“Oh, not happy at all.” Ienobu put on a reproachful expression. “It’s terrible, what happened to Yoshisato.”
Sano wasn’t deceived. Ienobu was obviously thrilled that Yoshisato was dead. “Have you seen the shogun today?”
“Yes, I just went to the wake.”
“How is he?” Sano knew he should feel compassion for the shogun, but he hoped the shogun was drowning in misery.
“Oh, he’s devastated by Yoshisato’s death.” Ienobu couldn’t control the grin that peeled his lips farther back from his teeth. “He begged me to move into the palace with him. I was just going to my house to fetch my belongings when your man gave me your invitation.”
“So Yoshisato has been dead less than a day, and you’re already back in the shogun’s good graces.”
Ienobu shrugged off Sano’s hint that he’d capitalized on Yoshisato’s death. “The shogun needs comfort and counsel, which I’m certainly glad to provide.”
“He also needs a new heir,” Sano said. “You must be glad to provide that, too.”
“Someone has to plan for the future.”
“A future in which you’re at the head of the regime?”
“I was the shogun’s heir apparent five months ago. I’m now the heir apparent again.” Ienobu spoke as if Yoshisato’s rise and his own fall from favor were but a brief kink in his schemes. “Nothing could be more natural.”
“Nothing could be more natural than enjoying the murder of one’s rival,” Sano said.
Hostility hooded Ienobu’s eyes. “Why did you want to see me?”
Sano hated to grovel to Ienobu, but he must, for his family’s sake. “A few days ago you made me an offer. Is it still good?”
“That’s what I thought you wanted to ask. Things have changed. You need me to help you fend off the murder charge that Yanagisawa has slapped on you. But I no longer need your help. An alliance with you could only hurt me. Therefore, I’m rescinding my offer.”
This was what Sano had expected, but he argued, “You’re in no position to turn down help. Yanagisawa is still your enemy.”
“He’s finished,” Ienobu said disdainfully.
“Don’t underestimate him. If you think he’ll lie down and let you inherit the dictatorship, think again. I’ve survived his schemes before. I’ll survive this one.” Sano spoke with more conviction than he felt. “And when I do, you’ll want me on your side.”
Pity tinged Ienobu’s disdain. “I don’t see you surviving.”
Sano saw his port in the storm close; he was more alone in the cold than ever. His rage toward the shogun spilled over onto the shogun’s nephew. “You knew I would mention your offer, and you knew you were going to rescind it. So why did you come?”
“To see how you were.”
Sano pictured Ienobu poking a dead snake with a stick, to test if it was really dead. “Well, I’m glad you came. Because there’s something else I want to ask you. Did you have Yoshisato’s house set on fire?”
“Certainly not.” Vexation disrupted Ienobu’s complacence. “Your question is not only ludicrous, it’s insulting.”
Sano hadn’t expected Ienobu to confess to the murder, but an overemphatic denial was often an indicator of guilt. “What’s so ludicrous? You’re the one who benefited the most from Yoshisato’s death. He was blocking your path to becoming the next shogun. Now he’s gone. Your path is clear.”
“I beg to differ, Sano-san. You set the fire because you wanted to destroy Yanagisawa and Yoshisato. I only benefited from your actions.” Ienobu added smugly, “I’m not the one who was caught holding the rags, the kerosene jar, and the smoking basket.”
Sano recalled Masahiro asking if Yoshisato’s and Tsuruhime’s murders could be connected. Now he saw reason to think so. “Did you have the shogun’s daughter infected with smallpox?”
Ienobu laughed his dry, wheezy laugh. “Really, Sano-san, you’re the most single-minded man I know. First you accuse me of murdering Yoshisato. Then Tsuruhime. But you may as well give up. Nobody is going to believe your irrational allegations.”
“What’s so irrational about the idea that you killed Tsuruhime? Yoshisato wasn’t the only one who could have prevented you from becoming the next shogun. So could she have.”
“How?” Scorn rasped in Ienobu’s tone. “As a woman she wasn’t eligible to inherit the dictatorship.”
“A son of hers would have been. More eligible than you, in fact. He would have been the shogun’s direct descendant.”
“He didn’t exist,” Ienobu said impatiently.
“Tsuruhime was pregnant when she took ill.”
“Pregnant?” Ienobu looked as startled as when he’d seen Sano’s face. But Sano wondered if he’d anticipated that the subject of her pregnancy would arise and prepared his reaction. “How do you know?”
“That’s not important.” Sano knew how flimsy the evidence sounded, a pouch of herbs and a servant girl’s story. He wasn’t going to give Ienobu a chance to poke holes in it. “What matters is whether you knew. Did you?”
“No. Because you’re making it up.” Ienobu clamped his lips shut between his teeth.
Sano tried to read Ienobu’s thoughts. Had Ienobu known Tsuruhime was pregnant? Was he uncertain as to whether Sano was bluffing?
“What’s the matter?” Sano asked. “Are you worried that other people will hear about her pregnancy and realize that you benefited from her death as well as Yoshisato’s?”
“My uncle must have hit you hard enough to jar your wits loose, Sano-san. You’ve mixed up the timing of events.” Ienobu sounded cautious, as if groping through unmapped terrain. “When Tsuruhime got smallpox, Yoshisato was alive and well and set to become the shogun’s heir. Killing her wouldn’t have put me first in line for the succession.”
“Perhaps not right then. But I think you decided that she and Yoshisato both had to go before you could feel secure about inheriting the dictatorship.” Sano groped his own way toward a new theory of why Tsuruhime had been murdered. “It was only a matter of which to kill first. And you’ve admitted to having friends in her house.”
Ienobu’s face grew uglier with rage. “How dare you even think I’m capable of such cold-blooded calculation?”
“You waited decades for the best time to make your appearance at court. It was after Yanagisawa had gone into seclusion, after the earthquake. The shogun’s usual attendants were busy working to restore the city. He needed company. And there you were.” Sano warmed to his own theory. “You’re the kind of man who would take the precaution of eliminating Tsuruhime even though she wasn’t an immediate threat. And now that Yoshisato is dead, you can relax because she’s already been dispatched.”
“Is this how you intend to defend yourself? By splashing mud on me?” Ienobu’s voice vibrated with fear that the shogun might be convinced that Ienobu had murdered his children.
“You once asked me if I was willing to fight dirty,” Sano said. “I am.”
The beating he’d taken had changed more than his attitude toward the shogun. In the past he’d risked his life to serve justice, but now he would gladly sacrifice Ienobu, even if Ienobu was innocent, to save himself and his family. He was alarmed to find the change liberating.
Ienobu eked out a chuckle. “It’s a pity we can’t be allies. I could use a man as ruthless as you’ve apparently become. But since we can’t, hear this.” He thrust his finger at Sano’s face. Once more Sano was reminded of an octopus uncoiling its tentacle. This tentacle had a curved, yellow, sharp nail at the end. “If you publicize your theory about me, I’ll make you regret it.”
Sano ceased regretting that he couldn’t ally with Ienobu. Ienobu was now his primary suspect in Tsuruhime’s and Yoshisato’s murders. Even his new, broken self couldn’t have stomached joining forces with a killer. He had some vestige of honor left. But he did regret that he was now pitted against Ienobu as well as Yanagisawa. One powerful enemy had been bad enough.
Hiding his despair, Sano resorted
to bravado. “Give me your worst. And I’ll give you mine.”
* * *
Groups of ladies, chaperoned by guards who wore the crests of daimyo clans, walked up the path to the palace. Reiko tagged along behind them. Loath to be recognized, she wore a cloak that concealed her pregnancy and a silk drape that veiled her face. She was shaky with nerves, uncertain about the wisdom of attending the vigil for Yoshisato. The wife of the man accused of murdering him could hardly be welcome.
Reiko followed the ladies into the reception chamber, which was crowded with people and abuzz with polite conversation. When she saw the soldiers stationed along the wall, her heartbeat quickened with panic. The baby pressed against her bladder. She needed to urinate, but she couldn’t leave. Courageous for Sano’s sake, she kept her head down and stayed close to the ladies so that anyone who saw her would think she was one of them. Casting furtive glances around the chamber, she located Lady Nobuko and Korika near the dais, with other women from the Large Interior. One half of Lady Nobuko’s face was distorted by her headache. The other half wore a secretive smile as she contemplated the coffin.
As Reiko edged alongside the line of people waiting to offer their condolences to the shogun, Lady Nobuko met her gaze but offered no acknowledgment. She averted her eyes. Korika smiled an apologetic smile before she, too, turned away from Reiko.
The snub hurt, but Reiko didn’t stop. The other women saw her. They began whispering and pointing. The crowd turned toward Reiko. The object of all censorious eyes, Reiko felt fear as well as mortification. Would the soldiers throw her out?
Lady Nobuko winced with displeasure but gave Reiko a brief nod. She and Korika moved toward the back door. Reiko hurried outside after them, grateful to avoid a dangerous scene. The rain was coming down hard again, cascading off the eaves, deluging the trees. She joined Lady Nobuko and Korika under a narrow roof that sheltered the path through the garden.
“I’m surprised to see you,” Lady Nobuko said in an unfriendly voice. “I didn’t think you would have the nerve to come.”
“I need to speak with you, and I thought you might be here,” Reiko said. “But why are you? You had no love for Yoshisato.”
Lady Nobuko frowned at Reiko’s suggestion that her attendance at the wake was hypocritical. Korika looked insulted on her mistress’s behalf. “Yoshisato was my stepson,” Lady Nobuko said. “My attendance was obligatory.”
“It looked like you were enjoying the fact that he’s dead,” Reiko said.
“Your impertinence is offensive,” Lady Nobuko snapped. “So is your intruding where you must certainly know you are not wanted. I will take this opportunity to tell you that I wish to have no further contact with you or your husband.”
Anger flared in Reiko. “You were happy to have contact with us when you wanted my husband to prove that Yanagisawa murdered Tsuruhime.”
“Circumstances have altered.”
The alliance between Sano and Lady Nobuko had been a matter of mutual convenience rather than friendship, but Reiko could hardly believe the woman would be so cold. “You mean, because my husband isn’t useful to you any longer, you’re severing your ties with us.”
“There’s no need for you to put it so bluntly,” Lady Nobuko said in a pitying tone. “The only person you’re hurting is yourself. But since you insist on being blunt, I will tell you that I cannot associate with a traitor or his wife.”
People associated with an accused traitor risked being implicated in his crime and sharing his punishment. Not even the shogun’s wife dared maintain a connection to Sano. But Lady Nobuko’s repudiation still rankled. Reiko despaired at how alone she and Sano were. She was also furious at the injustice of their plight.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must return to the wake,” Lady Nobuko said. She and Korika started up the path.
“No.” Reiko blocked their way. “We’re not finished talking yet.”
“What more is there to discuss?”
“Where were you last night when Yoshisato’s residence caught fire?” Reiko asked.
Affronted, Lady Nobuko said, “That is none of your business.”
“I say it is. Because my husband didn’t set the fire, and I have to clear his name by finding out who did.”
Lady Nobuko’s expression turned incredulous. “And you think it was me?”
“She didn’t do it!” Korika blurted. Horror sharpened the perpetual anxiety on her face. “Why would she?”
“She hates Yanagisawa,” Reiko said. “She thinks he killed Tsuruhime, who was like a daughter to her. What better way to get revenge on him than by killing Yoshisato?”
“For all we know, Yoshisato may be the shogun’s son and Yanagisawa really is only his adoptive father,” Lady Nobuko said. “If so, his death doesn’t compensate me for Tsuruhime’s.”
“Don’t play games with me,” Reiko said hotly. “You believe Yanagisawa is Yoshisato’s father. You didn’t want Yoshisato to be the next shogun or Yanagisawa to rule Japan through him. And now that Yoshisato is dead, you’ve gotten double the value for the price of one murder. You don’t need my husband to prove that Yanagisawa is responsible for Tsuruhime’s death because you think Yanagisawa has already gotten his comeuppance.”
Lady Nobuko permitted herself a smug little smile. “Yoshisato’s death was merely good luck for me. I didn’t set the fire. Maybe it was an accident. Most fires are.”
“Not this one,” Reiko said. “My husband found a smoking basket, a jar of kerosene, and some rags hidden at the scene.”
She saw uncertainty disturb Lady Nobuko, who obviously hadn’t heard about everything that had happened last night. Then Lady Nobuko’s composure returned. She said, “Even if the fire was arson, why are you accusing me? Other people besides myself probably didn’t want Yoshisato to inherit the dictatorship or Yanagisawa to control the government.”
“You have a personal grudge against Yanagisawa. He had you kidnapped and raped. My husband tried to prove it and couldn’t. Then Yanagisawa infected Tsuruhime with smallpox, according to you.” Reiko moved closer to Lady Nobuko. “What happened? Were you afraid my husband wouldn’t be able to prove Yanagisawa was responsible for that crime, either? Did you take matters into your own hands?”
Arms folded, Lady Nobuko stood her ground. “Your suppositions are ridiculous.” Her voice could have frozen boiling lye. “I did not kill Yoshisato. The very idea of my creeping around at night, setting a fire!”
She seemed to think she should be absolved of the crime because the practicalities of it were beneath her. Reiko did have difficulty picturing Lady Nobuko pouring kerosene under the heir’s residence and throwing in rags lit from the coals in the smoking basket, but she’d encountered other unlikely murderesses in the past.
“Then answer my question,” Reiko said. “Where were you last night?”
“In my bedchamber, asleep,” Lady Nobuko said.
“She was,” Korika hastened to say. “I have the room next to hers. She never left.”
“Of course you would vouch for her,” Reiko said. “She’s your mistress.”
“She’s telling the truth. I was awakened by the fire bells. The noise made my head ache terribly. I called Korika. She spent the rest of the night nursing me,” Lady Nobuko said. “This conversation is finished.”
She and Korika started up the path. This time Reiko stepped aside. It was no use trying to badger a confession out of Lady Nobuko. The frail old woman was too strong-minded. And she might be innocent.
But Reiko perceived that Lady Nobuko was ruthless and clever enough to have hired someone to set the fire. A wild, helpless fury seized Reiko as the wind blew rain on her. She called after Lady Nobuko, “I will exonerate my husband-I swear. You’d better hope you never need another favor from us.”
31
Yanagisawa stood outside Lady Someko’s chamber. Her sobs quieted to whimpers. The physician came out with his medicine chest and said, “I gave her a potion. She’ll be asleep soon.”
He had a strange, irrational notion that Yoshisato was still alive. Maybe it was because he hadn’t actually witnessed Yoshisato’s death. He couldn’t believe that one of those grisly corpses was Yoshisato. A stubborn part of him thought Yoshisato was coming back.
Yanagisawa shook his head at himself. He couldn’t hang around wishing for the impossible. He had to go back to the funeral, put up a strong front, and make sure his faction didn’t desert him. But as he walked through the empty guesthouse, he slowed outside Yoshisato’s room. He experienced an overpowering sense that Yoshisato was there. His heart leaped. He looked through the doorway. The room was empty, but the atmosphere vibrated with Yoshisato’s presence, as if Yoshisato had just left. Yanagisawa could almost smell his fresh, youthful scent and hear the echo of his sardonic voice. Joy gave way to consternation.
Was Yoshisato’s death driving him mad?
At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, hope resurged. Yanagisawa rushed out of the room and bumped into Kato Kinhide from the Council of Elders. He shouted.
“Sorry if I frightened you,” Kato said.
Yanagisawa could barely contain his disappointment. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw the scene Lady Someko made at the funeral.” Apprehension tinged the disgust on Kato’s flat face. “Is she under control?”
“For the time being.”
“That’s not good enough. You should get rid of her.”
Kato was right, but Yanagisawa balked at the idea of killing Lady Someko. He hated her viciousness, and at this moment he couldn’t even imagine desiring her sexually, but she was Yoshisato’s mother. She was his only connection with Yoshisato.
“I can’t,” Yanagisawa said. “She’s the only person who can say for sure that the shogun is Yoshisato’s father. That still matters even though Yoshisato is dead.” Again he had that irrational feeling that Yoshisato was nearby, alive. He couldn’t breathe a hint of it to Kato, who would think he was losing his mind. “If the shogun stops believing Yoshisato was his son, he’ll be furious, and you and I and all our friends had better prepare to die.”
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