"Not so much amusing as necessary." Sano hoped that making their partnership public would force Yanagisawa to behave honorably, although he had his doubts.
"As for briefing me," Yanagisawa said, "that's unnecessary because I already know everything you know. And I've told you everything Hoshina withheld from you."
They'd talked during the ride to town, but Sano didn't believe Yanagisawa had really made a full disclosure. "I want your metsuke dossiers on the Imperial Court," Sano said, having guessed that Yanagisawa had plundered the records in Edo before he'd read them. "I also want the material you took from Left Minister Konoe's office."
"Fine. I'll send it to Nijo Manor." Yanagisawa sat astride his horse, with his bodyguards flanking him. "That's all I'm willing to do for today. I still feel very unwell, and I need to rest. Farewell until tomorrow."
The chamberlain and his guards rode away. Sano set off toward Nijo Manor. The first thing he needed to do was to see Reiko. Second, he must assign men to spy on Yanagisawa.
When Reiko rode up to Nijo Manor in her palanquin, Detective Fukida was waiting for her outside the gate. "Where have you been?" he cried.
"I've been investigating my husband's murder," Reiko said, climbing out of the palanquin. Afire with excitement, she explained how she and Lady Jokyoden had gone to Left Minister Konoe's secret house in the textile district, then showed Fukida the scrap of notes she'd found in the charcoal brazier. "Look. I'm sure this means the left minister was spying on Lord Ibe, who might be connected to the murders."
Fukida frowned. "You went to the palace?" he said. "On your own?"
"Yes. Lady Jokyoden told me that Lord Ibe has a house in the cloth dyers' district where he stays when he visits Miyako. We must go there right now!"
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Fukida said. "Perhaps we should wait."
"For what?" Reiko said, perplexed, then incredulous. "Do you intend to sit idle while your master's killer goes free?"
Instead of meeting Reiko's eyes, Fukida gazed around the bright, bustling street. "The sosakan-sama told me to watch over you. I must obey his orders. I can't take you to Lord Ibe's house or anywhere else that might be dangerous."
"Then go yourself," Reiko said.
"I can't leave you."
"Where is Detective Marume? He could go."
Fukida looked so miserable that Reiko pitied him, but she was angry at his refusal to help her avenge Sano's death. "All right," she said. "If you won't take me, then I'll go alone."
"I'm sorry, but I can't allow that." Fukida turned to Reiko's palanquin bearers and guards and said, "You're not to take her on any more trips without my permission."
The bearers and guards bowed, chorusing, "Yes, Fukida-san."
"You can't do this!" Reiko cried, infuriated.
"Please go inside, Honorable Lady Reiko," said Fukida.
She glared at him in helpless rage. Tears rushed to her eyes as the grief she'd suppressed all morning resurfaced. Head high, she entered the inn, walked into her room, and shut the door so hard that the frame rattled. Alone, she fought the impulse to lie down and weep. She changed her silk kimono for a simple blue cotton one, and her high-soled shoes for comfortable straw sandals. She strapped a dagger to her arm under her sleeve. Then she peered out the windows and door to look for Fukida. He was nowhere in sight; he'd underestimated her determination. Reiko slipped out of Nijo Manor and began walking.
The hot sun beat down on her. Soon she was drenched in sweat and longing for a cool drink, but ladies didn't carry money, and as a stranger in town, Reiko had no credit with Miyako vendors. Samurai on horseback and peasants carrying loads of supplies jostled past her through narrow streets lined with shops. Dust, horse manure, and filthy water from open drains soiled her shoes and hem. She avoided looking other pedestrians in the eye, praying that no one would accost her. Something in her expression must have warned off predators, because although some men leered, they left her alone. Perhaps they thought she was a madwoman. Exhausted and footsore, she finally reached the cloth dyers' district northeast of Sanjo Bridge.
In workshops, craftsmen stirred steaming dye vats and painted designs on silk. Reiko followed a path beside the Kamo River, seeking Lord Ibe's house. She knew that while the feudal lords occupied grand estates in Edo and their provinces, Tokugawa law forbade them to maintain residences in Miyako. Therefore, a daimyo who desired a home here would avoid the authorities' notice by keeping a modest, discreet establishment. Reiko hadn't asked how Lady Jokyoden knew where Lord Ibe's illegal residence was. She would not allow herself to consider the possibility that the notes she'd pinned her hopes on were irrelevant to the murders and she'd come all this way for nothing.
Along the path on Reiko's right, textile shops crowned the embankment; drying cloth flapped on roofs and balconies. On her left, dyers rinsed long, brilliantly colored fabrics in the river, turning clear water into a sea of painted flowers, landscapes, and geometric designs. Reiko followed Jokyoden's directions up a path leading inland to a neighborhood of narrow, two-story houses behind high fences. Maids and porters hurried down the streets; bearers carried passengers in palanquins. Lord Ibe's house was the second to last on its block, behind a double gate suspended between two square pillars capped with a gabled roof.
Reiko circled the block, covertly inspecting the area. Other houses showed signs of life-maids shaking brooms out windows, children playing in front-but bamboo blinds covered the balconies of Lord Ibe's place. During an hour of watching, Reiko didn't see anyone enter or leave. Nervously, she walked up to the gates and knocked on the wooden planks.
No answer came. Reiko knocked again, louder. She heard the rasp of a sliding door, and footsteps. Then came the metallic scrape of a bar drawing back; the gates parted to reveal a man dressed in a short brown cotton kimono. He had the thick build and close-cropped hair of a laborer. Suspicion darkened his pockmarked features as he looked Reiko up and down.
"Yes?" he growled.
His unfriendly manner and disreputable appearance intimidated Reiko. "I-I'm looking for Lord Ibe," she said.
"Nobody by that name here."
The man started to close the gates. "Wait," Reiko said, pushing against them. "I know this house belongs to Lord Ibe. I must speak to him."
A lascivious smile came over the man's face. "You're wrong," he said, "but maybe you should come in anyway. We could have fun with a pretty girl like you." He reached over and chucked Reiko under the chin.
She recoiled at the liberty. "Who are you?" she asked, trying to sound stern.
"None of your business. Who do you think you are?" The man scowled, obviously displeased that a woman should dare to question him.
"Who's in there?" Reiko persisted. "What's going on?"
"Get lost, girl."
The man slammed the gates shut. Reiko heard the bar slide into place. She looked up at the house in desperation. The man had acted as if he had something to hide. She had to know what Left Minister Konoe had discovered here, because this represented her only chance to solve Sano's murder. But how could she, a woman alone, find out the secrets of the house?
Reiko hurried to the gate of the house behind Lord Ibe's and knocked. A maid answered. "Yes, madam?"
"Excuse me," Reiko said, arranging her face in an apologetic smile, "but I wonder if I could use your place of relief?" This was the polite term for the privy. "I'm sorry to bother you, but it's an emergency...."
"Yes, of course." The maid smiled back, eager to help a lady in need. "Come this way."
She led Reiko around the house, into a narrow backyard that contained a fireproof storehouse and a privy shed.
"Thank you, you're so kind." Feigning casual interest, Reiko pointed at the daimyo's house and said, "Who lives over there?"
"Some men.... I don't know who they are."
"How many?"
Puzzled, the maid shook her head. "They keep to themselves." She opened the privy door. "If you need anything, just call."
&nb
sp; "Many thanks." Reiko went into the privy, waited until the maid was gone, then came out again. She surveyed the yard. Along the fence lay rakes, baskets, urns, a wooden barrel. Quietly Reiko overturned the barrel, stood on it, and peered over the fence. She saw a yard similar to the one she was in, with a storehouse and privy. Wooden bars shielded the back windows of Lord Ibe's house. As Reiko watched, the door opened, and a muscular man dressed in a loincloth emerged. His body was covered with tattoos, a mark of the gangster class. Leaving the door ajar, he went into the privy.
That open door exerted a powerful, tempting pull on Reiko. Spurning caution, she started to climb the fence. When her long, full robe hindered her, she impatiently tied the skirts around her hips. She eased herself down on the other side, then tiptoed across Lord Ibe's yard. The presence of a gangster and a peasant ruffian in a daimyo's house signaled trouble, and Reiko had no doubt that the left minister's notes referred to their activities. Peeking in the back door, she saw a dim, vacant corridor with rooms opening off it. She glanced toward the privy. Grunts issued from the man inside. Reiko slipped through the door of the house and stood with her back pressed against the wall. Hearing male voices, she tensed.
Footsteps creaked above the ceiling: The men were upstairs. Even armed with a dagger, Reiko had no desire to confront them alone. She'd thought that grief had put her beyond caring what happened to her, but now she regretted her impulsiveness; it was all too clear what men would do to a young female trespasser. She wanted to leave, but then she heard footsteps behind her, outside: The gangster was coming.
Reiko darted down the corridor and through the nearest door, into a storeroom crammed with boxes. Holding her breath, she waited until the man walked past. Planks squeaked as the gangster mounted the stairs. A bitter odor caught Reiko's attention. She looked around, and when her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw wall racks full of spears, swords, and bows. Stacked wooden chests almost covered the floor. Curious now, Reiko lifted a lid. She found a suit of armor.
Uneasiness stirred within her. The odor grew stronger as she moved toward the door leading into the adjacent room. It held more chests. Reiko opened one, and her heart lurched. Inside lay a cache of arquebuses-long, tubular steel guns. Barrels, round wooden boxes, and square wicker baskets stood nearby. When Reiko pried the lid off a barrel, the smell billowed up into her face, smoky and acrid. She dipped a finger into fine black granules. Though she'd never seen gunpowder before, she knew this must be it. In the boxes she found spherical iron bullets. The baskets contained arrows. Reiko wouldn't have been surprised to find swords and spears in a daimyo's house, though not in such huge quantity. And guns were reserved for the sole use of the Tokugawa, but she'd just discovered enough weapons and ammunition to equip a small army.
The implications of the discovery stunned and enlightened Reiko. Left Minister Konoe must have watched men gathering at the house, bringing the arsenal. Surely this activity was the object of the surveillance mentioned in his notes. If Reiko was correct about the purpose of the weapons, then here was a secret that constituted the true motive for Konoe's murder.
Reiko hastened to the door, looked cautiously, and saw no one. Even though the temptation to flee was overpowering, she forced herself to move down the corridor, toward a flight of stairs that led to the second story. The voices sounded louder; Reiko discerned at least three different men speaking. Slowly she ascended the stairs, easing her weight down on the creaky planks. Fear nauseated her, and the sweat on her skin turned cold; she held herself rigid, fighting the sickness. Telling herself she must be strong for Sano, she climbed higher and saw another empty corridor that extended past more doors. The voices came from the second room on the right. Tiptoeing up the last steps, Reiko emerged into hot, stuffy air thick with tobacco smoke. Muddy daylight filtered through the balcony blinds and the paper walls of the corridor. Reiko crept to the doorway of the second room and listened.
"You shouldn't have been so rude," said a young man's worried voice. "You made her suspicious."
There were murmurs of agreement. Then another man spoke with defensive belligerence: "Who cares what some stupid woman thinks?"
Reiko recognized the voice of the fellow at the gate. "She's probably just some whore that Lord Ibe uses when he's in town, and that's how she knows this is his house. Anyway, she's gone."
"You should never open the gate without looking to see who's there, Gorobei-san," another man said in cultured Miyako speech.
"I thought it was Ikeda, with another load of weapons," Gorobei said sullenly. "I already said I was sorry."
"I am afraid that this matter is far from done. You know how whores gossip. What if that one has clients in the bakufu and tells them there's something funny going on here? They could send troops to raid us."
"They won't bother," said a different voice. "Even if they believe her, those bakufu bureaucrats are lazy."
"It was a mistake to use our master's place, even though he won't be back until winter," fretted the first man.
"Well, where else could we go that's big enough, private enough, and right in town?"
These two must be Lord Ibe's retainers, assigned to guard the property, Reiko realized. Instead, they'd taken advantage of his absence by turning the house into an armed fort.
"We shouldn't be doing this, it's too dangerous."
"I'm sick of your whining. Shut up!"
The man with the cultured voice said, "We've no more time for argument. We must figure out what to do so that Gorobei's carelessness won't jeopardize our mission."
The nature of that mission seemed obvious to Reiko. The conspirators were planning a military assault. She didn't think it involved feuding peasant gangs; that wouldn't have required illegal weapons, or interested the metsuke. The mission could be nothing less than a revolt against the Tokugawa. This threat was the reason for the law that prevented daimyo from gathering troops and arms in Miyako-so they couldn't seize the old capital as the first step toward taking over Japan. Horror and elation filled Reiko as she realized that the conspiracy must include many people besides the ones here, at least one of whom was likely to be involved in Sano's murder.
A sudden, ominous silence in the room alerted her. Then the man with the cultured voice said, "There is someone else in the house."
Reiko froze, aghast.
"How do you know?" Gorobei asked.
"I can feel it."
"You're just nervous," said one of the guards. "It's all in your imagination."
"After the unfortunate incident that just occurred, I refuse to take any chances. Come. We shall check downstairs."
Reiko darted into the adjacent room, hid behind a cabinet, and watched the men file past the door. First came a priest with a shaved head and athletic build, dressed in a saffron robe and carrying a spear. Then came three samurai, swords drawn, wearing the square Ibe crest on their robes: the guards. Gorobei, the gangster, and three more tough-looking peasants, all bearing stout clubs, and two shabbily attired samurai who appeared to be ronin, followed. Their grim expressions told Reiko that they would kill her if they caught her. Heart pounding in panic, she rushed onto the balcony. She pushed aside the bamboo blinds and looked outside.
The balcony overhung the side fence. Directly opposite stretched the balcony of the house next door. As Reiko climbed onto the rail, she heard the men moving about downstairs. She perched for a moment, then sprang with all her strength. She sailed through the air like a large, awkward bird and landed on the other balcony, taking the impact on her knees and forearms to protect her womb. Huddling there for a moment, she sobbed in relief. Then she rose and lowered herself over the rail to the ground and hurried in the direction of Nijo Manor.
She must tell Marume and Fukida what she'd seen in Lord Ibe's house and convince them to do something about it.
19
Twilight had dissipated the worst heat of the day and dimmed the sky to misty gray when Reiko got back to Nijo Manor. She went to look for Detective Fukida,
but neither he nor Sano's other men were in their quarters. Her maids had vanished, too. Covered with sweat and grime, hair disheveled, and weary to the bone, Reiko shut herself in her room to wait for Fukida because she couldn't go to the authorities by herself; they probably wouldn't even give a woman an audience. She drank water and wiped her face with a damp cloth and thought about taking a bath, but it seemed like too much work. She lay down to rest, letting the mild breeze from the windows waft over her.
But sleep wouldn't come, despite her exhaustion. In desolation, she realized she'd almost convinced herself that if she worked hard enough, Sano would return to her. She'd still believed he was out in the world somewhere, and if she demonstrated enough strength and courage, they would be reunited. But of course, avenging his murder wouldn't bring him back. Grief wracked her body, and she wept.
The door opened. Through her tears, Reiko saw a man silhouetted in the light from the corridor. He had a samurai's shaved crown and swords, and Sano's dimensions. Reiko felt a spring of hope, then crushing disappointment as she recognized another illusion created by the same wishful thinking that had populated Miyako with men who resembled Sano. It was probably just a nosy guest.
Laura Joh Rowland - Sano Ichiro 05 - Samurai's Wife Page 20
