“Papa!” Akiko came running onto the veranda. Midori, Taeko, and Tatsuo followed her. She bounded down the steps, raced to Sano, and threw her arms around his legs. She cried, “Don’t go, Papa!”
Sano’s heart clutched painfully. She was too young to understand why he was leaving, but she knew it was bad. The troops shuffled to a halt. The leader said, “Keep moving.” He grabbed Akiko’s arm and pulled.
Akiko wailed and held on. Stroking her hair, Sano said gently, “Akiko, you have to let me go.” The leader pulled harder. Her little fingers gripped Sano’s trousers, then came loose. Sano felt as if a part of his own body were being torn away. Akiko shrieked. She turned on the leader, yelled, “You’re not taking my father away!” and clawed his face.
He recoiled, cursing, his cheeks marked by bloody scratches. Sano rushed Akiko toward the house. Midori hastened down the steps to meet them. Taeko and Tatsuo were crying. They were old enough to understand. Sano turned to Akiko. She wasn’t crying. Her little face was savage with rebellion.
“Listen to me, Akiko,” Sano said. “You have to be a good girl while I’m gone.”
“When are you coming back?” Akiko said.
He hated lying to his child, but the truth was worse. “Soon.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.” Sano hugged Akiko, hiding his tears against her soft hair. Then he gave her over to Midori.
As the soldiers led him away, he couldn’t look back. He kept his gaze trained straight ahead while he marched through the passages inside Edo Castle. Soldiers peered at him from watchtowers, from windows in the covered corridors atop the walls. He felt as if he were enclosed in a bubble of putrid slime. But the slime didn’t keep spectators at a distance. As his procession moved uphill, it attracted followers. By the time it reached the palace, its ranks had swelled to hundreds of soldiers, officials, pages, and servants. Sano thought of the parades during religious festivals, when crowds followed men carrying portable shrines through the streets. But here there was no loud, gay reveling. Everyone was quiet, befitting a grave moment in history. Instead of a shrine that housed the holy spirit of a god, the parade followed the lowest form of life, an accused traitor.
Flames guttered in the stone lanterns that flanked the path to the palace, even though the gray sky was still light. Palace sentries opened the door. It gaped like the maw of hell. As Sano neared it, the crowd dropped back. Pigeons fluttered in the eaves as he passed under them. The sound of hammering drifted up from the city. Life was going on, indifferent to his plight. The palace swallowed him up. Inside, officials, troops, and attendants lined the hall. They mutely watched him and his escorts enter the large reception chamber.
A narrow aisle divided a silent crowd that occupied the lower level of the floor. The troops ahead of him blocked Sano’s view of the chamber’s far end. All he could see was the ochre glow of lanterns burning on the dais. The crowd watched the troops march Sano up the aisle. Glancing from right to left, Sano saw rows of unfriendly faces that belonged to officials and daimyo who were cronies of Yanagisawa.
Anyone who might have come to Sano’s aid had been banned.
Sano stepped onto the higher level of the floor. In its middle, a small square of white sand covered the wooden boards-the shirasu, the white sand of truth, symbol of justice. The troops pushed Sano to his knees onto a straw mat in the center of the shirasu. Irony twisted Sano’s cut lips. A short time ago he’d been conducting trials, dispensing justice. If justice were served here, it would be a miracle.
The troops retreated. Now Sano saw the three judges seated at his right, in a row angled to face him and the dais. One was Kato Kinhide from the Council of Elders. The other two were also Yanagisawa’s cronies. Inspector General Nakae audited government operations, which meant he kept a lookout for misbehavior done by everyone except Yanagisawa. Broad of girth, he reminded Sano of an overripe pumpkin-he’d lost most of his teeth, and his face had caved in. Beside him was old, white-haired Lord Nabeshima, daimyo of Saga and Hizen Provinces, whose skin and eyes were yellow with jaundice.
Sano had run afoul of Inspector General Nakae and Lord Nabeshima when they’d been judges in a controversial murder trial. They beheld him with dirty pleasure, anticipating revenge. Sano looked toward the dais. Yanagisawa sat at its center, dressed in a formal black robe with glittering gold crests. The shogun was absent, and Sano knew why: Yanagisawa didn’t want him to talk the shogun into letting him go free. Yanagisawa’s handsome face was theatrically shadowed by the lanterns. His eyes were so rimmed with red and so underscored with dark shadows, his complexion so pale and so carved by lines of grief, that he looked like he was wearing stage makeup. He regarded Sano with a hatred as rigidly cold as chain mail in winter. The pity Sano had felt for this father who’d lost two sons vaporized in the heat of his anger.
There was no place on the battlefield for compassion toward one’s opponent.
“I hereby commence the trial of Sano Ichirō,” Yanagisawa said in a voice hoarse from weeping and raging.
A smile shimmered upon his mouth, its message as clear as if he’d shouted it: All scores between us are about to be settled. For all the wrongs you’ve ever done me, you will pay.
33
At Sano’s estate, his few retainers were locked inside their barracks with the army guarding them. Servants stampeded out the gate. They knew their master was on trial for the murder of the shogun’s heir, and they were leaving before he could be condemned and his household rounded up to share his death sentence. Inside the mansion, Taeko huddled with her mother, brother, baby sister, and Akiko. Midori hugged the children close. Her eyes were filled with fear.
“Mama, what are we going to do?” Taeko asked.
“I don’t know.” Midori’s voice trembled.
“Everybody’s leaving,” Tatsuo said. “Should we leave, too?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Midori said, frantic with confusion.
“I’m scared,” Tatsuo said. “Can we go to our grandfathers?”
Midori’s father, Lord Niu, had an estate in the daimyo district. Hirata’s parents lived in the banchō, an area populated by hereditary Tokugawa vassals. “I don’t know,” Midori wailed.
Her mother’s indecisiveness scared Taeko. She said, “We can’t leave without Masahiro and Lady Reiko.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Midori eagerly snatched at any guidance. “We’ll wait for them. They’ll know what to do.”
“My father will be home soon,” Akiko said. “He promised.” She was serene in her faith in Sano. “He’ll fix everything.”
Nobody had the heart to contradict her. Taeko wished she could help Masahiro solve the murder and save them all. But even if she could bear to leave her mother and the other children, how could she get away?
Midori stood up suddenly. “Maybe we should pack some things, in case Reiko and Masahiro say we have to leave. Tatsuo, Taeko, get some clothes, enough for a few days. Come, Akiko, I’ll help you pack.” Carrying the baby, she hurried Akiko away.
Tatsuo began pulling clothes out of the cabinet. Taeko saw her chance. There was no time to think. Impulse sent her running out the door.
“Hey!” Tatsuo called. “Where are you going?”
Taeko joined the servants fleeing the estate. Following them downhill through the passages inside Edo Castle, she was thankful for the company. She’d never left the castle at night by herself, and it was strange and scary. Lanterns cast shadows in which monsters seemed to lurk. Taeko cringed from mounted patrol guards, their faces dark under their helmets. They looked like suits of armor with invisible ghosts inside. Finally Taeko exited the main gate. It slammed shut behind her. She fought the urge to run back and pound on it. The maids scurried off in different directions. Taeko was alone.
On the avenue outside the castle, the friendly priests and nuns who begged for alms during the day were gone. Soldiers were chasing away other beggars, yelling threats and waving swords at a family camped on a blanke
t. The man had no legs. He and his wife scrambled to gather up their belongings as their little boy and girl cried.
Taeko hurried toward the daimyo district. The long, broad streets were like dark tunnels enclosed by the walls of the estates. The only light came from lanterns at the gates, where the daimyo’s guards stood watch. The guards called to passing troops. Masculine laughter echoed up and down the tunnels. Few other people were about. The side streets were even darker than the main ones. Taeko turned corners, lost. After what seemed like hours, she arrived breathless at the back gate of Lord Tsunanori’s estate.
“What do you want?” the sentry asked.
“To go in,” Taeko stammered through her fear. “I work in the laundry.”
“Oh, you’re the missing maid.” He opened the gate. Taeko scurried in before she could lose her nerve. He called after her, “Housekeeper’s been looking for you.”
Taeko’s heart sank. She’d forgotten the mean old housekeeper. She tiptoed around the outbuildings to the laundry courtyard. It was dark except for moonlight reflecting in puddles. The tent flaps were closed. Taeko cautiously lifted one and peered inside.
Warm air exuded the smells of lye, mildew, and stale breath. Taeko heard snoring, saw bodies lumped on the ground. The tent was too dark for Taeko to see very far. She took a step into the tent and trod on a foot.
The person it belonged to said in a cross voice, “Hey, be careful.” The girl was Kiku, who’d chased Taeko yesterday. “Taeko? What are you doing here?”
“Shh!” Taeko glanced at the other women. “I have to talk to Emi.”
“I’m going to tell Housekeeper you’re back.”
“No, please, don’t,” Taeko whispered.
A small figure rose inside the tent. Women grunted as Emi stumbled over them. Emi reached Taeko and pulled her outside. They ran together across the courtyard, between buildings, and crouched in the manure-scented shadows behind the stables. Horses neighed.
One side of Emi’s lovely face was white in the moonlight, the other dark with the bruise where the mean woman had hit her. “I’m glad to see you, but why did you come back? You’re going to be beaten for running away.”
“You helped me once,” Taeko said. “I need you to help me again.”
Emi drew a sharp, frightened breath. Taeko hated to press Emi, but she was desperate. She said, “I know you didn’t tell me everything last time. What else do you know about Lord Tsunanori’s wife?”
“I can’t tell you,” Emi whispered. “I’ll get in trouble.”
“Please.” Taeko grabbed Emi’s hand. “It’s important. If you don’t tell me, my family and friends will die!”
Emi’s eyes, immense and black in the moonlight, filled with confusion. “You’re not really a poor orphan, are you? Who are you really? What do you want?”
“No, I’m not,” Taeko confessed, sorry she’d deceived Emi. “My father is a samurai. His master is in trouble. I have to find out who killed Lord Tsunanori’s wife.”
“Why?”
Aware that she wasn’t making much sense, Taeko said, “Because.” She gripped Emi’s hand tighter. “Now tell me!”
Emi’s hand wilted as she gave in to the habit of following orders. “I saw Namiji.”
“Who is Namiji?”
“She took care of Lady Tsuruhime when Lady Tsuruhime got smallpox,” Emi explained. “But this was maybe six or seven days before then.”
Taeko struggled to be patient. “What was Namiji doing when you saw her?”
“She was in Lady Tsuruhime’s room,” Emi said. “She was scrubbing the bed.”
Puzzled, Taeko said, “Scrubbing, how?” Beds weren’t usually scrubbed. The mattresses were hung outside to air, and the linens washed.
“With a dirty sheet. It looked like there was blood on it. And yellow stains. She rubbed it all over the mattress and the quilts and the pillow.”
“Why?” Using a dirty sheet to scrub a bed made no sense to Taeko.
“I don’t know. I was afraid to ask. She stuffed it in the cabinet.”
Taeko felt sick with disappointment. She’d disobeyed her mother and come back to this scary place to hear about a servant acting strangely?
Emi chewed her lip, then said, “I just thought of something else.”
“What?” Taeko’s hope resurged.
“I saw Namiji with that sheet again later,” Emi said. “She was in the back courtyard. It was the night after Lady Tsuruhime got smallpox.”
Taeko pretended to be interested because she didn’t want Emi to think her information was worthless. “What was Namiji doing?”
“She was burning the sheet.”
Quick footsteps approached. The girls looked at each other in fright. Emi rose and said, “You’d better go.”
Angry voices called, “Emi! Taeko!” It was Kiku and the housekeeper.
Emi seized Taeko’s hand. “Come with me!”
They ran past buildings, through grounds and passages. It was so dark that Taeko couldn’t see where she was going. She blindly trusted Emi. They came to a compound that was under construction, deserted. Piles of lumber and roof tiles waited by the wall. Taeko spied a gate and started toward it, but Emi held her back.
“No! There’s a guard outside.” Emi pointed to a lumber pile. “Climb on that. Jump on top of the wall and go over the side.”
The pile seemed as tall as the sky. Taeko gulped. She was afraid of high places.
“Hurry!” Emi whispered as the footsteps and voices came closer.
Taeko began to climb. Her heart beat so hard, it felt like it would jump out her throat. She crawled on top of the pile and stood on the uneven planks. The short distance to the wall looked as wide as the Sumida River, the gap bottomless. Taeko breathed so fast, she felt dizzy. With a wordless prayer on her lips, she jumped.
She flew through the air for an instant that lasted forever. Landing on the wall, she teetered, waving her arms. She crumpled, clutched the rough surface, and gasped.
“Go!” hissed Emi.
Taeko sat with her legs dangling over the wall. She shut her eyes and dropped far, far down to the street.
34
“The court will now hear the evidence against Sano.” Yanagisawa spoke from the dais. “I call the first witness.”
The three judges sat silently in their row, Sano on his knees on the mat on the shirasu.
“Aoki Kenzan, step forward,” Yanagisawa said.
Sano frowned, recognizing the gray-haired samurai who rose from the audience, walked up the aisle, and knelt near him to his left.
“State your position,” Yanagisawa ordered.
“I’m a retainer to Sano-san,” Aoki said. “I’m captain of the night watch at his estate.”
Sano stared at Aoki in disbelief. The man had served him for fourteen years. “You’re testifying against me?”
“You’ll have a chance to speak later,” Yanagisawa said coldly. “Until then, be quiet or forfeit your chance to defend yourself.”
Captain Aoki cast a miserable, pleading gaze at Sano. “I’m sorry, master.”
Sano supposed Yanagisawa had threatened Aoki into betraying him, but the betrayal still hurt. Yanagisawa said, “Captain, please describe what happened last night.”
“I was at my post in the barracks. It was about half an hour before midnight.” Aoki’s voice quavered. “Sano-san came and asked me to fetch a smoking basket with hot coals, a jar of kerosene, and some rags.”
“Aoki-san, you know I never did that!” Sano burst out.
“I’m warning you,” Yanagisawa said. “Continue, Captain Aoki.”
Tears of shame glistened on Aoki’s face. “I put the things in a bag and gave them to Sano-san. He took the bag and left the estate.”
Sano realized that although Yanagisawa truly believed him to be guilty, Yanagisawa hadn’t enough evidence, so he’d fabricated some.
“That will be all, Captain Aoki,” Yanagisawa said.
Captain Aoki’s shoulders sagged
as he left the room, a broken man who’d committed the worst violation of Bushido.
“I call the next witness,” Yanagisawa said.
This was a man wearing the armor tunic and metal helmet of a castle guard. He had a square jaw, a nervous pucker between thick eyebrows, and a thick neck. He knelt without looking at Sano. He identified himself as Lieutenant Hayashi.
“Where were you on duty last night?” Yanagisawa asked.
“In the watchtower outside the heir’s residence.”
He was one of the guards who, according to Marume’s friend among them, had left their posts to respond to a fake message, Sano realized. Hayashi had told the others to keep quiet about it.
“What happened?” Yanagisawa asked.
“Sano-san went to the heir’s residence,” Lieutenant Hayashi said in a small voice.
“Was he carrying anything?”
“Yes. A bag.”
Yanagisawa aimed a significant look at the judges. “The bag that held the items Sano had obtained from Captain Aoki.” His gaze dared Sano to say the lieutenant was lying, to forfeit his right to defend himself. Lieutenant Hayashi raised his shoulder, as if warding off heat from Sano’s outraged stare.
“What happened next?” Yanagisawa said.
“I didn’t see Sano-san go inside the building-it was too dark.” Hayashi’s speech sounded wooden, rehearsed. “A little while later, he came hurrying back down the passage.”
“Did he still have the bag?”
“No.” Without further prompting, Hayashi said, “Then the fire started.”
The judges nodded at one another. Sano was furious because they were accepting the evidence without question, but he hadn’t expected otherwise of Yanagisawa’s cronies.
Yanagisawa dismissed the lieutenant. “Now I will present the physical proof of Sano’s guilt.” He beckoned a guard stationed along the wall.
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