by Susan Spann
For the very same reason, he had no intention of checking Midori’s poison box. He would need to find the answer another way.
“We must return to Koga immediately.” Toshi’s voice quivered. “Before the Iga shinobi kill us all!”
“Please, stay calm,” Father Mateo said. “We do not know—”
Kiku cut him off. “I must agree with Toshi-san. Someone in Iga wants us dead.” She turned to Hiro. “I note you have not spoken in Midori-san’s defense.”
He returned her look without emotion. “No one believes a son who defends his mother.”
“Even so, most sons would try.”
“Midori has lost one son already,” Father Mateo said. “She would never risk Hiro’s life by poisoning tea that he might drink.”
“How do you know this?” Kiku asked.
“He told me, after we rescued Ashikaga—” Father Mateo stopped abruptly.
“You rescued a member of the Ashikaga clan?” Kiku looked from the priest to Hiro. “When did this happen?”
“In Kyoto,” Father Mateo said, “after Shogun Ashikaga’s death.”
“The child we saved was not in the line of succession,” Hiro added quickly. “His survival makes no difference to the samurai clans’ dispute about the shogunate.”
He knew, though the priest did not, that Matsunaga Hisahide—the man who now controlled Kyoto over the protests of the Ashikaga clan—employed shinobi from the Koga ryu. While that did not necessarily mean that Koga supported Hisahide’s bid to seize the shogunate, it made the Jesuit’s innocent comment far more dangerous than it seemed.
“You lied to us.” Toshi’s expression darkened. “You claimed you hired the Iga ryu to escort you to Yokoseura. It takes a week, at most, to walk to Iga from Kyoto, yet the Ashikaga shogun died four months ago.”
“Actually,” Hiro corrected, “I was the one who told you about my mission to escort him to the foreign settlement.”
“Hiro served as my translator in Kyoto for some time before we left the city.” The Jesuit spoke calmly, as if nothing was amiss. “The decision to travel to Yokoseura was made more recently.”
Kiku narrowed her eyes suspiciously but said nothing.
“You lied to us,” Toshi repeated.
“We omitted,” Hiro said.
“A sin of which no person in this room is entirely innocent.” Father Mateo gave Toshi a look of gentle disapproval.
The young man reddened.
“At the moment,” the priest continued, “the important thing is learning who put poison in this tea, and why.”
“We know who did it!” Toshi insisted. “Whoever killed Yajiro-san intends to kill us all!”
“Not necessarily,” Father Mateo said.
“Fuyu-san was right.” Toshi clenched his fists. “We cannot stay in Iga any longer.”
“Enough, Toshi.” Kiku raised a hand like a samurai lord commanding silence. “We agreed to give the foreign priest three days to investigate—at your insistence, I recall.”
“Fuyu-san required me to say it.” Toshi reddened further.
“Even so, we gave our word,” Kiku repeated firmly. “Breaking it would shame us.”
“Staying here will kill us!” Toshi pointed at the poisoned tea.
“Only a coward runs from danger.” Kiku crossed her arms.
“I am no coward,” Toshi retorted.
“Then do not act like one,” Kiku replied. “As it happens, the killer has done us a favor by threatening the foreign priest.”
Toshi’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “How?”
“Iga agreed to protect the priest on his journey to Yokoseura,” she said. “Now, the Iga ryu is honor-bound to identify and terminate the threat against his life.”
“Not necessarily.” Toshi nodded at Hiro. “He could also take the priest and leave for Yokoseura now. I wouldn’t let the foreigner stay in a place where his life was threatened.”
“You would choose to run away instead?” Kiku’s tone revealed her disapproval. “I doubt Hiro-san will do the same. He does not seem the type to flee from danger.”
Toshi scowled. “Fuyu will agree that we should leave.”
“He would also agree that any further discussion of the issue should be private,” Kiku hissed.
Toshi stood and bowed. “Please excuse me. I would like to take a walk.”
He stalked to the door and left the house without another word.
CHAPTER 23
“I would apologize for his rudeness,” Kiku said, “but, as between us, Iga’s insult is the greater one.”
Before Hiro could decide how to respond, the kitchen door slid open.
Ana entered the room with an expression that wavered between nervousness and horror. Clearly, she‘d been listening at the door.
“Who entered the kitchen this morning?” Kiku demanded as the housekeeper approached. “Who touched this tea?”
“No one has been in the kitchen except for me.” Ana kept her eyes on the floor, and her voice held none of its usual gruffness. “At least, not that I saw or know. I left the house after breakfast, and only returned a few minutes ago.”
“Did you realize this tea was poisoned?” Kiku pointed to the tray of leaves.
Ana shook her head. “I never would have served it, had I known. I humbly apologize.”
“She had nothing to do with this,” Father Mateo said. “Ana has worked for me for years, and her loyalty is beyond question. She would never put my life in danger.”
Kiku stared at the housekeeper suspiciously.
Hiro gestured to the tray of tea. “Dump that in the refuse bucket. Do not burn it. And sweep the tatami thoroughly, twice. When you finish, place the sweepings and the broom in the refuse bucket also.”
Ana bowed, picked up the tray, and left the room.
Hiro stood. “Please excuse us, Kiku-san. It is time for us to demand some answers.”
Father Mateo followed his lead, and the kunoichi nodded as they started toward the door.
“Where are we going?” the Jesuit asked as they left the house. “Is it safe for us to be on the road? What if the killer strikes again?” He looked around as if expecting attackers to burst from the trees at any moment.
Hiro started down the path toward the center of Iga village. “I believe the murderer will strike again, and soon, but not in the open and not against Iga. This killer wants to undermine the alliance. Fuyu, Toshi, and Kiku should worry. You and I are not targets.” He remembered his promise never to lie to the priest. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Targets or not, we were almost just victims,” Father Mateo said, “and I confess, it has me worried.”
“For your safety?” Hiro found that surprising.
“No—about revealing the killer’s identity. No one in the Iga clan would risk us dying along with the ambassadors, and the Koga delegation wouldn’t poison tea they planned to drink.”
“Not all of them were there to drink it,” Hiro pointed out. “What did Toshi tell you about the others—Fuyu, in particular?”
Father Mateo flushed. “Nothing . . . that is . . . he never had the chance. I thought he would open up to me after I told him about my faith—most people do—but you came back too soon.”
Hiro wished the Jesuit would learn to keep better track of time when talking about his foreign god.
A woman approached them on the path. She carried a length of rope with a metal grappling hook affixed to the end, and wore a strip of cloth around her head. As they passed, she bowed in greeting.
Father Mateo turned to watch her go. “That woman knew you. I could see it in her eyes.”
“I grew up here. I know almost everyone.”
The Jesuit stumbled on a rock and recovered his balance. “Then why don’t you introduce me?”
“Because although I know her, you should not.”
“Do the people of Iga dislike foreigners?”
Hiro shrugged. “No more than other people do, and quite a bit less than some.”
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p; “Then why . . . ?” Father Mateo trailed off. “Do I embarrass you?”
“No more than other people do”—Hiro smiled—“and substantially less than some.”
His smile faded. “A man cannot reveal the identities of those he does not know. I will not endanger the lives of my friends and family for the sake of curiosity—yours or anyone else’s.”
The Jesuit nodded in understanding. “No, I would not want you to.”
They reached the road that bisected the village and continued west along it.
“Do you think your mother poisoned the tea?” Father Mateo sounded worried. “She did return to the house at the proper time.”
Hiro avoided a direct answer. “We need to eliminate suspects in a logical fashion, starting with the most obvious: Hanzō and Neko.”
“Hanzō I understand, but Neko?” Father Mateo clasped his hands. “Why would she put poison in the food she carried to the guests? And why would she poison Midori’s tea?”
After an awkward silence the Jesuit added, “Hiro, wounds allowed to fester never heal.”
“What do you . . . ?” Suddenly, he realized the implication. “I’m not festering.”
“Neko seemed to want forgiveness, and God commands us to forgive others, as he forgives us, of every wrong.”
“Your god never had a woman stab his thigh.” Hiro started up the hill toward Hanzō’s mansion.
“True enough. But a spear did pierce his side.”
At the mansion, Akiko answered the door. When Hiro asked to speak with Hanzō, she led them to a room near the back of the enormous house.
Fresh tatami covered the floor of the six-mat room, perfuming the air with a grassy scent that reminded Hiro of summertime. A mural of painted cedars stretched across the paneled walls, their branches questing around the tokonoma opposite the entrance. In the decorative alcove, a monochromatic scroll displayed an autumnal scene.
Halfway across the room, Hattori Hanzō knelt behind a knee-high wooden desk with his back to the alcove. Chin in hand, he pondered a map laid out on the desk before him.
He looked up. “Good morning.”
Hiro and Father Mateo bowed and entered the room on their knees. Behind them, the door slid closed with a silent whisper.
Hanzō nodded to Hiro, granting permission to speak.
Instead, Hiro opted for silence. Hanzō might have ordered Neko or Midori to murder the Koga emissaries, and then requested an investigation to distract the survivors from the truth. Hiro realized this was only a possibility, and thus not trustworthy, but even that knowledge could not quell his frustration.
The silence grew awkward, but Hiro did not break it.
“Have you something to report?” Hanzō demanded.
“I came to ask why you ordered Yajiro’s murder,” Hiro said, “and why you have endangered the life of the Jesuit you appointed me to guard.”
Hanzō’s face revealed nothing. “Those accusations would cost most men their lives.”
“Fortunately, I am not most men.”
“Only the most difficult of men,” Hanzō muttered. “Why do you accuse me of threatening the priest?”
“Strange,” Hiro said. “I understood that nothing happens in Iga without your knowledge.”
“Did you come here merely to insult me?”
Father Mateo intervened. “No, Hattori-sama. We came because someone poisoned Midori-san’s tea with torikatsu. We almost drank it.”
Hanzō stared at the priest. “I sincerely doubt that.”
“Truly, it happened less than an hour ago.”
“They poisoned her tea”—Hanzō paused deliberately—“with torikatsu?”
Hiro sighed. “Torikatsu means ‘fried chicken.’”
“Oh.” Father Mateo flushed.
“He meant to say torikabuto,” Hiro clarified. “Someone attempted to murder us, along with two of the Koga emissaries.”
Hanzō leaned forward slightly. “Was anyone poisoned?”
“Fortunately, no,” Hiro said.
“But some of the ambassadors want to leave for Koga immediately,” Father Mateo added.
“We cannot allow it,” Hanzō said. “The Koga will interpret Yajiro’s death as an act of war, especially if the survivors claim we tried to kill them also. You must stop them, persuade them not to leave.”
“But we cannot make them stay,” the Jesuit protested.
“Well, we could,” Hiro quipped, “but not in ways that preserve any chance of a treaty.”
“You will identify Yajiro’s killer immediately,” Hanzō ordered. “Then the delegation will not leave.”
“We have not completed our investigation,” Father Mateo said.
“All I need is a name.” Hanzō gave Hiro a meaningful look.
Father Mateo switched to Portuguese. “Did he just order us to tell a lie?”
“I may not speak your language,” Hanzō said, “but your face requires no translation. The need for an alliance with Koga outweighs the value of any single life. Hundreds will die if Iga and Koga go to war, including many elderly and young, who do not deserve that fate. Protecting their lives takes precedence over the truth.”
Father Mateo raised his chin. “I will not blame an innocent person.”
“Fortunately, I have not asked you to.” Hanzō focused on Hiro. “Find a way to blame the Koga emissaries for Yajiro’s death. If you cannot, select an Iga assassin . . . any one you wish, except for Neko.”
“Why not Neko?” Hiro asked.
“Because I forbid it.”
Hiro started to argue, but the Jesuit spoke first. “Neither Hiro nor I will blame an innocent person for this crime. We will not do it, and you cannot make us.”
CHAPTER 24
Hanzō rested his hands on his knees. “No one tells me what I cannot do. Not the emperor. Not the shogun. And certainly not the servant of a weakling god who could not save himself from execution.”
“I would not presume to tell you what you can or cannot do.” Father Mateo spoke with the quiet calm of a winter lake. “I merely wish to explain what I will do. If you accuse an innocent person of killing Yajiro, I will speak the truth and expose your falsehood.”
Hiro leaned back on his heels, stunned beyond speech.
“You will not,” Hanzō replied. “I will not allow it.”
“How, precisely, do you plan to stop me?” Father Mateo asked. “The Koga ambassadors named me as their agent. If you dismiss or silence me, you trigger the very war you wish to avoid. And if you choose to ignore that inconvenient truth and arrange an accident for me, you will answer to the man who pays you to ensure my safety.”
Silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring and equally lethal.
Hiro’s chest thrummed with nervous energy. Hanzō had executed men for far less serious insults than the ones the Jesuit had just delivered.
Father Mateo looked over Hanzō’s shoulder at the tokonoma. “That is a lovely painting.”
Hanzō regarded the priest in stony silence for several seconds before replying. “One of my favorites.”
Hiro looked at Father Mateo in amazement, partly because the Jesuit had properly used a change of subject to offer a peaceful end to the argument, but mostly because Hanzō had accepted the foreigner’s gesture. The issue remained between them, but etiquette no longer required an immediate resolution.
“Do you know who poisoned Midori’s tea?” Hanzō asked.
“We suspect the same person who murdered Koga Yajiro,” Father Mateo said.
“No one in Iga would murder an emissary against my orders,” Hanzō replied. “However, the issue is not what I believe, but what the Koga ryu will accept. Since you have been unable to find the murderer, I must find an alternative solution.”
After a moment, Hanzō continued, “Midori has offered to take the blame for Yajiro’s death. In light of the need to resolve this situation promptly, it appears I have no other choice.”
“You have many other choices,” Father
Mateo said, “choices that do not involve accusing an innocent person.”
“I will not have to accuse her,” Hanzō replied. “She will confess, and atone for the crime by suicide.”
“No!” Father Mateo looked at Hiro for support, but Hiro’s mouth had gone too dry to speak.
“I have decided,” Hanzō said. “Unless you provide another name, it will be done.”
Hiro found his voice. “How long do we have?”
“By custom the Koga emissaries must meet with me before they leave. Yajiro’s killer will die at that meeting . . . one way or the other.”
“How could you just sit there and not argue?” Father Mateo asked as they started down the hill. “Would you truly let your mother take the blame?”
“Silence is not agreement,” Hiro said.
“It is when any reasonable man would protest.”
“I know my cousin,” Hiro replied. “Arguments will not persuade him. Only another name will change his mind.”
“Surely he won’t go through with it. Your mother is his aunt.”
“By marriage only—and remember, she volunteered.” Hiro clenched his jaw and looked away into the forest.
“How can he let her die when he knows she’s innocent?” Father Mateo asked. “And how can you allow it?”
Hiro sought an answer that the priest could understand. “Doesn’t your holy book say ‘better one man should die to save the people’?”
“Yes. . . .” The Jesuit seemed to struggle for words. “But this isn’t what that means.”
“I see no difference.”
Father Mateo opened his mouth but closed it again, the words unspoken. When they reached the bottom of the hill, he said, “You’re simply going to accept his decision? Let your mother kill herself for a lie?”
Hiro turned so quickly that the Jesuit stumbled backward.
“I’ve no intention of letting my mother accept the blame for a crime she did not commit. However, unlike you, I recognize when argument is not only futile, but dangerous.” His volume rose as his anger flared. “I pledged my life to keep you alive, an oath that will cost us both our lives if you do not learn to hold your tongue! Do you not realize, a single word from Hanzō means your death?”
