For once Sano had a spectacular comeback to Makino’s baiting, yet he didn’t relish using it. “Nothing could be farther from the truth,” he said. “Your Excellency, please prepare yourself for bad news.” As an expectant hush fell over the room, Sano braced himself for the reaction. “Lady Harume was with child when she died.”
A collective gasp. Then perfect silence. Though the Elders quickly hid their shock, Sano could almost hear the hum of their minds formulating theories, calculating ramifications. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi rose awkwardly, then fell to his knees again.
“My son!” he exclaimed, his eyes sunken with horror. “My long-awaited heir! Murdered in his mother’s womb!”
“This is the first I’ve heard of the pregnancy,” Makino said. “Dr. Kitano regularly examines all the concubines, but he didn’t discover it.” The other elders echoed their senior’s skepticism. “How did you come into possession of the knowledge, Sōsakan Sano? Why should we believe you?”
Cold sweat ran down Sano’s back. After almost two years of concealing the illicit dissections at Edo Morgue, would the secret now come out and condemn him to exile? Nausea rose in his throat as he tried to frame a convincing lie. Beside him, Hirata, who knew of Sano’s transgressions, sat with head bowed, waiting for the blow to fall.
Then Chamberlain Yanagisawa said, “The fact of Lady Harume’s condition is more important than Sōsakan Sano’s method of ascertaining it. He wouldn’t make a mistake on such a serious matter.”
“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” Sounding increasingly puzzled, Makino conceded defeat.
Saved, by the enemy who had tried time and again to destroy him! For a moment Sano was too grateful to question Yanagisawa’s motives. Then he noticed that a peculiar change had come over the chamberlain. Yanagisawa’s eyes shone with alertness; he seemed energized by the news of the unborn child’s death. Sano understood that Yanagisawa might have wished it for the same reason as Lady Keisho-in. But if he hadn’t known about the pregnancy, why would he have murdered Harume?
The shogun raised his fists skyward and keened, “This is an outrage!” His sobs echoed throughout the hall. And Sano had still another unpleasant topic to broach.
Choosing his words carefully, he said, “Your Excellency, there is some …question about the …parentage of Lady Harume’s child. After all, she did have …relations with Lord Miyagi, and possibly Lieutenant Kushida. We must consider the possibility that…”
Turning on Sano, the shogun glared through his tears. “Nonsense! Harume was, ahh, devoted to me. She would never have let another man touch her. The child was mine. He would have succeeded me as, ahh, dictator of Japan.”
The elders avoided one another’s gazes. Yanagisawa remained silent in his air of contained energy. Everyone knew Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s habits, but no one dared question his virility, and the shogun himself would never admit that another man had succeeded where he’d failed.
“The murder of my heir is treason of the most, ahh, heinous kind. I must have revenge!” Scowling, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi drew his sword. For once he seemed a true descendant of the great Ieyasu, who had defeated rival warlords and unified Japan. Then the shogun dropped the sword and wept. “Alas, who would commit such a terrible crime?”
The door banged open. The assembly turned to see who dared interrupt the special emergency session. In minced Lady Keisho-in.
Aghast, Sano fought the urge to release his tension in wild laughter as he looked around the room. Did anyone else realize that here was an answer to the shogun’s question? But, of course, the other men hadn’t read her letter.
The elders and Chamberlain Yanagisawa bowed courteously to Lady Keisho-in, recognizing her right to do as she pleased. Simpering like a courtesan in the Yoshiwara spring parades, she bowed back. The shogun greeted his mother with a cry of gladness.
“Honorable Mother! I have just had the most, ahh, terrible shock. Come, I need your counsel!”
Lady Keisho-in crossed the room and settled upon the dais beside her son. She held his hand while he repeated Sano’s news. “Tragic!” she exclaimed, pulling a fan out of her sleeve and vigorously fanning her face. “Your chance for a direct heir; mine for a grandson—ruined. Mah, mah!” she wailed. “And I didn’t even know Harume was with child.”
Was she feigning grief and ignorance? The letter had altered Sano’s view of Lady Keisho-in as a simpleminded old woman. And he guessed that the women of the Large Interior knew more about one another than Dr. Kitano did. Keisho-in wasn’t as stupid as she seemed. Had she discovered Harume’s pregnancy, perceived the threat to herself, and taken action to avert it?
Sano was sure of only one thing: Keisho-in’s arrival forestalled his mention of the letter. To reveal it before her and the Council of Elders would constitute the official accusation he wasn’t ready to make. He needed more evidence against Lady Keisho-in first. Therefore, he must continue to bear the burden of his secret, regardless of his duty to keep Tokugawa Tsunayoshi informed. Hope lightened Sano’s guilt. Perhaps further inquiries would lead him away from Lady Keisho-in.
“We were just discussing the, ahh, problems caused by the murder,” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi explained to Keisho-in, “and the progress of Sósakan Sano’s investigation. Honorable Mother, please give us the benefit of your wisdom.”
Keisho-in patted his hand. “That is just what I have come here to do. Son, you must halt the investigation and order Sósakan Sano to remove his detectives from the Large Interior at once!”
Alarmed, Sano said, “But Lady Keisho-in, you yourself granted us permission to interview the residents and staff and search for evidence. And we haven’t finished yet.”
Among the council, eyebrows lifted; covert glances were exchanged. “With all due respect, Honorable Lady, but the Large Interior is the scene of the crime,” Senior Elder Makino said, though obviously reluctant to support Sano.
“And hence, the rightful focus of the investigation,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa added. As the elders nodded assent, he watched Sano and Lady Keisho-in. A strange smile lifted one corner of his mouth.
Even the shogun looked surprised. “Honorable Mother, it is, ahh, imperative that the killer of my heir be caught and punished. How can you deny Sósakan Sano any opportunity to, ahh, fulfill his mission?”
“I want the killer brought to justice as much as anyone else,” Keisho-in said, “but not at the expense of peace in the Large Interior. Alas!” She wiped tears on her sleeve; her voice thickened with emotion. “Nothing can bring back the child that died with Harume. We must say good-bye to the past and plan for the future.” Smiling tenderly at her son, she said, “For the sake of the succession, you must forget about revenge and concentrate on begetting a new child.” She turned to the assembly. “Now permit an old woman to offer you men some advice.”
With the condescending air of a nursemaid instructing a child, Keisho-in addressed Japan’s supreme governing council. “The female body is very sensitive to outside influences. The weather, the phases of the moon, a quarrel, disagreeable noises, a bit of bad food—anything can upset a woman’s humor. And bad humor can interfere with the flowering of a man’s seed inside her womb.”
Lady Keisho-in ran her hands down her stout body, then spread them against her abdomen. The elders looked down at the floor, repelled by such frank discussion of delicate matters. Chamberlain Yanagisawa gazed at Keisho-in as if fascinated. The shogun hung on his mother’s words. Hirata cringed with embarrassment, but Sano felt only dread, because he guessed what Lady Keisho-in was doing.
“Conception requires tranquillity,” Keisho-in continued. “With detectives trooping in and out of the Large Interior, asking questions and prying everywhere, how do you expect the concubines to get with child? Impossible!”
She rapped Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s hand with her fan. “That is why you must get rid of the detectives.” Folding her arms, she gazed around the assembly, daring anyone to challenge her.
The elders frowned, but said nothing: several
predecessors had lost their seats on the council for disagreeing with Lady Keisho-in. While Sano summoned the courage to do what honor and conscience required, Chamberlain Yanagisawa broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Your Excellency, I understand your honorable mother’s concerns,” he said carefully. Even the shogun’s second-in-command must respect Lady Keisho-in. “But we must balance our wish for an heir against the need to uphold the strength of the Tokugawa regime. By letting a traitor get away with murder, we demonstrate weakness, and vulnerability to further attack. Wouldn’t you agree, Sōsakan Sano?”
“Yes,” Sano said unhappily. “The investigation must proceed without restriction.” Lady Keisho-in was blocking his access to the Large Interior and its occupants, but surely not for the reason she’d given. She sought to prevent him from discovering anything that would implicate her in the murder. She feared that someone would reveal her affair with Lady Harume, and she wanted to find the letter before he did. Her interference was additional evidence in favor of an open accusation against Lady Keisho-in.
“Don’t listen to them,” Keisho-in ordered her son. “I have the wisdom of age. My Buddhist faith has given me knowledge of mystical forces of destiny. I know what’s best.”
A picture of helpless uncertainty, the shogun looked from Keisho-in to Yanagisawa, then to Sano. Sano’s ears thrummed with the pounding of his heart. The faces of the assembly blurred before him. His lips felt cold and numb under the pressure of the words he must speak to save the investigation and focus it on Lady Keisho-in. But the demands of honor and justice fueled his courage. His hand went to his sash, ready to produce the letter. In Bushido, the life of one lone samurai mattered less than the capture of a murderer and traitor.
Then, in a searing blaze of awareness, Sano remembered that he was no longer alone. Should he be condemned to death for treason, then Reiko and Magistrate Ueda would join him at the execution ground. He was willing to sacrifice himself to his principles, but how could he endanger his new family?
A new sense of connection filled Sano’s spirit with a sweet, painful warmth. He let his hand drop from his sash. Through years of solitude, how he’d longed for marriage! Then came a surge of resentment. Marriage encouraged cowardice at the expense of honor. Marriage had brought new obligations that conflicted with prior ones. Now Sano understood Reiko’s dissatisfaction even better. Both had lost their independence through marriage. Was there a way to make the loss bearable?
Would that they lived to find it!
At last Tokugawa Tsunayoshi spoke. “Sōsakan Sano, you shall, ahh, continue the murder investigation. But you and your detectives must stay away from the Large Interior and the women. Use your ingenuity to catch the killer by other means. And when you do, we shall all, ahh, rejoice.” Then he fell, weeping, upon his mother’s bosom.
Looking straight at Sano, Lady Keisho-in grinned.
24
Out of the Large Interior filed the nine men Sano had assigned to the investigation there, ejected by the shogun’s order. Sano and Hirata, waiting beside the palace door, fell into step with the detective in charge as the group trudged homeward through the night.
“Did you find anything?” Sano asked.
Detective Ozawa, a man with flat features and a past career as a metsuke spy, shook his head. “No poison or any other clues anywhere.”
Along the castle’s walled passages, burning torches smoked in the misty air. Owls hooted in the forest preserve; across the city, dogs bayed. Autumn’s melancholy charm had always appealed to the poet in Sano, but now its connotations of death worsened his spirits. “What about the interviews?”
“Nobody knows anything,” Ozawa said, “which could mean they’re telling the truth, they’re afraid to talk, or someone ordered them not to. I’d bet on the last.”
“Did you search Lady Keisho-in’s chambers?” Sano asked.
Ozawa looked at him in surprise. “No. I didn’t know you wanted us to, and we would have needed special permission from her. Why?”
“Never mind,” said Sano, “that’s all right.”
“It’s probably just as well that we quit,” Ozawa said. “We could have spent the rest of the year in the Large Interior without learning anything.”
That was little consolation to Sano, because the shogun’s edict had deprived him of access to not only Lady Keisho-in’s quarters and five hundred potential witnesses, but also another important suspect: Lady Ichiteru. Now the thought of her reminded Sano of an unpleasant task he must perform tonight.
When they reached Sano’s mansion, the detectives headed for the barracks. Sano said to Hirata, “Let’s go to my office.”
There, warmed by charcoal braziers and cups of hot sake, they knelt facing each other. Hirata looked miserable, his head bowed in anticipation of punishment. Sano hardened his heart against pity. He’d let Hirata’s dubious behavior slide for too long. Now it had compromised their work, perhaps irretrievably. Sano hated to risk damaging the friendship he valued above any other, but this time he meant to get some answers.
“What happened during your interview with Lady Ichiteru, and why did you let our superiors think we believe she’s innocent?” Sano said.
“I’m sorry, Sōsakan-sama” Hirata’s voice quavered. “There’s no excuse for what I did. I—Lady Ichiteru—” He gulped, then said, “I couldn’t get her to answer my questions, so I don’t really know if she killed Lady Harume. She—she got me all mixed up…” His gaze turned luminescent with memory. Then he looked down, as if caught in a shameful act. “I shouldn’t have spoken at the meeting. I made a bad mistake. You should dismiss me. I deserve it.”
The news shook Sano. Accustomed to relying on his chief retainer, he felt as though an essential support beam had been yanked from the structure of his detective corps. But Sano’s anger dissolved at the sight of Hirata’s humility.
“After all we’ve been through together, I won’t dismiss you for one mistake,” he said. Overcome with relief, Hirata blinked moist eyes. Tactfully Sano busied himself with pouring them each another drink. “Now let’s concentrate on the case. We’ve lost our chance for an official interview with Lady Ichiteru, but there must be other methods of getting information on her.”
They drank, then Hirata said hesitantly, “We might still be able to talk to Ichiteru.” From under his kimono he removed a letter and handed it over.
As Sano read, excitement eclipsed his depression. “She has information about the murder? Maybe this is the break we need.”
“You mean you think I should go?” A wild joy flared in Hirata’s eyes before consternation clouded them. “To see Lady Ichiteru, alone, at this place she describes?”
“It’s you she’s asking for,” Sano answered. “She might not be willing to speak to anyone else. And we can’t endanger her—or defy the shogun’s orders—by meeting in the castle.”
“You trust me with such a critical interview? After what I’ve done?” Hirata sounded incredulous.
“Yes,” Sano said, “I do.” His purpose for sending Hirata to the rendezvous was twofold: he wanted Lady Ichiteru’s information, but he also wanted Hirata to regain his self-confidence.
“Thank you, Sōsakan-sama. Thank you!” Fervent with gratitude, Hirata bowed. “I promise I won’t let you down. We’ll solve this case.”
After Hirata had gone, Sano went to his desk. Reading reports from his detectives, he wished he could share Hirata’s faith. His men had questioned every member of the Miyagi household; no one admitted to tampering with the ink, or seeing anyone do so. They’d traced the bottle’s path to Lady Harume. The messenger who had delivered it claimed he’d neither opened the sealed package nor made any stops along the way. Interviews with the castle guard who’d taken in the package, the servant who’d carried it to the Large Interior, and numerous individuals with possible access to the bottle while in transit had proved inconclusive.
Sano rubbed his temples, where a dull headache throbbed—he shouldn’t have im
bibed liquor on an empty stomach. His journey into Lady Harume’s past had made the case more perplexing instead of less; he still believed that the facts of her life related to the murder, but couldn’t make the connection. Sano felt drained of energy, in need of solace. Where was the comfort he’d expected to find in marriage?
Then Sano felt Reiko’s presence: a mental sensation vaguely akin to the ripple of a distant stream. He realized he’d been feeling it ever since arriving home, like an undercurrent beneath his thoughts. In the space of a mere three days, he had become attuned to his bride. He would always know when she was near. Marriage had worked this strange magic despite the conflicts that divided them. Did Reiko feel it, too? The thought gave Sano hope for a chance of mutual understanding and harmony. Now, as the sensation grew stronger and he heard the creak of the floorboards under her soft footsteps, he forgot the cares of the day. She was coming to him. His heart pounded; his mouth went dry in anticipation.
A knock at the door: three quiet, firm raps. “Come in.” Sano’s voice hoarsened with nervousness, and he had to clear his throat.
The door slid open. Reiko entered the room. She wore a red dressing gown printed with gold medallions, its lush folds emphasizing the delicate yet seductive curves of her figure. Her knee-length hair swathed her like a shimmering black cape. She looked utterly beautiful and unapproachable. In her proud posture, Sano could see generations of samurai ancestors. Reiko’s gaze was cool as she knelt a good distance away from Sano and bowed, her voice level when she said, “Good evening, Honorable Husband.”
“Good evening,” Sano said, chilled by her formality. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Where did you go? Sano wanted to ask. What did you do? But those questions would sound like an interrogation, and probably cause another quarrel. Sano controlled his tendency to batter against any obstacle that stood between him and the truth. Marriage was teaching him patience. He felt as though he’d aged years since his wedding, slowly, painfully maturing into the role of husband. Instead he waited for Reiko to speak. Didn’t her visit indicate a desire for his company?
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