Sano Ichiro 8 The Dragon's King Palace (2003)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  He bounded to his feet with a sudden, startling roar and charged across the room toward Reiko. The detectives grabbed for him, but too late. Reiko saw the Dragon King raise the dagger at her. His swift, unexpected motion froze her in terror. She saw the desperate intent in his eyes, and her death impending. But Sano moved even faster. He lashed his sword between Reiko and the Dragon King.

  The blade gashed the Dragon King deep across the abdomen. His roar became a squeal of agony. He dropped, spilling blood and viscera from the wound. The dagger fell from his hand. Reiko saw consciousness flee his eyes, and death wipe the expression off his face, even before he crumpled to the floor and lay still. Sano turned her away and enfolded her in his arms. She swooned with horror, delayed shock, and gratitude toward Sano. When her racing heartbeat slowed and her mind cleared, she comprehended what the Dragon King had done.

  “He was a coward to the end,” she said. “He had his men kidnap Lady Keisho-in and the rest of us. He wanted the shogun to kill Hoshina for him. Then he attacked me so you would kill him, because he wasn’t brave enough to commit seppuku. He wanted to die here rather than face a trial, scandal, and public execution.”

  “He’s proved that a coward can do more harm than many a braver man,” Sano said. His voice was hard; his sword dripped blood as he surveyed the scene. “There’s no need to commiserate over his death. Let’s go. He can stay here for now.”

  Before leaving the palace, Reiko leaned over the altar and blew out the candles.

  Sano, Reiko, and Detectives Inoue and Arai exited the palace gate to find the square outside as brightly lit, crowded, and noisy as a temple precinct during a festival. Lanterns ringed the perimeter. Troops milled about or bandaged minor wounds; they swilled sake from flasks while bantering about their exploits during the raid on the island. Others guarded a few of the Dragon King’s men who’d been taken prisoner and now squirmed on the pavement with their wrists and ankles bound. In the middle of the square, Midori and Hirata sat happily fussing over their baby. Near them, Detectives Marume and Fukida lay fast asleep, while Lady Keisho-in regaled General Isogai and the army with tales of her adventures. Reiko hurried to Midori. They exclaimed in delight to find each other safe. Chamberlain Yanagisawa approached Sano.

  “Some of our men are continuing to search the island,” Yanagisawa said, “but most of the kidnappers seem to have been killed or captured. Did you find Dannoshin?”

  Sano nodded, still amazed by the Dragon King’s confession. He had thought he’d learned everything about the man’s crimes before he got here, but the murder that had inspired them had proved to have dimensions he’d never suspected. “I killed him.”

  “Then our mission was a success, and all is well,” Yanagisawa said.

  But Sano thought otherwise. He was troubled by questions about what had happened to Reiko during her imprisonment. He looked at Hirata, and their gazes met. The smile vanished from Hirata’s face. His expression turned defensive. Sano knew he must eventually take Hirata to task for disobeying orders. A sense of unfinished business permeated tonight’s victory.

  Lady Keisho-in clapped her hands. “Listen, everyone,” she ordered. When the crowd quieted and all eyes turned to her, she said, “Thank you for rescuing me. But don’t waste any more time sitting on your behinds and congratulating yourselves. I’m sick of this terrible place. Let’s go home!”

  Amid the general stir of agreement, Reiko spoke: “Lady Yanagisawa is still missing.”

  Sano had forgotten about her; and so, apparently, had everyone else, including the chamberlain. A commotion ensued as the assembly realized that the rescue wasn’t complete. Sano was about to organize a search for Lady Yanagisawa, when Keisho-in said, “There she is!”

  Sano looked in the direction that Keisho-in pointed. He saw Lady Yanagisawa standing alone at the edge of the forest. Her hair and clothes were disarrayed, her posture and clasped hands rigid. With her furtive, wary expression, she seemed a harbinger of trouble yet to come.

  * * *

  32

  Four days after the siege upon the Dragon King’s palace, news sellers hawked broadsheets in the hot, teeming districts of Edo. “The shogun’s mother has been rescued from her evil kidnapper and brought home!” they cried.

  As the news spread through town, gongs rang at neighborhood shrines, where citizens offered prayers of thanks that fortune had spared Keisho-in. Priests garbed in saffron robes marched in processions through the streets, beating drums, to celebrate their patroness’s deliverance. In the Hibiya official district, guards hauled fourteen captive, shackled henchmen of the Dragon King out from Magistrate Ueda’s mansion and bore them off to the execution ground. The officials attending the trial departed the Court of Justice. Magistrate Ueda stepped off the dais and joined Sano, who had testified during the proceedings.

  “Many thanks for saving my daughter,” Magistrate Ueda said. “I hear that Chamberlain Yanagisawa claims the credit for finding and rescuing the hostages, but my sources contradict his story. I’m aware of your role, as are many other people.”

  “The honorable chamberlain is welcome to the credit,” Sano said truthfully.

  “I also hear you’re back in the shogun’s good graces,” Magistrate Ueda said.

  “For however long that may last,” Sano said.

  “And Hoshina has been released from prison?”

  “The shogun issued the order two days ago—as soon as we returned to Edo and delivered Lady Keisho-in to him, along with the Dragon King’s head as proof that her kidnapper had been brought to justice.”

  “It will be interesting to see what becomes of the liaison between Hoshina and Chamberlain Yanagisawa,” said Magistrate Ueda. “But they must be thankful the crisis is past. And we can be thankful that Hirata-san’s new child survived. Her name-day celebration is this afternoon, is it not?”

  “It is,” Sano said. “Will you attend?”

  The magistrate nodded; after a pause, he said, “When I visited my daughter yesterday, she seemed unusually pensive and subdued. How is she this morning?”

  “The same.” All his worries about Reiko assailed Sano. “She won’t tell me what happened while she was captive, other than general details of how all the women were treated. I don’t even know how she got them out of the palace. And there are bruises all over her. Did she tell you anything?”

  Magistrate Ueda shook his head.

  “But I have my suspicions,” said Sano.

  His mind pictured the scene in the Dragon King’s chamber, with the rumpled bed and a woman’s white under-kimono beside it. He thought of how Reiko had known where to find the Dragon King. He wondered what coercion or desperation had made her do. He didn’t want to think about what could happen between a man and a beautiful woman he’d abducted. Rage, jealousy, and helplessness alloyed like hot, molten metals within Sano.

  Magistrate Ueda’s concerned expression indicated that he guessed the direction of Sano’s thoughts. “Would you like some advice?”

  Releasing his breath, Sano said, “I would.”

  “Give her time to open her heart to you, but understand that some secrets are better left untold,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Remember that her spirit is as faithful to you as ever. Don’t judge her on what a madman did to her. Don’t let him drive you apart when you need each other most.”

  Sano appreciated the wisdom of this advice that tempered his inclination to force the issue. “Thank you, Honorable Father-in-law.”

  He took his leave, rather glad that he needn’t confront Reiko, for ahead loomed another confrontation that threatened a relationship almost as important to him as his marriage.

  Inside Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s estate, sunlight dappled a garden that displayed the lush greenery of high summer. But the smoke from funeral pyres hazed the air. Fallen leaves on the gravel paths, and withered blossoms on the lilies, portended the season’s eventual demise. Cicadas shrilled in incessant warning.

  Lady Yanagisawa and her daughter, Kikuk
o, stood hand in hand outside the private quarters. They peered up through the leafy branches of a plum tree at the chamberlain, who posed on the veranda, gazing moodily into the distance. This was the first time Lady Yanagisawa had seen her husband since they’d arrived home. After his troops had invaded the Dragon King’s island, and during the journey to Edo, he’d not even spoken to her. His indifference pained her terribly. Reiko had said that the kidnapping would make him realize he loved her, but it hadn’t. How Lady Yanagisawa hated Reiko for giving her false hope! She was glad Reiko hadn’t drowned, but wished she had.

  Police Commissioner Hoshina came walking around the corner of the veranda toward the chamberlain. Lady Yanagisawa’s blood seethed with hatred for this man who’d usurped her husband’s affections. She saw the chamberlain tense as he turned to face Hoshina. They bowed to each other, and his profile lit up with a joy that his dignified poise couldn’t hide.

  “Welcome back,” the chamberlain said gravely to Hoshina.

  Hoshina’s features were set in a stiff, cheerless mask. “I’m here to fetch my belongings,” he said.

  The chamberlain frowned. “You’re moving out?”

  “Yes,” Hoshina said.

  Though she could hardly believe that anyone privileged to enjoy her husband’s company would give it up, delight blossomed in Lady Yanagisawa. The kidnapping had brought her some benefit after all.

  “But why?” the chamberlain said, his dismay evident. “What happened shouldn’t drive you from our home. You must know I didn’t want to abandon you. I did everything in my power to save you.”

  Hoshina folded his arms. “You let me suffer the worst humiliation of my life. You would have let me die.”

  “Surely you can understand that I only did what I had to do,” the chamberlain defended himself.

  “I understand that you were driven by political expediency.” Hoshina softened his manner.

  “Then stay,” the chamberlain said.

  All his persuasive power warmed his voice, but Hoshina backed away from his extended hand. “I’m not a fool to think you wouldn’t cut me loose again if necessary,” Hoshina said. “I’d rather separate than live in dread of the next time.”

  The chamberlain stared in shock. “Do you mean you’re leaving me?”

  Hoshina nodded, though reluctantly.

  “For good?”

  Unhappy silence was Hoshina’s answer. Lady Yanagisawa felt Kikuko tug her hand. She motioned her daughter to keep quiet so that she could continue spying.

  “I’ll make up to you for all you’ve suffered,” the chamberlain said. Panic laced his eagerness to appease Hoshina. “Do you want a higher position? Or a larger stipend?” He upturned his palms in a magnanimous gesture. “Anything you ask, I’ll give.”

  Lady Yanagisawa watched Hoshina vacillate. She felt the current of passion that still flowed between the lovers. She gripped Kikuko’s hand while her lips moved in silent, incoherent prayer.

  At last Hoshina said sadly, “Nothing you can do will make me forget that you would have sacrificed my life for your own self-interest.”

  The chamberlain dropped his hands. He turned away from Hoshina, and Lady Yanagisawa glimpsed naked desperation in his eyes. He took a few blind steps down the veranda, then rallied and faced Hoshina.

  “All right, I should have defended you instead of deserting you,” he said. “I made a mistake. I was selfish, and stupid.” Lady Yanagisawa was astounded because she’d never heard her husband admit any fault. “I’m sorry I let you down. Please forgive me!”

  Nor had she thought him capable of apologizing or begging. But now he clutched Hoshina’s shoulders in urgent entreaty. Hoshina reached up, grasped the chamberlain’s hands, and broke their hold on him.

  “You’re only making this harder than it already is,” he said in a breathless voice that quavered.

  The chamberlain looked stunned by the rejection. “Have our three years together meant so little to you that you would deny me a chance to make amends?” he demanded.

  A wry, tortured smile quirked Hoshina’s mouth. “If they’d meant more to you, would we be having this discussion?”

  They gazed helplessly at each other. Lady Yanagisawa saw tears glitter in their eyes, and the restraint that kept them from succumbing to desire. Then the chamberlain cleared his throat and said, “Maybe a separation is a good idea. Take some time to recover from your ordeal. Come back when you’re ready.”

  Hoshina shook his head. “I’d rather say good-bye today, while we still have more good memories than bad. I won’t hang about waiting for some bitter end.”

  As he turned to go, the chamberlain said, “I forbid you to go!” The hurt and despair on his face turned to fury. “I order you to stay!”

  Hoshina pivoted. “I’m not your man anymore,” he said, his expression affronted. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

  “You’re mine to command as long as I control Japan,” the chamberlain said scornfully. “Don’t forget that everything you have depends on me. If you walk out of here, you’ll lose it all.”

  Lady Yanagisawa marveled at how suddenly all the tensions in their relationship had exploded and their love had turned to enmity. Hoshina replied with equal scorn: “I haven’t as much to lose as you think, because you haven’t as much control as you once did. A lot has changed, in case you haven’t discovered.

  “While you were off rescuing Lady Keisho-in, the shogun got tired of your son. The position of heir to the regime is wide open. Rumor says Lord Matsudaira’s nephew has the advantage. And I’ve been visiting the daimyo and army officers I befriended while I was helping you build your empire. They’re my allies now. And now that you threaten me, I’ll convince them that we should cast our lot with Lord Matsudaira’s faction.”

  The chamberlain blanched with horror at the realization that he’d lost not only his lover, but his partner in political intrigue, many of his supporters, and his chance to rule the next regime. "So you’ll punish desertion with desertion?” he said. “Well, you won’t get away with it. You’ll live to regret that you betrayed me!”

  Hoshina’s cocksure grin didn’t hide his sorrow. “We’ll see,” he said, and walked away.

  The chamberlain gazed after him a moment. Then he leaned on the veranda railing and buried his face in his hands. Lady Yanagisawa pitied him; but glee sang within her because his troubles afforded her an opportunity. Bereft of his lover, deserted by his friends, he needed someone. And who else could give him more loyal devotion than she?

  Lady Yanagisawa stepped out from behind the tree, pulling Kikuko with her. The chamberlain looked up, and their gazes met. His reflected annoyance that she’d witnessed his defeat, but for once he noticed her; for once he didn’t act as if she didn’t exist. This miraculous event marked a new beginning. Lady Yanagisawa didn’t know how she could replace Hoshina in his affections, or help him achieve his ambitions, but she swore that she would.

  Someday he would love her and value her. Someday he would rule Japan, with her by his side. And when someday came, she need never be jealous of Reiko again.

  Sano, seated behind his desk in his office, looked up at Hirata, who hovered in the doorway. “Come in,” Sano said with quiet formality.

  Hirata entered, knelt opposite Sano, and bowed. His face was taut with the same apprehension that Sano felt. Discord negated their five years of friendship. That this confrontation had been delayed by the aftermath of the rescue mission increased the strain between them. Although Sano hated to punish a retainer who’d served him so well as Hirata had, he must uphold his authority and enforce the discipline required by the Way of the Warrior.

  “Your willful insubordination has dishonored us both,” he said. “Disobeying your master is the worst possible violation of Bushido.” Yet even as he spoke, Sano recalled the many times he himself had bent the rules.

  “A million apologies.” Wringing his hands, Hirata looked sick, terrified, and as ashamed of himself as devastated by the repriman
d. But he met Sano’s gaze and said bravely, “Will you please allow me to explain what I did?”

  Sano frowned, offended that Hirata had the temerity to justify his behavior; but he owed Hirata for services rendered. “Go ahead,” Sano said.

  “When we found the kidnappers, I thought that if we came back to Edo to tell you, they might move the women off the island—or hurt them—before you could get there,” Hirata said. “We had to choose between leaving them at the kidnappers’ mercy or trying to save them ourselves. I made the decision that seemed right.”

  The merit of his rationale occurred to Sano, but so did the risk Hirata had taken. Sano said, “The Dragon King had fifty-two men, by our final count. You pitted yourself and Marume and Fukida against them all. You knew the odds were that you would fail. You also knew the kidnappers had threatened to kill their hostages if they were attacked. You put the women in more danger than if you’d left.”

  Hirata breathed through his mouth; even though chastened by Sano’s argument, he said, “We killed twenty-two of the Dragon King’s men. By reducing their number, we allowed the women to escape from the palace, where he might have trapped and murdered them once you and the army came. We made your invasion much easier than it would have been if not for us.”

  “I realize that. But the outcome doesn’t justify the action.” Knowing he’d often followed the opposite belief and used it to rationalize things he’d done, Sano cursed himself as a hypocrite. “You couldn’t have predicted what would happen when you disregarded my orders. That everything ended well was more a stroke of luck than a credit to you.”

  Hirata bowed his head. Defeat settled upon him like a visible, crushing mantle. “You’re right,” he said. “I did wrong. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

  “I already have.” As Hirata looked up in surprise, Sano said, “If I’d been in your position, I probably would have done the same thing.” He gentled his tone as he added, “I can’t condemn you for wanting to save your wife and child.”