“I can’t leave Kikuko-chan,” she said.
“You coddle that child too much,” Lady Keisho-in said. “She must eventually learn to get along without her mama, and the sooner the better.”
Lady Yanagisawa’s hands gripped the veranda railing. “My husband… ”
As Reiko guessed how much Lady Yanagisawa would miss spying on the chamberlain, Keisho-in spoke with tactless disregard for her feelings: “Your husband won’t miss you.”
“But we will encounter strange people and places during the trip.” Lady Yanagisawa’s voice trembled with fear born of her extreme shyness.
Keisho-in made an impatient, scornful sound. “The whole point of travel is to see things you can’t see at home.”
Midori and Lady Yanagisawa turned to Reiko, their expressions begging her to save them. Reiko didn’t want to leave Masahiro; nor did she want to leave Sano and their detective work. She dreaded ten days of Lady Yanagisawa sticking to her like a leech, and the possibility that the woman would attack her. And Lady Keisho-in posed another threat. The shogun’s mother had a greedy sexual appetite that she indulged with women as well as men. Once, Keisho-in had made amorous advances toward Reiko, who had barely managed to deflect them without bringing the shogun’s wrath down upon herself and Sano, and lived in fear of another such experience.
Yet Reiko dared voice none of these selfish objections. Her only hope of thwarting the trip to was to appeal to Keisho-in’s interests.
“I would love to accompany you,” Reiko said, “but His Excellency the Shogun may need me to help my husband conduct an investigation.”
Keisho-in pondered, aware that Reiko’s detective skill had won the shogun’s favor. “I’ll tell my son to delay all important inquiries until we return,” she said.
“But he may not want you to go,” Reiko said, her anxiety rising. “How will he manage without your advice?”
Indecision pursed Keisho-in’s mouth. Lady Yanagisawa and Midori watched in hopeful suspense.
“Won’t you miss him?” Reiko said. “Won’t you miss Priest Ryuko?” The priest was Keisho-in’s spiritual advisor and lover.
A long moment passed while Keisho-in frowned and vacillated. At last she declared, "Yes, I’ll miss my darling Ryuko-san, but parting will increase our fondness. And tonight I’ll give my son enough advice to last awhile.”
“The journey will be difficult and uncomfortable,” Reiko said in desperation.
“The weather on the road will be even hotter than it is here,” Midori added eagerly.
“We’ll have to stay at inns full of crude, noisy people.” Lady Yanagisawa shivered.
“Highway bandits may attack us,” Reiko said.
Keisho-in’s hand fluttered, negating the dire predictions. “We’ll take plenty of guards. I appreciate your concern for me, but a religious pilgrimage to Fuji-san is worth the hardship.”
She addressed her maids: “Go tell the palace officials to get travel passes for everyone and ready an entourage, horses, palanquins, and provisions for the journey. Hurry, because I want to leave tomorrow morning.” Then she turned to Reiko, Midori, and Lady Yanagisawa. “Don’t just stand there like idle fools. Come inside and help me pick out clothes to bring.”
The women exchanged appalled glances at this foretaste of traveling with Lady Keisho-in. Then they breathed a silent, collective sigh of resignation.
In the cool of dawn the next morning, servants carried chests out of Sano’s mansion and placed them in the courtyard. Two palanquins stood ready for Reiko and Midori, while bearers waited to carry the women in their enclosed black wooden sedan chairs to Mount Fuji. Sano and Masahiro stood with Reiko beside her palanquin.
“I wish I could call off this trip,” Sano said. He hated for Reiko to go, yet his duty to the shogun extended to the entire Tokugawa clan and forbade him to thwart Lady Keisho-in’s desire.
Reiko’s delicate, beautiful face was strained, but she managed a smile. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as we think.”
Admiring her valiant attempt to make the best of a bad situation, Sano already missed his wife. They were more than just partners in investigating crimes or spouses in a marriage arranged for social, economic, and political reasons. Their work, their child, and their passionate love bound them in a spiritual union. And this trip would be their longest separation in their four years together.
Reiko crouched, put her hands on Masahiro’s shoulders, and looked into his solemn face. “Do you promise to be good while I’m gone?” she said.
“Yes, Mama.” Though the little boy’s chin trembled, he spoke bravely, imitating the stoic samurai attitude.
Beside the other palanquin, Midori and Hirata embraced. “I’m so afraid something bad will happen and we’ll never see each other again,” Midori fretted.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” Hirata said, but his wide, youthful face was troubled because he didn’t want his pregnant wife to leave.
From the barracks surrounding the mansion came two samurai detectives, leading horses laden with bulky saddlebags. Sano had ordered the men, both loyal retainers and expert fighters, to accompany and protect Reiko and Midori. He wished he and Hirata could go, but the shogun required their presence in Edo.
“Take good care of them,” Sano told the detectives.
“We will, Sōsakan-sama.” The men bowed.
Reiko said, “Lady Keisho-in, Lady Yanagisawa, and our entourage will be waiting for us outside the main castle gate. We’d better go.”
Sano lifted Masahiro; they and Reiko embraced. Final farewells ensued. Then Reiko and Midori reluctantly climbed into their palanquins. The bearers shouldered the poles; servants lifted the chests. Sano hugged Masahiro close against his sore heart. As the procession moved through the gate, Reiko put her head out the window of her palanquin, looked backward, and fixed a wistful gaze on Sano and Masahiro. They waved; Sano smiled.
“Mama, be safe,” Masahiro called. “Come home soon.”
* * *
2
The Tōkaidō, the great Eastern Sea Road, extended west from Edo toward the imperial capital at Miyako. Fifty-three post stations—villages where travelers lodged and the Tokugawa regime maintained security checkpoints—dotted the highway. West of the tenth post station of Odawara, the highway cut across the Izu Peninsula. The terrain ascended into the mountainous district over which reigned the massive volcano Mount Fuji. Here the Tōkaidō carved a crooked path upward through forests of oak, maple, cedar, birch, cypress, and pine.
Along this stretch of road moved a procession comprised of some hundred people. Two samurai scouts rode on horseback ahead of foot soldiers and mounted troops. Banner bearers held a flag emblazoned with the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest, leading ten palanquins followed by servants. Porters carrying baggage preceded a rear guard of more mounted troops and marching soldiers. Syncopated footsteps and the clatter of the horses’ hooves echoed to distant peaks obscured by dense gray clouds.
Inside the first palanquin, Reiko and Lady Keisho-in rode, seated opposite each other. They watched through the windows as occasional squadrons of samurai overtook them or commoners passed from the other direction. Moisture condensed in the cool afternoon; streams and waterfalls rippled; birdsong animated the forest.
“Four days we’ve been traveling, and we’re still not even near Fuji-san,” Keisho-in said in a grumpy tone.
Reiko forbore to point out that their slow pace was Keisho-in’s own fault. Keisho-in had spent hours buying souvenirs and sampling local foods at every post station. She’d often ordered the procession to halt while she greeted the public. Furthermore, she disliked riding fast. The women had now gone a distance that should have taken them half the time and a fast horseman could cover in a day. And the trip had already taxed Reiko’s endurance.
The group had gotten little sleep due to late, noisy, drunken parties hosted by Keisho-in every night at the inns where they’d stayed. Reiko, forced to share chambers with Lady Yanagi
sawa, had hardly dared close her eyes at all. Now fatigue weighed upon her; yet she couldn’t even doze in her palanquin, because someone always needed her company. Keisho-in didn’t want to ride with Midori, who took up too much space, or Lady Yanagisawa, whose reticence bored her. Midori said Lady Yanagisawa frightened her, and Lady Yanagisawa could bear no one except Reiko. Hence, Reiko divided her time between her three companions.
“This climate makes my bones hurt,” Keisho-in complained. She extended her legs to Reiko. “Massage my feet.”
Reiko rubbed the gnarled toes, hoping not to arouse desire in her companion. So far Lady Keisho-in had satisfied herself with the soldiers, or the ladies-in-waiting and maids who rode in the last six palanquins. But Reiko feared that Keisho-in’s roving eye would turn on her. Estimating at least another two days on the road before they arrived at their destination, Reiko sighed. Mount Fuji, hidden by the clouds, seemed as far as the end of the world, and her return home seemed eons away. She prayed that something would happen to cut short this trip.
The road angled through a gorge bordered by high, steep cliffs. Crooked pines clung to the eroded earth. Pebbles skittered down the cliffs to the road. As the procession moved onward, the cliff on its right gave way to level forest. The road curved out of sight between tall, aromatic cedars on one side and sheer rock on the other. Reiko’s senses tingled at a change in the atmosphere. Suddenly alert, she froze.
“Why have you stopped massaging?” Keisho-in said irritably.
“There’s something wrong.” Reiko put her head out the window and listened. “It’s too quiet. I don’t hear any birds, and no one has passed us in a long while.”
A rush of fear assailed Reiko; her heartbeat accelerated. In front of the palanquin rode Sano’s two detectives, and Reiko saw them turn their heads and sweep their gazes across the landscape, as if they, too, perceived danger. Then she heard hissing noises. Torrents of slender shafts whizzed down from the cliff top. A soldier screamed and collapsed with an arrow protruding from his neck. The procession dissolved into chaos as men dodged the arrows and horses bolted. Reiko ducked back inside the window.
“What is happening?” Lady Keisho-in demanded.
“Someone’s shooting at us. Get down!” Reiko pushed Lady Keisho-in onto the cushioned floor of the palanquin and slammed the windows shut.
More arrows thudded against the palanquin’s roof. Shouts burst from the troops and servants, anxious twittering from the women in the other palanquins.
Outside, the guard captain shouted, “We’re under attack! Run forward! Stay together!”
The palanquin lurched, gathering speed, jolting as the bearers trotted. Hoofbeats pounded amid screams. The air whirred with the quickening storm of arrows. Their steel points clattered on the road, rang against armor, struck human flesh with meaty thumps. Men bellowed in agony, then the palanquin crashed to the ground with an impact that broke the windows off their hinges and jarred Reiko against Lady Keisho-in.
“Our bearers have been killed.” Horror flooded Reiko as she looked outside and saw the men sprawled beneath their shoulder poles. “We can’t move.” Up the road, arrows felled running soldiers in their tracks. Horses galloped past the dead, crumpled bodies of their riders, after the mounted troops of the advance guard. Behind Reiko, the procession had stalled. “And we’re blocking everyone else’s way.”
The other bearers set down their palanquins; porters dropped baggage. The advance guard reversed its flight, hastening to defend the procession. “Everyone hide in the forest!” shouted the captain.
Servants, porters, and bearers fled down the banked roadside, into the shadowy haven between the trees.
“They’re abandoning us!” Lady Keisho-in cried, indignant.
Troops thundered up alongside the row of palanquins, shouting for the ladies to get out. Reiko grabbed Keisho-in by the hand. “Come on.”
As they exited the palanquin, Reiko saw Midori, Lady Yanagisawa, and the female attendants emerge from their vehicles. Then screams blared from the forest. People who’d taken cover there came running out, their faces masks of terror. The woods disgorged upon them a horde of men armed with swords and clad in armor tunics and leg guards, chain-mail sleeves, and metal helmets. Black hoods, with holes for the eyes, covered their faces. The men chased the attendants, slashing their blades at porters who dropped dead on the highway with bloody wounds across their naked backs. The savagery struck Reiko mute; shock momentarily paralyzed her.
“Bandits!” cried Lady Keisho-in.
The other women babbled in fright. The captain shouted, “Ladies, get back in the palanquins!”
Reiko thrust the shogun’s mother inside, leapt in after her, and closed the door. Outside, the attackers slaughtered servants, pursued those who fled.
“Merciful gods,” Reiko said, astounded as well as aghast. “Who dares attack an official Tokugawa procession?”
The captain shouted orders to his army. While a few troops guarded the palanquins, foot soldiers and mounted samurai launched a defense. Blades lashed hooded men; horses trampled them. But more attackers erupted from the forest, outnumbering the sixty troops that had seemed adequate protection during peacetime. Now every soldier battled multiple opponents. Mounted warriors circled, surrounded by their foes, their horses rearing; their blades whistled arcs in the air. Hooded men dropped, but their comrades slashed the riders dead in their saddles, or dragged them down and slew them. Foot soldiers whirled in desperate dances, weapons flashing. Scarlet gashes from enemy blades appeared on their bodies, and their garments flew in tatters, until they expired from mortal injuries.
The shooting from the cliffs continued. Arrows claimed fleeing servants, pierced the throat of a horse that toppled, spurting blood, and crushed his rider. Meanwhile, the attackers continued to massacre the entourage. Forest and mountains resounded with the echoes of yells and clashing blades.
Reiko watched, transfixed by horror. “Those men can’t be ordinary bandits,” she said. “They fight too well. And they didn’t just happen to be here, waiting to rob any rich travelers who come along. This ambush was organized in advance, for us.”
Lady Keisho-in didn’t answer. She stared past Reiko, mouth agape, at the carnage.
“The money we brought might seem worth risking their lives to steal,” Reiko said, “but why kill helpless, unarmed people?”
She listened to the other women sobbing in their palanquins, and she worried about Midori, alone and pregnant and terrified. Reiko remembered her wish for something to curtail the trip, and she tasted bitter irony and guilt.
The road, and the grass at the forest’s edge, were littered with corpses and red with blood. The attackers had chased down the porters, servants, and bearers and slain most of the army. The arrows had ceased. Now a few surviving troops, including Sano’s two detectives, fought the legion of hooded men. Combatants darted and blades slashed, dangerously near Reiko. Bodies struck the palanquin; the flimsy vehicle shuddered. Lady Keisho-in clung to Reiko and wailed. Reiko drew the dagger that she wore under her sleeve, ready to defend their lives.
Soon the number of fighters dwindled; Sano’s detectives were among those fallen. Then the battle abruptly ceased. In the eerie quiet that descended, more than fifty men gathered on the road. Some limped, sporting bloody wounds; their chests heaved with exertion. They all wore hoods. Reiko saw their eyes glint through the holes, heard their breath rasping through the black cloth. Terror constricted her heart. The attackers had defeated the army.
“What are they going to do?” Keisho-in pressed her face against Reiko’s shoulder.
“They’ll take our valuables and leave,” Reiko whispered, though an ominous pang deep within her said otherwise.
A faraway temple bell tolled. The hooded men ignored the scattered baggage. Half of them moved briskly off along the road and into the forest, as if to hunt down escapees. The others moved around the palanquins to the doors, which faced the cliff that loomed some ten paces away. Reiko�
�s stomach twisted, for she saw her fears realized.
“They’re going to kill us all,” she said in horrified disbelief.
Doors clicked open along the row of palanquins. Reiko heard women squealing; Lady Keisho-in mewled. The attackers’ excessive cruelty appalled Reiko. As a hooded man strode toward her palanquin, rage overrode her terror. A fierce will to survive tightened her hands on the hilt of her long, slender dagger. When the man opened the door, Reiko lunged at him. She jabbed the dagger up under his armor tunic and between his legs.
The blade pierced soft, vulnerable flesh and came away dripping blood. The man yowled and doubled over. Keisho-in screamed. Reiko leaned forward and shoved the man. He fell beside the cliff, writhing in agony. Clutching her dagger, Reiko jumped out of the palanquin, hauling Keisho-in after her. They stumbled onto the road. Reiko’s heart thrummed with energy born of crisis. Determined to save her friends, she looked down the line of palanquins.
The attackers dragged out screaming maids and ladies-in-waiting and propelled them across the road toward the forest. Near the second palanquin Lady Yanagisawa struggled, her face blank with panic, against a man who pinned her hands behind her. She jerked wildly, emitting hoarse grunts.
Reiko charged toward them. Lady Keisho-in faltered in her wake, moaning and clutching at her skirts. Reiko lashed her dagger hard across the backs of the man’s thighs, where a gap of exposed skin separated his tunic and leg guards. The man cried out in surprise, let go of Lady Yanagisawa and collapsed, groaning, his severed arteries gushing blood. Lady Yanagisawa staggered free.
At the fourth palanquin, two men leaned in through the door to remove Midori. Her shrill cries rent the air. Across the highway, the attackers lined up maids and ladies-in-waiting by the roadside. One man brandished a dagger, walked down the line, and began slashing the women’s throats. Horrendous gurgles accompanied spewing crimson blood. Women wept, screamed, and begged for mercy.
Sano Ichiro 8 The Dragon's King Palace (2003) Page 2
