The Shogun's Daughter si-17

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Before Sano could speak, a man in the front row on the lower level of the floor reared up on his knees. He had a stunted figure and a hump on his back. It was Tokugawa Ienobu, son of the shogun’s deceased older brother.

  “Uncle, please excuse me.” His tight voice seemed squeezed out of him. His upper teeth protruded above an abnormally small lower jaw. These deformities stemmed from a hereditary bone condition. “I must say this is the wrong time to designate your heir.”

  Yanagisawa’s shoulders moved in a slight shrug: He’d expected an objection from Ienobu and he didn’t fear him. Caution veiled Yoshisato’s expression.

  “I don’t excuse you,” the shogun snapped. “Why, pray tell, is this the wrong time?”

  “You’ve just experienced the tragic loss of your daughter,” Ienobu said. “Your emotions are affecting your judgment.”

  “His Excellency has realized the urgent importance of naming an heir,” Yanagisawa interjected in a smooth, reasonable voice. “His son is his rightful successor.”

  “Why can’t you be happy for me that I have the heir I always wanted?” the shogun whined at Ienobu. “Why do you want to spoil my, ahh, pleasure?”

  “That’s the last thing I want to do, Uncle,” Ienobu said, as desperate to avert the shogun’s wrath as he was to change his mind. “I just think you should consider the alternatives before you make such a serious decision about the future of the regime.”

  The shogun frowned in confusion. “What alternatives?”

  “Honorable Father, perhaps Lord Ienobu wants to be named as your successor himself.” Yoshisato spoke in a deferential tone while exposing his rival’s base motives.

  “Is that true, Nephew?” the shogun demanded. He disliked ambitious men who openly wangled favors from him.

  “Not at all, Uncle,” Ienobu hastened to say. But Sano knew Ienobu had worked hard to ingratiate himself with the shogun. Before Yoshisato had appeared on the scene, Ienobu had been the heir apparent. Ienobu’s eagerness to get rid of Yoshisato and regain his former standing was obvious to everyone except the shogun.

  “It’s just that you learned about Yoshisato so recently … and the circumstances were so strange.” Ienobu balked at declaring that he thought Yoshisato wasn’t the shogun’s child.

  Sano jumped into the fire, although challenging the shogun’s decision, even for his own good, meant walking a narrow path that bordered on treason. To impugn the shogun’s newfound heir equaled courting death.

  “‘Strange’ is an understatement, Your Excellency.” Sano repeated the story Yanagisawa had told when he’d sprung Yoshisato on the shogun: “Eighteen years ago, the court astronomer reads a prophecy in the constellations: You will father a son, but unless he’s hidden away upon his birth, you’ll be killed by an earthquake that’s due to strike Edo in Genroku year sixteen.”

  Ienobu cast a thankful glance at Sano and continued the tale: “The astronomer confides the prophecy to Yanagisawa. Yanagisawa gives orders that any pregnancies in the palace women’s quarters are to be reported to him and no one else. Soon thereafter, your concubine Lady Someko finds herself expecting your child. She tells Yanagisawa, who takes her into his home. Yoshisato is born.”

  “Yanagisawa adopts and raises Yoshisato as his own child,” Sano went on. “He conceals Yoshisato’s real parentage. Five months ago, the earthquake strikes, right on schedule. Your Excellency survives. The danger is past. Yanagisawa reveals the secret: Yoshisato is your son.” Yanagisawa had plopped Yoshisato into first place in line for the succession, to guarantee that he-as Yoshisato’s adoptive father-would be the power behind the next dictator.

  The shogun smiled and nodded while he listened, like a child enjoying a favorite bedtime story. “Isn’t it an extraordinary miracle?”

  “It’s so extraordinary that I don’t think you should accept it without question,” Sano said.

  Vexation darkened the shogun’s face. “Ahh, yes, you said as much when you first heard about Yoshisato. And I thought you had a good point.”

  “That’s why I advised His Excellency to have you investigate Yoshisato’s origins,” Yanagisawa said suavely.

  Sano suspected that Yanagisawa had suggested the investigation because he’d made sure Sano wouldn’t find any evidence to debunk Yoshisato. “My investigation isn’t finished.”

  “You’ve had four months,” Yoshisato said. His youthful, masculine voice had an underlying edge of steel. “Have you proved that His Excellency isn’t my father?”

  “No,” Sano admitted. He’d questioned officials, concubines, guards, and servants in the palace women’s quarters, who’d lived or worked there when Yoshisato was conceived. Contrary to common knowledge that the shogun hardly ever bedded a female, the witnesses swore that he’d spent many amorous nights with Lady Someko. Sano suspected they’d been bribed or threatened by Yanagisawa. “But I also haven’t proved that His Excellency is your father.”

  “My physician has analyzed Yoshisato’s features and discovered, ahh, striking similarities to mine,” the shogun said. Sano cast a dubious glance at Yoshisato. The youth was nothing like the shogun. “And Lady Someko can testify that I’m Yoshisato’s father.”

  “Then why doesn’t she?” Sano asked Yanagisawa, “Why are you keeping her locked inside your house instead of letting me interview her?”

  “She’s too delicate to be interrogated,” Yanagisawa said.

  “Is the astronomer too delicate? I haven’t been able to interview him, either. He seems to have disappeared.”

  Yanagisawa smirked. “With all your detective expertise, you can’t find him?”

  He was alluding to Sano’s past tenure as the shogun’s sōsakan-sama-Most Honorable Investigator of Events, Situations, and People. Sano suspected that he couldn’t find the astronomer because Yanagisawa had killed the man. “You are the only witness to the astronomer’s prophesying about Yoshisato and the earthquake.” He turned to the shogun. “Are you willing to accept Yoshisato’s pedigree based on one witness’s word?” Sano believed with all his heart that Yoshisato was Yanagisawa’s own son, foisted off on the shogun.

  The shogun tightened his weak mouth in defiance. “Yes. Yanagisawa is my old, dear friend. I trust him implicitly. He wants what’s best for me. He wouldn’t lie.”

  “If he wants what’s best, then he should be glad to assist with my investigation.” Sano said to Yanagisawa, “Why not advise His Excellency to grant me a little more time? And let me interview Lady Someko and the astronomer? Surely it’s best that the question of Yoshisato’s origin should be settled, so that nobody can dispute his right to rule Japan.”

  Rumbles of agreement came from the audience. Sano figured that his partisans thought there was still a chance he could prove Yoshisato a fake, and Yanagisawa’s partisans believed Yoshisato’s pedigree would be validated.

  “Would Your Excellency rather risk putting a man who has none of your blood at the head of the Tokugawa dictatorship?” Sano asked.

  The shogun shrank from this nightmare scenario. “Well…”

  Elder Ohgami whispered to Sano, “Good shot.”

  Yoshisato touched the shogun’s sleeve. “Please excuse me, but if there’s even a slight chance that I’m not really your son, then I would rather go away than inherit a position I don’t deserve.” Sincerity permeated his manner.

  The audience clamored in surprise. Few would turn down the chance to become shogun. Sano opened his mouth to call Yoshisato’s bluff and tell the shogun to let Yoshisato go. So did Ienobu. Yanagisawa preempted them both.

  “How selfless Yoshisato is,” Yanagisawa said in a reverent voice. “He would sacrifice his right to rule Japan in order to err on the side of caution and protect Your Excellency.”

  General Isogai muttered, “How full of horse dung that bastard is!”

  The shogun regarded Yoshisato with awe; he wiped a tear from his eye. Yanagisawa said, “The choice is clear, Your Excellency. Listen to Chamberlain Sano and drive Yoshisato away. Or acc
ept Yoshisato as your son and be happy.”

  “Those aren’t the only possible choices,” Sano protested. “Your Excellency can allow the investigation to continue, and if it validates Yoshisato’s pedigree, you can rest easy about naming him as your successor.”

  Ienobu jumped on the chance of reviving his hope of gaining the dictatorship. “If his pedigree is shown to be false, then you’ve saved yourself from making a terrible mistake.”

  The shogun vacillated. Nobody moved or made a sound. Suspense depleted the air supply. Sano could hardly breathe. The shogun studied Ienobu. Visibly repulsed by the physical defects of his nephew, his other choice of an heir, he grabbed Yoshisato’s hand and declared, “Yoshisato is my son, my rightful heir and successor.”

  Amid pleased murmurs and resigned sighs, the assembly bowed to their future lord. Ienobu sank down, stricken. Yoshisato bowed in gratitude. Yanagisawa gave Sano a smug glance. No other battle Sano had fought with Yanagisawa had been as critical as this one he’d just lost.

  “Now that that’s settled, I have an announcement,” Yanagisawa said. “There will be some changes within the government.” The atmosphere turned noxious with panic as men realized that a purge was about to begin. Yanagisawa’s gaze fixed on Ienobu. “You’re no longer needed.”

  Ienobu’s tiny jaw sagged. “What?” he croaked.

  Yanagisawa smiled. “You heard me.”

  “Honorable Uncle-”

  The shogun waved his hand as if shooing a fly. “You’re dismissed. Go.”

  A picture of outrage and disbelief, Ienobu shuffled out of the room. Sano breathed the iron smell of blood in the air as everyone realized that if a Tokugawa relative could be thrown out of the court, no one was safe.

  Yanagisawa said, “Ohgami-san, you are relieved of your seat on the Council of Elders.”

  Horror turned Ohgami’s face as white as his hair. “But … but I’ve held it for twenty-five years!”

  “Twenty-five years is long enough,” Yanagisawa said.

  Sano hated to see his friend’s distress as much as he hated to lose his main ally on the Council. “Elder Ohgami is one of His Excellency’s most competent advisors.”

  “Competence isn’t the issue,” Yanagisawa said. “Loyalty is. His Excellency wants to be sure he can count on his top officials to be loyal to Yoshisato. And he can’t count on Ohgami-san.” He pointed toward the door.

  Ohgami limped out like a wounded animal.

  “General Isogai,” Yanagisawa said, “You are demoted to captain at the army base in Ezogashima.”

  Ezogashima was the far northernmost island of Japan. General Isogai’s flushed face turned purple. “No!” he roared, clenching his fists. “You can’t do this to me! I won’t go!”

  “He’s the army’s best qualified commander,” Sano protested. “You need him to protect the country.”

  “He can’t be counted on to protect Yoshisato.” Yanagisawa knew that General Isogai was among those who’d tried to block Yoshisato’s installation. He beckoned to the soldiers. “You can go peacefully or not. But you will go.”

  Threatened with forcible ejection by his former troops, General Isogai hauled himself to his feet. He stalked out, muttering curses. Sano felt the coldness of the empty spaces on either side of him. And now Yanagisawa turned his predatory gaze on Sano.

  “I’m taking over as chamberlain.” Yanagisawa blazed with triumph; he’d wrested away from Sano the post they’d fought over for years, and he would probably hold it for his entire life, during the remainder of the shogun’s reign and then Yoshisato’s. “As for you…”

  Sano knew there was no use arguing, blustering, or appealing to the shogun, whose gaze avoided him. He demonstrated stoic dignity as terror seized his heart. Yanagisawa wouldn’t merely retire him or demote him. Too much bad blood existed between them. This was the end.

  Yanagisawa smiled at Sano. After all these years as enemies they had an almost mystical bond; each could read the other’s thoughts and emotions. Sano looked at his son, Masahiro, kneeling on the dais behind the shogun. Masahiro was too young to conceal his fear, but not too young to know that Yanagisawa would put Sano’s entire family to death, so that nobody in it could avenge Sano. The assembly waited in hushed suspense to hear Sano’s fate. Noise like a landslide of boulders came from the construction site outside.

  “You will serve as Chief Rebuilding Magistrate,” Yanagisawa said.

  Shock rippled through the assembly. Masahiro gaped. Sano couldn’t believe his ears. As Chief Rebuilding Magistrate, he would oversee the process of converting a pile of ruins to a new capital. Yanagisawa was letting him live, keeping him in the regime. Why?

  Yanagisawa reeled off names, demotions, retirements, transfers, reassignments. Sano watched his allies leave the room. Most marched stoically with their heads high; others wept. An elderly minister fainted and the guards carried him out. Yanagisawa announced the names of the replacements, who filed into the chamber and knelt in the vacated spaces. In an instant the whole government had been reorganized. Sano sat alone amid Yanagisawa’s cronies.

  The shogun looked blank, unaware of the coup that had just occurred under his nose. Yoshisato’s face was calm, controlled. Replete with pleasure, Yanagisawa said, “Oh, I almost forgot.” He jerked his chin at Masahiro. “Get off the dais. You’re no longer the head of the shogun’s chambers. You’ll be a castle page.”

  Obviously crushed by his demotion to his former rank, Masahiro stepped down from the dais, shamed in front of the whole assembly. Sano felt angrier for Masahiro than for himself. He knew how much pride the innocent boy had taken in the position he’d lost through no fault of his own. Sano could barely contain his urge to beat Yanagisawa to a bloody pulp.

  The shogun had eyes only for Yoshisato. “Now I will install my son in the residence that is reserved for my heir and successor.”

  Yoshisato helped him descend from the dais. Yanagisawa followed. The officials rose and marched after the three men. Shinto priests in white robes appeared. Beating drums, they led the procession out the door. Troops waved banners emblazoned with the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest. Appalled by the festivity that had sprung from carnage, Sano and Masahiro trailed the procession outside. Musicians playing flutes and samisens materialized. A small crowd of men who’d been purged loitered by the palace entrance, too dazed to know what to do or too afraid to go home and tell their families what had happened. General Isogai and Elder Ohgami were among them. As Sano started toward his former allies, General Isogai’s face turned gray. He clutched at his heart, moaned, and collapsed.

  “Somebody fetch a doctor!” Sano called, kneeling beside the panting, groaning Isogai.

  Ohgami knelt and drew his short sword. His face looked oddly flaccid, as if the blow to his honor had shattered the underlying bone. He plunged the sword into his stomach.

  Sano realized with horror that his two friends had reached the limits of their fortitude. But he knew that his own were still to be tested.

  2

  At Sano’s estate inside Edo Castle, carpenters built roofs on new, unfinished buildings grafted onto portions of the mansion that hadn’t collapsed during the earthquake. They erected framework for barracks that would surround the mansion and house Sano’s troops, who temporarily lived in tents on the grounds. Masons fitted new stone facings onto the earthen foundations of the walls around the compound. Work ceased only long enough for the men to bolt down food, to drink water and splash it on their sweating faces. Reconstruction of the castle was top priority, human fatigue no excuse for delay.

  In the garden at the center of the private chambers, a little girl and boy ran across a bridge that arched over a pond to a pavilion in the middle. A white, orange, and black kitten chased a string that the boy dangled. The girl laughed gleefully. A canopy on wooden posts stood where the earthquake had shaken down the pavilion’s roof. Under the canopy, Lady Reiko reclined on cushions. Her friend Midori knelt beside her, sewing as they watched their chil
dren play. Midori’s baby lay asleep on a blanket. Reiko fanned her damp brow with a silk fan. She’d come outside to get some fresh air and escape the carpenters’ hammering and sawing, but the weather was warm and she could still hear the noise. Being six months pregnant added to her discomfort.

  “My other two pregnancies were so easy.” Reiko clasped her round belly. She’d gained much more weight than previously, her legs were swollen, and occasional contractions made her nervous. “I don’t know why this one is so difficult.”

  “You’re a lot older this time,” Midori said.

  Piqued by this catty rejoinder, Reiko glanced sharply at Midori. “I’m only thirty-four.” Then she saw Midori frowning fiercely as she jabbed the needle through the sash she was embroidering. Preoccupied with her own problems, she didn’t realize what she’d said.

  Shrieks came from the bridge. Midori’s six-year-old son, Tatsuo, held the kitten by its shoulders. “Give it to me!” Reiko’s five-year-old daughter, Akiko, pulled on its hind legs, crying, “Mine!” The kitten mewed frantically.

  Midori jumped up, hurled down her sewing, and yelled, “Tatsuo! Akiko! Stop fighting over that cat, or I’m going to kill you!”

  Startled, the children released the kitten. Midori’s gaze searched the garden. “Taeko! Where are you?”

  Her nine-year-old daughter ambled out from a bamboo grove. A slender girl with serious eyes in a round face and long, glossy black hair tied back with an orange ribbon, Taeko held a paintbrush. Her pale green, flowered kimono was stained with ink.

  “Are you painting again?” Disapproval roughened Midori’s voice. “Painting isn’t for girls!” Taeko hung her head. “You’re supposed to be watching your brother and Akiko.” Midori pointed at the younger children. “Get over there!”

  The baby woke up and started to cry. Taeko hurried onto the bridge, gathered the younger children, and took them into the house. The kitten scampered after them. Midori’s temper dissolved into tears. “I shouldn’t get so mad at the children.” She sank to her knees, picked up the baby girl, and rocked her. “What’s wrong with me?”