Sano Ichiro 4 The Concubine's Tattoo (1998)

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Sano Ichiro 4 The Concubine's Tattoo (1998) Page 33

by Laura Joh Rowland


  "Lying together in the shadows between two existences"; "Your rank and fame endanger us"; "We can never walk together in day-light..."

  To risk the terrible consequences of discovery, Lady Harume and Danzaemon must have been deeply in love. Had the affair turned sour? Was the chief of outcasts her killer? Sano wondered whether he was getting close to the truth about the murder at last.

  "Where can I find Danzaemon?" he asked the eta.

  35

  A painted map of Japan covered an entire wall of Chamberlain Yanagisawa's office in the palace. In a rich blue ocean floated the large landmasses of Hokkaido, Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyushu, as well as minor islands. Black characters designated cities; gold lines defined the boundaries of provinces labeled in red; white lines traced highways; brown peaks represented mountains; blue patches and squiggles were lakes and rivers; green meant farmland. Yanagisawa stood before this masterpiece, holding a lacquer box of pins with round heads made of jade, ivory, coral, onyx, and gold. While he waited for the messenger to bring news that Sano had accused Lady Keisho-in of murder, he planned his glorious future.

  He didn't really expect Keisho-in to be convicted or executed. The shogun would never kill his own mother, or precipitate such a scandal. But neither would their relationship ever be the same. The gentle Tokugawa Tsunayoshi would recoil from the taint of suspicion that would cling to Keisho-in. Knowing what she stood to lose if he begot an heir, he would always wonder whether she was capable of murdering his concubine and child. Yanagisawa could easily persuade him to exile Keisho-in to... The chamberlain smiled as he stuck a coral pin on the remote island of Hachijo. After the shogun's mother was out of the way, he could execute the next phase of his plan. He began sticking pins in the sites of major Buddhist temples.

  During the ten years of Tokugawa Tsunayoshi's reign, a fortune had been squandered on the building and upkeep of these institutions; on food, clothing, and servants for the priests; on extravagant religious ceremonies and public charity. Priest Ryuko, acting through Lady Keisho-in, had convinced the shogun that the expenditure would bring good fortune. But Yanagisawa saw a better use for the money and property. He would expel the clergy and take over the temples, staffing them with men loyal to him. The sites would become his power bases in the provinces. He would establish himself as a shadow ruler-a second shogun, commanding a bakufu within the bakufu. For his headquarters he chose Kannei Temple, situated in the hilly Ueno district north of Edo. He'd always liked its halls and pavilions, its beautiful pond and spring cherry blossoms. Soon it would be his private palace.

  Pushing in a gold pin to mark his territory, Yanagisawa chuckled. The first thing he'd do once he took possession of Kannei Temple would be to host a huge party to celebrate the execution of the traitor Sano Ichiro. Already he tasted the exhilaration of being free of his rival, secure in his unlimited power. He could almost feel grateful to Sano for unwittingly making everything possible!

  Dreams of triumph restored the equilibrium that Shichisaburo's declaration of love had upset. Cradling the box of pins in his palm, Yanagisawa looked ahead to a future where the old hurts and needs of his past no longer mattered.

  At the sound of a knock at the door, his heart leapt. A tingle of anticipation vibrated within him. "Come in," Yanagisawa called, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. The news had come. The future was here.

  Instead of a messenger, in walked Priest Ryuko, saffron robe flowing, brocade stole glittering, an insolent smile on his face. "Good day, Honorable Chamberlain," he said, bowing. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

  "What do you want?" Yanagisawa's disappointment turned to anger. He hated the upstart priest who had parlayed an affair with a foolish old woman into a position of influence. Ryuko was a leech, sucking up Tokugawa wealth and privilege while hiding his ambitions under a cloak of piety. As much a rival for power as Sano, he was a major part of the reason Yanagisawa wanted Lady Keisho-in gone.

  Ignoring the question, Ryuko strolled around the room, looking at everything with great interest. "You have a most attractive office." Inspecting the alcove, he said, "A four-hundred-year-old Chinese vase from the Sung dynasty, and a scroll by Enkai, one of Japan's master calligraphers." Ryuko examined the furniture. "Teak chests and lacquer cabinets from the days of the Fujiwara regime." He fingered the tea service on Yanagisawa's desk. "Koryu celadon. Very nice." Opening the blinds, he beheld the garden of moss-covered boulders and raked sand paths. "And a most beautiful view."

  "What do you think you're doing?" Furious, Yanagisawa stalked over to the intruder. "Get out of here. Now!"

  Priest Ryuko trailed his fingers over the silk embroidery of a folding screen. "I need an office in the palace. Lady Keisho-in has told me to choose whichever room I like. Yours shall do very well."

  Such unbelievable audacity! "You, take my office?" Chamberlain Yanagisawa said with an incredulous laugh. "Never!" Someone was going to pay for this affront. Yanagisawa would punish his staff for letting Ryuko in, then begin a campaign to persuade the shogun to banish him. "And take your hands off that screen!" Seizing Ryuko's arm, he shouted, "Guards!"

  Then he gasped as the priest's fingers locked his wrist in a bruising grip. Smiling straight into the chamberlain's eyes, Ryuko said, "It didn't work."

  "What?" An unsettling sensation crept through Yanagisawa, as if his internal organs were shifting position.

  "Your plot to frame my lady and destroy the sosakan-sama." Gloating in triumph, Ryuko spoke with slow, exaggerated clarity, driving home his point while relishing Yanagisawa's dismay: "It-did-not-work."

  He explained how a music teacher had seen Shichisaburo sneaking around the Large Interior; how the sosakan-sama's wife had deduced that the actor had planted false evidence; how the news had arrived just in time to prevent Sano from making an official murder charge against Lady Keisho-in. As Ryuko's spiteful voice went on and on, Yanagisawa's surroundings seemed to recede in a tide of shock and nausea. The lacquer box fell from his hand. Pins scattered across the floor.

  In a desperate attempt to dissemble, Chamberlain Yanagisawa said haughtily, "Your story is absurd. I have no idea what you're talking about. How dare you accuse me, you avaricious parasite?"

  Ryuko laughed. "It takes one to know one, Honorable Chamberlain. And the truth is written all over you." Looking at the map, he sneered. "You might as well forget about any schemes to take over the country." He began yanking out pins, tossing them on the floor with the others. "Sosakan Sano and Lady Keisho-in have resolved the misunderstanding caused by your trick. Soon the shogun will hear of your heinous attack against his mother and favorite retainer." The priest's desire to gloat had apparently overcome any misgivings about serving advance notice on Yanagisawa. "His Excellency shall come to recognize your true character at last."

  Removing the coral pin from Hachijo, Ryuko said, "I can guess whom you planned to send there." He took Yanagisawa's hand and placed the pin ceremoniously in his palm. "Here. You can trade this bauble for food and shelter when you arrive on the Island of Exile."

  Horror rendered Yanagisawa Chamberlain speechless. How could his clever plot have backfired so horribly? Fear turned his bowels to rice gruel. Finding his voice, he shouted, "Guards!"

  Footsteps pounded the corridor. Two soldiers entered. Yanagisawa pointed at Ryuko. "Get him out of here!"

  The soldiers moved to seize the priest, but Ryuko sailed past them toward the door, saying over his shoulder, "I shan't outstay my welcome." Then he paused and turned. "I just wanted you to know what's going to happen to you," he said, puffed up with his own moral superiority. "This way you can suffer a little longer for trying to harm my lady."

  With the guards following, Priest Ryuko strode out of the room. The door slammed. For a moment, Yanagisawa stared after the harbinger of evil. Then he crouched on the tatami, arms wrapped around his knees. He felt himself shrinking into the miserable little boy he'd once been. Again his back ached from the blows of his father's wooden pole. The sharp voi
ce echoed down through the years: "You're stupid, weak, incompetent, pitiful... You bring nothing but disgrace to this family!"

  Yanagisawa breathed the desolate atmosphere of his youth-that amalgam of rain, decaying wood, drafty rooms, and tears. Now the past had caught up with the present. Ghastly scenarios crowded Yanagisawa's mind.

  He saw Tokugawa Tsunayoshi's face, pinched with hurt and anger; heard him say, "After all I've given you, how could you treat me this way? Exile is too good for you, and so is ritual suicide. For your treasonous act against my family, I sentence you to execution!"

  He felt iron shackles lock around his wrists and ankles. Soldiers dragged him to the execution ground. A jeering horde threw rocks and garbage, while his enemies applauded. Gawkers surrounded him as the soldiers forced him to kneel beside the executioner. Nearby waited the wooden frame on which his corpse would be displayed at the Nihonbashi Bridge. Chamberlain Yanagisawa realized that his father's prediction had come true: his stupidity and incompetence had brought him to the ultimate disgrace, the punishment he deserved.

  And the last thing he saw before the sword severed his head was Sano Ichiro, Japan's new chamberlain, standing in the place of honor at Tokugawa Tsunayoshi's right.

  Hatred for Sano seared Yanagisawa like a red-hot skewer twisted through his innards, rousing him from his paralysis. Anger flooded him like a healing tonic. With great relief, he felt himself expand to fill his adult persona and the world that his intelligence and strength had created. He surged to his feet. He didn't have to yield to Sano, Lady Keisho-in, or Ryuko. He wouldn't give up life without a fight, as his brother Yoshihiro had. Chamberlain Yanagisawa paced the room. Action restored his sense of power. Now he focused all his energy on solving his problem.

  Sabotaging the murder investigation was the least of Yanagisawa's concerns, although he still hoped Sano would fail and disgrace himself. Instead Yanagisawa devised a strategy for combating Sano and Lady Keisho-in's retaliation. Again the plan would accomplish a double purpose. Again it would involve Shichisaburo.

  The actor had ruined Chamberlain Yanagisawa's first brilliant scheme. Yanagisawa regretted becoming so entangled with him. He should have discarded the boy long ago; he should never have let infatuation blind him to the danger of using an amateur instead of a professional agent. In a rare moment of honesty, he acknowledged his mistake. Pathetically hungry for love, smitten with the actor, he'd suffered a fatal lapse of judgment. The howling emptiness still yawned within him; he teetered on the brink. His own weakness and need were his greatest enemies.

  Then Chamberlain Yanagisawa placed the blame where it truly belonged: on the inept, na‹ve Shichisaburo, whom he despised almost as much as he did Sano. Relief sealed the abyss. This time his plan would work. A perfect expression of his genius, it would save him, while ending his disastrous relationship with the actor. His dream of ruling Japan, though deferred, was still possible.

  Yanagisawa's breath came in gasps, as if he'd just fought a battle; exhaustion weakened him. But his smile returned as he gathered up the scattered pins and replaced them on the map.

  36

  On his way to see Lady Harume's secret lover, Sano stopped at Edo Jail. The eta settlement was unfamiliar territory to him, and he needed a guide who could introduce him to Chief Danzaemon. Mura, assistant to Dr. Ito, was the only eta Sano knew. They traveled to Nihonbashi's northern outskirts, Sano on horseback and Mura walking behind him. Beyond the last scattered houses of Edo proper, they traversed an expanse of weed-infested wasteland where stray dogs foraged through piles of trash. On the opposite side was the eta settlement, a sprawling village of huts surrounded by a wooden fence.

  Mura led the way through a gate that consisted of a gap in the rough plank fence, then down narrow, crooked lanes awash in mud. Beside these ran open gutters full of reeking sewage. The houses were tiny shacks assembled from scrap wood and paper. In the doorways, women cooked over open fires, scrubbed laundry, or nursed babies. Children ran barefoot. Everyone gaped, then dropped to their knees as Sano passed: Probably they'd never seen a bakufu official enter their community. Clouds of smoke and steam billowed over the settlement, creating a foul miasma that stank of decaying flesh. Sano tried not to breathe. He'd eaten a hasty meal before leaving Asakusa, but now, as nausea gripped his stomach, he wished he hadn't.

  "It's the tanneries, master," Mura said apologetically.

  Sano hoped he could hide his distaste for the settlement when he questioned its chief. Such different worlds Lady Harume and her lover had inhabited!

  Following Mura down a dim passage, Sano looked into a courtyard. A lye pond full of carcasses bubbled. Men stirred it with sticks, while women sprinkled salt on freshly flayed hides. Cauldrons steamed on open hearths; a partially butchered horse oozed blood and viscera. When a gust of wind wafted rancid fumes toward Sano, he nearly vomited. Feeling immersed in spiritual pollution, he resisted the urge to flee. How could Lady Harume have ignored society's taboos to love a man contaminated by this place? What had brought her and Danzaemon together "in the shadow between two existences"?

  Mura halted. "There he is, master."

  Toward Sano came three adult male eta, walking with brisk, purposeful strides. The middle, youngest one immediately drew his attention.

  Thin as a sapling, his body carried no excess flesh to soften the hardness of bone and muscle. Strong tendons stood out like cords in his neck. Sharp-edged planes carved his face into a pattern of angles. His thin mouth was compressed in a resolute line. Thick, cropped hair grew back from a deep peak above his brow like a hawk's crest. Head high and shoulders squared, he projected an aura of fierce nobility at odds with his patched, faded clothes and eta status. The two swords he wore proclaimed his identity.

  Danzaemon, chief of the outcasts, knelt and bowed. His two companions did the same, but while the gesture humbled them, Danzaemon's dignity elevated it to a ritual that honored himself as well as Sano. Arms outstretched, forehead to the ground, he said, "I beg to be of service, master." His quiet tone, while respectful, bore no obsequiousness.

  "Please rise." Impressed by the chief's poise, which would have done a samurai proud, Sano dismounted and addressed Danzaemon politely. "I need your help in an important matter."

  With athletic grace, Danzaemon stood. At his command, his men also rose, keeping their heads inclined. The eta chief turned a measuring gaze on Sano, who saw with surprise that he wasn't more than twenty-five years old. But Danzaemon's eyes belonged to someone who'd seen a lifetime of toil, poverty, violence, and suffering. A long, puckered scar down his left cheek bespoke his fight for survival in the harsh world of the outcasts. He was handsome in a tough, savage way, and Sano could see the appeal he'd held for Lady Harume.

  Mura performed the introductions. Sano said, "I'm investigating the murder of the shogun's concubine Lady Harume, and I-"

  At the mention of her name, instant awareness flashed in the eta chief's eyes: He knew why Sano had come. His men sprang to attention, unhooking clubs from their sashes. They evidently thought Sano had come to kill Danzaemon for violating the shogun's lady. Although the penalty for attacking a samurai was death, they were prepared to defend their leader.

  Raising his hands in a gesture of entreaty, Sano said, "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just need to ask Chief Danzaemon some questions."

  "Stand back," Danzaemon ordered with the authority of a commanding general.

  The men retreated, though Sano could still feel their hostility toward him, a member of the dreaded samurai class. He faced Danzaemon. "Can we talk in private?"

  "Yes, master. I'll do my best to assist you."

  Danzaemon spoke in the same soft, respectful voice with which he'd greeted Sano. His speech was more cultured than Sano had expected, probably because of his contact with samurai officials. Now Sano found himself subjected to the eta chief's scrutiny. A kind of mutual scenting occurred, as if between two animals from different packs. A crowd of eta gathered to watch. Sano sensed in them a
reverence for their leader that matched any his own people felt toward their lords. Looking at Danzaemon across the vast barrier created by class and experience, Sano knew in a flash of intuition that under different circumstances, the two of them could have been comrades. Danzaemon's slight nod acknowledged that he realized it, too.

  "You're the friend of Dr. Ito," he said. The statement sealed their understanding. "We can go to my house. It's nicer there." His manner conveyed a stoic acceptance of his squalid domain and Sano's authority over him.

  "Yes. Please." Sano gave his relieved assent.

  The house to which Danzaemon led Sano and Mura was larger and in better condition than the others. It had solid wooden walls, an intact roof, and untorn paper panes behind the window bars. Danzaemon's lieutenants stood sentry outside, while Mura tended Sano's horse. Inside the house, people of all ages, far too many for them all to be family members, filled the main room. A blind man and two cripples sat against the wall. Mothers cradled babies who looked too frail to live. Men awaited Danzaemon's counsel. A young pregnant woman passed out bowls of soup. Upon Sano's arrival, all activity and conversation ceased. The adults prostrated themselves, and the mothers pressed the infants' small heads to the floor.

 

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