The Concubine's Tattoo

by Laura Joh Rowland

  He couldn’t help believing that the key to the mystery lay in this place that had harbored Lady Harume’s secrets. Instead of mounting his horse, he looked around. His gaze lit on the placard hanging from the gate across the street. It read, “Hakka Temple.” Sano recalled the printed prayer he’d found in Harume’s room. She must have bought it there before or after meeting Lord Miyagi at the inn. With a sense of impending discovery, Sano entered the temple precinct.

  The humble worship hall stood in quiet isolation, with no entertainment district to attract crowds. All the priests must be out begging alms. Yet Sano felt Lady Harume’s presence, like a ghost tugging at his sleeve. Heading toward the hall, he heard voices from the rear and followed them to a small cemetery. The leafless boughs of willow trees drooped over the grave markers; stone shafts nestled in dead grass. Four men stood by one large marker, conferring over something spread upon its flat top. Two wore dirty, ragged clothes. Their grimy faces bore the stamp of poverty. The other men looked clean and well fed, dressed in padded cloaks. As Sano approached, he heard one of these say, “Five momme for the whole lot.”

  “But these are fresh, master,” said a ragged man. “We got them yesterday.”

  “And they came from a young woman,” added the other. “Perfect for your business, masters.”

  The second customer said, “I’ll give you six momme.”

  An argument ensued. Moving closer, Sano saw the objects of trade: ten human fingernails, arranged in a row beside a pile of black hair. Sano recalled the nails and hair he’d found in Lady Harume’s room. He felt a glow of satisfaction as a piece of the puzzle dropped into place.

  The dealers were eta corpse handlers who robbed body parts from the dead. The customers were brothel servants, buying the relics for the courtesans to give clients as love tokens, so they needn’t mutilate their own hands or coiffures. Lady Harume must have wandered into the temple after leaving the inn. She’d found the eta and bought their wares to give men, as her mother the nighthawk prostitute must have done. Sano’s initial guess was confirmed. But what, if anything, did this have to do with Harume’s murder?

  Silver coins changed hands; the customers departed. The eta, catching sight of Sano, prostrated themselves on the ground. “Please, master, we weren’t doing anything wrong!”

  Sano understood their terror: a samurai could kill outcasts on a whim, without fear of reprisal. “Don’t be afraid. I just want to ask you some questions. Get up.”

  The eta obeyed, huddling together, eyes respectfully downcast. One was old, the other young, with similar bony features. “Yes, master,” they chorused.

  “Did a young, pretty lady dressed in fine clothes ever buy hair and fingernails from you?”

  The younger blurted, “Yes, master.”

  “When was this?” asked Sano.

  “It was in the spring,” said the young man, despite his companion’s frantic shushing gestures. Wide, dull eyes gave him a look of naïve stupidity.

  “Was a man with her?”

  The older eta hit the youth, who said, “Ouch, Father, why did you do that?” He withdrew into hurt silence.

  “Tell me what you know about the lady,” Sano said.

  Something in his voice or manner must have emboldened the young man, because he cast a defiant glance at his father, then said, “Our chief happened to be with us that day, making his tour of inspection.”

  In Japan’s rigidly controlled society, every class was organized. The samurai occupied ranks under their lords; merchants and craftsmen had their guilds; the clergy their temple communities. Peasants belonged to groups of households that governed one another. Every unit had a leader, and not even the eta escaped regimentation. Their chief held the hereditary name and position passed down from father to son. It was his privilege to wear two swords and don ceremonial dress when he appeared before Edo’s magistrates on official business. With this honor came the responsibility of monitoring the activities of his people. Now Sano had a premonition of how the outcast chief fit into the mystery.

  “While we were bargaining with the lady,” continued the young eta, “she kept looking at our chief. He looked back at her. They didn’t speak, but we could tell that something was happening between them, couldn’t we, Father?” The older man cowered, hands over his face, obviously ruing his son’s betrayal of their superior and wishing himself far away. “After the lady bought the hair and fingernails, our chief ordered us to go away. She stayed.

  “But we were curious, so we stood outside the wall and listened. We couldn’t hear what they said, but they talked for a long time. Then she went to the inn across the street. He waited at the back gate until she let him in.”

  Delight filled Sano. His hunch had paid off. Lady Harume’s ghost had led him to the surprising identity of her secret lover: Not a high official with a good reputation to protect, but a man whose outcast status had appealed to the low taste Harume had learned from her mother.

  Danzaemon, chief of the eta. His two swords had misled the innkeeper to believe he was a samurai.

  “Honorable Master, I beg you not to punish our chief for violating a lady from the castle,” the older eta pleaded. “He knows he did wrong. Everyone tried to warn him of the danger. If the shogun found out, soldiers would kill him! But he couldn’t help himself.”

  “They went on meeting. And now she’s dead.” The youth sighed. “Such a beautiful story,” he said wistfully. “Just like a Kabuki play I once heard while I was cleaning the street in the theater district.”

  The beautiful forbidden love that had endangered the outcast leader had threatened Lady Harume no less, Sano knew. Any infidelity would have incurred the shogun’s wrath, and resulted in Harume’s death. But an affair with the eta chief? Punishment would have also included brutal torture at Edo Jail; an angry mob hurling stones and insults at Harume and her lover along the way to the execution ground; their bodies displayed by the highway for passersby to revile and mutilate, as a warning to other criminals. Now Sano understood the true meaning of phrases from the hidden passage in Harume’s diary:

  “Lying together in the shadows between two existences”; “Your rank and fame endanger us”; “We can never walk together in daylight…”

  To risk the terrible consequences of discovery, Lady Harume and Danzaemon must have been deeply in love. Had the affair turned sour? Was the chief of outcasts her killer? Sano wondered whether he was getting close to the truth about the murder at last.

  “Where can I find Danzaemon?” he asked the eta.

  35

  A painted map of Japan covered an entire wall of Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s office in the palace. In a rich blue ocean floated the large landmasses of Hokkaido, Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyüshü, as well as minor islands. Black characters designated cities; gold lines defined the boundaries of provinces labeled in red; white lines traced highways; brown peaks represented mountains; blue patches and squiggles were lakes and rivers; green meant farmland. Yanagisawa stood before this masterpiece, holding a lacquer box of pins with round heads made of jade, ivory, coral, onyx, and gold. While he waited for the messenger to bring news that Sano had accused Lady Keisho-in of murder, he planned his glorious future.

  He didn’t really expect Keisho-in to be convicted or executed. The shogun would never kill his own mother, or precipitate such a scandal. But neither would their relationship ever be the same. The gentle Tokugawa Tsunayoshi would recoil from the taint of suspicion that would cling to Keisho-in. Knowing what she stood to lose if he begot an heir, he would always wonder whether she was capable of murdering his concubine and child. Yanagisawa could easily persuade him to exile Keisho-in to…The chamberlain smiled as he stuck a coral pin on the remote island of Hachijo. After the shogun’s mother was out of the way, he could execute the next phase of his plan. He began sticking pins in the sites of major Buddhist temples.

  During the ten years of Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s reign, a fortune had been squandered on the building and upkeep of the
se institutions; on food, clothing, and servants for the priests; on extravagant religious ceremonies and public charity. Priest Ryuko, acting through Lady Keisho-in, had convinced the shogun that the expenditure would bring good fortune. But Yanagisawa saw a better use for the money and property. He would expel the clergy and take over the temples, staffing them with men loyal to him. The sites would become his power bases in the provinces. He would establish himself as a shadow ruler—a second shogun, commanding a bakufu within the bakufu. For his headquarters he chose Kannei Temple, situated in the hilly Ueno district north of Edo. He’d always liked its halls and pavilions, its beautiful pond and spring cherry blossoms. Soon it would be his private palace.

  Pushing in a gold pin to mark his territory, Yanagisawa chuckled. The first thing he’d do once he took possession of Kannei Temple would be to host a huge party to celebrate the execution of the traitor Sano Ichiro. Already he tasted the exhilaration of being free of his rival, secure in his unlimited power. He could almost feel grateful to Sano for unwittingly making everything possible!

  Dreams of triumph restored the equilibrium that Shi-chisaburō’s declaration of love had upset. Cradling the box of pins in his palm, Yanagisawa looked ahead to a future where the old hurts and needs of his past no longer mattered.

  At the sound of a knock at the door, his heart leapt. A tingle of anticipation vibrated within him. “Come in,” Yanagisawa called, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. The news had come. The future was here.

  Instead of a messenger, in walked Priest Ryuko, saffron robe flowing, brocade stole glittering, an insolent smile on his face. “Good day, Honorable Chamberlain,” he said, bowing. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “What do you want?” Yanagisawa’s disappointment turned to anger. He hated the upstart priest who had parlayed an affair with a foolish old woman into a position of influence. Ryuko was a leech, sucking up Tokugawa wealth and privilege while hiding his ambitions under a cloak of piety. As much a rival for power as Sano, he was a major part of the reason Yanagisawa wanted Lady Keisho-in gone.

  Ignoring the question, Ryuko strolled around the room, looking at everything with great interest. “You have a most attractive office.” Inspecting the alcove, he said, “A four-hundred-year-old Chinese vase from the Sung dynasty, and a scroll by Enkai, one of Japan’s master calligraphers.” Ryuko examined the furniture. “Teak chests and lacquer cabinets from the days of the Fujiwara regime.” He fingered the tea service on Yanagisawa’s desk. “Koryu celadon. Very nice.” Opening the blinds, he beheld the garden of moss-covered boulders and raked sand paths. “And a most beautiful view.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Furious, Yanagisawa stalked over to the intruder. “Get out of here. Now!”

  Priest Ryuko trailed his fingers over the silk embroidery of a folding screen. “I need an office in the palace. Lady Keisho-in has told me to choose whichever room I like. Yours shall do very well.”

  Such unbelievable audacity! “Tow, take my office?” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said with an incredulous laugh. “Never!” Someone was going to pay for this affront. Yanagisawa would punish his staff for letting Ryuko in, then begin a campaign to persuade the shogun to banish him. “And take your hands off that screen!” Seizing Ryuko’s arm, he shouted, “Guards!”

  Then he gasped as the priest’s fingers locked his wrist in a bruising grip. Smiling straight into the chamberlain’s eyes, Ryuko said, “It didn’t work.”

  “What?” An unsettling sensation crept through Yanagisawa, as if his internal organs were shifting position.

  “Your plot to frame my lady and destroy the Sōsakan-sama.” Gloating in triumph, Ryuko spoke with slow, exaggerated clarity, driving home his point while relishing Yanagisawa’s dismay: “It—did—not—work.”

  He explained how a music teacher had seen Shichisa-burō sneaking around the Large Interior; how the Sōsakan-sama’s wife had deduced that the actor had planted false evidence; how the news had arrived just in time to prevent Sano from making an official murder charge against Lady Keisho-in. As Ryuko’s spiteful voice went on and on, Yanagisawa’s surroundings seemed to recede in a tide of shock and nausea. The lacquer box fell from his hand. Pins scattered across the floor.

  In a desperate attempt to dissemble, Chamberlain Yanagisawa said haughtily, “Your story is absurd. I have no idea what you’re talking about. How dare you accuse me, you avaricious parasite?”

  Ryuko laughed. “It takes one to know one, Honorable Chamberlain. And the truth is written all over you.” Looking at the map, he sneered. “You might as well forget about any schemes to take over the country.” He began yanking out pins, tossing them on the floor with the others.”Sōsakan Sano and Lady Keisho-in have resolved the misunderstanding caused by your trick. Soon the shogun will hear of your heinous attack against his mother and favorite retainer.” The priest’s desire to gloat had apparently overcome any misgivings about serving advance notice on Yanagisawa. “His Excellency shall come to recognize your true character at last.”

  Removing the coral pin from Hachijo, Ryuko said, “I can guess whom you planned to send there.” He took Yanagisawa’s hand and placed the pin ceremoniously in his palm. “Here. You can trade this bauble for food and shelter when you arrive on the Island of Exile.”

  Horror rendered Yanagisawa Chamberlain speechless. How could his clever plot have backfired so horribly? Fear turned his bowels to rice gruel. Finding his voice, he shouted, “Guards!”

  Footsteps pounded the corridor. Two soldiers entered. Yanagisawa pointed at Ryuko. “Get him out of here!”

  The soldiers moved to seize the priest, but Ryuko sailed past them toward the door, saying over his shoulder, “I shan’t outstay my welcome.” Then he paused and turned. “I just wanted you to know what’s going to happen to you,” he said, puffed up with his own moral superiority. “This way you can suffer a little longer for trying to harm my lady.”

  With the guards following, Priest Ryuko strode out of the room. The door slammed. For a moment, Yanagisawa stared after the harbinger of evil. Then he crouched on the tatami, arms wrapped around his knees. He felt himself shrinking into the miserable little boy he’d once been. Again his back ached from the blows of his father’s wooden pole. The sharp voice echoed down through the years: “You’re stupid, weak, incompetent, pitiful…You bring nothing but disgrace to this family!”

  Yanagisawa breathed the desolate atmosphere of his youth—that amalgam of rain, decaying wood, drafty rooms, and tears. Now the past had caught up with the present. Ghastly scenarios crowded Yanagisawa’s mind.

  He saw Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s face, pinched with hurt and anger; heard him say, “After all I’ve given you, how could you treat me this way? Exile is too good for you, and so is ritual suicide. For your treasonous act against my family, I sentence you to execution!”

  He felt iron shackles lock around his wrists and ankles. Soldiers dragged him to the execution ground. A jeering horde threw rocks and garbage, while his enemies applauded. Gawkers surrounded him as the soldiers forced him to kneel beside the executioner. Nearby waited the wooden frame on which his corpse would be displayed at the Nihonbashi Bridge. Chamberlain Yanagisawa realized that his father’s prediction had come true: his stupidity and incompetence had brought him to the ultimate disgrace, the punishment he deserved.

  And the last thing he saw before the sword severed his head was Sano Ichiro, Japan’s new chamberlain, standing in the place of honor at Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s right.

  Hatred for Sano seared Yanagisawa like a red-hot skewer twisted through his innards, rousing him from his paralysis. Anger flooded him like a healing tonic. With great relief, he felt himself expand to fill his adult persona and the world that his intelligence and strength had created. He surged to his feet. He didn’t have to yield to Sano, Lady Keisho-in, or Ryuko. He wouldn’t give up life without a fight, as his brother Yoshihiro had. Chamberlain Yanagisawa paced the room. Action restored his sense of power. Now he
focused all his energy on solving his problem.

  Sabotaging the murder investigation was the least of Yanagisawa’s concerns, although he still hoped Sano would fail and disgrace himself. Instead Yanagisawa devised a strategy for combating Sano and Lady Keisho-in’s retaliation. Again the plan would accomplish a double purpose. Again it would involve Shichisaburo.

  The actor had ruined Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s first brilliant scheme. Yanagisawa regretted becoming so entangled with him. He should have discarded the boy long ago; he should never have let infatuation blind him to the danger of using an amateur instead of a professional agent. In a rare moment of honesty, he acknowledged his mistake. Pathetically hungry for love, smitten with the actor, he’d suffered a fatal lapse of judgment. The howling emptiness still yawned within him; he teetered on the brink. His own weakness and need were his greatest enemies.

  Then Chamberlain Yanagisawa placed the blame where it truly belonged: on the inept, naïve Shichisaburo, whom he despised almost as much as he did Sano. Relief sealed the abyss. This time his plan would work. A perfect expression of his genius, it would save him, while ending his disastrous relationship with the actor. His dream of ruling Japan, though deferred, was still possible.

  Yanagisawa’s breath came in gasps, as if he’d just fought a battle; exhaustion weakened him. But his smile returned as he gathered up the scattered pins and replaced them on the map.

  36

  On his way to see Lady Harume’s secret lover, Sano stopped at Edo Jail. The eta settlement was unfamiliar territory to him, and he needed a guide who could introduce him to Chief Danzaemon. Mura, assistant to Dr. Ito, was the only eta Sano knew. They traveled to Nihonbashi’s northern outskirts, Sano on horseback and Mura walking behind him. Beyond the last scattered houses of Edo proper, they traversed an expanse of weed-infested wasteland where stray dogs foraged through piles of trash. On the opposite side was the eta settlement, a sprawling village of huts surrounded by a wooden fence.