The Iris Fan

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Lord Ienobu probably has no idea how big the world is,” Yoshisato said. “He’s never been outside of Edo. But I can thank him for giving me a broader perspective. While I was on the run from him, I traveled all over Japan. One of the places I went was Kyushu. The Tsushima Strait is so wide you can’t see Korea on the opposite shore. I’ve also been to Nagasaki and seen the barbarian ships.”

  “So have I.” Sano recalled how shocked he’d been by that hint of the magnitude and complexity of the world outside Japan. “I’ve seen the foreign maps. Japan is tiny on them compared to China and Europe. I expect they’re more accurate than ours. The barbarians sail all over the world. Nobody in Japan ever leaves. Lord Ienobu’s not to blame for his ignorance.”

  The memory of his years as a prisoner and fugitive darkened Yoshisato’s eyes. “He’s to blame for plenty of other things.”

  Sano realized that Lord Ienobu was to blame for less than he’d originally thought. Lord Ienobu had contrived the murder of the shogun’s daughter, but he hadn’t murdered Yoshisato. He’d humiliated Sano but not done him or his family any physical harm. And if Lord Ienobu attempted to conquer the world, the consequences—Japan defeated, occupied, and plundered by foreigners—wouldn’t be entirely his fault. The real villain in that picture was Hirata. If not for Hirata’s meddling, Lord Ienobu might never have lifted a finger to make his dream of ruling the world come true. But there was one crime that Sano couldn’t yet lay on Hirata. Lord Ienobu was still Sano’s favorite suspect in the attack on the shogun.

  “What should we do with him?” Marume pointed to Manabe.

  “Kill me or let me commit seppuku,” Manabe said with a dignity admirable in a naked, shivering, battered man. “It’s the only way I can restore my honor after betraying my master.”

  At last Sano understood why Manabe had confessed: He wanted someone to stop Lord Ienobu from making a terrible mistake. Sometimes betrayal was a duty as well as a disgrace. And Sano needed one more betrayal from Manabe.

  “You’re not finished,” Sano said. “Did Lord Ienobu send the assassin to stab the shogun?”

  Manabe rallied to resist implicating Lord Ienobu in the worst crime of all. “No.”

  “Oh, give me that cleaver!” Marume said.

  Attempting to sit up straight, Manabe winced in pain. “You can torture me into saying Lord Ienobu was behind the stabbing, but it won’t be true.”

  His conviction persuaded Sano. Yoshisato said, “We’ll take him back with us in case we need him for something else.” He told the gangsters to untie Manabe, then told Sano, “His story won’t stop Yanagisawa and me from going ahead with the war.”

  “If we tell all the daimyo what Lord Ienobu is up to, they might switch sides. He’ll have to surrender.” But Sano knew that was too big a gamble. Manabe’s confession had changed nothing for the better. It had only exposed the worst about Hirata.

  “It’s more important than ever to block Lord Ienobu from inheriting the dictatorship.” Yoshisato said with a sarcastic smile, “Call me a fraud, but when I become shogun, I won’t take Japan to hell in a Dutch battleship.”

  36

  MEN, CLAD IN full armor and organized into regiments of mounted troops and foot soldiers, crowded the courtyard of the Mori estate. Cannons on horse-drawn wagons stood ready to roll when Sano, Marume, Yoshisato, and the gangsters brought in Manabe. Sano had known it in his mind but now he felt it as if a drum had begun to beat inside his gut: The war was really going to happen. He felt it rushing upon him, mowing down all other concerns like some gigantic, many-wheeled machine.

  Yanagisawa was having a last council with Lord Mori and his officers, all of them splendidly dressed in armor and equipped with the wooden drums, the war fans bearing their insignias, and the conch trumpets they would use to direct the battle from behind the front lines.

  “It’s about time,” Yanagisawa said.

  Yoshisato pointed at Manabe, said, “Here’s our first prisoner of war,” and told Yanagisawa about Lord Ienobu’s pact with the Dutch.

  Yanagisawa seemed crestfallen because he’d underestimated Lord Ienobu as well as astonished by the idea of conquering the world. “All the more reason to slaughter the bastard. Put on your armor. We’re ready to go.”

  * * *

  IN THE CORRIDOR inside the guest quarters, Masahiro said to Midori, “Please let me see Taeko!” He was dressed in his armor, swords at his waist, bow and quiver over his shoulders, iron helmet in his hands.

  “No.” Midori crossed her arms, blocking the door to Taeko’s room. “She told me what happened. You broke her heart.”

  “I have to tell her I’m sorry.” Masahiro felt so guilty and awful.

  “Apologies won’t change anything. You’re married to Yanagisawa’s daughter. Any other promises you make to Taeko, you’ll break.”

  Masahiro knew he shouldn’t have bedded Kikuko, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. Even now, when he was about to fight in his first war, the thought of Kikuko was arousing. She was so beautiful, so irresistible, that he’d had her three times during their wedding night. When Taeko had confronted him, he should have apologized right away and begged her to forgive him instead of lying and then blowing up.

  “I’m going off to war,” Masahiro said. “At least let me say good-bye.”

  “It’s no use. She was crying so hard, it made her sick. I gave her a potion to calm her down. She’s asleep.”

  “Then wake her up!” Desperate, Masahiro said, “I might not come back.” He knew the odds were against his side; he could be killed in battle. Sudden awareness of his own mortality knocked his breath out of him. The thought of never seeing Taeko again broke his own heart.

  Midori was unmoved. “It would be better for Taeko if you didn’t come back.”

  * * *

  SANO HURRIED WITH Marume to his chamber in the guest quarters. Marume opened the trunks that contained their armor and laid out tunics, undergarments, chain mail, arm and leg guards, gloves, and helmets that looked like relics excavated from the past. Sano hadn’t seen them in years. He’d fought many battles, but rarely in full armor; there usually wasn’t time to put it on. As Marume donned his padded undercoat and laced his armor tunic over it, Sano called, “Reiko! Akiko!”

  The boundaries of his spirit were dissolving. He wasn’t just himself, an individual anymore. He was melding with the vast pool of other samurai throughout history who’d ridden into battle with the anguish of knowing they might never see their families again.

  Magistrate Ueda shuffled into the room. Sano said, “The war’s about to start. I have to say good-bye to Reiko and Akiko. Where are they?”

  His father-in-law looked a decade older than yesterday, stricken by woe. He held a paper in his hand. “Reiko left this note. I just found it. They went to Edo Castle, to find out if Lady Nobuko stabbed the shogun.”

  Sano snatched the paper. The words wavered before his eyes in a haze of fury at Reiko. Time after time, since they’d first married, Reiko had gone off on her own, against his wishes, orders, and pleas. Every time she’d returned triumphant and unrepentant—except last time. Last time, she’d lost the baby.

  His fury extended to himself. This time it wasn’t only her streak of independence or her desire to solve the crime and save their family that had motivated her to go. She must be so angry at him, and so upset by his failures, that she’d decided to take matters into her own hands. His actions had driven her into peril. But he couldn’t forgive her recklessness. She’d sneaked out the secret exit and gone to the castle—the target of Yanagisawa’s attack—and she’d taken their daughter along.

  Masahiro came in, dressed for combat. “What’s the matter?”

  Sano was so distraught, he could hardly speak. “Your mother and sister are at Edo Castle.” If Reiko was so determined to get in, she somehow would.

  Magistrate Ueda extended his hands to Sano. He was crying. Sano had never seen this strong, dignified man cry, never seen him look so helpless.
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  “Save my daughter and my granddaughter,” he said. “Please don’t let them die.”

  * * *

  FOOT SOLDIERS AND mounted samurai waited inside the front gate of the Mori estate. Behind them, Yanagisawa, Lord Mori, and their commanders sat astride their horses. Yoshisato came riding through the inner gate, clad in black armor with a red-lacquered metal breastplate, accompanied by his gangsters, who were armed with spears as well as their daggers and clubs.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Yanagisawa asked.

  “To fight a war.” Yoshisato’s grin flashed beneath his red helmet. “Where else?”

  “No, you’re not. You’ll stay here until it’s over.”

  Determination hardened Yoshisato’s jawline. “I have a score to settle with Lord Ienobu.”

  Yanagisawa didn’t let on how afraid he was that Yoshisato would be hurt or killed. “Set foot outside these walls, and you could be dead before you ever get near Lord Ienobu.”

  “You think I can’t take care of myself? I’ve been winning fights while you’ve been licking Lord Ienobu’s rear end.”

  Yanagisawa heard a snicker among the troops. He silenced it with a glare. “Your fights were just gang brawls. This is bigger than you can imagine.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “I’ll take care of Lord Ienobu for you. Don’t worry.”

  “You’re not the one he kidnapped. I want his head.”

  Such vengeful bloodlust infused Yoshisato’s voice that Yanagisawa felt a thrill of awe. His son had grown into someone that the gods themselves would be afraid to cross. But Yanagisawa couldn’t risk Yoshisato on the battlefield. If Yoshisato were to die—this time for real—he would die, too, of grief. “If you’re killed in battle, you’ll never be shogun.”

  “Oh, so that’s what your concern for me is all about.” Yoshisato’s eyes glittered with resentment. “You want to safeguard your chance to rule Japan through me.”

  He was so blind to the real reason. Yanagisawa was sorry yet glad. “Yes, if you want to put it that way.” If Yoshisato knew how Yanagisawa felt about him, Yoshisato would throw it in his face. Time was running out; so was Yanagisawa’s patience. “Get inside!”

  Yoshisato sat firm in the saddle, his mouth compressed.

  Yanagisawa called to his personal bodyguards, “Take him.”

  The bodyguards advanced on their horses toward Yoshisato. Yoshisato drew his sword, his movement swift and expert. “I’ll fight them. They’ll have to kill me to keep me here.”

  “All right, never mind!” Yanagisawa said. “You can go. Just stay by me.” He would put himself between Yoshisato and danger.

  “No.” Yoshisato sheathed his sword. “I’m not hanging back with you and the other old men. I’m going with the squadron that invades the castle. I want a crack at Lord Ienobu.”

  * * *

  ACCOMPANIED BY MASAHIRO and Marume, Sano burst into the courtyard where the troops were gathered. Yanagisawa, on horseback amid the commanders, raked a disapproving gaze over him. “Why aren’t you ready?”

  “Call off the attack!” Sano shouted. “My wife and daughter are inside the castle!”

  “So what?” Exasperated, Yanagisawa said, “You should have kept them on a tighter leash.”

  “We can’t invade the castle. They could be killed!”

  “They should have thought of that before they went there.” Yanagisawa spoke with the indifference of a man who cared nothing for his own wife and daughter except as political pawns. “I’m not delaying the invasion for their sake.”

  “You heartless bastard!” Marume said. Masahiro began shouting at Yanagisawa.

  Much as Sano hated to beg Yanagisawa, he fell on his knees. “Just give me a little time to rescue them!” He knew he couldn’t expect Yanagisawa to wait on account of Reiko and Akiko, but he was desperate.

  Yanagisawa looked sorry he hadn’t the time to enjoy Sano groveling to him. “How would you manage to get inside the castle by yourself, let alone get them out?”

  Sano didn’t know. He would think of something. “Please!”

  “Forget it,” Yanagisawa said. “We march at noon.”

  For twenty years Yanagisawa had delivered him blow after blow. Yanagisawa had forced Masahiro to marry Kikuko. And now Yanagisawa would sacrifice Reiko and Akiko to his own impatient lust for power. Never had Sano hated Yanagisawa so much. He grabbed Yanagisawa and dragged him off his horse. “I’ll kill you first!”

  Yanagisawa’s bodyguards hauled Sano away from Yanagisawa. Yanagisawa got to his feet, awkward in his heavy armor. “It’s almost noon. The temple bells will ring soon. You have until they stop ringing to get ready. And then we’re storming the castle whether you come or not.”

  Sano was gasping, near tears. As he made a futile lunge at Yanagisawa, Marume restrained him, saying, “We have to go with them. It’s our only hope of getting inside the castle and saving Reiko and Akiko.”

  37

  THE TEMPLE BELLS rang noon in a cacophony of peals and bongs that called across river and hills, echoed through empty neighborhoods, and faded. A vacuum stilled the atmosphere, as if the city had drawn a huge breath. A moment later the breath was released in the loud, sonorous bellow of a conch trumpet blown inside the Mori estate.

  The Tokugawa army troops outside the estate lifted their heads, startled. More trumpets blared from estates owned by Yanagisawa’s allies. Archers on the roofs fired down at the street. The Tokugawa troops yelled and scattered. Arrows pierced chinks in armor and faces under helmet visors. Men dropped in their tracks or fell off horses. Commanders shouted orders. Their archers shot back. Arrows struck buildings, trees. Gunners on the roofs began firing arquebuses. Shots boomed; gunpowder smoke hazed the air; more soldiers in the streets fell dead. Out from the gates stampeded legions of mounted samurai wearing the crests of their daimyo lords on banners on poles attached to their backs, brandishing swords and spears.

  Inside the Mori estate, behind squadrons of frontline troops waiting their turn to exit, Sano, Marume, and Masahiro sat astride their horses. Sano leaned forward in the saddle, willing the army to move forward so he could go to Reiko and Akiko in the castle. He was so worried about them, and so angry at Reiko, that he couldn’t think about the battle ahead. He had to rescue his wife and daughter. They mattered more to him than the code of honor that required him to fight this war and not care about anything else.

  Was it too late to atone for all the times he’d put them second to honor?

  Marume tapped his shoulder guard. “Stop it! Pull yourself together!”

  The ranks ahead of them moved. Urging his horse forward, Sano relegated Reiko and Akiko to the periphery of his mind. If he was distracted during battle, he would be killed before he could reach them. Conditioned by years of martial arts practice, his nerves calmed; his heartbeats became even, steady, and strong. He was a samurai riding into battle, a part of a force greater than himself. The past was erased, like a story written in sand and blown by the wind. His sole purpose in the present was victory. His future depended on his fighting skills, on the whim of fate.

  Gunfire boomed, echoing off buildings. Swords clanged and men yelled in the streets as fighting broke out. As Sano, Marume, and Masahiro advanced, they exchanged glances, silently wishing one another good luck. Sano noticed Yoshisato and Yanagisawa nearby.

  “What are you doing here?” He’d thought Yoshisato was supposed to stay at the estate and Yanagisawa in the rear.

  “Change of plans,” Yanagisawa said.

  Sano had only a moment to be amazed by how wrong everything was. He was going to war to put Yoshisato—the fraud—at the head of the regime. He was about to risk his life to help Yanagisawa—his enemy—gain control over Japan. Then he was through the gate.

  In the street, Yanagisawa’s troops fought the Tokugawa army. Horsemen against horsemen, foot soldiers against foot soldiers, one on one or in gangs, they plied swords and spears amid yells and collisions. This wasn
’t like the Battle of Sekigahara, when rival warlords had met on an empty field and their armies had advanced in orderly ranks while the generals directed them from opposite ends. This was like every samurai street brawl, but on a grander scale. Bodies already littered the ground. Most wore the Tokugawa crest. The attacks on Lord Ienobu’s army had thinned its ranks.

  Sano forged up the street with his squadron, following the advance troops that plowed through the forces ranged between him and Lord Ienobu. Other troops guarded Sano’s rear and flanked his squadron. Outside this cordon, men fought at half the speed as during an ordinary brawl. Stiff, heavy armor hampered their movements, weighed down their horses. Sano, too, was as much handicapped as protected by his armor. Arrows glanced off it, but his helmet obstructed his peripheral vision and distorted sounds. His tunic dug into his waist and armpits; he or it had changed shape since he’d last worn it. His horse, encased in its own armor, labored under him. The charge toward the castle was as slow as if through sludge instead of air. More soldiers disgorged from other daimyo estates joined the charge. A huge, growing military procession filled the wide avenues. But the Tokugawa army rallied, its soldiers cut down daimyo troops, and Sano saw that casualties on his side were heavy, too heavy. The mist turned to rain. In the distance, cannons boomed.

  The storming of Edo Castle had begun.

  At last Sano and his regiment reached the avenue outside the castle. It was a churning mass of fighters. Ranks had disintegrated as the Tokugawa forces outnumbered and overwhelmed Yanagisawa’s. The brawl had turned into a riot. Fighters ignored the trumpets, yells, and waving fans of the officers. Many had lost track of their mission—they’d reverted to young men caught up in an exciting free-for-all. Sano realized that he himself had lost track of something more vital—his duty. He was about to invade the castle where his lord lived. It was another line crossed. If the shogun were killed during the invasion, that would be blood which Sano could never cleanse off his honor.