Laura Joh Rowland - Sano Ichiro Samurai Detective 02 - Bundori

by Bund

"What's wrong?" he asked.

  She bowed her head, and he felt her withdraw from him as before. What caused her strange mood shifts? Fearing that she would retreat farther into herself, he didn't press for an explanation. "I think you were right when you said that the killer wanted to destroy both Kaibara and his ancestor," he said, eager to reestablish their rapport. "If you have more ideas, I want to hear them."

  "I'm sorry, I have none." Aoi's low voice was strained. She removed the swords and label from the altar, placing them on the floor. "May I go now?"

  "Wait." Sano sensed she was withholding something-and he didn't want her to leave him alone.

  She stayed, but only out of obedience, he could tell, her reserve impenetrable in its polite blankness. He decided he'd wrongly perceived a mutual attraction between them. Out of pride-and respect for her wishes-he wouldn't force her to stay. But the late hour, the quiet house, and his own loneliness fostered in him an overpowering urge to confide in someone.

  "Aoi. I need whatever help you can give. This investigation is important to me, and not just because the Bundori Killer must be captured and brought to justice."

  He detected a glimmer of response in her eyes: She was not indifferent to his plight. Encouraged, he continued.

  "Before my father died, I-" His voice broke on the grief that always overwhelmed him when he spoke of his father. He paused while his tears blurred the flickering candles and he struggled to contain his emotions. "I promised him that I would perform a heroic act that would secure our family a place of honor in history. But now I'm afraid of bringing disgrace upon our name, instead of glory."

  Then his face went hot with shame. A proper samurai stoically hid private thoughts. Somehow Aoi had inspired him to voice his, and how wonderful the release of it! But wouldn't she despise him for his cowardice? Yet the deep empathy he saw in her eyes surprised and warmed him.

  "We make commitments that are hard to keep," she said quietly. "And sometimes the biggest obstacles are within ourselves. Can we ever be strong enough to overcome them?"

  Behind her enigmatic facade, Sano glimpsed a woman capable of understanding the conflict between duty and self that warred in him. She'd experienced it, too. And the cautious wonder in her eyes mirrored his dawning recognition of a kindred soul. For a timeless interval, they contemplated one another in ishin-denshin: the wordless, heart-to-heart communication so prized in a society that left deep feelings unspoken. A wild mixture of elation and dread swelled Sano's heart. What he felt for Aoi, he'd never felt for any woman before. It went beyond sexual desire and inflamed his spirit with a fierce joy; it obliterated all considerations of rank and class.

  And terrified him. Because although love affairs were common for members of his class, he knew that many a samurai had let an unwise romantic infatuation wreak havoc with his finances, distract him from duty, and weaken his character, thereby ruining his future prospects. Sano thought of all the financial and political advantages of marrying into the Ueda family. That these seemed less attractive than the thought of taking Aoi to his bed, of knowing her in every way, signaled the danger of giving his emotions free rein.

  Then Aoi stood. Before she bolted for the door, Sano saw her eyes turn glassy with horror. That she seemed to welcome their changed relationship even less than he both hurt and reassured him. For the sake of the investigation, he must see her again; but for his own good, they must never cross the boundary between work and love.

  Chapter 14

  I hereby call to order this meeting of the, ahh, Council of Elders. " With an air of regal authority, the shogun spoke from the head of Edo Castle's great audience hall, where he sat upon the dais. At his back, a landscape mural rich with gold leaf set off his brilliant silk robes.

  The floor before him formed two descending levels. On the higher, Chamberlain Yanagisawa knelt nearest the shogun, at his left and turned so that he could see both his lord and the rest of the assembly. The five elders knelt in two rows on the same level, at right angles to the shogun and facing each other. Hereditary Tokugawa vassals who advised the Tokugawa on national policy, they comprised the bakufu's highest echelon. Servants unobtrusively refilled the tea bowls on standing trays before them and supplied tobacco and metal baskets of lit coals for their pipes.

  The lower level belonged to lesser officials scheduled to present reports. Sano, cold and tense with anxiety, knelt among these. He tried to review his speech, but nervousness ruined his concentration. His thoughts strayed to last night, and Aoi.

  Tokugawa Tsunayoshi concluded his opening remarks, then nodded to his chief secretary, who headed a battery of clerks seated at desks beneath windows that ran the length of the room. "Proceed."

  "The first item on the agenda," the secretary announced, "is Sosakan Sano Ichiro's report on his inquiry into the Bundori Murders."

  Interest enlivened Tokugawa Tsunayoshi's features. "So, ahh, sosakan, what have you to tell us?" he asked.

  Sano's heart did a quickening drumbeat inside his chest; as he rose, walked to the front of the assembly, and knelt, he held his body rigid to still its trembling. "Your Excellency, it is my privilege to present my progress report," he said, praying that his voice wouldn't waver. "I hope my unworthy efforts will meet with your approval."

  Conscious of all the eyes focused on him, Sano summarized the results of his investigation, encouraged by the fact that the shogun, not Chamberlain Yanagisawa, had opened the discussion. The chamberlain smoked his pipe in attentive silence, his expression neutral. The elders followed his example. The shogun leaned forward, eyes alight with the same enjoyment with which he viewed theatrical auditions. His face showed surprise at each new clue, excitement over the assassination attempt, and satisfaction when Sano presented his theory about the murders and his plans to interrogate General Fujiwara's descendants if he couldn't trap the killer at the house where Aoi claimed he would be tonight. Finishing his recital in a tentative glow of success, Sano held his breath, awaiting the shogun's response.

  "Ahh, splendid!" Tokugawa Tsunayoshi exclaimed. "Well done, Sosakan Sano."

  He clapped his hands in hearty applause. After a moment, everyone else did, too. The elders' stern faces betrayed hints of approval-here a faint smile, there a raised eyebrow. Yanagisawa's features had hardened into a rigid mask that moved only when he parted his lips to remove his pipe. But Sano, almost giddy with relief, didn't care. The shogun had rescued him from Yanagisawa's conniving. Now he could pursue his investigation with the greater chance of success that his lord's favor would surely bring.

  "Sosakan Sano does indeed deserve Your Excellency's praise,"

  Chamberlain Yanagisawa said with warm sincerity. His stony expression altered to one of pleased surprise. Sano breathed even more easily. The shogun's approval meant that Yanagisawa must put aside whatever grudge he held.

  Then the chamberlain said with a delicate shrug, "It does not really matter that the suspect has not been located yet. Although it seems as if a lame, pockmarked man should be easy enough to find. Nor should we chastise Sosakan Sano for failing to prevent another murder, or to control the resulting unrest in the city."

  "No. " The shogun's enthusiasm faded visibly; doubt pursed his mouth. "After all, not much time has passed since the first murder, has it?"

  Silk robes rustled as the elders shifted position and set down their pipes in response to the changed atmosphere. The assembly stirred. An iron band of dread closed around Sano's throat as he fathomed Chamberlain Yanagisawa's intent.

  "Only two days, Your Excellency." Yanagisawa's inflection made it sound like years.

  In the No theater, Sano had watched Yanagisawa dominate the shogun by possessing knowledge, which conferred power. During their private audience, Yanagisawa had manipulated Tokugawa Tsunayoshi by catering to his desires. Now Sano saw another way in which the chamberlain usurped the shogun's authority. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi was a natural follower who craved approval. Yanagisawa-with all the ruthless strength of character absent in his lord
-undermined the shogun's weak self-confidence by playing upon this need.

  "Nor should we attribute importance to the fact that Sosakan Sano has presented no evidence to support his theory about the murders," Yanagisawa continued. "Although without such proof, the theory seems. " Ridiculous, said his quick glance skyward.

  The shogun frowned and nodded. And Sano, locked into silence by Bushido's code of unwavering, unquestioning submission to his superiors, couldn't expose Yanagisawa's ploy, or prevent Yanagisawa from emphasizing the faults in his report. The incredible irony of the situation! While his own adherence to Bushido seemed likely to ruin him, the chamberlain, by defying its tenets, had risen to a position of unchallenged power. Helpless outrage erupted within Sano. To maintain the required, respectful silence took all his self-discipline.

  Now Senior Elder Makino took up the chamberlain's argument. "I would like to know what motive of General Fujiwara's could possibly survive his death and induce a descendant to commit murder a hundred years later." Makino laughed, an obscene cackle. "The notion seems fantastic."

  "Yes, Makino-san," the shogun said humbly, "I must agree that it does."

  "Well, then." Yanagisawa shot Sano a triumphant glance, drawing on his pipe and exhaling smoke with an air of finality.

  Everyone else turned to look at Sano, most with hostility, a few others sadly; none offered support. Fear of punishment held them in Chamberlain Yanagisawa's thrall. Sano's chest constricted in terror as before his eyes the hall turned into a battlefield. He could almost smell acrid gunpowder and burning castles. Yanagisawa had declared open war on him, and had among his allies the most powerful men in the bakufu.

  "Furthermore," Yanagisawa continued, "Sosakan Sano has exhibited a most disturbing character trait." Having swayed the shogun to his viewpoint, he didn't bother hiding his contempt. "He has refused the police's help, working alone in an attempt to win all the credit for solving the case. Obviously, self-aggrandizement is more important to him than saving lives."

  Sano could restrain himself no longer. "That's a lie!" he blurted. "The police were ordered not to help me. And-"

  Absolute silence. The elders toyed with tea bowls and pipes. An uncomfortable tension gripped the assembly. The shogun frowned at the floor. Chamberlain Yanagisawa alone looked directly at Sano.

  And smiled. Too late Sano realized that the elders were more shocked by his contradiction of their superior than interested in learning the truth. He'd lost favor with Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, who had a ruler's dislike of direct challenge and a refined man's abhorrence of open argument. Yanagisawa had set him up. He'd taken the bait and fallen headlong into the trap.

  As if nothing had happened, Chamberlain Yanagisawa turned to the shogun. "In view of Sosakan Sano's incompetence, I recommend that he be relegated to a position in which he is less likely to endanger national security."

  Tokugawa Tsunayoshi's brow furrowed. "Such as?"

  Don't condemn me yet! Sano clenched his teeth to hold back another outburst that would only worsen his predicament.

  Makino cleared his throat with a repulsive, death-rattle sound. "With all the troubles on Sado Island, we could use a new administrator there."

  Yanagisawa's dark eyes sparkled with malevolent delight. "A splendid suggestion. What do you think, Your Excellency?"

  A spasm of horror clutched Sano's heart. Sado Island was a cold, hellish prison colony far from the mainland, many days' journey over troubled northern seas. Violent criminals were exiled there to labor in underground mines. Sano knew what would happen if he went to Sado Island: Yanagisawa would make sure he never came back. If he didn't get killed during one of the frequent insurrections, he would surely fall victim to famine or disease. In any case, his spirit would die of disgrace long before his body did. He would lose his chance to fulfill his promise to his father, and he would never see Aoi again. Father, he prayed silently, help me save myself! He sent the shogun a wordless plea for the rescue he surely deserved.

  "Well, ahh, Chamberlain Yanagisawa," said the shogun hesitantly, "something must be done about Sado Island."

  He returned Sano's gaze with one both stern and apologetic. Apparently he hadn't forgotten the service Sano had rendered him, but lacked the energy and courage to oppose Yanagisawa and his cronies. Sano could already feel the motion of the ship carrying him across the sea; he sensed the other men in the room recoiling from him, as if to avoid the taint of disgrace. His stomach rolled with nausea and shame.

  Then the shogun said, "Sosakan Sano, your performance has been disappointing thus far." He lowered his eyes, perhaps ashamed of his weakness. "But I am a generous man."

  Sano's heart leapt at the hope of reprieve.

  "I give you five more days to catch the Bundori Killer. If you fail to do so within that time, then you can try your hand at, ahh, prison administration. Dismissed."

  Chapter 15

  Five more days to catch the killer, to restore peace to the city, and to save himself from utter disgrace.

  In a panic, Sano rushed from the audience hall to the castle archives to see if Noguchi had located General Fujiwara's descendants. But the archivist's clerks said he was still researching at the Ministry of Shrines; he'd sent back no message for Sano, and given no indication of when he might return. Sano then hurried to the police compound, taking his own horse and another from his stable, both saddled and provisioned for a journey. Aoi's new lead was the only one that promised quick success. He would need help finding the house and capturing the killer, and didn't know if Hirata, as a low-ranking samurai, owned a horse.

  "In her vision, Aoi saw the killer crossing a high bridge over a wide river," Sano told Hirata as they rode across the Ryogoku Bridge. The great wooden arch spanned the Sumida River, connecting Edo with the rural districts of Honjo and Fukagawa on the eastern banks.

  Hirata followed at a trot, bouncing only a little in the saddle. The awkwardness with which he'd first mounted and handled the horse attested to his lack of riding experience. Yet he seemed a natural horseman, learning by instinct as well as by observation.

  When he spoke, however, his abashed tone didn't reflect this growing equestrian confidence.

  "Gomen nasai-I'm sorry for not being able to find the suspect or any more witnesses," he said.

  "Hopefully, after tonight, that won't matter."

  As they crested the bridge's arch, Sano darted wary glances at the other travelers streaming past them. A more immediate threat than the shogun's punishment haunted him. Someone wanted him dead-and likely wouldn't stop after one failed attempt. When would the next assault come? Was that hatted and cloaked samurai following them, awaiting the right moment to attack?

  Sano peered between the bridge's railings. Far below, ferries, barges, and fishing boats floated on the swiftly flowing brown water. A ferryman lifted an oar in greeting. Sano looked away. Overnight, all of Edo had turned sinister. Every stranger was possibly the agent of an unknown enemy; every encounter promised danger. Hirata, whom Sano had told about the attack, stuck close by, hand on his short sword, ready to defend his superior. His protectiveness touched Sano, but Hirata's presence posed another dilemma. Remembering another young assistant he'd once had, who had been murdered while accompanying him on an investigation, he would rather face danger alone than risk Hirata's safety.

  They reached the river's eastern bank, where warehouses, piers, and docks lined the water's edge. Beyond these, a jumble of houses, shops, and open markets comprised a flourishing suburb. To the north rose the E-ko-in-Temple of Helplessness-built upon the burial site of the victims of the Great Fire thirty-three years ago. Sano led the way south along a road that ran past the warehouses and paralleled the river.

  "Aoi saw the killer pass piles of wood and canals with logs floating in them," he explained.

  Hirata nodded. "The Honjo lumberyards."

  The road ended at the Tatekawa River, a small tributary of the Sumida. In the lumberyards lining its banks, laborers cut and planed timbers, and stacke
d finished boards on barges bound for the city. The clear morning air rang with men's shouts and the rasp of saws and scrapers. Sunlight filtered through a golden haze of sawdust that bore the winy scent of freshly cut wood. A network of canals branched off the Tatekawa River, all choked with logs transported from the eastern forests. Burly men walked along the logs as easily as on land, guiding them with poles.

  While Hirata stood watch for assailants, Sano asked the lumbermen if they knew of an abandoned house in the marshes, at the intersection of two canals, that somehow resembled a samurai's helmet.

  "Nothing like that on our route," said the foreman of a log transport team.

  "No. But then, I don't go out in the marshes much." This answer came from woodworkers, porters, and sweepers.

  Giving up, Sano said to Hirata, "If the killer travels often between the house and the city, at least it can't be far."

  Beyond the lumberyards lay open marshland, through which they headed east on a narrow road bordered by lilies, ginger, ginseng, and other spring flowers. The high blue sky reflected in standing pools that broke the expanses of lush green grasses. Willows drooped graceful boughs hazy with spring foliage. As humans grew scarce, wildlife abounded. Geese honked and gulls screeched overhead. Fish jumped in ponds, where water rats prowled, turtles sunned themselves, and white cranes fed on frogs and water insects. Butterflies flitted through the air; bees droned. Although the stinging flies and mosquitoes wouldn't swarm in full force for some months yet, the weather was as balmy as summer.