he looked completely sober and utterly defeated.
Lord Mori, the master of ceremonies, said, “We are gathered here to unite Sano Masahiro and Yanagisawa Kikuko in marriage.”
Taeko flung a pleading glance around the room. Her mother looked distraught, Sano grim, Reiko desolate. No one objected. The priest rose, bowed to the altar, swished a long wand tasseled with white paper strips, and intoned, “Evil out, fortune in!” He chanted an invocation to the gods and beat a wooden drum. The familiar ritual brought tears to Taeko’s eyes. She’d so hoped to wed Masahiro, and there he sat like a chained prisoner beside another girl.
The housekeeper brought Masahiro and Kikuko a tray containing three flat wooden cups, graduated in size, nested together. She poured sake out of the jar from the altar into the smallest cup, then bowed to Kikuko and offered her the cup. Jealousy assailed Taeko like a wolf tearing at her heart as Kikuko accepted the cup, raised it to her mouth under her white head drape, and took three sips with her face still concealed. Taeko wanted to snatch the cup, fling it against the wall, and halt the san-san-ku-do—the “three-times-three sips” pledge that would seal the marriage bond between Kikuko and Masahiro. But if she interfered, it wouldn’t stop the wedding; it would only get her thrown out of the room, and she wanted to be with Masahiro for as long as she could.
Kikuko handed the empty cup back to the housekeeper, who refilled the cup and offered it to Masahiro. His expression was surly as he took it. Knowing that he didn’t want this marriage gave Taeko some comfort. He turned the cup in his hands so that he wouldn’t have to put his mouth to the rouge-stained place on the rim where Kikuko’s lips had touched. He drank his three sips quickly, as if downing poison. Sourness lapped Taeko’s throat. Fighting the urge to vomit, she blinked back tears while the pair drank from their second cup. As Masahiro sipped from the third, final cup, she felt her bond with him dissolve, like a spiderweb immersed in acid.
He and Kikuko were now married. No matter how much he loved Taeko, he wasn’t hers anymore. Under her sleeves Taeko clasped her hands tight over her belly, shielding the child within, containing her grief.
The housekeeper served sake to Sano, Reiko, Yanagisawa, and Lady Yanagisawa, honoring the new alliance between the two families. Taeko’s lips formed the words that everyone else spoke: “Omedetō gozaimasu—congratulations!” The housekeeper handed Masahiro and Kikuko branches with white paper strips attached and led them to the altar to make their offering to the gods. They bowed and laid the branches on the altar.
“The ceremony is completed,” the priest announced. “The bride and groom can begin their married life.”
Despair crushed Taeko. Tears fell, burning on her cheeks. The housekeeper began to lift the drape off the bride’s head. Taeko thought, Please let her be ugly!
The drape slipped from Kikuko. She was the most beautiful girl Taeko had ever seen. A cold, sickening hollow opened up inside Taeko. It filled with awe, envy, and so much pain that she couldn’t breathe.
Kikuko turned to Masahiro. Her long-lashed black eyes sparkled at him. Her delicate lips curved in a shy smile. Masahiro gazed at Kikuko with eyes and mouth wide open, as dazzled as if struck by lightning. Taeko’s heart gave an agonized thump. Masahiro had never looked at her that way.
Masahiro bowed to Yanagisawa and, in a dazed voice, thanked him for the honor of joining his clan. He never took his eyes off Kikuko as she bowed and murmured her thanks to Sano and Reiko. He seemed to have forgotten that anyone besides his new wife existed.
No, no, no!
* * *
THE WEDDING BANQUET was the most miserable affair Sano had ever attended. He and Reiko, Akiko, Magistrate Ueda, and Detective Marume sat in the dim, drafty hall, opposite Yanagisawa and his wife. Masahiro and Kikuko sat together at the head of the room. Maids put food on tray tables set before the members of the party. Taeko had run out of the house sobbing; Midori had gone after her. Lord Mori had excused himself, saying he had to prepare for the war. The bridal couple and their families were left to go through the motions of celebration.
No one spoke. Sano glanced at the dishes of miso soup, dried fish, pickled vegetables, and rice cakes on his tray. It was poor fare for a wedding banquet, which normally featured many courses of delicacies. Food stores in the estate were already running low due to the blockade by the army. Sano couldn’t eat. The sight of his son wedded to Yanagisawa’s daughter filled him with so much anger that his body had no room for nourishment. Reiko and Magistrate Ueda didn’t eat, either. Sano knew they were sick at heart behind their stoic expressions. Marume and Akiko didn’t touch their food, although they were probably starving. Yanagisawa shoveled in his meal, fortifying himself for the battle. His wife toyed with her chopsticks, her face blank as she watched Masahiro and Kikuko.
/> Kikuko ate hungrily, dropping morsels on her white kimono, smiling at Masahiro. Masahiro chewed and swallowed as if unaware of what he was eating. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Kikuko since he’d first seen her face. Although Sano had hoped Masahiro could accept his marriage, his obvious infatuation with Kikuko made Sano feel more uneasy than relieved. Sano glanced at Reiko. She wouldn’t look at him. He knew with a desolate heart that this wedding marked the end of his own marriage.
Yanagisawa raised his eyebrow at Masahiro and Kikuko and said with a sardonic smile, “It’s time the newlyweds retired for the night.”
A maid helped Kikuko rise. Masahiro jumped to his feet so fast that he upset his tray table. He flushed with embarrassment. Yanagisawa chuckled. Sano felt Reiko seething with helpless anger beside him. Masahiro shambled out of the room beside Kikuko. Sano was so furious, he would have done something catastrophic had Lord Mori not returned at that moment.
“There’s news from the castle,” Lord Mori said to Yanagisawa. “One of your spies managed to smuggle out a message.”
Apprehension clutched Sano’s heart. He heard Reiko gasp. Yanagisawa demanded, “Is it about the shogun?” His features were taut with his fear that the shogun had died, Lord Ienobu was the new dictator, and his own chances of ruling Japan were drastically diminished.
“The shogun is worse than yesterday but still alive,” Lord Mori said. “Lord Ienobu has requisitioned troops from the Tokugawa branch clans, and he expects them to arrive by tomorrow afternoon. He plans to attack us then. By the way, someone did die at the palace today. It was the boy who was sleeping with the shogun during the stabbing.”
30
“WHAT MAKES YOU think the boy was murdered?” Detective Marume asked. “Didn’t he have the measles?”
“Young, healthy people often recover from the measles,” Sano said. “The circumstances of his death are suspicious.”
“The only witness to the stabbing dies suddenly while Lord Ienobu, our favorite suspect, is in charge at the castle? You’re right,” Marume said.
Their voices echoed in dank, earth-scented air. They were walking single file, Marume leading, through Lord Mori’s secret emergency exit. All daimyo estates had at least one. This was a narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel that started beneath the mansion and ran under the streets. The lantern Marume carried illuminated earthen walls shored up with planks and posts driven into a rocky clay floor. Sano felt as if he were marching to hell, but they couldn’t risk another trip through Lord Ienobu’s troops.
The tunnel angled sharply to the left. Water that smelled of sewage dripped down Sano’s neck. His feet sloshed in puddles from cesspools aboveground. Marume suddenly stopped. “Here we are, not a moment too soon.”
Breathing welcome fresh air, they pushed on the iron grille at the end of the tunnel. The grille swung outward. They emerged from a hole in a stone wall and skidded down the steep, slippery bank of a canal. They hurried along the footpath, then through a city lit by a moon that shone through the fog. Smoke from chimneys was the only sign of the citizens who hadn’t fled town. Sano and Marume took a circuitous route through alleys foul with accumulated garbage and night soil, avoiding the army troops who patrolled the main streets. They reached the slum district of Kodemma-chō. Its shacks, piles of debris left over from the earthquake, and roving stray dogs glowed eerily in the light from a fire burning within the high walls that surrounded Edo Jail. The smoke stank of charred human flesh.
“At least we don’t have to worry about Yanagisawa finding out where we’re going,” Marume said.
Sano had had to tell Yanagisawa. He wouldn’t have been able to leave the estate without cooperation from Yanagisawa and Lord Mori. At first Yanagisawa had objected because he’d thought Sano meant to betray him again. Sano hadn’t wanted to leave his family alone with Yanagisawa, but his instincts told him that investigating Dengoro’s death could change the course of events. He’d explained that he had to examine the body; he’d promised Yanagisawa evidence that would prove Lord Ienobu was responsible for the attack on the shogun and the elimination of the witness, and the evidence of his guilt should turn his allies among the daimyo and Tokugawa branch clans against Ienobu. After a heated argument, after warning Sano that his family would suffer if he didn’t behave himself, Yanagisawa had capitulated. Lord Mori had shown Sano the secret exit. Sano only hoped he could deliver on his promise.
“I never thought I’d be glad that Yanagisawa knows about my business here,” Sano said as he and Marume crossed the rickety bridge over the canal that served as a moat for the jail.
The sentries at the ironclad gates recognized Sano even though he hadn’t been there in more than four years. He paid them to keep quiet about his visits. They let him and Marume in. The smoke grew thicker, acrid, and nauseating as Sano and Marume walked through the prison compound, past the guards’ barracks and the dungeon, to a yard enclosed by a bamboo fence. Flames roared from a pit dug near the morgue, a low building with a thatched roof. Human shapes swathed in white cloth lay in a row on the ground—people who’d died of the measles and had to be cremated right away, lest they spread the disease. A man dressed in a leather cape, hood, boots, and gloves dragged a corpse over to the pit and pushed it in. The thud puffed cinders and ash up through the smoke and flames. Sano hoped Dengoro’s body wasn’t already burned up. Another man, stoop-shouldered in his fire gear, leaning on a wooden cane, watched from a safe distance.
“Dr. Ito?” Sano said.
Both men turned. The watcher said, “Who’s there?” and pulled off his hood. His shaggy white hair blew in the smoky wind. His face was deeply lined, his skin blotched with brown spots. Missing teeth slackened his mouth. Although Sano had known Dr. Ito must be at least ninety, he was shocked by the changes that time had wrought upon his old friend.
“It’s Sano-san,” the other man said, bowing to Sano and Marume.
Sano recognized Mura, Dr. Ito’s longtime assistant. His hair was white, too, his square face craggier. Mura took Dr. Ito’s arm. Ordinarily a man of Mura’s status would never touch a man of Dr. Ito’s. Mura belonged to the class of outcasts, who were considered spiritually unclean because of their hereditary link with dirty, death-related occupations such as butchering and leather tanning. They also collected garbage and night soil and worked as corpse handlers, torturers, and executioners. Dr. Ito was a renowned physician, but after he’d been caught practicing foreign science and sentenced to a lifelong custodianship at Edo Morgue, he’d been cut off from polite society. Mura had become his friend. Now Dr. Ito extended a groping hand into the air and Mura guided him to Sano, who experienced a stab of concern.
“Can’t you see me?” Sano asked.
Dr. Ito’s once-keen eyes were filmy with cataracts. “I’ve gone blind,” he said in the matter-of-fact tone of a man who has accepted his disability.
“I’m sorry.” Sano was grieved by his friend’s loss, the end of Dr. Ito’s life as a scientist. He felt selfish, having two more or less good eyes, his relative youth, and his health. No matter that he’d alienated his wife and son for the sake of an alliance with his worst enemy—he’d had a choice.
Dr. Ito smiled with the sardonic humor he hadn’t lost. “I hope you’re not here because you want me to conduct an examination of a murder victim. My days of practicing illegal science are over. I just pretend to supervise the morgue while Mura does all the work.”
“That is why I came,” Sano said, “but never mind. It probably wasn’t a murder. The boy had measles. Chances are, examining his body wouldn’t have revealed anything else.” He didn’t want Dr. Ito to think he’d let Sano down. “I’m glad just to see you again.”
“I am glad, too, but I have heard that things have not gone well for you.” Dr. Ito’s expression mixed concern with pleasure. “Associating with me is an additional hazard.”
“Not as much of a hazard as before. Yanagisawa knows.” Sano gave a brief summary of recent events.
Dr. Ito chuckled. “No matter
how old one gets, surprises never cease.” He grew somber again. “Even if Yanagisawa isn’t a problem, you are running the risk of capture by Lord Ienobu’s troops. I would hate for you to have taken the risk for nothing. Let us examine this boy who died. What was his name?” Sano hesitated, wondering how much good an examination by a blind scientist would do. Dr. Ito said, “Mura can show you the body. Perhaps there is evidence to be found without doing an autopsy.”
“Dengoro. He was one of the shogun’s male concubines,” Sano said.
Mura walked to the row of swathed corpses and lifted the smallest one; it lay closest to the fire pit. Marume whistled. “We got here just in time. I’ll wait out here.”
Sano followed Mura into the morgue. Dr. Ito trailed them. He knew his way so well that he didn’t bump into the waist-high tables, the stone troughs for washing the dead, or the cabinets filled with equipment. Mura laid the corpse on a table, lit lanterns on stands around it, then asked Sano, “Can you cover your nose and mouth? That’s what we do when we work with the bodies of people that had measles.”
“To keep out the evil spirits of disease,” Dr. Ito explained. “I have a theory that diseases are caused by something other than evil spirits, but I have not yet devised a means of proof.” He added wistfully, “I probably never will.”
Sano had already been exposed to the shogun, but he tied his kerchief around the lower half of his face. Mura, after covering his own face and exchanging his heavy leather gloves for thinner ones, unwrapped Dengoro. The boy’s body, dressed in a green night robe, was stiff and shrunken, the gray skin blotched with darkened red measles rash. Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, his delicate face wore a peaceful expression. Sano felt sorry for this child whose innocence had been destroyed before the end of his short life. At least Dengoro didn’t look as if he’d died violently.
The Iris Fan Page 24
