Sano Ichiro 12 The Snow Empress (2007)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “I want you to meet my friends,” Masahiro said, gesturing at two boys who stood nearby. One was about his age, the other an adolescent, his face stubbly with new whiskers. They regarded Reiko with shy curiosity. “Their names are Totkamaru and Wnotok.” Masahiro spoke to them in their language: He’d already picked it up. “I told them you’re my mother.” They bowed to Reiko. “They were hunting with their fathers the day I ran away from the castle. They found me wandering in the woods. They took me with them. And look what they gave me.”

  He showed Reiko a little bow and quiver of arrows that he wore. “So I could hunt with them.”

  Reiko turned her smile on the boys. “Thank you,” she said with fervent gratitude. “I’m forever in your debt.”

  Realizing that she owed as many thanks to someone else, she looked around for Wente. No matter her sins, Wente had at least partially atoned for them by reuniting Reiko with her son.

  Wente was talking to a group of men and women, gesticulating frantically. Reiko supposed she was telling them that Lord Matsumae had declared war on them and his army was on its way. They reacted with surprise, disbelief, and questions. As they hurried off and spread the word, music and celebration stopped; fright swept the crowd.

  “Mama, what’s happened?” Masahiro asked.

  Old men who wore crowns made of woven wood fibers—the tribal elders, Reiko presumed—shouted orders. Women gathered up children. The men leading the bear hauled him toward a big wooden cage. Wente ran up to Reiko, said, “Must hide,” and pulled her toward the forest.

  “I’ll explain later,” Reiko told Masahiro as she towed him along with her, after the fleeing mothers and children.

  But now she heard dogs barking in the distance, coming closer, from seemingly all directions. Dismay struck her because Gizaemon had caught up with her and Wente. He and his army had made much better time than they. The village dogs growled and keened, sensing the approach of enemies. As the women fled, those in the lead stopped so suddenly in the forest that the others ran smack into them. They screamed. Men yelled in Japanese: “Stop!”

  The horde reversed direction. Women and children streamed past Reiko, Wente, and Masahiro. A mob of soldiers, accompanied by dogs on leashes, charged at them.

  “Run!” Wente shouted.

  She and Reiko and Masahiro raced back to the village. There, more soldiers were rounding up the natives, walking in a tightening circle around the houses, cutting off escape. The bear roamed free while village dogs faced off against the soldiers’ in a frenzy of yowling. Reiko saw the elders arguing with Gizaemon and his commanders, wanting to know what they’d done to deserve a war. Gizaemon barked questions at them while his gaze searched the scene.

  “No let him find us,” Wente urged.

  She yanked Reiko so hard that Reiko’s hold on Masahiro’s hand broke. Reiko cried “Masahiro!” and saw him caught up in the crowds that the soldiers herded together. She tried to pull free of Wente. “I can’t lose him again!”

  But Gizaemon and his commanders were heading in their direction. Wente pushed her into a hut already full of frightened women, babies, and children. Reiko and Wente squeezed in among them. Outside, Japanese men called Wente’s name and demanded that the villagers bring her to diem. Then came the noise of them tramping from house to house. Reiko felt Wente grip her arm. She realized that even though Wente was technically a murderess, she didn’t deserve to die at her coconspirator’s hands. That wasn’t justice, especially if it meant Gizaemon would get away with his major share of the crime.

  Soldiers tore off the mat over the doorway. Daylight exposed the women, who cringed. The soldiers yelled “Come out!” and began yanking the women from the hut. Reiko groped along the wall, found the mat that covered the window, and lifted it. “This way!” she called to Wente as she climbed out the opening.

  But she heard the soldiers stamp into the hut and Wente scream as they seized her. Reiko hid behind the hut, peered around the corner, and saw two men struggling with Wente, propelling her over to Gizaemon. Natives watched in confusion, but Reiko didn’t see Masahiro among them. Gizaemon called to his troops, “You can stop searching. We’ve got her.”

  The soldiers forced Wente to her knees and pulled back her head to expose her throat. Gizaemon drew his sword. A gasp swept the villagers. Wente shrieked and pleaded. Native men charged, brandishing knives, swords, and spears at Gizaemon. But soldiers intercepted and attacked them. The natives battled fiercely, but they were outnumbered.

  Japanese blades slashed them. They fell as their women wailed and horror overcame Reiko. Their blood stained their ceremonial robes and crimsoned the snow. The bear roared, driven wild by the carnage.

  Gizaemon swaggered up to Wente. Contempt for her showed in his eyes; her eyes were closed, her lips moving in silent, desperate prayer. He was going to slaughter her as if she were an animal. There was no one to save her, except Reiko.

  Reiko felt torn in different directions. Common sense told her to run and hide, the mother in her wanted only to find Masahiro, but her honor dictated that she couldn’t stand idle while Wente died. She moved out from behind the hut and called, “Gizaemon-san!”

  All eyes turned toward her. Gizaemon paused. “Ah. Lady Reiko.” He sounded pleased to see her, not a good sign. Wente beheld her as if she were a savior.

  “Don’t kill her.” At least maybe Reiko could postpone the inevitable.

  “You can’t stop me,” Gizaemon said scornfully.

  Improvising as fast as she could, Reiko said, “Wente shouldn’t be punished for smuggling me out of the castle.” She couldn’t let Gizaemon know that she knew his real reason for wanting Wente dead. “It’s my fault. I talked her into it.” Reiko resisted the impulse to look for Masahiro in the crowd; she kept her eyes leveled on Gizaemon. “Please don’t hurt her.”

  Gizaemon studied Reiko with hostile suspicion. She could feel him wondering if she was as ignorant about his conspiracy with Wente as she pretended to be. “This is none of your business. Stay out of it.”

  Wente’s eyes were glazed. Immobilized by panic, she’d ceased struggling. Urine stained the snow under her.

  Desperate, Reiko said, “All these people are going to see you kill her. They’ll be witnesses.”

  Gizaemon sneered. “Too bad.”

  He flicked his sword at Wente. The blade slashed her throat. She uttered an awful, gurgling shriek. Blood sprayed from the cut in an obscene red geyser. Gizaemon stepped backward to avoid it. The soldiers let go of Wente. She collapsed onto the snow, her body twitching.

  “Wente!” Reiko rushed to kneel beside Wente. She cradled her friend’s head and moaned as she pressed her glove to the wound in a futile attempt to stanch the bleeding. “I’m sorry!”

  It was too late for apologies. Wente’s body stilled. The spirit faded from her eyes. Reiko wept for the woman who’d been her loyal friend until the end. Wente finally deserved forgiveness for her part in her sister’s death. She’d paid for her jealousy, her hatred, and her gullibility with her life.

  A cold shadow fell upon Reiko. She looked up and saw Gizaemon standing over her, his figure black against the sun.

  “The barbarians won’t dare tell, and they don’t matter anyway. The only witness I care about is you, Lady Reiko.” Gizaemon’s tone said he understood that Wente had confessed everything to her. “But you won’t live long enough to talk.”

  34

  Two soldiers grabbed Reiko. She thrashed with all her might, beating her fists on the men, kicking their stomachs, legs, and groins. They yelled for their comrades to help them. Four, five, six men wrestled with her. Her gloves came off, and she raked her fingernails at the men, but they held her arms and legs immobile even as her body bucked and she tossed her head.

  “We’ll take her into the forest, where she’ll never be found,” Gizaemon told the men.

  As they bore her away, Reiko couldn’t even scream for help lest her son rush to her rescue and be killed with her.

 
; The sled tracks abruptly ended at the bottom of a trail that led up from the river. Sano and his group jumped off their sleds below the village where Reiko and Wente must have gone. Sano’s heart sank at the sight of troops milling around the huts. Gizaemon had beaten him.

  Sano, Hirata, and the detectives climbed the path ahead of Chieftain Awetok and Urahenka. Reaching the village, they found strewn across the ground the dead bodies of native men. Other natives stood surrounded by troops. Horror flooded Sano because Gizaemon’s army had attacked the village. What had become of Reiko and Wente?

  The troops turned at the sound of his party’s approach. Sano yelled, “Where’s Gizaemon? Where is my wife?”

  They stood dumbfounded by his unexpected arrival. Their surprised gazes shifted beyond him, to their fellow Matsumae troops stampeding up the path behind Sano. They raised their swords and prepared to fight, but Lord Matsumae staggered breathless into the village and ordered, “Stop!”

  His hair was wild, his eyes burning in his haggard face, but he’d gained strength during the journey. Vengeance was at hand for him and Tekare. “Lower your weapons! Let us through!”

  Shocked to see their master, they moved aside for Sano, Hirata, and the detectives, who hurried through the village with Lord Matsumae and his troops. Sano almost stumbled over the lone dead woman lying with her throat cut, in bloody slush, among the corpses.

  It was Wente. Gizaemon had already eliminated his accomplice. Now Sano divined that he was after Reiko, who must have figured out he was the killer and was the only person left to bear witness against him.

  Lord Matsumae gaped at Wente’s body, Tekare’s savage aspect darkened his face. He started kicking Wente and cursing her in native language: Tekare was upset because she’d been cheated out of her revenge on her sister. Sano forged onward through the crowd of natives until he glimpsed Reiko in the hands of four soldiers carrying her toward the forest. Gizaemon was with them.

  “Gizaemon!” Sano called.

  The man turned. Displeasure knitted his brow as he recognized Sano. When he spotted the troops accompanying Sano, shock rearranged his features. He halted; the men carrying Reiko slewed around. Her expression went from terrified to ecstatic.

  Although overjoyed to see her, Sano focused his eyes on Gizaemon. “Tell your men to let her go.”

  “How in hell did you get out of the castle?”

  “Lord Matsumae freed us.”

  As Gizaemon’s face went blank with astonished disbelief, Lord Matsumae stepped past his troops and stood beside Sano. “Yes, Uncle, it’s true.”

  “Nephew.” Gizaemon swayed as if shock had punched him. “Why?”

  Lord Matsumae addressed the soldiers who held Reiko: “Put her down.”

  “No, don’t,” Gizaemon sharply countermanded.

  The soldiers compromised by lowering Reiko to her feet but holding her arms. She fixed on Sano a look in which hope vied with fright.

  “Chamberlain Sano has solved the crime.” Lord Matsumae’s voice shook with anger. “He’s fulfilled his duty to me. Setting him free was the least I could do in return.”

  Gizaemon’s complexion paled to an ashy gray as understanding sank in. “What are you doing here?”

  “You killed Tekare. I’ve come to make you answer to me,” Lord Matsumae said.

  “Chamberlain Sano told you I killed her? That’s nonsense.” Beneath his scorn Gizaemon was clearly distraught. “He’s lying.”

  “Evidence doesn’t lie. You left one of your toothpicks in the woods where you set the trap for Tekare,” Lord Matsumae said. “You ought to be more careful where you drop them.”

  “I must have dropped it when we were looking for Tekare after she disappeared.” Gizaemon’s jaw shifted as he scrambled for more excuses. “Or Chamberlain Sano planted it. To make me look guilty. To turn you against me.”

  “No, Uncle.” Even if Lord Matsumae hadn’t already made up his mind to believe Sano, he’d read the signs of guilt in Gizaemon’s behavior. “You turned against me.” He hurled his pointing finger at Gizaemon, then pounded his fist on his chest. “How?” he demanded in a voice ragged with injury. “How could you betray me by murdering the woman I love?”

  This accusation of disloyalty, the worst charge a master could level at a samurai, appeared to shatter something inside Gizaemon. “I would never,” he whispered.

  “No more lies! You’re going to tell me the truth if I have to force it out of you!”

  Lord Matsumae gestured to his men. They drew their swords and advanced on his uncle. Gizaemon flung up his hands in a gesture of entreaty. “It was for your own good. To protect you from that barbarian whore who was ruining you.”

  “Don’t you dare call her a whore!” Lord Matsumae said. “Me a whore,” Tekare’s voice echoed.

  “You asked for the truth, now face it,” Gizaemon said in the tone he must have used to discipline his nephew as a child. “That’s what she was. She used men. She used you.”

  “She loved me!”

  “She blinded you with her charms.” Gizaemon spoke with bitter resentment toward Tekare, with pity for his nephew’s delusion. “She was like a lot of barbarians, hated the Japanese for the wrongs she thought we’d done to her and her people. I saw it in her eyes whenever she looked at any of us. She blamed you, the lord of Ezogashima. She made you pay every time she had another man right under your nose.”

  Lord Matsumae said, “You’re wrong!” even as his expression registered dismay at what he saw in the mirror that Gizaemon had held up to his affair with Tekare.

  “That love potion she gave you was poison that made you sick and weak. I know—I tested it on a dog. He had a fit, went wild, and died. Same thing would have eventually happened to you if I hadn’t taken action.”

  Sano saw that Gizaemon was trying to turn Lord Matsumae’s anger at him onto Tekare. Maybe it would be a good thing if uncle and nephew made up, even it if meant Gizaemon would escape justice. Sano would excuse Gizaemon for the murder and its consequences if only Gizaemon would let Reiko go. Sano saw these thoughts occur to her and raise the hope in her eyes.

  Lord Matsumae said, “I don’t care! I’d rather have died by her hand than lived all these months without Tekare!”

  “You’re better off without her.”

  “You had no right to make that decision!”

  “It was my duty as a samurai,” Gizaemon said. “To rid my master of an evil influence even if he didn’t want to be rid of it. That’s the Way of the Warrior.”

  Sano couldn’t condone the murder that had wrought its own evil influence upon Lord Matsumae, yet the warrior in him approved of Gizaemon’s action. Honor had motivated Gizaemon; he’d had his lord’s welfare at heart, even if he hadn’t foreseen the consequences.

  “How was I to know that Tekare would manipulate you even after she was dead?” Gizaemon’s defensiveness crumbled into anguish. He reached his hand toward Lord Matsumae. He looked older than moments ago, as if his body had petrified around the secret he’d kept, and now that the secret was out he was mortal, decaying flesh once again. “If I’d known what would happen—”

  Remorse eroded new wrinkles in the tough hide of his face. “All your life I’ve guided you, watched over you. You’re more than a son to me, you’re my life. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry. If I could take back her killing, I would.”

  His words melted his nephew’s antagonism. Lord Matsumae whispered, “I know, Uncle.” He staggered forward, his hand extended to grasp Gizaemon’s.

  Sano was moved despite his reluctance to see a crime excused. He saw Reiko relax and felt the tension ease in the other people witnessing the scene. All was well that ended peacefully, if not satisfactorily.

  Then Lord Matsumae’s body whipped like an eel hooked by a fisherman. Tekare’s features, incensed with anger, reclaimed his. “Well, I don’t,” her voice spat from his mouth. “And you can’t take back what you did to me.”

  Gizaemon recoiled from her as she railed at him, �
��Who are you to criticize me for using Lord Matsumae? It’s you and your kind that have used my people. You’ve taken the fish we catch, the animals we hunt, and the things we make, and you’ve paid us a pittance. Your men have used me for their pleasure. And you stole my life!”

  She swerved and said, “Are you going to let him get away with it, my lord?”

  Uncertainty puckered Lord Matsumae’s face.

  Loath to have her stir up more trouble, Sano said, “It’s over, Tekare. You’ve already punished enough people for your murder. Leave us now.”

  Lord Matsumae rounded on Sano. “You stay out of this!” He punched Sano on the jaw. Sano went reeling; Hirata caught him.

  “You said you wanted to avenge me,” Tekare challenged Lord Matsumae. “You say you love me.”

  “… I do.”

  “Then prove it! Give me a life for the life that was taken from me. Kill him!”

  Lord Matsumae stared aghast at his own hand that pointed at Gizaemon. “But—but he’s my flesh and blood. He only wanted what was best for me. I can’t—”

  “Coward! You’re the lord of Ezogashima, but you’re afraid of that man because he’s bossed you around all your life.” Tekare’s curses spewed from Lord Matsumae. “If you can’t kill him, let your soldiers!”

  Helpless against the vindictive spirit that possessed him, Lord Matsumae groaned. “All right, if it will make you happy, my love.” He beckoned his troops. “Kill my uncle.”

  Swords drawn, reluctant yet game, they advanced on Gizaemon. All his troops but one, who held onto Reiko, leaped forward to defend him. Gizaemon shouted, “Touch me, and Lady Reiko dies!”

  The soldier rammed his blade against her throat. Panic splayed her hands, froze her eyes wide and her mouth in a grimace. Sano shouted, “No!” Lord Matsumae’s troops lashed their swords at Gizaemon’s, trying to get at Gizaemon. His troops lashed back, shielding him. Sano, Hirata, and the detectives plunged into the battle and dragged Matsumae troops out. Lord Matsumae thumped his fists on Sano and his men. He and Tekare shouted, “Go away! Let them execute him!”