Chapter 28
As Eii-chan watched the glistening rivulets of blood drip from his sword, an unbearable emptiness opened inside him. The room seemed to blur until he was barely conscious of his surroundings. He was alone now. Horribly, frighteningly alone, as he’d been before Lady Niu entered his life.
He remembered that long-ago day in the courtyard of her father’s mansion. He had been ten years old, ugly and already huge, painfully shy and sensitive and awkward. A confused child in a man’s body which he hadn’t yet learned to control. An outcast, trying not to cry as the other young samurai attacked him with their wooden swords.
“Kill the ugly demon!” they shouted.
Just when he could no longer hold back the tears, she came. Beautiful and imperious even at age seven, she sent his tormenters fleeing with a single glance. He gaped at her, too stupid and surprised to think of anything to say.
But his silence seemed to please her; she smiled. Pointing a tiny finger straight at him, she said in her high, little-girl voice, “You shall be my servant.”
He never understood why she’d chosen him from among her father’s retainers, never questioned his good fortune. He only knew that his life had changed in a miraculous way. With her patronage, he gained standing and respect. No child ever dared tease him again; no adult ever scolded him for his stupidity. And he repaid his mistress. He perfected his fighting skills so that he could protect her. He obeyed her every order instantly. When she married, he helped her manage the daimyo’s household, spying on its members for her, punishing them for her. He loved her, but asked nothing in return except the honor of serving her. His greatest fear was that he might disgrace himself by failing to please her. For Lady Niu, he’d gladly killed Noriyoshi, O-hisa, and even Miss Yukiko, whom he’d liked for her beauty and sweetness. Discovering that he had killed the boy Tsunehiko instead of Sano had seemed like the worst catastrophe of his life.
Until now. Never, before he’d taken his sword to Lady Niu, had he ever imagined feeling such pain over carrying out her orders.
And now she was gone. He had nothing, no one to live for. Grief swelled his throat; the pressure of unshed tears built until he thought his head would burst. He looked down at Lady Niu’s body and saw instead the smiling face of a beautiful seven-year-old girl.
Dimly he grew aware of someone shouting at him. He blinked, and the room sprang into focus. The man Sano, whom he’d forgotten, was standing in front of him. Locked in his private void, he couldn’t make sense of the man’s words, or understand his agitation. But Sano’s presence reminded him that he had one final task to perform for Lady Niu.
“Eii-chan, can you hear me?” Sano shouted in increasing desperation. “Can you understand what I’m saying?”
Lady Niu’s death had greatly diminished his chances of proving his innocence and saving his own life. But perhaps he could still save the shogun. At Lord Niu’s secret meeting, he’d gotten the impression that the assassination attempt would happen soon. Possibly while he still had his freedom? Without much hope, he turned to the silent and unmoving Eii-chan for the information he needed because there was no one else left to ask.
“Do you know where young Lord Niu is, or when he plans to attack the shogun?”
He resisted the impulse to grab the manservant and shake him, instead keeping a respectful distance away. Eii-chan might still be dangerous even without Lady Niu to direct him.
“If you do know, tell me. If you can. Please!”
The manservant gave no sign that he heard or understood. Instead he laid his sword down beside his mistress’s body. Careful not to step in her blood, he walked to a writing desk by the window. He pointed at the sheet of paper that lay there. The inked characters on it, still wet, shone in the lamplight.
Lady Niu’s farewell letter! Sano snatched it up eagerly in the futile wish that her message would somehow help him. Disappointment crushed him as he scanned the page.
To my dear and only son Masahito,
Know from this, my last message, that I love you above anyone or anything else in this world. To protect you I had Yukiko, Noriyoshi, and O-hisa killed. I also ordered the death of Sano Ichirō, whose secretary died in his place. Accept these terrible deeds as proof of the devotion that you would never let me express directly in words or gestures.
Now, in spite of my duty to your father, our family, and our lord shogun, I cannot bear to betray you. Therefore I choose jigai, the only alternative left to me, in order that I may restore my honor after failing both you and the others to whom I owe the debt of loyalty.
My dying wishes are two. The first, that you honor my spirit by not committing this treasonous act which will only destroy you. I know that you would not grant me this request in life; please grant it now. Do not let me have died in vain.
My second wish is that Sano Ichirō will stop you-if you do not stop yourself-and thus rescue our family from death and disgrace as I cannot.
And now I take my farewell of you, my beloved son. The merciful Buddha willing, may we meet again someday in the hereafter.
Your Mother
Sano leaned wearily against the wall, letting the paper dangle from one hand. Here at last was proof of the murders-and of his own innocence-in the form of Lady Niu’s confession. Little good might it do him now, with the police more likely to kill him than to listen to reason! And it wouldn’t save the shogun. After what Lady Niu had told him, he doubted whether her plea would influence her willful son.
“Read. Letter. Me.”
The sound of Eii-chan’s voice, rusty with disuse, made Sano’s head snap up in surprise. Never having heard him speak, he’d assumed that the manservant was mute.
“Read,” Eii-chan repeated, bowing his head and clasping his hands like a beggar.
Sano had no more time to waste at the yashiki. He must at least try to deliver the scroll and Lady Niu’s letter to the authorities so they could arrest Lord Niu and prevent the assassination. He must try to exonerate himself before someone killed him. But he’d suspected all along that Eii-chan was intelligent; his stealthy pursuit of Sano and Tsunehiko on the highway meant he was good at spying, perhaps on his own household as well. And now he knew Eii-chan could talk. Perhaps doing as Eii-chan asked would make the manservant tell what, if anything, he knew about Lord Niu’s plans. Sano read the letter aloud.
When he finished, Eii-chan waited in silence for a moment. Then he grunted, “Is. All?” His face reflected the surprise in his voice.
“Yes.” Sano thought quickly. “Eii-chan, listen to me,” he said, stepping closer and extending a hand in tentative entreaty. “Lady Niu wishes me to stop Lord Niu, but I may die before I can warn the right people about him.” He forced himself to keep the impatience out of his voice. “And even if they do learn of the conspiracy, they may not act in time. So if you know where Lord Niu is now, please tell me. For her sake.”
A shake of the head, a shrug, his hands spread to profess ignorance, was his only response.
“Do you know when and where he plans to attack the shogun?”
But Eii-chan only brushed him away with a sweep of his mighty arm. He crossed the room to kneel beside Lady Niu’s body. Her blood soaked his garments, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. Unresponsive to further pleas, he stared mournfully down at her severed head as if the world and everything else in it had ceased to exist.
In despair, Sano reviewed every fact he’d learned about Lord Niu. But none gave the slightest hint at where or when the plot would culminate. Sano opened the scroll, seeking some hidden message within its lines. Then he stopped in the act of replacing the scroll inside his cloak. As he gazed at it, his vision blurred; a forgotten memory surfaced. His breath caught.
He saw Lord Niu at the secret meeting, standing on the platform, waving the scroll as he recited a poem.
“The sun sets over the plain-”
Good luck as the New Year approaches.”
Now Sano belatedly recognized the poem’s references.
“Sunset, and the coming of the New Year-Setsubun,” he said aloud in a voice hushed with dawning enlightenment.” ‘Luck’ and ‘plain’: ‘Lucky Plain!’ “-the familiar euphemism for the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter.
The conspirators had cheered because their leader had alluded to the date and place of the attack on the shogun.
Sano released his breath in a rush as a previously irrelevant fact completed the picture. Elation dizzied him. Lady Niu had said her son-probably flirting with danger by hinting at the plot-was very excited about meeting someone costumed as a princess from The Tale of Genji.
The shogun, celebrating Setsubun in female disguise. In Yoshiwara. Tonight.
Sano turned and ran out of the room. Shock, anxiety, and an urgent need for haste pumped fresh energy through his tired, aching body. The hour was late; he was far from Yoshiwara. He didn’t know the exact time and location of the attack, or how it would take place. Still, he might yet have time to warn the shogun of the danger. What little information he had was better than nothing.
Was it also enough?
Alone now, Eii-chan bowed his head as he knelt beside Lady Niu, weak and drained from the effort of speaking. Although he could understand words and compose them in his thoughts, some deficiency of nature had always kept them locked inside him. He hadn’t talked at all until his sixth year. The habit of silence, formed when the other boys mocked his slow, faltering speech, was deeply ingrained. Only because he couldn’t read and wanted to know what Lady Niu’s letter said had he broken it tonight. And now he wished he hadn’t.
He still couldn’t believe that Lady Niu had left no last message for him. No thanks for his years of service; no expression of concern about what would happen to him after her death. Not even a farewell! He thought he would die of disappointment. He realized now that to the woman who’d meant everything to him, he was nothing. All along she’d considered him just a servant-or worse, merely a tool. She’d spent her last moments writing to her precious Masahito-the wicked, unloving son who had destroyed her. Afterward, she couldn’t even bother to convey her gratitude to the man who really loved her. Eii-chan heard a terrible sound, half-sob, half-bellow, come from his own mouth. Nothing for him! After all he’d done for her!
But even now, he couldn’t stop loving her. He couldn’t hate her. She was still his lady.
Eii-chan sighed. He let himself experience the full depth of his anguish. Then, with the sheer discipline born of his samurai training, he put aside sorrow and anger. His hands moved swiftly and efficiently, removing the medicine pouch from around his neck, untying his sash and shedding his kimono. Drawing his short sword, he took one last look at his mistress’s head. It was just a meaningless lump of flesh. The real Lady Niu lived on in that netherworld region where he would soon join her.
Imagining the joy of their reunion, he didn’t even cry out as he drove the sword deep into his vitals.
Chapter 29
Yoshiwara loomed ahead of Sano as he galloped along the highway through the dark marshes. Fireworks erupted over the walled compound, fitfully illuminating its rooftops with red, blue, white, and green sparks. Soon he heard shouts and laughter and the rat-a-tat of firecrackers above the pounding of his horse’s hoof-beats.
The horse’s pace slackened. Sano could feel its sides heaving with exertion, but he urged the exhausted beast on. His own breath came and went in gasps through the mouth slit of his mask, as if he’d run the whole distance himself. The wild ride from the daimyo district had taken two hours; now midnight was drawing near. Had the Conspiracy of Twenty-One already begun their attack on the shogun? Did he still have time to find and stop them?
If only Lady and young Lord Niu had given him more details! And if only he dared risk asking for help. But he was still a fugitive. Lady Niu, who might have called off the manhunt, lay dead in the blood-spattered tableau that would forever haunt his memory. Even with her letter and the scroll in his possession, he couldn’t approach the magistrate, the police, or the castle guards; he might be killed before he could convince them to send troops to protect Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. With yearning he thought of his father’s students and his friend Koemon, all skilled, courageous fighters, and loyal to their teacher’s family. Just the allies he needed, and impossible for him to contact. He couldn’t go near his neighborhood, where the doshin would be patrolling in case he returned.
As Sano neared Yoshiwara’s gate, he saw that it stood wide open and virtually unattended. A group of men lounged to one side of it: the two guards leaning on their spears, and five or six other samurai. All held cups or flasks. Sano slapped the reins and charged past them through the gate.
“Stop!” he heard the guards call. He didn’t look back to see if they were following him.
The pleasure quarter exploded around him in a burst of light, noise, and confusion. Thousands of lanterns blazed from the eaves of the buildings along Naka-no-cho. Men on rooftops launched rockets. Smoke from a huge, flaming bonfire down the block made Sano’s eyes smart as he tried to steer his mount through the crowds. Yoshiwara seethed with Setsubun merrymakers of every description: samurai in full battle dress, peasants wearing nothing but loincloths and shoes, bands of musicians and drummers. Masked faces bobbed below him. The music and shouts merged into one deafening roar of sound. Drunks reeled from side to side, spilling sake and adding more aroma to air already pungent with liquor, urine, and vomit. Some of the yūjo had left their cages to mingle with the crowds. Sano had to stop when a parade of them cut across his path. Dressed in their gaudiest silks, the women tittered shrilly as they made mock bows to him. Roasted soybeans crunched under countless pairs of feet. Every establishment was open and full to capacity. Shrieks of laughter issued from teahouses; gay parties sparkled behind the windows of the pleasure houses.
Sano gritted his teeth as he edged around the yūjo parade, only to come to a standstill again at a large audience gathered around a juggler. Frantically he scanned the crowd. How in this inferno would he ever find Tokugawa Tsunayoshi and Lord Niu? At least, he consoled himself, the police would never catch him here.
He realized his mistake when he saw a doshin standing outside the teahouse that advertised women’s wrestling. Conspicuous because of his everyday work clothes and his unsmiling demeanor, he accosted a samurai coming out of the teahouse and began yelling questions into the bewildered man’s face. Nearby, the doshin’s assistants had detained a mounted samurai. As Sano watched, they dragged their victim from his horse and tore the tiger mask off his face. One held a spear to his neck. The other yanked open his cloak.
Sano turned his horse and forced his way to the opposite side of the street. Both samurai were roughly his own height, build, and age; the mounted one had a brown horse like his. The police were stopping and searching men who fit his description. Toda Ikkyu, doing the job of a good spy, must have reported his visit to the police and told them about the sandal and rope he carried-better proof of his identity than a possibly forged or stolen set of credentials. Sano knew he should get rid of these incriminating items, and the horse. Still, he couldn’t throw away any of the evidence that tied the Nius to the murders, any more than he wanted to abandon Wada-san’s horse. He might yet have a chance to return the horse and use the evidence to clear his own and Raiden’s names, to restore his honor, position, and consequently his father’s health.
With difficulty, he maneuvered the horse through the crowd and resumed his search. Having read an illustrated version of The Tale of Genji, he had an idea of how the shogun would look tonight. The women of that period four hundred years past had worn layers of sashless kimonos-five or six, each a different color, with flowing skirts that dragged on the ground and sleeves that covered their hands. They’d worn their hair long and loose and parted in the middle. But where was the shogun? What was he doing?
Sano tried to put himself in Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s position. As a man eager to shed the burdens of power and fame for one night, where would he go? The elaborate costume suggest
ed that he wanted to mingle with the revelers in the streets and teahouses, protected from enemies or supplicants by a disguise not as easily penetrated as a simple mask. He could be anywhere, although he wouldn’t have come alone. He’d have brought bodyguards with him, possibly dressed in costumes of the same period. With that little to go on, Sano fought his way down the street. He only hoped Lord Niu had no more information about the shogun’s plans than he did.
Where were Lord Niu and the other conspirators? In their place, Sano would ambush Tsunayoshi outside the quarter for a quick, neat kill away from all the confusion, and an easy getaway. Yet he dared not try to predict the mad Lord Niu’s actions. Neither did he have any idea what disguises the conspirators might be wearing.
Realizing he couldn’t cover the whole quarter with any speed, Sano began stopping people he met. He shouted, “Have you seen- ” and then described the shogun’s party the way he imagined it. The answers he got were varied-”
“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know!” from a drunken merchant.
“Don’t be so serious. Come have a drink!” from some rowdy young samurai.
– and largely useless.
Then a pleasure house doorman said, “An old-fashioned lady, you say? Why are you looking for her, when there are so many pretty modern girls here?”
The mention of girls and the sight of the parading yūjo reminded Sano of Wisteria. She’d helped him once; maybe she would again. She must have many friends in Yoshiwara who could join in the search, and enough samurai admirers to stand against Lord Niu’s men. He started toward the Garden of the Heavenly Palace. Then he spotted another procession of yūjo gathered outside a teahouse. Joy and concern flooded him in equal measures as his gaze found the woman at the end.
Except for her distinctive round eyes, he wouldn’t have recognized Wisteria. Much thinner and paler, she wore a plain cotton kimono. Beside her swayed a very drunk man. As Sano watched, he flung an arm around Wisteria, hand groping for her breast. Wisteria’s face was frozen in a grimace that barely resembled a smile.
SI1 Shinju (1994) Page 33
