by Shin
She didn't, maybe because she didn't remember it, or because she didn't want her friends to know that a police commander had crashed her stepdaughter's funeral. When she reached him, all she said was, "I warned you once, and I won't warn you again," in a low tone meant only for him. Her lovely eyes flashed in anger- and, strangely, fear. She turned to her manservant. "Eii-chan, see this man to the gate."
Before she'd finished speaking, Eii-chan had already taken the initiative, moving with that odd swiftness he had. He stepped around Sano. Fierce pain streaked up Sano's arm to his shoulder as Eii-chan seized it, bent it behind him, and wrenched it upward. Only his instinctive self-control enabled him to turn a scream into a gasp. Only his desire to keep Ogyu from seeing him-if the magistrate hadn't already-made him bow his head instead of struggling to free himself. Nearly fainting from the pain, he stumbled out of the murmuring crowd with Eii-chan propelling him forward. He was dimly aware of Lady Niu offering apologies to the mourners, and the priests resuming the service. Shame increased his distress as he sensed the hundreds of curious onlookers witnessing his humiliation.
As soon as they reached the steps-too far for anyone to recognize him-Sano began to fight. He trod hard on Eii-chan's insteps and jabbed his free elbow into the manservant's stomach. Eii-chan didn't react or make a sound. Although Sano suspected that a man of feeling and spirit lived within Eii-chan, he seemed made of stone: hard, numb, silent. Was he mute, or did he simply choose not to speak? He half-pushed, half-lifted Sano up the steps, twisting his arm. This time Sano cried out in spite of himself.
"Wait, Eii-chan." It was a man's voice, behind them.
Eii-chan paused at the gate and turned, swinging Sano around with him, but not releasing Sano's arm. Through a haze of pain, Sano saw young Lord Niu standing at the top of the steps, small but proud in his black robes.
"You can't stay away from us, can you, Yoriki Sano?" Lord Niu said. He came forward and leaned against the gatepost. "Now I think you can see that interfering in our affairs can result in very unpleasant consequences. Yes? No?"
Sano, biting back another cry of pain, couldn't reply.
Then, almost as an afterthought, Lord Niu said, "Oh, Eii-chan. You can let him go now."
Eii-chan released Sano. Sano gingerly flexed his shoulder and arm. Nothing seemed broken, but his muscles ached. Anger flared inside him-not at Eii-chan, whom he regarded more as an animated tool than as a man, but at Lord Niu, who could have ended his misery sooner, but had deliberately chosen to let him suffer. The malicious glint in his eyes confirmed this. Sano wanted to rail against the insult, to hurl accusations and threats at Lord Niu: "Someone in your household killed Noriyoshi and your sister, and I'll prove it!" But he held his peace, reminding himself of Tokugawa Ieyasu's words: "Look upon wrath as thine enemy." He couldn't let anger make him careless.
"What is it you want with us now?" Lord Niu asked.
Swallowing his rage, Sano forced himself to lie courteously. "I only wanted to pay my respects to your family," he said.
Lord Niu let out a burst of scornful laughter. "Do you mean to tell me that you have ceased your ridiculous investigation into our private tragedy?"
"Unless I find evidence indicating that it isn't so ridiculous after all." Sano couldn't resist making a verbal counterattack. "Maybe you could give it to me?"
A momentary frown creased Lord Niu's forehead-dismay, or simple irritation? "You can't be serious. There is no such evidence, and even if there were, why would I have it?"
Was the emphatic denial a stall to buy Lord Niu time to recover his wits? Sano thought perhaps he could goad the daimyo's son into an unguarded revelation.
"Noriyoshi had ties to another member of your family besides Yukiko," he said.
But Lord Niu had regained his poise. Instead of acknowledging the question, he said to Eii-chan, "Return to the funeral. I think Yoriki Sano can find his own way home."
Eii-chan turned and walked down the steps without a word. To Sano, Lord Niu said, "If you come near our estate or near any member of our clan again, I cannot guarantee your safety. Eii-chan and our other retainers take an unfavorable view of those who trespass on our property or persons."
He delivered the words casually, but with a malevolent glow in his feverish eyes. Sano recognized the tacit threat: if he approached the Nius again, he would be killed.
"I see that you understand my meaning," Lord Niu said. "Perhaps you're not as stupid as I thought. Just foolhardy, but decidedly capable of learning your lesson." A contemptuous smile twisted his mouth as his gaze held Sano's. "Farewell, yoriki. I trust we won't be seeing each other again." He pushed himself away from the post and started slowly down the steps, his head high and his body rigid.
That's what you think, Sano silently told Lord Niu's retreating back. Resentment and humiliation burned dully in his blood like bad wine. His hand moved to his sword, gripping its hilt with all the force of his anger against Lord Niu, who had given him even more reason to investigate the Nius' role in the murders.
Then Lord Niu turned. "Oh, by the way," he called. "I wouldn't bother trying to see Midori, if I were you. My mother has sent her to the nunnery at the Temple of Kannon in Hakone." His laugh rang out as he continued on his way.
Sano watched Lord Niu rejoin the mourners at the funeral pyre. The flames had died down, although smoke continued to rise from the smoldering embers. As he started back toward the city center, a heady excitement stirred beneath his initial disappointment. Attending the funeral had endangered him, but not, perhaps, to no avail. Midori was in Hakone, a long, arduous journey west along the Tokaido-the Eastern Sea Road that linked Edo with the imperial capital in Kyoto. This was bad news, but at least he knew where to find her. It wouldn't be easy to justify a five-day leave of absence to Magistrate Ogyu; still, he could operate more freely once outside Ogyu's domain.
Besides, the Nius' continuing resistance to his investigation confirmed his suspicion that they wanted the mystery of Noriyoshi's and Yukiko's murders to remain unsolved. And their abrupt removal of Midori from Edo meant they were afraid that she might tell him why.
Chapter 13
Sano had departed from the Tokaido's starting point at the Nihonbashi Bridge at daybreak. Dressed in his winter traveling clothes-a wide, circular wicker hat, heavy robes, trousers, shoes and socks, and his warmest hooded cloak-he'd ridden southwest out of the awakening city. Now, as the sun burned the last of the dawn's shimmering pink radiance from the sky, he approached Shinagawa, second of the fifty-three stations that marked the highway between Edo and Kyoto.
The wide, sandy road, banked in the middle and bordered on each side by regularly spaced tall firs, narrowed and began to climb. Sano could see ahead of him the many bent figures of pedestrians toiling toward Shinagawa. To his right, the land rose steeply toward the forested hills. On his left it dropped sharply away below a line of fishermen's shacks to the sea. Small boats crowded the harbor. The faint shapes of larger ships floated on distant deeper water, against a hazy horizon. Seabirds wheeled and soared, filling the sky's high blue bowl with darting wings and the air with their sharp, plaintive cries. The sibilant lap of the waves made a constant, gentler music. The clean, fresh salt breeze invigorated Sano, renewing his optimism and confidence. His journey was going to be a success. When he got to Hakone, Midori would give him proof that Noriyoshi and Yukiko had been murdered, and maybe even tell him the identity of the killer.
"Wait, Yoriki Sano-san! I have to stop!"
The shout that came from twenty paces behind him shattered Sano's mood. With a sigh of irritation, he reined in his horse and looked over his shoulder. He watched as a smiling, wheezing Tsunehiko, mounted on a huge black steed, bounced up to him. For one blessed moment, he'd completely forgotten his traveling companion.
Tsunehiko scrambled off his horse. "I'll be quick, I promise." He hurried to the roadside, hiking up his cloak.
Shaking his head, Sano leaned over to grasp the reins of Tsunehiko's horse before it c
ould wander away. He watched his secretary urinate against a tree, wishing he were traveling alone and blaming himself for the fact that he wasn't.
After Yukiko's funeral yesterday, he had gone straight to Magistrate Ogyu's mansion. He'd wondered whether he should wait awhile to ask for a leave of absence. If Ogyu had seen him at the funeral, it would be better to allow the magistrate's anger time to cool. But a growing sense of urgency made Sano reluctant to postpone his journey. If he didn't solve the mystery soon, he feared he might never do so.
He'd waited until after dark. At last two bearers rounded the corner with a palanquin. Magistrate Ogyu stepped out at the gate.
Sano greeted his superior, who, to his relief, didn't mention the funeral. Then he said, "Honorable Magistrate, I must beg you to allow me a five-day leave of absence. As you know, my father is not well. His doctor has advised me to make a pilgrimage to the shrine at Mishima to pray for his recovery."
Fabricating an excuse had presented him with a moral dilemma. He hated lies and subterfuge, but for the past few days, he'd dealt constantly in both. Now he'd come to realize that his investigation was compromising not only his career, but also his principles. He tried to justify the lies by telling himself that small truths must fall sacrifice to his pursuit of a larger one. Justice-for the murder victims, as well as for Wisteria and Midori and others who had loved them-must take priority. Still, he felt a deep unhappiness that he couldn't deny. His personal quest was carrying him into a disturbing and unfamiliar world, away from the radiant path of duty, obedience, filial piety, and integrity defined by the Way of the Warrior. Finally he'd settled on the pilgrimage story after discarding several others, because it was plausible and contained elements of truth. He would go to Mishima, which was the station just after Hakone. If spies at the highway checkpoints reported his movements to Ogyu, he would at least appear to be doing exactly as he'd proposed. A doctor had recommended the pilgrimage, and Ogyu, always a champion of duty, couldn't refuse to let him go.
Ogyu stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A pilgrimage on your father's behalf. Such an admirable expression of filial piety. Of course you may have your leave of absence, Yoriki Sano. When do you propose to begin your journey?"
"Thank you, Honorable Magistrate. Tomorrow morning, if I may." Sano bowed, surprised that Ogyu had conceded so easily. Did the magistrate really believe his story? Maybe Ogyu was just ready to seize any chance to get rid of him for a while. He wondered whether Ogyu knew about Midori and saw that his sudden need for a pilgrimage coincided with her departure from Edo. If so, did Ogyu not care if he visited the nunnery? Perhaps he'd wrongly imagined a criminal collusion between the magistrate and the Nius.
"I am much obliged for your kindness," he added, telling himself he was lucky to get a leave of absence at all, whatever the reason.
Then Ogyu said, "You will, of course, take your secretary with you." His tone made it not only an order, but a condition of Sano's leave.
Sano felt his mouth drop open in dismay. Tsunehiko! What a terrible encumbrance! The secretary was no horseman; he would make the journey last even longer. And how could Sano afford to feed him for five days? There would be other expenses, too: lodging, stable fees, tolls at each of the ten checkpoints between Edo and Hakone.
"I value your advice, Honorable Magistrate," Sano faltered, "but I shan't require a secretary's services."
Ogyu dismissed his objection with a shake of his head. "A traveling companion is necessary for a man in your position," he said sternly. "Do not worry about the cost."
Then Sano understood. Ogyu was sending Tsunehiko along to spy. Now his suspicions about the magistrate's motives returned, and he regretted revealing his travel plans. But it was too late for regrets.
"Please come inside, Sano-san," Ogyu said with a benign smile. "I will write up two official travel passes and distribute to you the funds to cover your secretary's expenses. Then you had better go directly to his home and tell him to prepare for the journey."
Now Sano controlled his annoyance as Tsunehiko remounted the black steed. The secretary put his foot in the stirrup and heaved himself up, wheezing as he arrived, belly down, on the saddle.
"Easy." Sano calmed the horse as it began to buck. He held the reins firmly until Tsunehiko could sit up. To Tsunehiko, he said, "If you didn't drink so much, you wouldn't have to stop so often."
The reproach didn't bother Tsunehiko. Beaming, he said, "But Yoriki Sano-san, riding makes me thirsty. And hungry, too." He took another swig of water from his flask, then pulled a parcel of dried plums from his overloaded saddlebag. He began to munch, his cheeks bulging around his smile. "This is so much fun. Many, many thanks for taking me with you!"
Sano hid a smile as they resumed their journey. He couldn't stay angry with his secretary, not when the day seemed so bright with promise. His qualms about the lies he'd told Ogyu bothered him less. He was doing the right thing. Soon his superior would realize it and appreciate his efforts-if, of course, Ogyu was not deliberately concealing a crime but merely trying to spare the Nius what he deemed undeserved pain. The memory of his confrontation with Lord Niu lost some of its power to disturb Sano. He began to enjoy Tsunehiko's lighthearted company; he even joined in when the boy began to sing. This wasn't so bad after all. He had no doubt that he could manage to keep Tsunehiko from finding out the real purpose of the journey and from accompanying him to the Temple of Kannon.
Although the Tokaido boasted less traffic now than in spring or summer, he and Tsunehiko had plenty of company. They passed two heavy ox-drawn carts full of lumber, property of the government, the only wheeled vehicles allowed on the highway because the Tokugawas wanted to discourage the transport of arms, ammunition, and other war supplies. Peasants scurried about collecting leaves, branches, and horse dung for fuel. An occasional wealthy passenger swayed and bobbed in a kago, a basketlike chair borne on the shoulders of brawny louts whose kimonos hung open to display magnificently tattooed chests and legs. Peddlers, their merchandise heaped on their backs, plodded doggedly along. A group of religious pilgrims sang and clapped as they marched toward some shrine or temple. Beggars played their wooden flutes to entice donors. Several times Sano and Tsunehiko exchanged greetings with other samurai, who either rode as they did at the moderate pace that a long journey required, or galloped past on some shorter mission.
In Shinagawa, the roadside inns, teahouses, and restaurants were doing a brisk business. Cooking odors drifted from behind curtains into the street. Tsunehiko greeted the sights and smells with a cry of rapture.
"Please, can we get something to eat, Yoriki Sano-san?" he begged.
"Later." Sano, having watched the secretary eat almost nonstop since the onset of their journey, knew he was in no danger of starving. They could have a meal at the next station, while the horses rested and fed. He wanted to cover as much ground as possible before dark. He led the way to the checkpoint, where the low plaster post house stood well back from the road.
In front of the post house, a line snaked toward the window where station officials registered the travelers, checked their documents, and either granted or denied further passage. A nearby stable offered packhorses for hire. As Sano dismounted and took his place in line beside Tsunehiko, he heard drunken laughter coming from beyond the stable. There the local kago bearers sat around a fire in their encampment of flimsy shacks, drinking sake while they waited for customers.
After a few moments, Tsunehiko said impatiently, "What's taking so long?"
Sano stepped out of line to look. A gray-haired woman and her two male escorts stood at the window. The official was sorting through a pile of papers, pausing now and then to question the woman.
"I don't see why they have to bother about some old lady," Tsunehiko complained when told. "They shouldn't make us wait. We're in a hurry!"
Sano resisted the impulse to tell him that they would have made better time if he hadn't stopped so often. Tsunehiko's obvious pleasure in the trip and his pride at traveling
with his superior were rather endearing.
"The government can't afford to let the daimyo smuggle their women out of Edo," Sano said, taking the opportunity to teach his ignorant secretary. "With the hostages safe in the provinces, they would be free to express their anger toward the shogun's taxes and restrictions on their freedom by launching a rebellion."
Finally the woman followed a female official into the post house to be examined for the identifying scars and marks specified on her travel pass. Sano wondered how the Nius had arranged a pass for Midori so quickly. Those prized documents required many signatures and could take months to get. The Nius must have paid a fortune in bribes. Although they could well afford the expense, surely this meant they had strong reason to want Midori away from Edo.
When he reached the head of the line, Sano presented their passes and paid their tolls. He and Tsunehiko helped the searchers turn out their saddlebags to check for smuggled gold, foreign goods, and firearms. As government officials, they passed the inspection without difficulty. But as he prepared to depart, Sano experienced an uneasy, prickling sensation.
