Laura Joh Rowland - Sano Ichiro 04 - Concubine's Tattoo

by Concubine's Tattoo(lit)

  "Yes, that is the bottle we sent with the letter," Lady Miyagi said calmly. "I bought it. My husband wrote Harume's name on top."

  So they both had handled the bottle. "And when was this?" Sano asked.

  Lady Miyagi considered. "Four days ago, I believe."

  That would have been before Lieutenant Kushida's suspension from duty in the Large Interior, but after Lady Harume's complaint. But Kushida claimed to have had no prior knowledge of the tattoo, and Sano didn't yet know about Lady Ichiteru. Presumably Hirata would obtain the information. For now, the Miyagi seemed the ones with the best opportunity to poison the ink.

  "Were you on good terms with Lady Harume?" Sano asked Lord Miyagi.

  The daimyo shrugged languorously. "We had no quarrels, if that's what you mean. I loved her as much as I'm capable of loving anyone. I was getting what I wanted from the affair, and I presumed she was, too."

  "What was it that she wanted?" The diary explained how Lord Miyagi achieved gratification, but Sano was curious to know why the beautiful concubine had risked her life for sordid, joyless encounters with an unattractive man.

  For the first time, Lord Miyagi looked uncomfortable; his Adam's apple bobbed in the loose flesh of his throat, and he looked to his wife. Lady Miyagi said, "Harume had a craving for adventure, sosakan-sama. The forbidden liaison with my husband satisfied it."

  "And you?" Sano asked. "How did you feel about Lady Harume and the affair?"

  The woman smiled again-a curiously unpleasant expression that emphasized her homeliness. "I was grateful to Harume, as I am to all my husband's women. I consider them my partners in serving his pleasure."

  Sano suppressed a shudder of revulsion. Lady Miyagi reminded him of a Yoshiwara brothel owner, catering to clients' sexual whims with professional skill. She didn't even seem to care how vulgar or perverted she might appear. From down the corridor drifted faint strains of music, and the concubines' voices, singing. Sano suddenly became aware of how quiet the house was. He heard none of the sounds usually associated with a provincial lord's estate-no troops patrolling; no officials conducting business; no servants at work. The solidly built mansion shut out street noises, reinforcing Sano's impression of a closed world. What an odd household this was!

  "So you see," the daimyo said with a tired sigh, "neither my wife nor I had reason to kill Lady Harume, and we didn't. I shall sadly miss the pleasure she provided me. And my dear wife has never been jealous about my liaisons with Harume or anyone else." Raising himself from his cushions, he made a weak gesture toward the refreshment tray.

  Quickly Lady Miyagi said, "Let me help you, Cousin," and poured tea for him. She put the cup in his left hand, a persimmon in his right. For a moment, their arms joined in a circle, and Sano was struck by their resemblance to the Miyagi double-swan crest. A mated pair, mirror images of each other, wings touching, locked in a strange but mutually agreeable union...

  The musky odor grew stronger, as though produced by the couple's contact. Sano perceived between them a deep, emotional connection that did not exclude passion. Weighing the statements they'd given, he found that he believed Lady Miyagi's story of accepting and even abetting her husband's infidelity, but Lord Miyagi's claim of love for Harume rang less true. Had she somehow threatened the marriage? Had one or both spouses wished her dead?

  "Who else had access to the ink bottle before it reached Lady Harume?" Sano said.

  "The messenger who carried it to Edo Castle," said Lady Miyagi, "as well as everyone in the house. The retainers; the servants; Snowflake and Wren. When I brought the bottle home, my husband wasn't here, so I left it on his desk while I attended to other business. Some hours passed before we sent it off. Anyone could have tampered with the ink without our knowledge."

  Was she simply relating facts, or shielding herself and Lord Miyagi by directing suspicion toward other residents of the estate? Perhaps one of them had borne a grudge against Harume. "My detectives shall come and question everyone in your household," Sano said.

  Nodding indifferently, Lord Miyagi ate his fruit. The juice ran down his chin; he licked his fingers. "As you wish," Lady Miyagi said.

  And now for the delicate, critical part of the interrogation, Sano thought. "Have you any children?" he asked the couple.

  Neither husband nor wife altered expression, yet Sano's trained senses detected a sudden pressure in the air, as though it had expanded to push against the walls. Lady Miyagi sat motionless, her gaze fixed straight ahead, a tightness about her jaw muscles. Lord Miyagi said, "No. We do not." Regret permeated his words. "Our lack of sons has forced me to name a nephew as my heir."

  From the strained atmosphere between the Miyagi couple, Sano guessed that he'd touched a vulnerable spot in their marriage. He suspected that each harbored different feelings about their childlessness. And the answer to his question disappointed Sano. Harume's pillow book portrayed Lord Miyagi as a voyeur who preferred self-stimulation to bedding a woman. Did this tendency, combined with his lack of offspring, mean that he was impotent? Was the shogun-weak, sickly, and inclined toward manly love-the father of Harume's child after all?

  Sano dreaded both telling Tokugawa Tsunayoshi that his unborn heir had died with the concubine, and the added pressure to solve the murder case. If he failed, the shogun's unreliable affection wouldn't save him from disgraceful death. And so far, this interview had not incriminated Lord or Lady Miyagi. Yet Sano would not give up hope.

  "Lord Miyagi, I understand that Harume would undress and touch herself, while you watched through the window," Sano said bluntly. He couldn't spare the daimyo's feelings at the expense of his own salvation.

  "My, but the metsuke are efficient," Lord Miyagi drawled. "Yes, that is correct. But I fail to see how my private habits are any of your business." Lady Miyagi neither moved nor spoke, and the couple didn't look at each other, but hostility radiated from them both: Though open about the daimyo's affairs, they resented Sano's quest for details.

  "Did you ever penetrate Lady Harume?" Sano asked.

  The daimyo gave a nervous chuckle, looking at his wife. When she offered no help, he said feebly, "Really, sosakan-sama, this intrusion verges on disrespect toward me, and Lady Harume as well. What bearing can our relations have upon her death?"

  "In a murder investigation, anything about the victim's life can prove significant," Sano said. He couldn't mention Harume's pregnancy before first informing the shogun, who would be angry to hear such important news via gossip instead of directly from Sano. "Answer the question, please."

  Lord Miyagi sighed, then shook his head, eyes downcast. "All right. No-I did not penetrate Harume."

  "Of course he didn't!" Lady Miyagi's outburst startled Sano, as well as Lord Miyagi, who jerked upright. Glaring at Sano, she demanded, "Do you think my husband would be so foolish as to violate the shogun's concubine? And risk death? He never touched her; not even once. He wouldn't!"

  Wouldn't-or couldn't? Here was the passion Sano had sensed in Lady Miyagi, though he didn't understand her vehemence. "You say that you organized your husband's affair with Harume. Aside from the danger, why does the thought of his touching her bother you?"

  "It doesn't." With an obvious effort, Lady Miyagi regained her composure, though an unattractive flush stained her cheeks. "I believe I've already explained my attitude toward my lord's women," she said coldly.

  In the ensuing silence, the daimyo shrank into his cushions as if he wished to disappear behind them. His fingers played with a fold of his robe, savoring the feel of silk. Lady Miyagi sat rigidly still, biting her lips. From down the corridor came the concubines' tinkly laughter. Sano could tell that husband and wife were lying about something: their relationship with Harume, or their feelings toward her? Did they already know about the pregnancy because the daimyo was responsible for it? And why hide the truth? To avoid scandal and punishment for the forbidden liaison-or murder charges?

  "It's getting late, sosakan-sama," Lady Miyagi said at last. Her husband nod
ded, relieved that she'd taken charge of the situation. "If you have any further questions, perhaps you would be so good as to return some other time."

  Sano bowed. "I may do that," he said, rising. On impulse, he said to Lord Miyagi, "What inn did you and Lady Harume use for your meetings?"

  Lord Miyagi hesitated, then answered, "The Tsubame, in Asakusa."

  As the manservant escorted Sano from the room, he looked back to see the Miyagi watching him with grave inscrutability. Once outside the gate, he could almost feel their strange, private world close against him, like a membrane sealing shut. A creeping, unclean sensation lingered, as though contact with that world had polluted his spirit. Yet Sano must probe its secrets, by indirect means if necessary. Perhaps when Hirata traced the poison dealer, the search would lead back to the Miyagi. And there was another side to the story of Lord Miyagi and Lady Harume's affair: hers. An investigation into her life might provide answers that would avert the threat of failure and death that shadowed Sano. But now his thoughts turned homeward.

  Mounting his horse, Sano headed up the boulevard. Lanterns burned at the guarded portals of daimyo estates. The moon rose in the evening sky over Edo Castle, perched on its hill, where Reiko waited. The, thought of her beauty and youthful innocence came to Sano like a purifying force that washed away the contamination of his encounter with the Miyagi. Perhaps tonight he and Reiko could settle yesterday's quarrel and begin their marriage anew.

  15

  The baying of dogs echoed across Edo, as if a thousand beasts heralded the hour that bore their name. Night submerged the city in wintry darkness, extinguishing lights, vacating streets. Moonlight turned the Sumida River into a ribbon of liquid silver. At the end of a pier far upstream from the city rose a pavilion. Lanterns suspended from the upturned eaves of its tile roof illuminated banners bearing the Tokugawa crest and walls decorated with carved gilt-and-lacquer dragons. The water reflected its glittering, inverted image. Soldiers stood watch on the pier and in small craft anchored off the forested shoreline, guarding the safety and privacy of the pavilion's lone occupant.

  Inside, Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat on the tatami-covered floor, studying official documents in the flickering light of oil lamps. The remains of his evening meal littered a tray by his side; from a charcoal brazier, smoke drifted out the slatted windows. This was Yanagisawa's favorite site for secret meetings, away from Edo Castle and any eavesdroppers. Tonight he'd heard reports from metsuke spies who'd just returned from assignments in the provinces. Now he awaited his final rendezvous, which concerned the most important matter of all: the status of his plot against Sosakan Sano.

  Voices and footsteps sounded on the pier. Yanagisawa tossed his papers on a cushioned bench and stood. Peering out the window, he saw a guard escorting a small figure along the pier toward the pavilion. Yanagisawa smiled when he recognized Shichisaburo, dressed in multi-colored brocade theatrical robes. Anticipation quickened his heartbeat. He threw open the door, admitting a rush of cold air.

  Up the pier came Shichisaburo, moving with ritual grace as if entering a No stage. Seeing his master, his eyes lit in convincing delight. He bowed, chanting:

  "Now I will dance the moon's dance,

  My sleeves are trailing clouds,

  Dancing, I will sing my joy,

  Again and again while the night endures."

  This was a quote from the play Kantan, written by the great Zeami Motokiyo, about a Chinese peasant who has a vivid dream of ascending the throne of the emperor. Yanagisawa and Shichisaburo often enjoyed performing scenes from a favorite drama, and Yanagisawa responded with the next lines:

  "And yet while the night endures,

  The sun rises bright,

  While we think it is still night,

  Day has already come."

  Desire spread warmth through Yanagisawa. The boy was a masterful actor-and so arrestingly beautiful. But for now, business took precedence over pleasure. Drawing Shichisaburo into the pavilion and closing the door, Yanagisawa asked, "Have you carried out the orders I gave you last night?"

  "Oh, yes, my lord."

  In the lamplight, the young actor's face radiated happiness. His presence infused the room with the fresh, sweet fragrance of youth. Intoxicated, Chamberlain Yanagisawa inhaled hungrily."Did you have any trouble getting inside?"

  "None at all, my lord, " Shichisaburo said."I followed your instructions. No one stopped me. It was perfect."

  "Were you able to find what we needed?" Despite the fact that they were alone, Yanagisawa followed his usual practice of speaking in a circumspect manner.

  "Oh, yes. It was right where you said it would be."

  "Did anyone see you?"

  The young actor shook his head."No, my lord, I was careful." His mouth quirked in a mischievous smile. "And even if someone had seen me, they wouldn't have guessed who I was, or what I was doing."

  "No. They wouldn't." Remembering their ploy, Yanagisawa smiled, too. "Where did you put it?" The actor stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, and he chuckled. "Superb. You've done very well."

  Shichisaburo clapped his hands with glee. "Honorable Chamberlain, you're so brilliant! The sosakan-sama is sure to fall into the trap." Then doubt furrowed his childish brow. "But what if he happens to miss it somehow?"

  "He won't," Yanagisawa said confidently. "I know how Sano thinks and acts. He'll do just as I've predicted. But if for some reason he doesn't, I'll help him." Yanagisawa chuckled. "How appropriate that my other rival should provide the tool for the destruction of them both. All we have to do is wait and be patient. Right now, I can think of a pleasant way to pass the time. Come here."

  Yanagisawa grasped Shichisaburo's hand, pulling him close. But the boy playfully resisted. "Wait, my lord. I have a surprise for you. If you will please permit me?"

  With a tantalizing smile, he unknotted his sash and let it drop to the floor. Ceremoniously he shrugged off his outer kimono, one sleeve at a time. He stepped out of his flowing trousers. Desire welled in Chamberlain Yanagisawa's throat and groin. No one else undressed with such graceful flair. He couldn't wait to see what new erotic delight the actor had in store for him.

  Shichisaburo's eyes glowed, reflecting his master's excitement. Prolonging their pleasure, he paused for a dramatic moment in his white under-robe. Then he peeled the robe away from his shoulders and let it fall. Triumphantly he flung out his arms, displaying himself for Yanagisawa's inspection. Yanagisawa gasped; his heart lurched.

  Raw gashes marked Shichisaburo's chest. Recent and unhealed, the cuts were red, caked with darkening blood, lurid against the fair, smooth skin. The crudest one bisected his left nipple. Another ran down through his navel, into his loincloth. He looked like the victim of a savage attack.

  "I did it for you, my lord!" Shichisaburo exclaimed."To show that I'm willing to endure pain and suffering for your sake."

  Ritual self-mutilation, performed with swords or daggers, was an age-old practice by which samurai lovers demonstrated their loyalty and devotion to each other. Therefore, Shichisaburo's action didn't really surprise Yanagisawa, now that the initial shock had passed. Amused by the boy's eagerness to please, he laughed.

  "You've done well," he said.

  Shichisaburo knelt. Taking Chamberlain Yanagisawa's hand, he pressed it against the wound on his breast. His skin felt feverish. "With my blood, I pledge my eternal love for you, my lord," he whispered.

  His eyes blazed with passion-genuine, unfeigned passion. The laughter died in Yanagisawa's throat. Stunned, he said, "You really mean it, don't you?" Deep within him, something trembled, like the ground during an earthquake. "Everything you say about your feelings for me, it's all true. You're not just acting. You mean every word!"

  The boy nodded. "At first I was acting," he admitted. "Then I grew to love you." His smile was full of yearning affection. "You're so beautiful and strong, so intelligent and powerful. You're everything I want, everything I could wish to be. I would do anything for you!" He raised Yan
agisawa's hand to his face, pressing his mouth to its palm.

  A torrent of emotion flooded Yanagisawa. First came disbelief that anyone would make such a gesture of self-sacrifice for him. Into his mind flashed a vivid memory. On the day he'd achieved the post of chamberlain, he had hosted a lavish gala at Edo Castle, with music, dancers, Kabuki skits, the best food and sake. All the male guests were subordinates who wanted favors from him. All the women were courtesans bought with his new wealth. No family-he remained estranged from them; no friends-he had none. The guests with whom he'd celebrated cared nothing about him, except for the power he wielded. In the midst of insincere smiles and congratulations, Yanagisawa had experienced a feeling of complete emptiness.

  Now that same emptiness opened into a vast, yawning cavern inside him. From it howled the voice of his soul, demanding the love he craved but had never known. Tears rushed to Yanagisawa's eyes-tears he thought had been spent at his brother's funeral, but had instead accumulated into a huge reservoir of loneliness. Shichisaburo's tribute moved him to the core. He wanted to embrace the boy and sob out his gratitude, to feel tender arms around him while the armor shielding his heart crumbled.