Sano had an even odder feeling that Yoshisato’s motive was different from what he’d said, but Sano was in no position to quibble.
“Well!” Reiko said. “He’s much better than I expected. I do believe he really wants to find out who stabbed the shogun even if it’s not Lord Ienobu.”
She felt Yoshisato’s power of attraction, Sano thought. He found himself jealous because Reiko admired another man and she hadn’t admired Sano for a long time. “Don’t be too sure about that.” He rose as he cautioned himself as well as Reiko, “He’s still Yanagisawa’s son.”
* * *
ACCOMPANIED BY TWO hundred soldiers borrowed from Lord Mori, Sano rode to Lord Yoshimune’s estate. The army troops didn’t try to arrest him. Sano figured that Lord Ienobu didn’t want them starting a fight that would begin the war before he was ready.
There were no army troops outside Lord Yoshimune’s estate. Yoshimune numbered among the daimyo who hadn’t taken sides in the power struggle. The gate sentries quickly obtained permission for Sano to enter. They made him go in alone, but they didn’t confiscate his swords or frisk him. That constituted a friendly reception these days.
Inside the mansion, Sano found Lord Yoshimune and Tomoe seated in the reception chamber. Musicians played flute, samisen, and drum while the young daimyo and his beautiful cousin sang a romantic song to each other. The duo exchanged fond smiles and soulful looks as they finished their song. Whatever doubt Sano had had that they were lovers was gone now. The daimyo saw Sano standing in the doorway, smiled, and said, “Greetings. Please come in.”
He didn’t seem embarrassed to be caught in an intimate moment. Nor did he seem to think he had anything to fear, Sano thought as he knelt near the group. Either Lord Yoshimune had no idea why Sano was here or he was supremely self-confident. But fear widened Tomoe’s limpid eyes.
“Have you eaten? May I offer you refreshments?” Lord Yoshimune gestured toward a spread of sliced raw fish and pickled vegetables.
“No, thank you,” Sano said politely.
Cunning sharpened Lord Yoshimune’s good humor. “Of course this isn’t a social call. It wouldn’t be, while we’re on the brink of a war.” He’d evidently heard what had happened at the council. “If you’re here to ask me to join Yanagisawa’s faction, my answer is no. I shall remain neutral.”
“I understand.” Sano understood that Lord Yoshimune was content to let Yanagisawa and Lord Ienobu fight it out by themselves. Then, whoever won wouldn’t punish him; he would keep his fief, his wealth, and his life. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Disconcerted, Lord Yoshimune said, “Well,” then dismissed the musicians. Tomoe rose to follow them out of the room.
“Stay here,” Sano said. “This concerns you, too.”
She threw a pleading glance at Lord Yoshimune. He nodded at her, and she reluctantly sank to her knees beside him. He narrowed his eyes at Sano. “What do you want with us?”
Sano was uncomfortably aware of being alone in the territory of a powerful man he was about to accuse of murder. “There’s been a new development in my investigation.”
Lord Yoshimune’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re still investigating the attack on the shogun? At a time like this?”
“The shogun’s order is still my duty to obey.”
“What has this new development to do with us?”
“We found the socks that the attacker wore.” Sano took a pouch from under his sash, loosened the drawstring, and removed the bloodstained socks. Holding one between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, he dangled them in front of Tomoe. “They’re yours.”
Tomoe shrank from him, her mouth opening wider than her eyes. Inarticulate with panic, she turned to Lord Yoshimune.
Lord Yoshimune patted her hand. “Don’t worry.” He told Sano, “Those look like any pair of women’s socks.”
“Observe the labels.” Sano pointed out the embroidered characters.
Lord Yoshimune snatched the socks, brushed off soot, frowned at the characters and the stains. Was he genuinely surprised to see his cousin’s socks with the shogun’s blood on them? Or was he only surprised because he’d thought they would never show up? Unable to tell, Sano turned to Tomoe. “Are these yours?”
The horrified recognition on her face was her answer.
“Did you stab the shogun?” Sano asked.
She shook her head. Her eyes pleaded with Lord Yoshimune to rescue her. Lord Yoshimune demanded, “How do you know that’s the shogun’s blood?”
“Lord Mori’s watchdog smelled the blood from the iron fan and tracked down the socks. It’s the same blood.”
Lord Yoshimune studied Sano closely and seemed to decide that he was telling the truth. “My cousin didn’t do it.” He sounded certain of that but distressed by the evidence to the contrary. “There must be some other explanation.”
Tomoe tugged his sleeve, reached up to whisper in his ear.
He listened; his face relaxed. “She says a pair of her socks was missing from her room in the Large Interior. She noticed right before she came home with me. The shogun’s attacker must have stolen them because they were marked with her name, and worn them in order to make her look guilty.”
It wasn’t impossible, and Sano wondered if Tomoe had the presence of mind to invent this quick excuse, but he said, “If the attacker wanted to frame Tomoe, then the socks would have been left in the open, someplace where they’d be easily found. But they weren’t.”
Lord Yoshimune’s features tensed again. “Where were they?”
“In an ash heap just outside the daimyo district.” Sano watched realization darken Lord Yoshimune’s eyes. “You see the problem: There are two other suspects—Lady Nobuko and Madam Chizuru. Neither left the castle after the stabbing. But Tomoe did. With you.”
“Are you accusing me of hiding these?” Indignant, Lord Yoshimune shook the socks at Sano.
“She could have concealed them under her clothes and given them to you outside the castle. It would have been easy for you to bury the socks on your way home.”
Lord Yoshimune uttered an irate laugh. “If she had stabbed the shogun—which she didn’t—and if I had wanted to hide the evidence—which I didn’t—then I would have been smart enough to destroy them, not dump them a short distance from my estate.”
Although Sano had to admit it was a good point, he said, “You might have thought they were hidden well enough because nobody would look outside the castle.”
Lord Yoshimune stood with an impatient, angry motion. Tomoe scrambled to her feet and cowered behind him as he said, “Don’t you see what’s going on? Someone is trying to frame Tomoe, just like Yanagisawa tried to frame Lord Ienobu. Only this person has learned that you won’t accept a fake confession.”
“If you really think the socks were planted and Tomoe is innocent, then you won’t mind if I search your estate.”
Lord Yoshimune chuckled. “Go right ahead.” Either he was sure he’d gotten rid of any other evidence against Tomoe or he was sure no one could have planted any inside his own domain. “It’s a big place for you to search by yourself, and I’m not letting you bring in helpers. I heard that Yanagisawa’s men tried to smuggle blood into the Large Interior.”
A search was a long shot as well as a huge undertaking. Sano didn’t want to believe that Tomoe and Lord Yoshimune were guilty, but he had to follow up on his clue. “I’ll start with Tomoe’s room.”
Displeased, yet confident that he would be vindicated, Lord Yoshimune led Sano to the women’s quarters. Tomoe anxiously trailed them to a chamber lively with color. A painted mural depicted butterflies in a garden; brightly patterned kimonos hung on stands; on the dressing table, hair ornaments made of beads and silk flowers adorned a carved jade tree. Shelves held a collection of dolls. It was the room of a child, but Sano smelled a man’s wintergreen hair oil and a faint animal odor of sex. Lord Yoshimune had recently visited Tomoe here, and not to play dolls. Lord Yoshimune watched with alert, unfriendly
eyes as Sano looked inside a cabinet full of clothes. Tomoe clung to Lord Yoshimune; he absently stroked her hair. Sano’s attention moved to a red lacquer writing desk. He crouched, lifted the lid, and revealed a jumble of writing brushes and inkstones amid papers covered with childish, blotched calligraphy. The top sheet was a love poem, probably a lyric from a popular song. Sano riffled the others and stopped at a page written in a different hand.
“What’s that?” Lord Yoshimune left Tomoe and swiftly crossed the room.
Sano rose, held up the page, and pointed at the character stamped in red ink at the bottom. “It’s a letter signed with your seal.” He read aloud, “‘Tonight, while the shogun is asleep, sneak into his chamber and stab him to death with this iron fan. Then go back to the Large Interior and wait for me. Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of everything. I love you.’”
“What?” Lord Yoshimune said with bewildered indignation, “Let me see that.” He snatched the letter from Sano. “I didn’t write this! It’s not even my handwriting! I never told Tomoe to stab the shogun!”
“Then who did write it?” Sano asked even as he realized that the letter could be a forgery, another attempt to steer him in the wrong direction. “Who put it there?”
Lord Yoshimune looked at his cousin, who hovered near the door. “Tomoe-san?” For the first time his confidence seemed shaken, his fondness for her shaded by suspicion. “Have you seen this before?”
She wordlessly shook her head. A tear welled in each of her eyes and rolled down each cheek. Lord Yoshimune gave her a brief, intense scrutiny, then turned back to Sano. His eyes flashed with anger. “I think you stole Tomoe’s socks, and stained them with the shogun’s blood, after I took her away from the castle.”
Sano had expected Lord Yoshimune to invent an explanation, but this one offended him. “I didn’t!”
Lord Yoshimune jabbed his finger at Sano. “And you forged the letter. Who planted it in my house? Which of my people is your flunky?”
“No one,” Sano said, angered by the suggestion that he was so corrupt. “I haven’t anybody in your house working for me. Why would I want to frame Tomoe?”
“For Yanagisawa. Is this his ploy to force me to ally with him against Lord Ienobu? Did he send you to ‘find’ this letter? Were you going to threaten to expose me as a traitor?”
“No!” But Sano supposed that was the real reason Yoshisato had sent him here—to blackmail Lord Yoshimune into an alliance.
Lord Yoshimune shoved Sano. “Get out of my house before I kill you!” Again he’d lost his veneer of civility along with his temper and resorted to physical force. “Tell Yanagisawa he’ll rot in hell before I cave in to him!”
29
WHEN SANO RETURNED to Lord Mori’s estate, the Tokugawa troops were camped in the street, fanning their bonfires, and eating rations of dried fish, pickled vegetables, and rice balls. Sano felt their restlessness, their impatience for battle, as they raked him with their hostile gazes. Inside the estate, troops dragged guns, cannons, kegs of gunpowder, and crates of bullets from the arsenal. Lord Mori strode about with his watchdogs, inspecting the munitions. Archers on the roofs attached written messages to arrows and fired them into the estates of Lord Mori’s nearest allies. That was the securest form of communication; a message carried by hand or shouted could be intercepted by Lord Ienobu’s men. Sano found Yoshisato and Yanagisawa in the main reception chamber with Lord Mori’s officers. The chamber was now a command station. The men crouched on the floor over a huge map of Edo Castle, conversing in urgent tones as they pointed to locations on the map.
“What’s going on here?” Sano asked.
Yanagisawa and Yoshisato looked up; their faces were aglow with excitement, resolute with purpose. “We’re planning to invade Edo Castle,” Yanagisawa said.
Astonishment silenced Sano. This was wrong for so many reasons! Yanagisawa smiled thinly at his expression. “Did you swallow your tongue?”
“We’re going to capture the castle, kill Lord Ienobu, and seize the dictatorship,” Yoshisato said. “His allies will fall into line with us. Or would you rather we wait like ducks on a pond for his army to blast us out of the water?”
Sano forbore to point out the dishonor of attacking the seat of the regime they were duty-bound to serve. Yanagisawa didn’t care about that. Nor did he or Yoshisato apparently care that they were taking a huge risk. “In case you’ve forgotten, the shogun is inside Edo Castle.” Sano reminded Yoshisato, “You’re supposed to be his son, in case you’ve forgotten that, too. Attack the castle, and he could be killed.”
“My father has disowned me. We’re nothing to each other.” Yoshisato spoke in a strange tone of voice, with a sidelong glance at Yanagisawa. “If he dies during the invasion, he’ll be just another casualty of war.”
It was no more use appealing to Yanagisawa’s feelings, but Sano tried. “The shogun has been your friend for more than twenty years.” And your lover for some of them. “Would you really fight a war around him while he’s helpless in bed? Have you no loyalty at all?”
“Loyalty is beside the point,” Yanagisawa said, more impatient with than offended by Sano’s criticism. “The shogun is done for. He may be dead even as we speak. I haven’t been able to get any more news about his condition. But you can bet that if he’s still alive, Lord Ienobu will hurry him into the grave. He’s already tried to assassinate him once.”
“It looks as if Lord Ienobu isn’t responsible for the stabbing,” Sano said.
“Oh?” Yoshisato said. “What did you learn from Tomoe and Lord Yoshimune?”
Startled, Yanagisawa said, “You went to see them?”
“Yes,” Sano said.
“When was this?”
“Just now.” Sano explained about the bloodstained socks. “Tomoe admitted they’re hers, but she and Lord Yoshimune still claim she’s innocent and they were framed. Then I found this in her room.” Sano produced the letter, handed it to Yoshisato.
After Yoshisato read it aloud, Yanagisawa exclaimed in fury, “You sneaked behind my back to follow a clue that pointed to someone other than Lord Ienobu? And you criticize my loyalty?”
“I didn’t sneak,” Sano said. “Yoshisato gave me permission.”
Yanagisawa turned to glare at Yoshisato, who nodded coolly and asked Sano, “What happened with Lord Yoshimune?”
Sano explained. “He accused me of fabricating the evidence and trying to blackmail him into joining our faction. He threw me out.”
“You should have tried.” Yoshisato’s lack of surprise told Sano that really was why Yoshisato had let him pursue a line of inquiry that seemed counter to his and Yanagisawa’s interests—to force Lord Yoshimune’s allegiance.
“Did you plant the letter in his estate?” Sano asked.
“No. It wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but I couldn’t have gotten in there.” Yoshisato sounded truthful; Sano believed him.
Yanagisawa’s anger encompassed both Sano and Yoshisato. “Never go behind my back again.” He jabbed his finger at Sano. “Keep quiet about this.”
“The shogun deserves to know what’s happening with the investigation,” Sano said.
“How are you going to tell him? Lord Ienobu won’t let you in the palace.” Yanagisawa said impatiently, “Enough of this. We have an invasion to plan.” He turned to the generals, who’d been eavesdropping while they pretended to study the map.
“I’m opposed to the invasion,” Sano said.
“It’s not up to you,” Yanagisawa said.
“We’re allies. I should have a say.”
Yanagisawa laughed scornfully. “You should have remembered that we were allies when you discredited Madam Chizuru’s confession. If you’d left well enough alone, Lord Ienobu wouldn’t be a problem now.”
“Don’t go through with it,” Sano said with increasing desperation.
“Skip the speech about honor. If you want to demonstrate honor, save it for the battle. In the meantime, if you’re not going to help
with the plans, go prepare for your son’s wedding.”
* * *
TEMPLE BELLS RANG the hour of the dog. Their discordant peals echoed across the dark, misty city and sank into the anxious hush that engulfed the wedding party assembled in a small reception chamber at the Mori estate. Sano, Reiko, and Magistrate Ueda, Akiko, Midori, Taeko, and Detective Marume knelt in a row on the right side of the alcove decorated with a scroll that bore the names of Shinto deities and an altar that held rice cakes and a jar of sake. A Shinto priest in a white robe and tall white cap, and the estate’s female housekeeper, knelt in front of the alcove, near a dais on which stood a miniature pine and plum tree and bamboo grove in a flat porcelain dish, and the statues of a hare and a crane—symbols of longevity, pliancy, and fidelity. On the alcove’s left side, Yanagisawa knelt by his wife. Lord Mori sat behind Kikuko, the bride, in the center of the room. Kikuko wore a white silk kimono; a long white drape covered her face and hair. The place beside her, reserved for the groom, was vacant.
Yanagisawa leveled a warning gaze at Sano. “Your son had better show up.”
“He will,” Sano said curtly.
Reiko twisted her cold, damp hands under her sleeves. She was horrified by Masahiro’s deliberate flouting of authority, furious at him because unless he honored the bargain Sano had made, his family would lose their alliance with Yanagisawa and be thrown to Lord Ienobu like meat to a wolf. But she was even more furious at Sano. She couldn’t help hoping Masahiro would stay away. She wanted to shake Sano and curse him for getting them into this.
Sano sat there, impervious to her thoughts. Reiko remembered their own wedding, and her heart ached. She’d been so young and innocent, so fearful of marriage yet so hopeful for happiness. Now, after almost nineteen years together, the bridegroom she’d fallen in love with had sold their son into this travesty of a marriage. Everything about it was wrong. A proper wedding required two priests instead of just the one who resided at the Mori estate, and two Shinto shrine attendants instead of the housekeeper. But the troops outside wouldn’t let anybody enter the estate. The incorrect procedure seemed to put the final seal of doom on Masahiro. Reiko had wanted so much better for him! Her anger at Sano flared so hotly, she thought that if she looked directly at him she would catch on fire.
The Iris Fan Page 23