Sano took the small black book and riffled the pages, skimming the incense formulas, while Reiko peered over his shoulder. “How did you find it?”
Hirata didn’t answer at once. Sano looked up at him. Hirata averted his gaze before he said, “I managed to get in and dig it out.”
More evasion, more secrets. Disturbed, Sano again recognized the necessity of confronting Hirata, but again it would have to wait.
“Look at the last two pages,” Hirata said, too quick to change the subject.
Sano turned to them and found the list of names. “These are Usugumo’s pupils.”
“Besides Myobu and Kumoi, only two other names are on the list,” Reiko said.
As Sano read the names, a hollow formed in the pit of his stomach. “Look at who the others are. Priest Ryuko and Minister Ogyu.”
“Priest Ryuko is companion and spiritual advisor to the shogun’s mother,” Hirata said.
“He’s also her lover,” Reiko said.
“Since Lady Keisho-in has so much influence over her son, Priest Ryuko is the highest-ranking cleric in Japan, as well as indirect advisor to the shogun,” Sano thought aloud.
“I’ve never heard of Minister Ogyu,” Reiko said. “Who is he?”
“He’s the administrator of the shogun’s Confucian school,” Sano said.
The shogun was an enthusiast of Confucius, the ancient Chinese philosopher. Confucianism was a tradition of moral, cultural, and political teaching, a supreme guide to life and government, that had come to Japan some thirteen centuries ago. Confucian teachings emphasized filial piety, a strict social hierarchy, administrative responsibility, and loyalty, which accorded well with Bushido. A fad that had waxed and waned throughout history, it was currently enjoying a bout of popularity. It was considered necessary knowledge for cultured men in the Tokugawa regime. Sano had attended classes and lectures at the school, a prestigious center of education and culture. So had the shogun, who gave generous patronage to the Confucian scholars who taught there.
“Is Minister Ogyu alive?” Hirata asked. Since the earthquake, that question invariably came up when someone’s name was mentioned. “And Priest Ryuko?”
“Both are. I’ve seen them,” Sano said.
Reiko took the book from Sano. She ran her finger down the list of names, perusing the dates and notes written after them. “Priest Ryuko and Minister Ogyu had their last lessons the month before the earthquake. On some dates Usugumo taught Priest Ryuko and Minister Ogyu at their houses, but on other dates, at hers.”
“They had the opportunity to sneak the poisoned incense into her supplies,” Sano concluded.
“So now we have two new suspects.” Hirata glanced at Sano, seeking a sign that Sano approved and he’d made up for his absences.
On the one hand, Sano was glad that Hirata had done his assigned task. On the other, he felt as if Hirata had unearthed a bomb from the incense teacher’s house. “I wish the suspects were anyone except these particular men.”
Concern appeared on Reiko’s face. “They won’t take kindly to being under investigation for the murders. And they could get you in trouble with the shogun.”
“Nonetheless, we have to investigate them,” Sano said, “because Lord Hosokawa will cause even worse trouble if we don’t solve the crime.” His spirits lifted a little. “If I have to tell him the killer is Priest Ryuko or Minister Ogyu, he’ll probably react more favorably than if I tell him it was one of his daughters. I’ll talk to them today. Hirata- san, you investigate their backgrounds and see if there’s anything incriminating.”
“I’ll get it done right away,” Hirata said, too promptly.
“I know Lady Keisho-in,” Reiko said. “I can ask her about Priest Ryuko and the incense teacher. But I haven’t any connection to Minister Ogyu. Is he married?”
“I expect so,” Sano said. Most men of Ogyu’s status were.
“I’ll find a way into his household,” Reiko said.
“We have to be careful about how we handle Priest Ryuko and Minister Ogyu,” Sano reminded her.
“We mustn’t offend them,” Reiko agreed.
“We also mustn’t let them know we’re investigating them,” Sano said. “They’re intelligent men with plenty of connections. We don’t want them wondering why I’m interested in the murders, making their own inquiries, and finding out about Lord Hosokawa and the daimyo who are plotting against the Tokugawa regime.”
15
From a distance Zojo Temple appeared unchanged, its hilly terrain and pine forests serenely beautiful under the fresh snow. Sano could almost believe that all was well at the Tokugawa family temple, home to three thousand priests, nuns, novices, and their attendants-until he and his troops drew nearer.
The two-story main gate lay in fragments by the road. Sano’s party trod carefully on shifted, crumbled stone stairs that led to the temple’s main precinct. Inside the precinct, people crowded the space around the temple buildings. Some sheltered under tents; others sat in the falling snow with nothing to protect them except the clothes on their backs. Children snuggled against mothers who held crying infants. The pagoda leaned as if in a fierce wind. Walls had peeled off the abbot’s residence and the novices’ dormitories, exposing empty rooms. Heat waves rose from the crematorium, where the fires that would burn more dead bodies during the night had already been lit. Rhythmic chanting emanated from the main hall, whose massive structure, carved columns and doors, wooden bracketry, and undulating roofs were miraculously intact. Sano and his men entered its cavernous realm of flame-light and shadow. The smoke was so thick that Sano could hardly breathe, the smell of incense overpowering. Kneeling people packed the floor, facing the altar. Their lips moved as they chanted. They were praying to the Buddha to deliver them from evil. Sano hoped the Buddha was listening.
On the altar, hundreds of candles burned before a giant golden Buddha statue. Its many arms seemed to wave in the flickering light that reflected off thousands of golden lotus flowers that surrounded it. Priests in saffron robes knelt on the raised floor before the altar, their backs to the crowd. Their shaved heads gleamed. The tallest man, at their center, wore a glittering stole of red and gold brocade that seemed made of fire. It was Priest Ryuko. His chanting boomed above the others, deep and resonant. The earthquake seemed to have added luster to his image as Japan’s leading cleric.
Sano edged around the crowd to the side of the altar. From there he had a good view of Priest Ryuko. Appearance had certainly played a part in Ryuko’s good fortune. His profile was comely, with a high brow, long nose, heavy-lidded eyes, and lips as full and curved as the Buddha statue’s. He must have sensed Sano’s attention; he turned his head slightly. His gaze grew hooded. He rose in a motion that was smooth and quick for a man in his fifties. He beckoned Sano. They went to a side chapel, where a smaller altar held gilded statues of the spirits of prosperity, relief to the poor, and the exorcism of evil. The sound of chanting was muted here. Incense sticks gave off bittersweet smoke tendrils. In the dim light of a few candles, Sano and Ryuko bowed to each other. Sano could see that leading the faithful through this crisis had taken its toll on Ryuko. Purplish shadows smudged the skin under his eyes, and his vibrant golden skin had turned ashen with fatigue.
“I presume this is not a social call.” Ryuko’s voice rasped from so much chanting. “None of us has time for those nowadays.”
“Indeed,” Sano said. “I came to see how the temple is faring.”
Ryuko studied Sano intently, as if trying to glean the significance behind the pretext. They were political allies by default rather than because of mutual trust. Ryuko detested Yanagisawa, whose power had threatened the authority of the clergy, and had backed Sano during his clashes with Yanagisawa. But Ryuko and Sano were leery of each other’s power.
“Your officials were here two days ago,” Ryuko said. “I’ve made a full report.”
His suave manner had a splintery edge. The earthquake had revealed wellsprings of patience an
d compassion in some people; in others, their natural bad tempers. Ryuko was among the latter, goaded by frustration to turn a simple chat into a quarrel, the last thing Sano needed while conducting a murder investigation that he wasn’t supposed to be conducting and questioning a suspect who wasn’t supposed to know he was a suspect.
“It’s good to see things with one’s own eyes,” Sano said in a placating tone.
“True.” Yet Ryuko clearly chafed at Sano’s authority. “As you’ve probably noticed, we haven’t been able to repair our buildings that were damaged. May I ask when we can expect help from the government?”
Although religion was important to the shogun, and he’d proclaimed that fixing the temples was a top priority, he’d left Sano to allocate scarce resources. Sano had put the temples behind urgent needs such as feeding and supplying clean water to the population and repairing the castle, roads, and bridges. Ryuko had protested the decision. So had other officials who thought their homes, offices, and businesses deserved a bigger share.
“You can expect help soon.” As soon as he solved the case and Lord Hosokawa handed over the money, Sano thought. If he didn’t solve the case, the civil war would start and Priest Ryuko would have more serious problems to worry about than fixing the temple.
“That’s good news.” Ryuko’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“By the way,” Sano said, “I understand that someone you’re acquainted with was found yesterday, during the search for victims of the earthquake.”
“Oh? Who is it?”
“An incense teacher named Madam Usugumo. Didn’t you take lessons from her?”
“Usugumo is dead?” Ryuko’s heavy eyelids lifted so high that the entire pupils showed, dark brown rimmed with black, shining in the candlelight.
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it. What a pity.” There was a strange note in Ryuko’s voice; it sounded closer to pleasure than surprise or sorrow. Something in him had relaxed, a tension that Sano only became aware of now, in its absence. “How do you know about Usugumo’s death?”
“Hirata- san told me. He found her while he was searching and rescuing.” Sano omitted the fact of his own involvement.
“I didn’t know her very well, but she was a good teacher, a fine woman.” Ryuko’s manner grew cautious, as if he realized that there had been something wrong with his initial reaction, which he hoped Sano hadn’t noticed. “The earthquake has cost so many people their lives.”
“The earthquake didn’t kill Usugumo,” Sano said. “She was poisoned.”
Ryuko’s expression stiffened; he resembled a Buddha statue more than ever. Sano felt the tension in him return, drawing his muscles tight. “Poisoned, how?” His lips barely moved.
“At an incense game with two of her pupils.” Sano didn’t mention that the other victims were Lord Hosokawa’s daughters. “There was arsenic in the incense. All three women were found dead together, in the remains of Usugumo’s house.”
Ryuko swallowed visibly. “It couldn’t have been an accident?” His eyes betrayed the hope that his flat tone tried to conceal.
“Anything’s possible, but it looks like murder,” Sano said.
“That’s why you’re here.” Ryuko couldn’t hide the fear that turned his complexion grayer. “You’re not checking on the temple; you’re investigating Usugumo’s murder. And you think I killed her!”
“I’m not investigating any murder. How would I have time?” Sano hoped the lie sounded more believable than it felt. “Her murder will be a matter for the police, when they get around to it. But since you raised the possibility that you killed her, I might as well ask: Did you put the arsenic in the incense?”
Offense revived the color in Ryuko’s face. “I shouldn’t dignify that question with a reply, but I will.” He said forcefully, “No.”
Sano couldn’t tell if he was lying. Ryuko, like all successful courtiers, was an expert actor, even when under pressure. “You’ve been in Usugumo’s house, haven’t you? You could have mixed in the arsenic while you were blending incense. Or you could have prepared the poisoned incense pellets ahead of time and brought them with you to your lessons.”
“Why would I do that?” Ryuko sounded a shade more tentative now, as if he were afraid that Sano had the answer. He hurried to counterattack. “I think you are investigating the murder. If you aren’t, why bother bringing it up?”
“Just curious,” Sano fibbed. “I’m sorry to upset you.”
“I am not upset,” Ryuko said in the haughty tone that often accompanies this lie. Perspiration gleamed on his shaved scalp. “I am merely annoyed, because you have the temerity to suggest that I could be involved in such a sordid matter. And because I think you”-he pointed a finger at Sano-“are up to some kind of dirty business, and the murder investigation is a ruse.”
“No dirty business, no ruse,” Sano said in the artless tone in which a false denial is often spoken. “Pardon me. Forget I mentioned Usugumo. I’ll be leaving now.”
Ryuko thrust his finger into Sano’s face. Its nail was long, curved, and sharp. “I warn you,” he said, the rasp in his voice like a jagged knife. His angry eyes glittered as brightly as his stole. “Leave me alone, or I’ll have a word with Lady Keisho-in. She won’t like you making insinuations about her favorite priest.” But his fear that he would be blamed for the murder, and lose her patronage, showed in the trembling edges of his fierce smile. “She’ll turn against you. And after a word from her, so will the shogun.”
He swept past Sano, his robes lashing against Sano’s legs as he stalked toward the main hall where the prayers droned on and on. Sano wondered what he could have done differently, to avoid antagonizing Ryuko. He also wondered what Ryuko was hiding about his relations with the incense teacher.
“You don’t want to go in there,” said one of the ladies-in-waiting huddled on the veranda outside the Large Interior.
The Large Interior contained the women’s quarters of the palace, where the shogun’s mother, wife, female concubines, and their attendants lived. They still lived there, although most of their building had collapsed during the earthquake; no better accommodations were available. A bamboo fence screened the intact wing from the ruins, the workers clearing them away, and the noise.
“Why not?” Reiko noticed more women occupying the pavilion in the snowy garden. These most privileged, pampered women in Japan were living like housewives in the slums. The earthquake had equalized the social classes. They looked cold and dour.
“You’ll see,” the lady-in-waiting said ominously.
Carrying a small lacquer lunch box she’d brought, Reiko entered the low, half-timbered building. A din of women’s shrill voices sounded like quarrelsome birds. She left her shoes by a pile of other shoes and draped her cloak on other garments that hung in the entryway. Heading down the corridor, she winced at the stale odor of too many people shut up in too little space. Chambers contained women bathing, brushing their hair, putting on makeup, eating, or playing cards. Acrimony tinged their conversations. Two girls squabbled about a broken comb. They were all like caged animals, venting their frustrations on one another. The loudest voice emanated from the largest room. Reiko stood at the threshold because so many women knelt on the floor, taking up all the space. Young and old, they wore brightly painted kimonos, their hair spiked with expensive ornaments. They sat in frightened silence. Amid them lay Lady Keisho-in, the shogun’s mother.
She drummed her heels and fists on the floor and yelled, “How dare he?” in her croaky old voice. “Who the hell does he think he is?”
Small and plump, she wore a brilliant magenta silk kimono. She loved girlish clothes, which she’d never given up even though she was seventy-six years old. Thick white rice-powder on her round, double-chinned face hid its wrinkles. Red rouge on her lips and cheeks, and black hair dye, lent her a semblance of youth. As she ranted, the gaps between her teeth hardly showed; the ones that remained were p
ainted black in the fashionable style for married women. She’d never married the shogun’s father, Reiko knew; she’d been his peasant concubine. The fact that she’d given birth to the shogun gave her every privilege of fashion and rank she wanted. Reiko understood why the women were outside in the cold: They didn’t like to be around while Lady Keisho-in had a tantrum.
A gray-haired attendant spied Reiko and exclaimed brightly, “Look, my lady! You have a visitor!”
The other women cleared a path for Reiko. As she walked into the room, they bowed, smiled, and backed out, leaving her to cope with Lady Keisho-in, who shouted curses. Reiko knelt. Lady Keisho-in sat up and went silent, surprised to see Reiko, puzzled because she’d lost her audience.
“Good afternoon, Lady Keisho-in,” Reiko said. “May I ask what has upset you so much?”
An angry scowl creased the makeup on Lady Keisho-in’s face. “It’s that damned astronomer. Have you heard about his pronouncement?”
“Yes, my husband mentioned it,” Reiko said.
“His constellations say the cosmos is displeased with the government in general, and an important personage in particular. He had the nerve to hint that it’s me, because I was promoted to the highest rank in court, which is too far above my station.” Lady Keisho-in exclaimed, “Can you believe it?”
Reiko hadn’t heard that part of the story. “No, indeed, I can’t.” It was dangerous for anyone to criticize the shogun’s mother.
“As if that weren’t bad enough, he suggested that the earthquake is my fault!”
The astronomer had put Lady Keisho-in in danger, too, Reiko realized. People wanted someone to blame for the earthquake. If it was Lady Keisho-in, not even her status as the shogun’s mother would protect her from harsh punishment. Reiko reflected that no matter how bad one’s own earthquake-related problems seemed, others had theirs that were even worse.
“He doesn’t know his anus from a hole in his head,” Lady Keisho-in declared. “I deserve that rank even though I was born a peasant. I’m the mother of the shogun! Besides, my son has the right to promote anyone he wants!” She cursed, then asked Reiko, “What do you think?”
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