“I swear, I could feel the stone. My back started to hurt. My shoulders bent over. I could hardly breathe. I saw Madam Usugumo gazing into my eyes as she held the incense burner under my nose. I began to realize that she must have put something, a drug, in the incense and the tea. I was in some sort of trance. Her lips moved as the incense voice whispered, ‘Just tell me your secret, and you’ll be free.’”
Sano listened, amazed. What Korin had said was true: Madam Usugumo had perverted the incense ritual to extract shameful confessions from her pupils.
“I gathered all my strength of will,” Priest Ryuko went on. “I reached out and knocked the incense burner out of her hand. The hot ash spilled. She hurried to sweep it up before it could start a fire. I stuck my finger down my throat, and I vomited up the tea that was still in my stomach. When I stopped retching, the dizziness and drowsiness went away. I couldn’t hear the incense whispering anymore.
“I shouted at her, ‘What were you trying to do to me, you witch? Put a spell on me?’ She tried to pretend she was confused. She said ‘Nothing.’ I slapped her face, then stalked out of her house. I never went back. I never saw her or heard from her again.”
Sano gazed askance at Ryuko. “Is that all?”
Ryuko looked Sano in the eye. “Yes.” His sincerity seemed a manifestation of will rather than innocence.
“You didn’t tell her your secrets?” Sano asked.
“I told you, I haven’t any.”
“Did you take any action against Madam Usugumo?”
“No.”
Sano knew that Ryuko was quick to punish anyone who crossed him. He remembered a case when some priests who disliked Ryuko’s influence at court had started evil rumors about him. “You could have told Lady Keisho-in.” She’d gotten the shogun to send the priests to work in the government’s silver mines. The priests had died there within a few months.
“I didn’t want to bother her,” Priest Ryuko claimed. “She’s getting on in years; she’s frail. It seemed better to let the whole thing go.”
But Sano thought he knew the real reason the priest hadn’t told Lady Keisho-in. “Or is it because you didn’t want her to wonder whether you had any secrets and demand to hear what they were?” By taking action against Madam Usugumo, he’d have risked his private business becoming public. And if he had indeed confessed secrets to her during the ritual, she could have exposed him before he managed to do away with her.
“For the last time, Madam Usugumo wasn’t blackmailing me. If you want to catch whoever killed Lord Hosokawa’s daughters-which I know you do, whether you’ll admit it or not-you’d better bait someone else.” Priest Ryuko said with the air of a gambler playing his best card, “Such as Minister Ogyu. He was also her pupil.”
Priest Ryuko beat a hasty escape. Sano went home and fetched his horse and troops. They rode downhill through the passages inside the castle. As they neared the castle’s main gate, a samurai came riding toward them. It was Minister Ogyu. He’d saved Sano the trip. Sano raised his hand in greeting. “Minister Ogyu. May I have a word?”
24
As Ogyu and Sano faced each other from astride their horses, Ogyu’s head felt as if the right side of his brain had turned into a fist that clenched and unclenched, crushing itself. How he wished he could go back to the academy and sort rubble! The earthquake had given him a welcome respite from interaction with people, the pressure. He must be the only person in Edo who’d found life better after the earthquake than before.
“I’d be glad to speak with you, but the shogun has summoned me.” The pain was agonizing, but Ogyu hid it. He never let his true emotions or his physical discomfort show in public. “I must go to him first.”
“I’ll go with you.” Sano turned his horse and rode uphill through the passage alongside Ogyu.
Yesterday’s talk had been bad enough. Now Ogyu dreaded having Sano present while he dealt with the shogun. “That would be my pleasure.”
Ogyu and Sano found the shogun in the sunken bathtub in his chamber. Most of Edo’s bath chambers, private and public, had been destroyed by the earthquake; the shogun was among the few people who still had one. His head and neck stuck up from the steaming water. His valet dressed his hair while he soaked. Charcoal braziers heated the moist air. Ogyu felt as if he would suffocate.
He and Sano knelt and bowed. The shogun barely nodded to Sano. He exclaimed, “Ogyu- san, I’m so glad you’re here!”
Ogyu relaxed a little; the headache didn’t stab quite so painfully. He felt more at ease with the shogun than with anyone except his wife and children. Most people feared the shogun’s power of life and death over them, but Ogyu hadn’t been afraid of the shogun since they’d first met almost twenty years ago. On that fateful day he’d crept into the shogun’s chamber, trembling with nerves, drenched in cold sweat. His aching head echoed with his parents’ orders to make the best of this onetime opportunity. Ogyu had expected the shogun to be a physical and intellectual giant, harshly critical. To his surprise, the great dictator was a slight, frail man with a meek manner. He’d invited Ogyu to read aloud a passage from Confucius, in Chinese, then translate it into Japanese. As Ogyu obeyed, his headache and anxiety faded because he was on familiar ground. The shogun was impressed. He said, “I’m having a banquet for my scholars tonight. Would you, ahh, do me the honor of attending?”
That was the beginning of Ogyu’s rise to glory. Instead of studying alone, he studied with the shogun. Instead of lecturing outside Z o j o Temple, he debated with the court’s most renowned Confucians. He even wrote the shogun’s Confucian lectures. Best of all, the shogun had to be the least observant person in the world. Ogyu never had to worry about lapses of appearance or behavior in his presence.
“How may I serve you, Your Excellency?” Ogyu said.
“A terrible problem has come up,” the shogun fretted. “I am in, ahh, desperate need of your advice.”
The shogun often consulted Ogyu about affairs of state and how to apply Confucian principles to them. Ogyu had always managed to give advice that satisfied the shogun and didn’t create hindrances for the men who really ran the government, but this was the first time the shogun had asked for his advice since the earthquake. Many political careers were foundering as officials failed to meet the shogun’s demands to solve the problems. Ogyu’s could be next.
He tried to ignore Sano while maintaining his smoothest composure. “I’ll advise you to the best of my ability. What is the problem?”
“Have you heard what my astronomer said, about the bad constellations?” the shogun said. “That they mean the cosmos is displeased with a high-ranking person within my regime and sent the earthquake as a message?”
“Yes.” Ogyu would rather not get involved in the dangerous controversy. His head pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil.
“My spies say there’s much speculation about which high-ranking person has, ahh, offended the gods. Many people think it’s me!” the shogun cried.
Ogyu exchanged astonished glances with Sano; they shared the thought that the madness in the air was inducing men to commit treason by blaming the shogun for the earthquake and risking death. Ogyu quickly broke eye contact, afraid that Sano would read his other thoughts.
“They say I’m not a good ruler. And that the gods will-” The shogun sobbed.
“What is it, Your Excellency?” Sano said with concern.
Ogyu felt his own concern to be magnitudes greater than Sano’s. He, unlike most people, was truly fond of the shogun. “You can tell me, Your Excellency.”
“The gods will send other disasters unless I, ahh, step down!”
This shocked Ogyu, even though it was no secret that the shogun had serious shortcomings as a ruler and that many people would like to see the government in more capable hands. The office of dictator was hereditary; Japan was stuck with the shogun until he died. But now it seemed that some men would take advantage of the earthquake to force him out.
“You don
’t have to listen to the opinions of people who are so cowardly that they talk behind your back instead of coming forward and saying their say in person,” Sano said in a reasonable tone.
“But what if they’re right?” the shogun asked anxiously. “What if I am such a terrible ruler that I caused the earthquake? If so, and I don’t step down, the world could end!”
Ogyu watched Sano try not to roll his eyes. Sano was skeptical about the idea that the shogun had such a degree of control over nature, but Ogyu believed in the mystical interplay between humans and the cosmos, and what mattered was that the shogun also believed in it.
“That’s why I summoned you,” the shogun told Ogyu. “You’re the expert on Confucius. Confucius was the expert on, ahh, how to keep government in harmony with the cosmos. Tell me, please, what would Confucius have me do?”
This was the most important service the shogun had ever asked of Ogyu. This moment could make or destroy him, could preserve the status quo or shatter the regime. If only it hadn’t come while Sano was watching, while the threat of a murder investigation loomed over Ogyu’s throbbing head!
“According to Confucius, it is not for your people to decide whether the government is in harmony with the cosmos,” Ogyu said carefully. “The decision belongs to you, their leader. You and your advisors must analyze your policies and determine whether you are doing right.”
The shogun puckered his brow. “But what if I discover I’m doing wrong?” Steam from the bathwater condensed on his face and dripped down his cheeks. “Must I abdicate?”
Ogyu stole a glance at Sano, whose expression was grave, cautious. They were both dismayed that the shogun was so afraid of the gods, he might be willing to relinquish the dictatorship and let a war over the succession begin.
“No, you must identify the errors of your ways and change them,” Ogyu said.
“Are you sure?” Hope brightened the shogun’s perspiring face. “I really wouldn’t want to abdicate. I like being a great dictator.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ogyu said, confident in his knowledge.
Sighing in relief, the shogun slid deeper into the tub until his chin touched the water; he leaned his head back against the rim. “Ahh, your advice has done me good, Ogyu- san. As a token of my gratitude, I’ll send you a present as soon as I finish my bath.”
He waved his hand, dismissing Ogyu and Sano. As they walked outside together, Ogyu felt his heart pounding in time with the fist that clenched and unclenched in his head.
“I commend you for preventing His Excellency from stepping down and throwing the country into chaos,” Sano said.
Ogyu heard genuine respect and gratitude in Sano’s voice, but he knew better than to think he was safe. He also knew he should wait for Sano to say why he wanted to talk again; he mustn’t reveal his interest in the murders or the fact that he knew things about them that he was hiding. But Sano didn’t speak. The suspense cranked up the pain in Ogyu’s head, which was almost unbearable.
“Is there any news about the murders?” Ogyu finally said.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Sano sounded strangely glad that Ogyu had spared him the need to broach the topic. Ogyu wondered if he wasn’t the only one of them with something to hide. “Madam Usugumo’s apprentice has been arrested.”
Tentative relief infused balm into Ogyu’s headache. “Because he’s the killer?”
“No.” Sano regarded Ogyu with a speculative expression.
Did he guess that Ogyu wished for someone else to take the blame for the murders so that he would be safe? Did he know that Ogyu feared he was getting close to the truth? Probably yes on both counts, Ogyu decided. The pain in his head increased. He would cut into his skull with his sword if that would end the agony.
“He was arrested for an unrelated crime,” Sano went on. “But he has an interesting story. He says Madam Usugumo drugged her pupils, put them in a trance, and extracted compromising information from them. Afterward, she forced them to pay blackmail money in exchange for her keeping their secrets.”
“How shocking.” Ogyu forced his body to express the emotion he’d verbalized-voice hushed, eyes wide, mouth hanging open for an instant before he said, “Is it true?” All the while his mind blared, He knows about the rituals! He knows about the blackmail!
Sano watched him closely, as if wondering if Ogyu was putting on an act. “You tell me. You were Madam Usugumo’s pupil. Did she try it with you?”
“Never.” Ogyu made himself sound incredulous at the very idea. “Her behavior toward me was always entirely proper.”
“You never felt strange after you drank tea? She didn’t tell you to do things, such as to raise or lower your arm? Or ask you questions about yourself?”
Ogyu felt sicker as he remembered his arm lifting then dropping of its own will, and the voice of the incense whispering. A lifetime of dissembling came to his rescue. “No…” He let his voice trail off; he pasted a look of revelation on his face. “But if Madame Usugumo did perform rituals, I may have accidentally managed to avoid being drawn into one. I had to cancel my last lesson because some scholars from Miyako were coming to visit the academy and I needed to prepare.” If Sano checked with his colleagues from the academy, they would confirm that the scholars had come. “Then the earthquake happened. I never resumed my lessons.” Ogyu put on the expression of a man who’d crossed the street an instant before a runaway horse trampled the next person to cross. “Perhaps I was lucky.”
He saw Sano wonder if perhaps he was lying. A seasoned detective like Sano would automatically distrust convenient explanations from murder suspects.
“Supposing Madam Usugumo had drugged you and put you in a trance,” Sano said. “What secrets about you would she have learned?”
This was dangerous territory that Ogyu had successfully skirted his whole life. He’d built a mental wall around the private things he could never let come to light. The wall had never failed him. Confident that not a hint of his secrets showed on his face, Ogyu chuckled as if Sano had made a joke.
“Madam Usugumo wouldn’t have learned anything worth my paying blackmail for, I’m afraid,” Ogyu said. “I might have confessed to telling fibs to my parents when I was a child. My life is quite dull.” He saw Sano narrow his eyes: Sano knew he was hiding something important, and Ogyu knew Sano was hunting the killer whether he would admit it or not. To deflect Sano’s suspicion, Ogyu said, “But it appears that someone else’s peccadilloes aren’t as innocent. When the police begin looking for the murderer, I would suggest that they investigate Madam Usugumo’s other pupils. I believe one of them was Priest Ryuko.”
Inside the guesthouse, Masahiro carried a bundle of dirty laundry down the corridor. Suddenly Priest Ryuko rounded a corner and came striding toward him. Ryuko’s face was grim, his eyes focused straight ahead. To avoid being run down, Masahiro flattened himself against the wall. The priest rushed by. Opportunity beckoned. Clutching the laundry, Masahiro tiptoed after Ryuko.
Ryuko headed to the section of the house in which the shogun had installed people whom he wanted near him who’d lost their homes. Masahiro tiptoed a safe distance behind the priest, but he needn’t have worried about being caught. Ryuko was so preoccupied that he never glanced backward. He slipped through a doorway. His voice, low and urgent, spoke to someone inside the chamber.
Masahiro stopped by the door, which was slightly open. He peeked inside at a small space crammed with furniture and bundles. He had a clear view of the monk who served as Priest Ryuko’s aide, but all he could see of Ryuko was his backside. Ryuko was bent over, apparently rummaging inside a cabinet.
“But the roads are blocked,” the monk said. “The bridges are down. I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to get very far.”
“I’ll have to take a chance.” Priest Ryuko’s voice was muffled.
Masahiro deduced that Ryuko was planning a trip. He waited, hoping to hear the reason for what seemed like a sudden, reckless departure.
“Can’t
you wait a month or so?” the monk asked. “The roads should be clear by then, and ferries should be available at the river crossings.”
“I can’t wait.”
Masahiro heard desperation in his tone. Was it because of the murders?
“If you go now, there won’t be any place to stay at night,” the monk said. “I’ve heard there’s not an inn open within a two-or three-day journey from Edo.”
“Stop bringing up problems! Help me!” Priest Ryuko said, his voice louder and clearer as his posture straightened. “I need porters and a palanquin and bearers.”
The monk looked worried. “They’ll be hard to find. All the able-bodied men have been put on rebuilding the castle and city.”
“Get them taken off! Bribe someone!” Priest Ryuko turned. Now Masahiro could see his angry profile. He held out a cloth pouch that jingled as he shook it at the monk. “This should be enough money.”
Masahiro silently willed the priest to say where he was going and why.
The monk took the pouch and said, “All right.”
“We have to be ready to go by tomorrow.” Priest Ryuko’s tone was threatening as well as fretful. “Or it’s over for all of us.”
Although Masahiro had failed to learn the destination or the reason for the trip, he knew that people who were innocent didn’t need to leave town in a hurry. Guilty people did.
Priest Ryuko moved toward the door. Masahiro bolted, clutching the laundry to his heart, which beat fast with excitement. He couldn’t wait to tell his father what he’d heard.
25
After leaving minister Ogyu, Sano went to the headquarters of the metsuke, the Tokugawa intelligence service. After the earthquake had flattened its offices inside the palace, it had moved to a watchtower on the castle wall halfway up the hill. The tower’s upper story had fallen off, but the lower level was solid enough for occupation. Sano pushed open the door and entered. Lanterns supplemented the light from the barred windows. Smoke from charcoal braziers turned the air gray and noxious. The room was crowded with trunks and cabinets moved from the palace. A lone agent hunched over a desk. He bowed to Sano and said, “Welcome, Honorable Chamberlain.”
The Incense Game si-16 Page 18