Suddenly she heard men's voices, coming around the curve of the island. Fright launched her running into the forest. Crouching behind a tree, she peered out at the lakeshore. Three samurai, armed with swords, bows, and quivers of arrows, strode into view. Three more samurai came from the opposite direction. The two groups met and paused. With a thudding heart Reiko listened to their conversation.
"Any sign of her?"
"Not yet."
They knew she'd escaped from the keep, Reiko realized with dismay. They'd found their comrades bound and gagged, and now they were looking for her.
"She can't have gone far."
"She must be hiding in the forest."
The six men turned their gazes in Reiko's direction. She held herself rigid, her breath caught, for fear that the slightest movement would reveal her. The men tramped into the forest, so near Reiko that she could have touched them as they passed her. Had they punished her friends? Reiko was sure they blamed her for the escape attempt and intended revenge on her. But despite her fear, a thought raised her spirits.
There was a way off the island. The kidnappers must have transported themselves, the women, and provisions for everyone across the lake to the castle by boat. Reiko might yet escape-if she could find the boat before the kidnappers caught her.
She hastened through the forest, away from the search party, toward the island's north shore, which she hadn't yet seen. Perhaps the boat was moored there. She didn't allow herself to worry that she didn't know how to sail or row a boat. Trusting in luck, Reiko fought past thorny bushes, then froze. Some fifteen paces distant, a lane crossed her path. Two rough peasant men carrying wooden clubs paced up and down the lane. Farther ahead, the forest thinned, buildings fronted the lake, and more figures moved. The kidnappers had marshaled their entire force to patrol the island and find the fugitive.
Reiko veered south, hoping to circumvent the castle and find a boat on the other side. Rain sprinkled the foliage, while the sun's glinting rays penetrated the clouds. As Reiko wove between trees, she heard footsteps crunching the underbrush.
"What was that?" a man's voice said.
"What?" another man asked.
"A flash of light."
The sun must have reflected off the blade of her dagger, Reiko thought with distress. She crouched in the brush, but the first man shouted, "I see her! She's over here!"
Aghast, Reiko heard other voices calling replies and spreading the news. She ran, hindered by tree stumps and saplings. Glancing wildly around, she saw men crashing through the forest, converging on her, though she kept running. Her heart pounded; frantic breaths pumped her lungs. Now the forest gave way to a courtyard paved with cracked flagstones and surrounded on three sides by attached buildings that blocked her flight. The kidnappers had herded her straight to the castle. As Reiko skidded to a stop, she gleaned a vague impression of dingy half-timbered structures that rose two stories high, with balconies, shaded verandas, and latticed windows. She heard horses snorting and smelled their odor: The kidnappers had swum them across the lake and stabled them nearby. Cornered and panting, she turned to face her pursuers.
They stood, perhaps thirty strong, ranged in a semicircle against her. Samurai pointed their swords or held their bows drawn, arrows ready to fly; peasant toughs brandished their clubs. Grimy faces snarled. Reiko gulped panic and raised her blade, determined to fight rather than submit.
"Put it down, or we'll shoot you," barked a samurai.
Reiko recognized his face, saw the bloody bruise on the side of his head: He was the leader she'd knocked unconscious. While she hesitated, a bow twanged. The arrow grazed her hand that held the dagger. She shrieked, and her fingers involuntarily jerked open. The dagger fell to the ground. The men advanced on Reiko. Terrified beyond speech, she backed away until stopped against a veranda.
"Not so brave now, are you?" the wounded leader mocked. Reiko saw vindictive humor in his eyes. "I bet you ran away because you wanted a little fun. Well, we're going to have some now."
He grabbed her arm. Reiko cried out and pulled away. Chuckling, he let her go. Another samurai caught her. Then the men were shoving her from one to another, laughing raucously. Hands pawed her body, loosed her hair from its pinned-up knot, and yanked its streaming tresses. Reiko struck and kicked the men, but they only laughed harder. Someone tore off her sash. As she tried to hold her robes closed, the men made lewd noises. They pushed her back and forth, spun her, and clutched her. Sky, forest, buildings, and savage faces swirled around Reiko as she helplessly stumbled. Fear and vertigo nauseated her. The men ripped off her kimono. Naked beneath her thin white under-robe, Reiko cowered.
"Leave me alone!" she screamed.
"We're not finished," the wounded samurai said, then told the other men, "Hold her down."
The men seized her, and though Reiko fought until she was breathless, they forced her to lie on the ground. They pinned her arms over her head; they spread and held her legs. Above her towered their leader, huge and menacing.
"Now you'll pay for what you did to me," he said. He lowered himself on his hands and knees, straddling her. His comrades cheered and hooted, egging him on.
"No!" Tossing her head, Reiko strained against her "Let me go! Help, somebody, please!"
Hysteria dissolved her speech into inarticulate screams. The leader's ugly, grinning face blotted out the sky. Then a voice rang out above the commotion: "Stop!"
The noise ceased. In the abrupt hush, wind swept the trees; thunder rumbled closer. The samurai atop Reiko turned his head sideways, and confusion replaced the lust on his face. Reiko lay paralyzed, uncertain what to expect.
"Get off her," ordered the voice. It was deep, gruff, and harsh with anger. "The rest of you, move away."
Relief and gratitude flooded Reiko as the samurai climbed off her. The circle of other men broke and they scattered. Reiko cautiously raised herself on one elbow. She watched her tormentors stand at attention, facing the central building. Her gaze followed theirs. On the veranda stood a man. The shade under the eaves obscured him, and all she could discern was that he had the shaved crown and two swords of a samurai. Fresh terror eclipsed her relief.
This man had spared her, but his authoritative manner, and the haste with which the other men had obeyed him, told Reiko that he was their superior. It must be he who'd ordered the massacre and the kidnapping.
Now he descended the steps of the veranda and came across the courtyard toward her. He walked with an odd gait that combined hesitance with samurai swagger. His head looked too big for his body, which was thickset and clothed in black. Across the skirt of his kimono swirled a brocade dragon. Its golden claws and emerald-scaled body undulated as the man moved; its snarling mouth spewed vermilion flames. Reiko scrambled to her feet, clutching her under -robe around herself. Vulnerable yet determined to meet the enemy with courage, she pushed back the hair that had fallen over her face and gazed up at the samurai.
He halted, stood frozen, and stared down at Reiko. She saw that he was younger than his voice had suggested-in his late twenties.
Beneath a rugged forehead and slanted dark brows, his eyes smoldered in their deep sockets. His nose was broad and strong, the nostrils flared like those of the dragon on his kimono. But his lips were soft, moist, and pursed; his chin receded. Reiko saw in his gaze the admiration that her beauty often provoked from men. Yet the samurai also beheld her with profound shock, as though he recognized her but disbelieved his eyes. Reiko didn't recognize him: He was a stranger to her.
"Are you hurt?" he said, his gaze roaming over her body before returning to her face.
Unsettled by his intense scrutiny, Reiko looked away from the samurai. "No," she whispered.
He stepped closer and slowly extended a hand, as if to touch her hair. Reiko saw, on the periphery of her vision, the longing in his expression; she heard him breathe through his wet mouth. She flinched. The samurai withdrew his hand, stepping back.
"They won't hurt you," he said
in a tone clearly meant to convey an order to his men as well as reassure her.
But Reiko's terror burgeoned. Even if they didn't hurt her, would he? His strangeness sent a chill creeping through her.
The samurai bent and picked up her fallen kimono. He circled around her as she stood wide-eyed and quaking, wondering what he was doing but afraid to look. Then he gently dropped the kimono over her shoulders and pressed the sash into her hand. Reiko felt the warmth of his body while he stood close behind her and she tied the sash around her waist. She shuddered, retching on sudden nausea, because his gentleness revolted her more than did his men's outright brutality.
"Take her back to the keep," he ordered them.
Two samurai moved toward her. One was the man she'd wounded. Despite his master's orders, he gripped her arm in a painful clasp that promised retribution. As the pair led her to a path that cut through the forest, Reiko glanced back at their leader. He stood outside his dingy castle watching her, arms folded, his expression brooding and sinister. The wind ruffled his robes, stirring the dragon alive.
Who was he? What were his reasons for the massacre and kidnapping? An aura of evil that surrounded him filled Reiko with dread. And what fate did he intend for her?
15
Hirata and Detectives Marume and Fukida rode up the steep stretch of highway toward Hakone, the eleventh post station on the Tokaido. The lofty altitude chilled the early morning. The sun diffused weak, silvery light through a veil of clouds, while mist saturated the air, blurred the forested hills, and reduced the distant mountains to peaked shadows against the sky. Ahead, a gate protected by Tokugawa soldiers blocked the road. Beyond the portals Hirata saw the rustic buildings of Hakone village.
"Let's hope we have better luck today than last night," Hirata called to his companions.
They'd spent last night at the tenth post station of Odawara. They'd loitered in the shops, bought drinks in each teahouse, and visited every inn, striking up acquaintances with locals and steering the conversation to the kidnapping. But although many people recalled seeing Lady Keisho-in's party before the abduction, no one provided any clues to what had happened to the women. Nor had Hirata and the detectives found any trace of the kidnappers. Hirata had persuaded three drunken town officials to show him the checkpoint travel records. The list showed no group of men numerous enough to massacre Keisho-in's entourage. Hirata surmised that the kidnappers had traveled separately to avoid attracting notice, given different destinations when the inspectors asked where they were going, and joined up at the ambush site. He'd searched the list for Lord Niu's retainers, to no avail. If Lord Niu had sent troops to stage the ambush, they could have traveled under aliases; but for the first time, Hirata experienced doubts that his father-in-law was behind the crime. He wished he knew what Sano's investigation had uncovered, far away in Edo.
Now his frustration and anxiety burgeoned, while fatigue strained his mind. The previous day spent journeying from Edo and hiking the forest, and the long night with little sleep, had taken its toll on him and the other men. His nose was congested, his head ached, and his throat was sore from his cold. Fukida's thin, serious face was haggard, and the brawny Marume had lost his cheer by the time they all reached the Hakone post house, a thatch-roofed building off the roadside.
"Look at that line!" Marume exclaimed.
Some fifty travelers waited, amid their baggage, in a queue at the post house. Inside sat inspectors who registered the travelers, checked their documents, searched them and their possessions for hidden weapons and other contraband, then either granted or denied them passage. Hakone was a bakufu trap for people up to no good, and it was famous for its rigorous inspections, which promised a long delay before Hirata and his men could get inside the village and conduct inquiries. They couldn't cut in line, which would get them in trouble and necessitate revealing their identities. Hirata looked toward the nearby camp inhabited by porters and palanquin-bearers for hire.
"We'll try the camp first," he said.
He and the detectives left their horses at a water trough and walked into the camp. Cypress trees sheltered flimsy shacks and tents. A reek of urine and excrement from privy sheds competed with the odors from a nearby stable. Men with coarse, weathered faces squatted around a fire, passing a flask of sake while cooking food in iron pots. Their sinewy muscles bulged through their tattered kimonos. They turned suspicious gazes upon Hirata and the detectives.
"We're looking for four women, probably traveling with a group of men," Hirata said, then described Midori, Reiko, Lady Keisho-in, and Lady Yanagisawa. "Have you seen anyone who fits those descriptions?"
"It depends on who's asking," said the biggest man. His shrewd, glinting eyes sized up Hirata. His skin was blue with tattoos of winged demons; his crooked nose and scarred face bespoke a lifetime of brawling. Hirata marked him as the gang leader of the camp.
"Someone who's willing to pay for the right kind of information," Hirata said.
Detective Marume jingled coins in the pouch at his waist. The leader's expression turned crafty. "Ah," he said, nodding, "Tokugawa spies. Would you be looking for the shogun's mother and her ladies who were kidnapped off the Tokaido?"
"No," Hirata said, perturbed that the man had seen through the disguises and subterfuge that had fooled everyone else.
The leader looked unconvinced. "If you say so." He bowed with mock courtesy to Hirata. "My name is Goro, and I'm at your service." Then he addressed his comrades: "Here's your chance to earn some extra silver. Did you see those ladies?"
Regretful denials and head-shaking ensued.
"What about one or two women traveling in different groups?" Hirata said. Perhaps the kidnappers had split up their party to avoid detection. But this question elicited more negative answers.
"Did you see anything out of the ordinary?" Hirata asked. He saw Goro smirk, and he realized the man had been deliberately withholding information, toying with him. "Tell me!" he ordered, his temper flaring.
Goro held out his hand, palm up, and waggled his fingers. Marume dropped coins one by one into Goro's hand until Hirata said, "That's enough. Now talk."
The man grinned and tucked the coins in his own waist pouch. "The day before yesterday, a group of samurai hired me and some other porters to carry four big wooden chests." Goro's arms gestured, indicating dimensions large enough to contain a human body.
Excitement leapt in Hirata. "What was in the chests?"
"I don't know," Goro said. "The samurai didn't say, and I didn't ask. But the chests had holes cut in the lids."
So that people locked inside could breathe, Hirata thought.
"The samurai were in a big hurry," Goro went on. "And they paid double the usual rate."
As criminals would for carrying contraband such as stolen women. "To go where?" Hirata said.
"Down Izu way." The Izu Peninsula, located west of Hakone, jutted off Japan's southern coast into the sea. "The samurai led us along the main highway that goes through Izu. We had to run to keep up with them. Aii, those chests were heavy. It's a good thing there were four of us carrying each one. Otherwise, we'd never have lasted the whole trip."
Now Hirata understood how the kidnappers had transported their victims, in spite of the law that restricted wheeled traffic on the Tokaido, hindered troop movements, prevented rebellions, and necessitated cargo to be carried by hand. The kidnappers must have bound, gagged, and probably drugged the women, then packed them in their own luggage. The officials who'd examined the scene afterward wouldn't have noticed chests missing because the checkpoints kept no record of luggage inspected there. Hirata deduced that the kidnappers had carried the chests down the highway from the abduction site. They'd passed as ordinary travelers because the crime hadn't yet been discovered. At Hakone they'd hired the porters because they couldn't manage the heavy loads themselves and move as quickly as they needed.
"It was the middle of the afternoon when we left here, and past sunset when we stopped at a crossroa
d," continued Goro. "It has a Jizo shrine. The samurai paid us off. We left them there with the chests and came back to Hakone."
Triumph elated Hirata because he now knew which way the kidnappers had taken Midori. "But how did those samurai get the chests past inspection?" he said.
"The samurai wore Tokugawa crests and had Tokugawa travel passes," Goro said. "They were waved right through the checkpoint."
Hirata, Marume, and Fukida shared disturbed glances. Had bakufu officials been involved in the abduction? But Hirata speculated that the kidnappers had stolen clothes and documents from soldiers they'd killed during the massacre.
"Who were those samurai?" Hirata asked Goro.
"They didn't tell us," Goro said.
Laura Joh Rowland - Sano Ichiro 08 - Dragon King's Palace Page 15