The Concubine's Tattoo

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “But if you hadn’t seen Danzaemon, you wouldn’t have known that it was a woman who threw the dagger at Harume.” Hirata’s words echoed across the night. “And I wouldn’t have made the connection between the Rat and Lady Miyagi. We wouldn’t have found the dead concubines. We would have thought it was safe for Reiko to go to the villa.”

  Cold wind tore at Sano’s cloak; oily smoke from the lanterns filled his lungs. The full moon followed them like a malevolent, gloating eye. “I wouldn’t have let her go alone,” said Sano, refusing comfort as if it would only make him feel better at Reiko’s expense. “I’d be with her now.”

  “They don’t know she’s working for you,” Hirata said. “She’ll be all right.”

  “If we don’t get there in time, I’ll kill myself.” Sano couldn’t bear the thought of life without Reiko. How he wished he’d stuck to his original position, even if it meant imprisoning her at home and alienating her forever. At least she would have been safe. “I never should have agreed to let her help with the investigation!”

  His rash decision, made at a moment when love had impaired his judgment, could destroy Reiko. She was brave and smart, but also inexperienced and impulsive; it was his responsibility to protect her, and he’d failed. Forging ahead, Sano steered his horse into a narrow cut that angled off the main road. Before leaving town, he’d forced the Miyagi guards to give him directions to the summer villa. Hirata had sent a message summoning detectives to help, but they couldn’t afford to wait for reinforcements.

  The trail grew steeper and narrower until they had to dismount, leading their horses between endless borders of tall trees. The scent of pine and dead leaves saturated the air. Traveling within the pool of light from the lanterns, Sano had a nightmarish sense of climbing and climbing just to remain in the same place. His muscles strained; his chest tightened with his labored breathing. Was Reiko all right? How much farther to the villa?

  A crunching noise moved through the forest nearby. From behind Sano, Hirata called, “What was that?”

  “We must have frightened some animal,” Sano said, intent on reaching his destination. “Never mind. Hurry.”

  Finally they reached a level clearing, where the villa loomed dark and silent. In front of the stable stood two empty palanquins, one of which Sano identified as his own. “Hello!” he called. “Anyone here?”

  Taking the lanterns and leaving their horses, Sano and Hirata entered the villa through the unlocked door. Weapons hung in racks on the wall of the entry way. Recognizing two sets of swords, Sano rushed into the drafty corridor, shouting, “Ota! Fujisawa! Where are you? Reiko!”

  No answer came, though Sano felt her presence, not far away. On the right yawned a cavernous kitchen. “There’s smoke coming from the stove,” Hirata said. “They must be around somewhere.”

  Then Sano heard a low, raspy hum that rose in pitch and ended in a sigh. The sound repeated, emanating from a room beyond the kitchen. Sano burst through the door.

  Twelve men lay sprawled on the floor amid trays of half-eaten food. Sano recognized Reiko’s escorts, and his two detectives. Ota snored—the noise Sano had heard.

  “They’re asleep,” Hirata said.

  Sano shook Detective Ota. “Wake up! Where’s Reiko?”

  Ota groaned and slept on. “They’re all drunk,” Hirata said in disgust.

  Then Sano caught a whiff of Detective Ota’s breath. Instead of liquor he smelled a peculiar sweetness, like spoiled apricots. He grabbed Ota’s cup and sniffed. A trace of the odor lingered there. “It must be sleeping potion.” His fears for Reiko coalesced into the awful certainty that Lady Miyagi planned to kill her. Why else disable the men? “Come on, we’ll search the house.”

  They did, and found no one.

  “Lord and Lady Miyagi must have taken Reiko outside to view the moon,” Sano said, running out the back door.

  The garden was deserted, but on top of the forested slope, the moonlight silhouetted a small building against the night sky. A light glowed within this. “They’re up there,” Sano said.

  Carrying the lanterns, he and Hirata plunged into the woods, toiling up an elusive, overgrown path. They thrashed through low boughs, slid on pine needles and fallen leaves, clambered over rocks and fallen branches.

  “I think someone’s following us,” Hirata said.

  Sano ignored the warning. Breathless, he emerged from the forest and saw, above him on the grassy hilltop, a pavilion with a thatched roof. A lantern glowed behind lattice walls. Voices came from beyond the pavilion, where land met a great expanse of star-studded sky.

  “Please, Cousin. Killing her will only make things worse.” It was Lord Miyagi, his voice ragged with despair.

  “We have no choice,” Lady Miyagi said.

  As Sano and Hirata staggered the remaining short distance up the incline, Lord Miyagi began to sob. “You can’t get away with this. And it won’t do for you to be executed for murder. How would I get along without you?”

  “You couldn’t.” Bitter triumph rang in Lady Miyagi’s voice. “For thirty-three years I’ve served you, always fulfilling your wishes, protecting you from the consequences. I killed that girl from next door because she caught you spying on her in the privy when we invited her over. I was afraid she would make trouble, so I poisoned her tea. This is just one more thing I must do, so that no one ever separates us.”

  Then Lady Miyagi had committed the unsolved murder that Magistrate Ueda had mentioned. Even as fear licked at Sano’s heart, wild hope surged within him. It sounded as if Reiko was still alive. Panting, he rounded the pavilion and skidded to a stop. His lantern shone upon three figures, defining them in flickering highlights and deep shadow. Lord Miyagi knelt on the path, which bordered a precipice and ended at a sheer drop into a dark abyss. From far below this came the rush of water. Some ten paces away, Lady Miyagi stood near the edge, holding Reiko by the hair. Wind swirled their brilliant robes.

  “Reiko!” cried Sano.

  The daimyo turned a tear-stained face to Sano. Lady Miyagi spun around. She held a dagger to Reiko’s throat. Reiko’s face was a mask of terror. When she saw Sano, gladness filled her eyes. She started to speak, but Lady Miyagi jabbed her with the tip of the blade, rasping, “Quiet!”

  “Drop the dagger,” Sano ordered Lady Miyagi, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Dread assailed him. “You’re under arrest for the murders of Lady Harume and Choyei.” He guessed that Reiko must have somehow discovered the truth, provoking Lady Miyagi’s attack. “Killing my wife won’t help you.” Setting down his lantern, Sano beckoned. “Let her come to me.”

  “Do as he says, Cousin,” begged Lord Miyagi.

  The weapon wavered in Lady Miyagi’s unsteady hand, but she still gripped Reiko tightly. Desperation glazed her eyes. Her long hair whipped in the wind. Sano barely recognized the prim matron he’d met two days ago. Cheeks flushed, chin bloodstained, and teeth bared in a grotesque rictus, she looked like a madwoman. And Reiko’s life depended on his ability to reason with her.

  “Sōsakan-sama, my wife is not really a bad person,” said Lord Miyagi. “It’s Lady Harume who was evil. She was blackmailing me. My wife only wants to protect me.”

  Sano said to Lady Miyagi, “If you let Reiko go, I’ll advise the shogun to take the special circumstances into account. I’ll recommend a lighter sentence.” His spirit recoiled from the thought of letting a murderer escape justice, but he would say anything, do anything, to save Reiko. “Just come away from the precipice, and let’s talk.”

  Lady Miyagi didn’t move. Sano saw Reiko’s throat contract, heard her breathing accelerate, and saw the glassiness of her eyes. “Relax, Reiko,” he called, fearing she would die of terror. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “Listen to the Sōsakan-sama,” Lord Miyagi beseeched his wife. “He can help us.”

  But Lady Miyagi’s red-eyed gaze bypassed Sano as if he didn’t exist, fixing on her husband. “Yes, Harume was evil.” Replete with sincerity, the word
s issued from some dark, secret place inside her. “She had the audacity to conceive your child.”

  “My child?” Confusion lifted Lord Miyagi’s voice. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “The child Harume was carrying when she died,” Lady Miyagi said. “I saw her at the shrine of Awashima Myojin.” This Shinto goddess was the patron deity of women. “She hung a prayer tablet beside the altar, asking for a safe delivery of the child. I poisoned the ink—to kill them both.”

  “But I never even touched Harume!” The daimyo crawled past Sano to kneel near his wife. “Cousin, you know what I am. How can you think I fathered a child on her?”

  “If it wasn’t you, then who else?” Lady Miyagi demanded. “Not the shogun, that impotent weakling.” Glaring down at her husband, she lowered the dagger. “All these years, I’ve tolerated your affairs with other women and never complained, because I didn’t think you would touch them; didn’t think you could. I believed that in your heart you were true to me.”

  Dividing his attention among Lady Miyagi, the dagger, and Reiko, Sano eased closer, sending his wife a silent message: Just a moment more, and I’ll save you!

  “I thought we were spiritual lovers. Mated forever, like the swans on our family crest. Sharing everything.” Lady Miyagi’s mouth turned down; tears spilled over her face. “But now I know better. You sneaked away and bedded Lady Harume without telling me. You betrayed me!”

  “Cousin, I never—”

  “I know how much you want a son. I couldn’t let Harume’s child be born. That would have encouraged you to beget another, from one of your ladies. She would become your new wife, and the chüd your heir. You would have cast me aside. How could I survive without your protection?”

  At last Sano understood the true reason for Lady Harume’s murder. A misunderstanding had fostered jealousy. The unborn child, not the mother, had been the intended victim of the poison. Quietly Sano crept up on Lady Miyagi and Reiko.

  “You killed Wren and Snowflake so they couldn’t have sons by me.” Dumbfounded, Lord Miyagi shook his head. “But why kill a drug peddler?”

  Conviction hardened Lady Miyagi’s teary gaze. “I did it so he couldn’t identify me as the person who bought the poison. I was going to kill that odious freak-show proprietor who found out and tried to blackmail me, but I lost the chance. Don’t you understand that I did it all so everything would stay the same between us?”

  “Cousin, I would never cast you off,” Lord Miyagi wailed. “I need you. Maybe I’ve never said so before, but I love you.” He extended his clasped hands. “Please, give the sōsakan-sama his wife, and come to me!”

  “I can’t.” Lady Miyagi took a step closer to the edge of the precipice. Sano’s heart banged against his rib cage; he halted in his tracks, throwing out an arm to keep Hirata back. Any movement might goad Lady Miyagi into hurting Reiko. “I’ve watched you look at her. I know you want her. The only way I can make sure she never bears you a son is by killing her.”

  She yanked the dagger up, poking the tip into the soft flesh under Reiko’s jaw. Terror shot through Sano. “Listen. Your husband wasn’t the father of Harume’s child,” he said, fighting to keep calm. “He didn’t betray you. Harume had another lover. And Reiko is mine. She’s not available for Lord Miyagi’s use. So give her to me, now.”

  Lady Miyagi met his plea with a blank stare. Deep in her own world of skewed perception, she seemed impervious to logic. Slowly she turned away, dragging Reiko to the brink of the precipice.

  “No!”

  Sano rushed toward the women, but Hirata leapt in front of him. The young retainer grabbed Lord Miyagi in a double armlock. “Lady Miyagi, if you hurt the Sōsakan-sama’s wife, I’ll throw your husband over the edge,” Hirata yelled.

  It was a strategy that hadn’t occurred to Sano; his mind had been focused on Reiko. Now he held his breath as he watched Lady Miyagi’s head jerk around. When she saw the daimyo, she froze, drawing a sharp hiss of breath.

  “Cousin, help, I don’t want to die!” Sobbing, Lord Miyagi kicked and struggled in Hirata’s grip.

  “You can save him,” Sano said. A pool of hope spread in his heart. “Just drop the dagger. Then walk this way.” Moving down the hillside, he gestured for Lady Miyagi to follow. “Bring Reiko to me.”

  Lady Miyagi’s gaze flashed from her husband to Sano, then Reiko. An anguished moan escaped her. Sano felt indecision weakening her resolve, like cold water cracking hot porcelain, yet she didn’t move.

  “Hirata?” Sano said.

  The young retainer hauled Lord Miyagi to the edge. “Help, Cousin,” the daimyo mewled.

  No one else spoke. No one moved. Only the sounds of wind and rushing water broke the silence. The great wheel of the heavens seemed to stall, halting moon and stars on their celestial paths. Deranged by jealousy, Lady Miyagi apparently wanted to save her husband, but not without securing her position in his life. Perhaps she also needed to punish him for his imagined betrayal. Sano felt the night expand, vast and dark and terrible as the impasse that the negotiations had reached. Despair overwhelmed him.

  Then a series of crashing noises came from the forest. Running footsteps pounded up the slope. Beyond Lady Miyagi and Reiko, a man burst into view. He wore a soiled kimono and carried a spear.

  “Lieutenant Kushida.” Wonder hushed Sano’s exclamation. He saw Hirata stiffen with surprise, and heard the daimyo utter a startled grunt. Lady Miyagi turned slightly, eyes darting, trying to watch everyone at once.

  “It must have been him following us in the woods,” Hirata said. “What’s he doing here?”

  The lieutenant ignored Sano, Hirata, Reiko, and Lord Miyagi. Pointing his spear at Lady Miyagi, he shouted, “Murderer!” His monkey face was streaked with dirt; his matted hair hung loose around his shoulders. “Day and night I’ve hunted the killer of my beloved Harume. At last I’ve found you. Now I shall avenge her death, appease her spirit, and reclaim my honor!”

  Now Sano understood why Kushida had gone to Daikon Quay. He’d tracked down Choyei and forced the dying peddler to reveal the identity of the customer who had bought the arrow toxin. He was the man whom the landlord had heard in Choyei’s room. Then he’d stalked Lady Miyagi. Before Sano could react, the lieutenant lunged at Lady Miyagi. She shrieked and lurched sideways across the path toward the pavilion. The spear blade ripped through the sleeve of her robe. Cursing, Kushida attacked again. As Lady Miyagi lashed out with her dagger in an attempt to defend herself, Reiko broke free. She stumbled along the path, trying to avoid Kushida’s vicious thrusts. When Sano rushed to help her, the shaft of the spear banged him on the shoulder.

  Hirata flung Lord Miyagi aside. Drawing his sword, he charged at Lieutenant Kushida. “I’ll take care of him, sōsakan-sama. You save Reiko.”

  Thrusting and dodging, he drove Kushida down the hill. Sano reached for Reiko, but Lady Miyagi slashed his arm with the dagger, shrieking, “Get away!”

  Sano drew his sword and chopped at Lady Miyagi’s blade. Reiko drew a dagger from her sleeve and joined the battle. Then Sano felt someone come up behind him. He whirled and saw Lord Miyagi waving a sword.

  “I won’t let you hurt my wife.” His droopy features tightened by fear, the daimyo took an awkward swipe at Sano.

  Sano dodged the strike. He battered at the daimyo’s sword, intending to subdue rather than kill. “You can’t win, Lord Miyagi. Surrender.”

  Reiko slashed at Lady Miyagi, who parried. Their slender blades clashed with a sweet, steely ring. Whirling and feinting at the edge of the drop, amid billowing robes and hair, they engaged in a dance of violent grace. Reiko fought with practiced skill, Lady Miyagi with reckless ferocity. From down the hill, Sano heard Lieutenant Kushida shouting at Hirata, “Leave me alone. I must avenge Lady Harume’s death. It’s the only way I’ll ever know peace.”

  Lord Miyagi struggled against Sano’s superior skill. Sweat glistened on his woeful face. A lifetime of self-indulgence had left him ill suited for combat Q
uickly Sano knocked the sword out of his hand. Helpless, he cowered on the ground. He looked at his wife, whose robes hung in bloodstained tatters where Reiko had cut her. A groan of misery issued from him. Sano could see his vision of life without a devoted slave; jail, exile, or confiscation of the family estate as punishment for his wife’s crimes. Then Lord Miyagi raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

  “I accept defeat,” he said with quiet dignity. “Please allow me the privilege of committing seppuku.”

  The daimyo drew his short sword, gripping it in trembling hands, the blade pointed at his abdomen. Closing his eyes, he murmured a prayer. Either he was taking the coward’s way out of a difficult situation, or some vestige of samurai honor lived within him. Then he gulped a deep breath. With a piercing scream, he drove the sword into himself.

  “Cousin!” Lady Miyagi rushed over and knelt beside her husband, who writhed and moaned in the agonies of death. Dropping the dagger, she caressed the daimyo’s face with her bloody hands.

  A great convulsion spasmed his body. He looked up at his wife, and his lips mouthed unintelligible words. Then he went limp in her arms.

  “Oh, no. My darling. No!” Ugly, choking sobs wracked Lady Miyagi.

  Panting from exertion, Reiko joined Sano. Gingerly he crouched, reaching for Lady Miyagi’s dagger, though he didn’t think she would resist arrest now. Then her hand shot out and grabbed the weapon, pointing it at him. Grief twisted her mouth; her face was livid with anger, smeared with blood and tears. “You destroyed my husband,” she whispered. “You’ll pay for this.”

  Sano raised his sword. But instead of attacking him, Lady Miyagi assaulted Reiko, crying, “You took away my beloved. Now I’m going to take yours!”