Sano Ichiro 4 The Concubine's Tattoo (1998)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  "Edo Morgue?" The doctor gaped."But sosakan-sama, high-ranking castle residents don't go there when they die; we send them to Zojo Temple for cremation. Surely you know this. And Lady Harume cannot be removed yet. A report documenting the circumstances of her death must be filed. The priests must prepare the body for the funeral, and her comrades keep an overnight vigil. It's standard procedure."

  During such rituals the corpse would deteriorate, and evidence possibly get lost."Arrange Lady Harume's transport to Edo Morgue," Sano said."That's an order." Unwilling to say why he wanted the concubine taken to a place where dead commoners, outcasts, and victims of mass disasters such as floods or earthquakes went, Sano knew that a show of authority often yielded better results than explanations.

  The doctor hurried off. Sano and Hirata surveyed the room."The source of the poison?" Hirata said, pointing at the floor near Lady Harume's shrouded corpse. Two delicate porcelain cups lay on the tatami; their spilled contents had darkened the woven straw."Maybe someone was with her, and slipped the poison into her drink."

  Sano picked up a matching decanter from the table, looked inside, and saw that a bit of liquor remained."We'll take this, and the cups, as evidence," he said."But there's more than one way to administer poison. Perhaps she breathed it.'' Sano gathered lamps and incense burners."And what do you make of the tattoo?"

  "The character ai, " Hirata said." `Love.' " He grimaced in distaste."Yoshiwara courtesans mark themselves this way to prove their love for their clients-even though everyone knows they really do it to get more money from the men. But I would have thought that the shogun's concubines were too elegant and refined to stoop to such a low-class custom. Do you think the tattoo has anything to do with Lady Harume's death?"

  "Perhaps." Sano contemplated the razor, blood-tipped knife, and shaved pubic hairs on the floor."It looks as though she'd just finished the tattoo before she died."

  He collected the tools, then found the ink bottle lying in the corner and placed it with the other items. Then he and Hirata began searching the room.

  Cabinets and chests contained folded quilts and futons; kimonos and sashes; toiletries, hair ornaments, makeup; a samisen; writing brush and inkstone-the miscellany of women's lives-but no food, drink, or anything resembling a poisonous substance. Wrapped inside a white under-kimono Sano found a book the size of his hand, bound in silk printed with a pattern of pale green intertwined clover stems and blossoms on a mauve background, and tied with gold cord. He leafed through sheets of soft rice paper covered with tiny characters written in a feminine hand. The first page read, "The Pillow Book of Lady Harume."

  "A diary?" Hirata asked.

  "It looks like it." Since the reign of the Heian emperors five hundred years ago, court ladies had often recorded their experiences and thoughts in books like this. Sano tucked the diary under his sash for later perusal, then said quietly to Hirata, "I'm taking the sake, lamp oil, incense, tools, and ink to Dr. Ito at Edo Morgue-perhaps he can identify the poison, if it's there." He carefully bundled the articles in the garment that had contained the diary."While I'm gone, please supervise the removal and transport of Lady Harume's body; see that no one tampers with it."

  From outside the room, Sano heard the priests' muttered conversation, the chatter and weeping of women in nearby chambers. Lowering his voice even more, he continued, "For now, the official cause of death is illness, with an epidemic still a possibility. Have our men distribute the news to everyone who lives in the castle, instructing them to stay in their quarters or at their posts until the danger has passed." Over the past year, Sano's personal staff had grown into a team of one hundred detectives, soldiers, and clerks, enough to handle this large task. He added, "That should help prevent rumors from spreading."

  Hirata nodded."If Lady Harume died of a contagious disease, we need to know what she did, where she went, and whom she saw just before she died, so we can trace the sickness and quarantine her contacts. I'll set up appointments with the chief lady palace official, and His Excellency's Honorable Mother."

  The shogun's wife was a reclusive invalid who kept to her bed, her privacy and health guarded by a few trusted physicians and attendants. Therefore Tokugawa Tsunayoshi's mother, Lady Keisho-in, his constant companion and frequent adviser, ruled the Large Interior.

  "But if it was murder," Hirata continued in a lower voice, "we'll need information about Lady Harume's relations with the people around her. I'll make discreet inquiries."

  "Good." Sano knew he could trust Hirata, who had demonstrated impressive competence and unswerving loyalty during their association. In Nagasaki, the young retainer had helped solve a difficult case-and saved Sano's life.

  "And sosakan-sama? I'm sorry about the wedding banquet." They left the room, and Hirata bowed."My congratulations on your marriage. It will be a privilege to extend my service to the Honorable Lady Reiko."

  "Thank you, Hirata-san." Sano also bowed. He appreciated Hirata's friendship, which had supported him through a lonely period of his life. One of the hardest things about his job had been learning to share responsibility and risk, but Hirata had taught him the necessity-and honor-of both. They were united in the ancient samurai tradition of master and servant, absolute and eternal. Glad to leave matters in trustworthy hands, Sano left the palace, bound for Edo Morgue.

  3

  The gate to Sano's mansion in the Edo Castle Official Quarter stood open to the bright autumn afternoon. Up the street, past the estates of other high bakufu officials, porters carried wedding gifts from prominent citizens hoping to win favor with the shogun's sosakan. Servants transferred the bundles across the paved courtyard, through the wooden inner fence, and into the tile-roofed, half-timbered house. There maids unpacked; cooks labored in the kitchen; the housekeeper supervised last-minute preparations for the newlyweds' residency. Members of the sosakan's elite detective corps passed among the surrounding barracks, the stables, and the house's front offices, and through the gate, carrying on business in their master's absence.

  Isolated from this clamor of purposeful activity, Ueda Reiko, still wearing her white bridal kimono, knelt in her chamber in the mansion's private living quarters, amid chests filled with personal belongings brought from Magistrate Ueda's house. The newly decorated room smelled sweetly of fresh tatami. A colorful mural of birds in a forest adorned the wall. A black lacquer dressing table with matching screen and cabinet, inlaid with gold butterflies, stood ready for Reiko's use. Afternoon sunlight shone through latticed paper windows; outside, birds sang in the garden. Yet the pleasant surroundings, and even the fact that she was now living at Edo Castle-the goal of all ladies of her class-failed to lift the unhappiness that weighed upon Reiko's spirit.

  "There you are, young mistress!"

  Into the room hurried O-sugi, Reiko's childhood nurse and companion, who had moved to the castle with her. Plump and smiling, O-sugi regarded Reiko with affectionate exasperation."Daydreaming, as usual."

  "What else is there to do?" Reiko asked sadly."The banquet was canceled. Everyone is gone. And you said not to unpack, because there are servants to wait on me, and it would make a bad impression if I did anything for myself."

  Reiko had counted on the festivities to take her mind off her homesickness and fears. The death of the shogun's concubine and the possibility of an epidemic seemed trivial in comparison with these. How could she, who had never left her father's house for more than a few days, live here, forever, with a man who was a stranger to her? Although Sano's absence delayed the scary plunge into the unknown future, Reiko had nothing to do but worry.

  The nurse clucked her tongue."Well, you could change your clothes. No use hanging about in bridal kimono, now that the wedding is over."

  With O-sugi's assistance, off came the white robe and red under-kimono; on went an expensive kimono from Reiko's trousseau, printed with burgundy maple leaves on a background of brown woodgrain, yet dull and somber compared to her customary gay, bright maiden's clothing. Its sleeves
reached only to her hips-unlike the floor-length ones she had worn until today-suitable for a married woman. O-sugi pinned Reiko's long hair atop her head in a new, mature style. As Reiko stood before the mirror, watching the trappings of her youth disappear and her reflection age, her unhappiness deepened.

  Was she doomed to a secluded existence within this house, a mere vessel for her husband's children, a slave to his authority? Must all her dreams die on the first day of her adult life?

  Reiko's unusual girlhood had disinclined her for marriage. She was Magistrate Ueda's only child; her mother had died when she was a baby, and he had never married again. He could have ignored his daughter, consigning her to the complete care of servants, as other men in his situation might have, but Magistrate Ueda had valued Reiko as all that remained of the beloved wife he'd lost. Her intelligence had secured his affection.

  At age four, she would toddle into his study and peer at the reports he wrote."What does this say?" she would ask, pointing to one character after another.

  Once the magistrate taught her a word, she never forgot. Soon she could read simple sentences. She still remembered the joy of discovering that each character had its own meaning, and that a column of them expressed an idea. Abandoning her dolls, she spent hours inking her own words on large sheets of paper. Magistrate Ueda had encouraged Reiko's interest. He'd employed tutors to instruct her in reading, calligraphy, history, mathematics, philosophy, and the Chinese classics: subjects that a son would have been taught. When he'd found his six-year-old daughter wielding his sword against an imaginary foe, he'd hired martial arts masters to instruct her in kenjutsu and unarmed combat.

  "A samurai woman must know how to defend herself in case of war," Magistrate Ueda had told the two sensei, who'd been reluctant to teach a girl.

  Reiko recalled their disdainful treatment of her, and the lessons intended to dissuade her from this manly pursuit. They'd brought bigger, stronger boys to serve as her opponents in practice matches. But Reiko's proud spirit refused to break. Hair disheveled, white uniform stained with sweat and blood, she'd battered at her opponent with her wooden sword until he went down under a storm of blows. She'd wrestled to the floor a boy twice her size. Her reward was the respect she saw in the teachers' eyes-and the real, steel swords her father had given her, replacing each pair with longer ones every year as she grew. She loved stories of historical battles, envisioning herself as the great warriors Minamoto Yoritomo or Tokugawa Ieyasu. Reiko's playmates were the sons of her father's retainers; she scorned other girls as weak, frivolous creatures. She was sure that, as her father's only child, she would one day inherit his position as magistrate of Edo, and she must be ready.

  Reality had soon cured her of this notion."Girls don't become magistrates when they grow up," scoffed her teachers and friends."They marry, raise children, and serve their husbands."

  And Reiko had overheard her grandmother telling Magistrate Ueda, "It isn't right to treat Reiko like a boy. If you don't stop these ridiculous lessons, she'll never learn her place in the world. She must be taught some feminine accomplishments, or she'll never get a husband."

  Magistrate Ueda had compromised, continuing the lessons but also engaging teachers to instruct Reiko in sewing, flower arranging, music, and the tea ceremony. And still she had clung to her dreams. Her life would be different from other women's: She would have adventures; she would achieve glory.

  Then, when Reiko was fifteen, her grandmother had persuaded the magistrate that it was time for her to marry. Her first miai-the formal meeting between a prospective bride and groom and their families- had taken place at Zojo Temple. Reiko, who had observed the lives of her aunts and cousins, didn't want to marry at all. She knew that wives must obey every command and cater to every whim of their husbands, passively enduring insults or abuse. Even the most respected man could be a tyrant in his own home, forbidding his wife to speak, forcing physical attentions upon her, begetting one child after another until her health failed, then neglecting her to dally with concubines or prostitutes. While men came and went as they pleased, a wife of Reiko's social class stayed home unless given her husband's permission to attend religious ceremonies or family functions. Servants relieved her of household chores, but kept her idle, useless. To Reiko, marriage seemed like a trap to be avoided at all cost. And her first suitor did nothing to change her mind.

  He was a rich, high-ranking Tokugawa bureaucrat. He was also fat, forty, and stupid; during a picnic under the blossoming cherry trees, he got extremely drunk, making lewd remarks about his patronage of the Yoshiwara courtesans. To Reiko's horror, she saw that her grandmother and the go-between didn't share her revulsion; the social and financial advantages of the match blinded them to the man's flaws. Magistrate Ueda would not meet Reiko's gaze, and she sensed that he wanted to break off the negotiations but couldn't find an acceptable reason for doing so. Reiko decided to take matters into her own hands.

  "Do you think there was any way Japan could have conquered Korea ninety-eight years ago, instead of having to give up and withdraw the troops?" she asked the bureaucrat.

  "Why, I-I'm sure I don't know," he blustered, eyeing her with surprise."I never thought about it."

  But Reiko had. While her grandmother and the go-between stared in dismay and her father tried to hide a smile, she stated her opinion- that Japanese victory over Korea could have been achieved-giving explanations at great length. The next day, the bureaucrat ended the marriage negotiations with a letter that read, "Miss Reiko is too forward, impertinent, and disrespectful to make a good wife. Good luck finding someone else to marry her."

  Subsequent miai with other unattractive men had ended similarly. Reiko's family protested, scolded, and finally gave up in despair. She rejoiced. Then, on her nineteenth birthday, Magistrate Ueda summoned her to his office and said sadly, "Daughter, I understand your reluctance to marry; it's my own fault for encouraging your interest in unfeminine pursuits. But I won't be able to take care of you forever. You need a husband to protect you when I am dead and gone."

  "Father, I'm educated, I can fight, I can take care of myself," Reiko protested, though she knew he spoke the truth. Women did not hold government posts, run businesses, or work as anything other than servants, farm laborers, nuns, or prostitutes. These options repelled Reiko, as did the prospect of living on the charity of relatives. She bowed her head, acknowledging defeat.

  "We've received a new marriage proposal," Magistrate Ueda said, "and please don't ruin the negotiations, because we may never get another. It's from Sano Ichiro, the shogun's most honorable investigator."

  Reiko's head snapped up. She knew of Sosakan Sano, as did everyone in Edo. She had heard rumors of Sano's courage, and a great but secret service he'd performed for the shogun. Her interest stirred. Wanting to see this famous wonder, she consented to the miai.

  And Sano didn't disappoint her. As she and Magistrate Ueda strolled the grounds of Kannei Temple with the go-between, Sano, and his mother, Reiko eyed Sano covertly. Tall and strong, with a proud, noble bearing, he was younger than any of her other suitors, and by far the handsomest. As formal custom dictated, they didn't speak directly to each other, but intelligence shone in his eyes, echoed in his voice. Best of all, Reiko knew he was leading the hunt for the Bundori Killer, whose grisly murders had plunged Edo into terror. He wasn't a lazy drunk who neglected duty for the revels of Yoshiwara. He delivered dangerous killers to justice. To Reiko, he seemed the embodiment of the warrior heroes she'd worshipped since childhood. She had a chance to share his exciting life. And when she looked at Sano, an unfamiliar, pleasurable warmth spread through her body. Marriage suddenly didn't look so bad. As soon as they got home, Reiko told Magistrate Ueda to accept the proposal.

  When the wedding date was set, however, Reiko's doubts about marriage resurfaced. Her female relatives counseled her to obey and serve her husband; the gifts-kitchen utensils, sewing supplies, home furnishings-symbolized the domestic role she must assume. Her books and s
words remained at the Ueda mansion. Hope had flared briefly at the wedding, inspired by the sight of Sano, as handsome as she remembered; but now Reiko feared that her life would be no different from any other married woman's. Her husband was out on an important adventure; she was home. She had no reason to believe that his treatment of her would be different from any other man's. Panic squeezed her lungs.

  What had she done? Was it too late to escape?

  O-sugi fetched a tray, which she set upon Reiko's dressing table. Reiko saw the short bamboo brush, mirror, and ceramic basin; the two matching bowls, one containing water, the other a dark liquid. Her heart contracted.

  "No!"

  O-sugi sighed."Reiko-chan, you know you must dye your teeth black. It's the custom for a married woman, proof of her fidelity to her husband. Now come." Gently but firmly she seated Reiko before the table."The sooner over with, the better."

  With leaden reluctance, Reiko dipped the brush in the bowl and opened her mouth in an exaggerated grimace. When she painted the first stroke across her upper teeth, some of the black dye dripped onto her tongue. Her throat spasmed; saliva gushed into her mouth. The dye, composed of ink, iron filings, and plant extracts, was terribly bitter.