Blade of the Samurai: A Shinobi Mystery (Shinobi Mysteries)

by Susan Spann

  Hiro poured a cup of tea for Netsuko and one for himself, thereby avoiding the need to respond to her comment. Netsuko’s eyes widened. Hosts normally poured a visitor’s tea, but samurai men rarely extended such courtesy to women.

  She raised her teacup with a nod of thanks and inhaled the aromatic steam.

  Hiro raised his own cup and examined the pale green liquid. He drank in tiny sips, enjoying the delicate sweetness and the heat of the tea on his tongue.

  Netsuko also savored her tea in silence. After several minutes she set the empty cup on the mat.

  Hiro reached for the pot to refill it.

  As the steaming liquid flowed from the teapot into the porcelain cup, Netsuko said, “My husband was not faithful, but he did not deserve to die.”

  She spoke quietly and without emotion, as though discussing the weather or the tea.

  As Hiro set the teapot down, Netsuko studied his face.

  “It doesn’t surprise you that I knew about his infidelity?” She tilted her head slightly and waited for a response.

  Hiro kept his expression blank. “I try not to make assumptions about other men’s wives.”

  “Then perhaps it will not shock you to learn that I approved of his affairs.”

  Chapter 30

  Hiro waited for Netsuko to explain.

  Once again she seemed surprised by his lack of reaction. “You don’t condemn me for approving of my husband’s infidelity?”

  This time her pause required a response.

  “You doubtless had your reasons.” Hiro decided not to offer an excuse that she might substitute for truth.

  “I married young,” Netsuko said, “but old enough to understand my husband’s parents did not choose me for my looks.” She stared at Hiro as if daring him to deny her lack of beauty.

  He said nothing.

  She nodded once, as if confirming he had passed a test. “My husband had status, and a handsome face, but no one would ever call him a brilliant man. His family overlooked my appearance because I had the intelligence and social skills Saburo lacked. He complained at first, as any young man deprived of a beauty will do, but when he realized how much I could help him we reached an understanding.

  “We agreed that once I gave birth to a son who survived to the age of three, Saburo could take a mistress, or more than one if he wished. I imposed only two conditions. First, deniability. He would never parade his women in public, discuss them with friends, or act in any way that might bring shame on me or on our son. Second, I made him swear he would never divorce me and that he would always ensure his mistresses knew their place.”

  As he listened, Hiro thought of the way his kitten, Gato, toyed with bugs she captured in the yard. He wondered whether Netsuko, too, had a penchant for killing her prey when she tired of a game.

  He smiled politely. “Your arrangement sounds reasonable.”

  Netsuko examined her teacup. “I think many people would find it strange.” She looked up. “Most men believe a wife should not take an active role in her husband’s affairs.”

  Hiro noted the double meaning and decided it was intentional.

  “A wise man does not reject sound advice,” he countered, “regardless of the source.”

  “And are you a wise man?” she asked.

  The question caught Hiro off guard.

  Netsuko laughed. “I wondered how far I would have to go to surprise you.”

  Her smile disappeared. “My marriage was a partnership based on convenience and mutual respect. I did not love my husband, as most poets use the word, but our relationship was acceptable and mutually beneficial. To that end, I considered my marriage a good one.”

  She set her empty teacup on the mat. “I want my husband’s murderer punished. Put plainly, I want her dead.”

  “Her?” Hiro asked.

  “My husband’s mistress,” Netsuko said. “She killed him because he refused to divorce me.”

  “You know this with certainty?”

  As Hiro refilled Netsuko’s tea, he realized he hadn’t asked Ana to make the painkilling brew for Father Mateo. Etiquette didn’t allow him to leave a guest alone, so unless the maid returned to the room the priest would have to wait a little longer.

  Netsuko raised her cup with a nod. She savored the steam and sipped her tea, as relaxed as if they discussed a business transaction and not a murder.

  Eventually she lowered her cup and continued, “Saburo told me everything. The relationship started innocently—as innocently as it could, anyway—but the girl became unreasonable. She wanted Saburo all to herself. He didn’t know how to refuse without causing a scene, though he had no intention of acting on her demands.

  “He asked me to help him discard her.”

  “Your husband asked you to end his affair?” Hiro asked.

  “Why wouldn’t he? I helped him with everything else.” She sipped her tea. “The best lies always hold a grain of truth, so we decided that I would be his excuse. Saburo told the girl I suspected something and that he couldn’t risk me making a public spectacle of the affair. He offered her money or to arrange a marriage for her outside of Kyoto.”

  “And she refused,” Hiro said.

  “She didn’t just refuse, she murdered him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Matsunaga Hisahide about your suspicions?” Hiro asked.

  “You think I didn’t?”

  “If you had,” he said, “Hisahide would not have needed me.”

  “Hisahide doesn’t believe a maid could kill a samurai.”

  “A maid?” Hiro asked.

  Netsuko nodded. “My husband’s taste in women was no better than his temper. Neither was very pleasant or well-controlled. I’m sure you’ve met the girl. Her name is Jun, and she conveniently discovered my husband’s body.” Netsuko tilted her head to the side. “Based on your expression she didn’t admit the affair to you.”

  “No,” Hiro said. “Would you, in her place?”

  Netsuko smiled. “I would never allow myself to be caught in such a place.”

  A slip of the tongue, or another play on words? Hiro couldn’t decide.

  “What makes you believe Jun killed Saburo?” he asked.

  “Her demands, and that Saburo was killed with a dagger. A man would have used a sword.”

  “But the dagger belonged to Ito Kazu, a fact you acknowledged yourself.”

  “I regret that accusation.” Netsuko took her right hand off the teacup long enough to rub her left wrist. “I wasn’t thinking clearly yesterday.”

  “Now that you have decided to accuse the real murderer, why come to me instead of Hisahide or the shogun?” Hiro asked.

  She took a deep breath. Her shoulders sank slightly as she released it. “The foreign priests have a reputation for discretion. I thought, perhaps, since you work with one…”

  She trailed off as if hoping Hiro would finish the thought.

  He didn’t.

  Just before the silence grew awkward Netsuko said, “I hoped you would punish the girl without revealing that I am the one who told you. Ichiro’s future and mine depend upon our ignorance of the affair. A grieving widow receives assistance from her husband’s clan, but a scheming woman who pandered to her husband’s baser instincts always finds herself an object of disdain.

  “I want Jun to pay for her crime, but I have no desire to suffer with her.”

  Netsuko looked at her tea. “Pity. It’s gone cold.”

  She set the cup on the tray and stood up, ending the conversation.

  Hiro escorted her to the door. To his surprise, no horse waited in the yard.

  Netsuko saw him scan the street. “I rode as far as Okazaki Shrine and walked from there. No one questions a woman’s need to pray at a time like this.”

  Hiro found the comment interesting. Grieving widows seldom thought their actions through so carefully.

  “Thank you for your visit.” Hiro bowed, the formal gesture echoing his words. “I will give your regards to Father Mateo.
”

  “Thank you for the tea.” She stepped off the porch and into her sandals. “And thank you in advance for your discretion.”

  Hiro watched her walk away.

  As she reached the street the neighbor’s akita began its furious barking. Hiro tensed, half hoping the dog would run into the street. He would have welcomed any excuse to kill it. But the dog did not appear, and Netsuko continued up the road without a backward glance.

  The shinobi turned away and shut the door. Father Mateo still needed a painkilling tea.

  Chapter 31

  Hiro found Ana clearing the teapot from the hearth.

  He removed the twist of paper from his sleeve and pulled it open, revealing a sticky ball of resin. He pinched a tiny piece from the ball and extended it to the maid.

  “Please brew a strong tea for Father Mateo and add this to the pot,” he said.

  Ana backed away as if he had offered a venomous spider. “I will not give him poppy tears.”

  Hiro hadn’t thought she would recognize opium. “It will dull his pain and help him sleep.”

  “He doesn’t even drink sake.” Ana frowned. “Did he ask for this?”

  “Do you want him to suffer?” Hiro’s patience grew short. “He won’t recover unless he rests and allows his wounds to heal. This slows the heart and brings on sleep. One taste cannot give him a permanent hunger for it.”

  The final part was a lie, but Hiro hoped Ana’s knowledge didn’t extend to single-dose dependency. Such addictions were rare enough that Hiro thought the need outweighed the risks.

  He heard a loud sneeze and a painful groan from Father Mateo’s room.

  Ana glanced at the Jesuit’s door and held out her hand. “All right.” She narrowed her eyes at Hiro. “But I’m holding you responsible.”

  She accepted the bit of resin and hurried toward the kitchen.

  “Hiro!” Father Mateo called, then sneezed again.

  The shinobi slid open the Jesuit’s door and stifled a laugh.

  Father Mateo lay on his futon, blinking tears from his watering eyes. He held his bandaged hands aloft to keep them away from the tortoiseshell kitten sitting on his chest.

  Gato leaned forward and licked the Jesuit’s swollen nose.

  “Hiro! Get it off me.”

  Father Mateo blew a puff of air in the kitten’s face, but Gato just flicked her ears and kneaded her paws on his kimono.

  Hiro laughed aloud.

  “It’s not funny,” Father Mateo said, and sniffled to prove his point.

  Hiro walked over and scooped the purring cat into his hand. “Come on, Gato. That’s enough.”

  The kitten butted the shinobi with her forehead.

  Hiro backed away from the priest. “How did she get in here?”

  “I don’t know.” Father Mateo flinched as he laid his injured hands on his chest again. “I dozed off. When I woke up she was there.”

  “Most likely enjoying the warmth,” Hiro said.

  “Most definitely making me sneeze.”

  “We don’t have to keep her,” Hiro said. “I could find her another home.”

  “And upset Ana?” Father Mateo shook his head. “I’d rather sneeze. Besides, I like the cat when she’s not shedding hair up my nose.”

  The Jesuit sighed. His lips wavered into a frown. “You mentioned medicine. Will it help the pain?”

  “It will.” Hiro fingered the twist of paper, wondering whether he should have opted for willow bark and horse chestnut seeds instead of the stronger opium. But he had used only a tiny amount—far less than a smoker used for a comforting high. He decided to watch the priest’s reaction carefully. If the opium didn’t give much relief, or if it worked too well, he would use something different the next time.

  Hiro took Gato back to his room, set her down, and pondered Netsuko’s visit. The woman’s accusations, while superficially reasonable, had troublesome undertones. Mistresses didn’t murder their lovers. They blackmailed or embarrassed them instead. Hiro found it more likely that Jun created the problem by accident.

  Love made young men do rash things, and Den was in love with Jun.

  None of which explained Kazu’s refusal to talk or what Ozuru the carpenter really did after dark that night. Hiro even considered Netsuko a suspect. Her visit raised more questions than it answered. Hopefully talking with Den would do the opposite.

  Hiro put on a pair of old hakama and a faded tunic, grabbed his swords, and hurried into the yard. He practiced katas until his muscles burned and his forehead dripped with sweat.

  When he finished, Hiro retrieved his kimono from his room and walked to the public bathhouse down the road. He bathed and spent an hour relaxing in the steam, returning home as the sky darkened from cloudy gray to charcoal. He hurried along the road, intent on arriving home by nightfall, the hour when shogunate workers headed home—and after which, a rival shinobi might pay the priest a visit.

  Hiro reached the house exactly when he intended. He opened his mouth to call for Ana as he entered the oe, but the words dissolved like sugar on his tongue.

  Kazu stood in front of the door to Father Mateo’s room.

  “What are you doing?” Hiro’s hand flew to the hilt of his katana. He had the blade half out of its sheath when he froze, chilled by the realization that he really would kill anyone—even Kazu—to save the priest.

  Kazu turned. “Looking for you.” His lips curved into the charming smile that had melted women’s hearts, and softened men’s, since his early childhood.

  It didn’t work on Hiro anymore.

  “That isn’t my room,” the shinobi said, “and you know it.”

  He pushed past Kazu and slid the door open just far enough to see Father Mateo sleeping and undisturbed. He slid the door closed and turned.

  “What are you doing here? I won’t ask again.”

  Kazu’s smile faded. “You don’t need to act like a mannerless ronin.”

  “Answer my question immediately.”

  Kazu stepped backward. “I found evidence. I thought you’d want to hear about it.”

  “What’s too important to wait for tomorrow?”

  “Forget it,” Kazu turned away.

  “You’re here,” Hiro said. “You might as well stay and tell me.”

  Kazu looked over his shoulder. Hiro thought the younger man might leave, but instead Kazu stalked to the hearth and knelt with a thump that made Hiro wince.

  The shinobi forced his emotions away as he joined his guest at the hearth. Further hostility would not help him discern Kazu’s real motives.

  “May I offer you tea?” Hiro asked.

  “Thank you, no.”

  As his thoughts cleared, Hiro doubted that Kazu had come to hurt the priest. Still, the younger man had no reason to enter the house without permission.

  Hiro skipped the usual formalities. “What did you find at the shogunate?”

  “Hisahide returned the ledger containing the schedules for the shogun’s personal guards,” Kazu said. “He claimed the shogun didn’t need it any longer. The explanation seemed suspicious, so after he left I read the schedule.

  “It’s been altered since the night Saburo died.”

  Chapter 32

  “Altered?” Hiro repeated.

  Kazu nodded. “The guards originally assigned to the shogun’s quarters tomorrow night have been exchanged for alternates.”

  “Alternates?” Hiro asked.

  “Yes,” Kazu said. “Shogunate guards, but not the men Saburo would have assigned for duty that night.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Saburo had a system. The men on duty tomorrow night are not the ones the system would have named.”

  “And you know the changes were made by someone other than Saburo?” Hiro asked.

  “The writing is similar, but it shows inconsistencies. I’m not certain.”

  “Could the shogun have changed the ledger?” Hiro asked. “The letter you found suggested a plot, and shifting the guar
ds might stop an assassination attempt.”

  “It’s possible,” Kazu said, “but why tomorrow night? Lord Oda’s men aren’t due to arrive until the following morning.”

  “Do the changes continue through the ambassadors’ visit?” Hiro asked.

  Kazu looked at the floor. “I didn’t look. I was so surprised about the change that I came straight here to tell you.”

  “You’d better go back and find out,” Hiro said, “since it doesn’t appear that you brought the ledger with you.”

  Kazu looked up, alarmed. “Of course I didn’t bring it. The shogun would kill me if I took it outside the compound—and I don’t mean that as a figure of speech. I won’t be able to check tonight anyway. They’ve locked the gates, and no one goes in or out without an excuse. With everything that’s going on, I’m not willing to risk the wall.”

  He looked at Father Mateo’s door. “What happened to the priest? Does he always go to bed this early?”

  “The neighbor’s dog attacked him this afternoon.”

  Kazu leaned forward. “Is it serious?”

  Worry weighted Hiro’s chest. “Too soon to know.”

  “I hope he recovers.” Kazu stood up and bowed formally. “It is a terrible thing to lose a brother.”

  Before Hiro could rise, the younger man left the room. Hiro heard the front door open and close as Kazu left the house.

  The shinobi spent the night awake and listening for intruders. He doubted Kazu would return, but his thoughts made sleep impossible anyway. He checked on Father Mateo more than once and heard Ana do the same. Hiro found himself wishing the Jesuit would wake, even though the priest needed rest. The shinobi couldn’t stop thinking about the murder, and he found himself wishing for Father Mateo’s input.

  Just before dawn, Hiro lay down on his futon and fell into restless sleep. He woke feeling bitter and unrefreshed. His knee ached, which made no sense until he realized Gato was sleeping on it.

  He lifted the little cat off his leg and set her down on the futon. She yawned and stretched before curling into a ball and closing her eyes.

  Hiro knelt on the veranda and meditated until his mind felt reasonably clear. Then he returned to his room, donned his usual smoky gray kimono, and fastened his swords through his obi.