The Concubine's Tattoo

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Madam Chizuru rounded the corner and approached her mistress’s suite. She put her head inside the door. At some signal from within the chamber, she turned and said, “Lady Keisho-in will see you now.”

  They entered the room. There Lady Keisho-in sat alone, puffing on her pipe. There was no sign of the shogun, but the brocade curtains at Keisho-in’s back moved, as if someone had slipped through them. Sano and Hirata knelt and bowed.

  “Sōsakan Sano and his chief retainer, Hirata,” Madam Chizuru announced, kneeling near Lady Keisho-in.

  The shogun’s mother studied her visitors with frank interest. “So you are the men who have solved so many baffling mysteries? How exciting!”

  Viewed up close, she didn’t look as young as she had at first. Her round face, with its small, even features, might have once been attractive, but the white powder didn’t completely mask deep creases in her skin. Bright cheek and lip rouge lent a semblance of vitality that the veined, yellowish whites of her eyes belied. A double chin bulged above a full bosom that had sagged with age. Her black hair had the uniform, unnatural darkness of dye. Her smile revealed cosmetically blackened teeth with two gaps in the top row, which gave her a rakish, common appearance. And commoner she was, Sano thought, recalling her history.

  Keisho-in was the daughter of a Kyoto greengrocer. When her father had died, her mother became servant and mistress to a cook in the household of the imperial regent prince. There Keisho-in formed a friendship with the daughter of a prominent Kyoto family. When the Mend became concubine to Shogun Tokugawa Iemitsu, she took Keisho-in to Edo Castle with her, and Keisho-in also became Iemitsu’s concubine. At age twenty, she had borne his son Tsunayoshi and secured herself the highest position a woman could attain: official consort to one shogun, mother of the next. Ever since then, Keisho-in had lived in luxury, ruling the women’s quarters.

  “My honorable son has told me so much about your adventures,” Lady Keisho-in said, “and I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.” Batting her eyes at Sano and Hirata, she displayed the coy charm that must have enticed Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s father. Then a sigh rattled in her throat. “But what a sad occasion that brings you here: Lady Harume’s death. A tragedy! We women are all afraid for our own lives.”

  However, it was apparently not Keisho-in’s nature to remain sad for long. Smiling flirtatiously at Sano, she said, “But with you here to save us, I feel better. Your assistant told Madam Chizuru that you desire our help in preventing an epidemic. Just tell us what we can do. We’re eager to be of use.”

  “Lady Harume didn’t die of a disease, so there won’t be an epidemic,” Sano said, relieved to find the shogun’s mother so complaint. With her rank and influence, she could oppose his investigation if she chose; all inhabitants of the Large Interior were suspects in this politically sensitive crime, including herself. About Madam Chizuru’s feelings, Sano wasn’t sure. The otoshiyori’s expression remained neutral, but her rigid posture indicated resistance. “Lady Harume was murdered, with poison.”

  For a moment, both women stared; neither spoke. Sano detected a flicker of unreadable emotion in Madam Chizuru’s eyes before she averted them. Then Lady Keisho-in gasped. “Poison? I’m shocked!” Eyes and mouth wide, she fell back against the cushions, panting. “I can’t breathe. I need air!” Madam Chizuru hurried to her mistress, but Lady Keisho-in waved her away and beckoned to Hirata. “Young man. Help me!”

  Casting an uneasy glance at Sano, the young retainer went over to Lady Keisho-in. He picked up her fan and began fanning her vigorously. Soon her breaths evened; her body relaxed. When Hirata helped her sit up, she leaned against him for a moment, smiling into his face. “So strong and handsome and kind. Arigatō.”

  “Dō itashimashite,” Hirata mumbled. He hastily returned to his place next to Sano with a sigh of relief.

  Sano eyed him with concern. Usually Hirata could face with aplomb witnesses of either sex or any class; now, he knelt with his head down, shoulders hunched. What was the problem? For now, Sano considered the women’s reactions. Was the poisoning really news to them? Keisho-in’s swoon had seemed genuine, but Sano wondered if the otoshiyori had known or guessed about the murder.

  “Who would want to kill poor Harume?” Keisho-in said in a plaintive voice. She puffed on her pipe, and a tear rolled down her cheek, leaving a track in the thick white makeup. “Such a sweet child; so charming and vivacious.” Then Keisho-in’s flirtatious manner returned. With a dimply smile at Hirata, she said, “Harume reminded me of myself when I was young. I was once a great beauty, and a favorite with everyone.”

  She sighed. “And Harume was the same. Very popular. She sang and played the samisen wonderfully. Her jokes made us all laugh. That’s why I chose her to be one of my attendants. She knew how to make people happy. I simply adored her, like a daughter.”

  Sano looked at Madam Chizuru. The otoshiyori pressed her lips together; a single breath eased from hen it was obvious that she didn’t share Keisho-in’s view of the dead girl. “What did you think of Lady Harume?” Sano asked Chizuru. “What kind of person did she seem to you?”

  “It’s not my place to have opinions about His Excellency’s concubines,” Madam Chizuru said primly.

  Sano sensed that Chizuru could tell him plenty about Lady Harume, but didn’t want to contradict her mistress. “Did Lady Harume have any enemies in the palace who might have wanted her dead?” he asked both women.

  “Certainly not.” Keisho-in blew out an emphatic puff of smoke. “Everyone loved her. And we’re all very close here in the Large Interior. Like sisters.”

  But even sisters had disagreements, Sano knew. Past quarrels in the Large Interior had resulted in murder. For Keisho-in to claim that five hundred women, crowded into such a tight space, lived together in complete harmony, she must either be quite stupid—or lying.

  Madam Chizuru cleared her throat and said hesitantly, “There was a feud between Harume and one of the other concubines. Lady Ichiteru. They …didn’t get along.”

  Keisho-in gaped, showing her missing teeth to unfortunate advantage. “No! This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Why didn’t Lady Ichiteru and Lady Harume get along?” Sano asked.

  “Ichiteru is a lady of fine lineage,” Chizuru said. “She’s a cousin of the emperor, from Kyoto.” This was where the imperial family lived in genteel poverty, though stripped of political power and under the complete domination of the Tokugawa regime. “Before Harume came to Edo Castle eight months ago, Lady Ichiteru was the honorable shogun’s favorite companion…at least, among the women.”

  Stealing a nervous glance at her mistress, Chizuru put a hand to her mouth. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s preference for men was common knowledge, but not, apparently, discussed in his mother’s presence.

  “But when Harume came, she replaced Lady Ichiteru in the shogun’s affections?” Sano guessed.

  Madam Chizuru nodded. “His Excellency stopped requesting Ichiteru’s company at night and started inviting Harume to his chamber.”

  “Ichiteru should not have minded,” Lady Keisho-in announced. “My darling son has the right to enjoy any woman he chooses. And it’s his duty to beget an heir. When Ichiteru failed to produce a child, he was correct to try another concubine.” Keisho-in giggled. Winking at Hirata, she said, “One who is young and saucy and fertile—like I was when I met my dear, deceased lemitsu. You know the kind of girl, don’t you, young man?”

  A bright red spot of embarrassment burned on each of Hirata’s cheeks as he blurted, “Sumimasen—excuse me, but was there anyone among the servants, guards, or attendants who didn’t get along with Lady Harume?”

  Shaking her head, Keisho-in waved away the question with her pipe, scattering ash onto the cushions. “The staff are people of excellent character and disposition. I personally interviewed them all before they were permitted to work in the Large Interior. None would have attacked a favored concubine.”

  Madam Chizuru set her jaw and loo
ked at the floor. Sano saw a disturbing fact emerging: Lady Keisho-in was oblivious to what happened around her. The otoshiyori handled the administration of the Large Interior, just as Chamberlain Yanagisawa managed the government for Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. That both leaders of Japan’s ruling clan were so weak and dull-witted—there seemed no better term for it—boded ill for the nation.

  “Sometimes people are not what they seem,” Sano hinted. “Someone may hide his true nature, until something happens….”

  Chizuru seized on this opening: she was obviously torn between fears of contradicting Lady Keisho-in and of lying to the shogun’s Sōsakan-sama. “The palace guards are all men who come from good families and have good service records. Usually they’re of good character, too. But one of them, Lieutenant Kushida…Four days ago, Lady Harume registered a complaint. She said he was behaving in an improper fashion toward her. When the palace officials weren’t watching, he would loiter around her, trying to start conversations about…inappropriate things.”

  Meaning sex, Sano interpreted.

  “Lieutenant Kushida sent offensive letters to Lady Harume, or so she said,” continued Madam Chizuru. “She even claimed that he spied on her while she bathed. She said she told him again and again to leave her alone, but he persisted, then finally got mad and threatened to kill her.”

  “Disgusting!” Lady Keisho-in made a face, then said indignantly, “Why does no one tell me anything?”

  Chizuru’s pained glance at Sano told him that she had informed the shogun’s mother, who had forgotten.

  “What happened then?” Sano asked.

  “I was reluctant to believe the accusations,” Chizuru said. “Lieutenant Kushida has worked here for ten years without causing any trouble. He is a fine, upstanding man. Lady Harume had been here only a short time.” The otoshiyori’s tone indicated that she had thought Harume less fine and upstanding, and the likely source of the problem. “However, this kind of accusation is always treated seriously. The law forbids male staff to bother the women, or engage in any improper relations with them. The penalty is dismissal. I reported the matter to the chief administrator. Lieutenant Kushida was temporarily relieved of his duties, pending an investigation of the charges.”

  “And was this investigation performed?” Sano asked.

  “No. And now that Lady Harume is dead…”

  The charges, without her to substantiate them, must have been dropped, which explained why the chief administrator had neglected to tell Hirata about them. How fortunate for Lieutenant Kushida that his accuser’s death had averted the disgrace of losing his post. He, as well as the envious Lady Ichiteru, definitely merited an interview.

  “Jealous concubines, rude guards,” lamented Keisho-in. “Dreadful! Sōsakan-sama, you must find and punish whoever killed my sweet little Harume and save us all from this evil, dangerous person.”

  “I’ll need to have my detectives search the Large Interior and speak with the residents,” Sano said. “May I have your permission?”

  “Of course, of course.” Lady Keisho-in nodded vigorously. Then, with a grunt, she pushed herself upright and beckoned Madam Chizuru to help her stand. “It’s time for my prayers. But please come and see me again.” She dimpled at Hirata. “You, too, young man.”

  They made their farewells. Hirata almost ran from the room. Sano followed, wondering about his retainer’s uncharacteristic bashfulness and looking ahead to all the work they must do. Yet as they left the palace, he was glad that the hour was too late to begin calling on suspects or witnesses, and that they needn’t meet with the shogun until tomorrow. At home, Reiko waited. This was their wedding night.

  7

  Servants greeted Sano in the entry way of his mansion when he arrived home. They relieved him of his cloak and swords and ushered him into the parlor, where charcoal braziers and lanterns burned, and wall murals depicted a serene mountain landscape. Resting upon silk floor cushions, Sano felt the tensions of the day dissolve and happy anticipation swell within him. Hirata had gone to give orders to the detective corps and secure the estate for the night. Sano’s time was his own, until tomorrow. His marriage could begin.

  “Would you like a meal?” the chief manservant asked.

  Sano nodded, then said, “Where is…my wife?” The phrase felt strange on his lips, but as satisfying as a drink of water after a long, dry journey.

  “She has been told that you’re home, and she’s coming right away.” The servant bowed and left the room.

  As Sano waited, his heart beat faster; his stomach tightened. Then the door slid open. Sano sat up straight. Into the room walked Reiko. Dressed in a dull orange silk kimono printed with golden asters, her long hair pinned up, his bride carried a porcelain sake decanter and two cups on a tray. Eyes demurely lowered, she glided over to Sano, knelt before him, set down the tray, and bowed.

  “Honorable Husband,” she murmured. “May I serve you?”

  “Yes. Please,” Sano said, admiring her youthful beauty.

  The pouring of liquor smoothed the awkward moment—someone must have instructed Reiko on what to do when alone with her husband for the first time—but her hands trembled when she passed the cup to Sano. Sympathy eased his own nervousness. This was his domain. It was up to him to make Reiko feel comfortable here.

  “I hope you’re feeling well?” he said, filling the other cup with sake and offering it to her.

  Cautiously, as if afraid to touch his hand, Reiko took the cup. “Yes, Honorable Husband.”

  They drank, and Sano saw that her teeth had been dyed black. An unexpected surge of warmth flooded his groin. He’d never given much thought to this familiar custom of married women; now, seeing Reiko thus transformed awakened his desire. It reminded him that she was his in body as well as spirit.

  “Are your rooms satisfactory?” Sano tasted liquor and arousal. Reiko’s upswept hair accentuated her graceful neck and sloping shoulders. More than a year had passed since he’d been with a woman …“Have you gotten settled?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  A tentative smile encouraged Sano: beneath the placid demeanor of a well-bred lady, she was not without feeling for him. Just then, a servant entered, gave Sano a hot, damp cloth for wiping his hands, and set before him a lacquer meal tray. When he and Reiko were alone again, she quickly removed the lids from his dishes of sashimi, steamed trout, and vegetables, then poured his tea. She would have eaten earlier, the better to serve him. Her wifely subservience delighted Sano.

  “I hope you’ll be happy here,” he said. “If there’s anything you want, just ask.”

  Reiko lifted an eager, shining face to him. “Perhaps—perhaps I could help you investigate the death of the shogun’s concubine,” she blurted.

  “What?” The morsel of fish Sano had lifted to his mouth fell from his chopsticks as he stared in surprise.

  Gone were his bride’s self-effacing pose and appealing shyness. Head high, back straight, she looked Sano directly in the face. Her eyes flashed with nervous daring. “Your work interests me very much. I’ve heard rumors that Lady Harume was murdered. If it’s true, I want to help catch the killer.” She gulped, then continued in a rush: “You said that if there was anything I wanted, I should ask.”

  “That’s not what I meant!” Dismay jolted Sano. From deep within his memory rose scenes from his childhood: his mother cooking, cleaning, and sewing at home while his father ventured out into the world to earn their living. Experience had formed Sano’s notion of a proper marriage. A host of additional reasons forbade him to grant Reiko’s request. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I appreciate your offer, but a murder investigation is no place for a wife.”

  He expected her to accept his decision, as his mother had all of his father’s. But Reiko said, “My father told me you’d think that, and he agrees. But I want to work, to be useful. And I can help you.”

  “But how?” Sano asked, increasingly bewildered as his dream of conjugal felicity evaporated around him.
Who was this strange, obstinate girl he’d married? “What could you possibly do?”

  “I’m educated; I can read and write as well as any man. For ten years I’ve watched my father’s trials in the Court of Justice.” Reiko’s dainty chin trembled, but she didn’t yield before Sano’s disapproval. “I understand the law, and criminals. I can help figure out who killed Lady Harume.”

  Growing up in Magistrate Ueda’s mansion, Reiko must have seen more criminals than Sano himself! Ashamed to be outdone by his young bride, Sano also hated to imagine what spectacles of violence and human depravity she’d witnessed. Worse, he hated the thought of allowing these elements of his work to intrude on his private life. How could home be a haven if Reiko shared his knowledge of the world’s evils?

  “Please …calm down and let me explain,” Sano said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Detective work is dangerous. You could get hurt—or even killed.” This had happened to many other people during his past cases. His protective instincts rallied in protest against letting his own wife fall victim to his search for justice. “It would be wrong for me to let you have anything to do with the murder investigation.” With an air of finality, Sano resumed eating.

  “You think I’m weak and stupid because I’m a woman,” Reiko persisted, “but I know how to fight. I can defend myself.” Ardor lit her lovely, petal-shaped eyes. “And since I am a woman, I can go places where you can’t. I can learn things from people who would never talk to you. Just give me a chance, and you’ll see!”