The Concubine's Tattoo

by Laura Joh Rowland

  He raised himself on his elbows. Chamberlain Yanagisawa struck his jaw, and he fell again. By bringing Yanagisawa’s loneliness to the surface, by making him vulnerable, the actor had demeaned him, reversed their positions. Yanagisawa couldn’t tolerate the shift in the balance of power. It presaged suffering and ruin that he didn’t want to imagine.

  Roughly he tore away the white cotton band that bound Shiehisaburo’s loins and cleaved his buttocks. Then he stripped off his own robes. Shoving the young actor facedown on the tatami, he straddled Shiehisaburo.

  “I’ll show you who is master and who is the slave!” Yanagisawa shouted.

  Trembling with fear, Shiehisaburo wept. They’d often indulged in rough sexual play—but this was not play, and he knew it. “If it please my lord, I’ll never speak of my love again,” he cried. “Let’s forget what happened and go back to the way we were before!”

  They could never go back; everything had changed between them. Chamberlain Yanagisawa pummeled Shiehisaburo’s back with his fists. Shiehisaburo moaned, but didn’t struggle. The lack of resistance further incensed Yanagisawa. He grabbed the boy’s hair and slammed his face repeatedly against the floor, while fumbling to liberate his erection from his loincloth.

  “You can do—whatever you wish—to me,” Shiehisaburo whimpered between anguished gasps. Sweat glistened on his skin; the reek of his terror filled the room, but he spoke up bravely. “I accept—the pain. Even if you—don’t want my love—I’m yours forever. I’ll—do anything for you!”

  Before the violent fusion of pleasure and anger and need could overwhelm him, Chamberlain Yanagisawa realized what he had to do. He must end his liaison with Shiehisaburo—or face the ruin of his power, of his entire self. Yet for now, the young actor was too useful to drop. He’d successfully carried out orders. The stage was set for the destruction of Sano, and Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s other rival. But if the plot somehow failed, Yanagisawa might require Shichisaburo’s services again before the end of the murder investigation.

  16

  Sano’s last task of the day was hearing reports from his detective corps. In his office, the men related the progress of their hunt for the poison dealer and investigation of the Large Interior. Doctors and pharmacists had been canvassed, without results so far; interviews with the residents of the women’s quarters and a search of the rooms had failed to uncover useful information or evidence either. Sano instructed the men to resume work the next day. He assigned a team to track the passage of the ink bottle and letter from the Miyagi estate to Lady Harume. Then the detectives filed out of the room, leaving Sano and Hirata to review their inquiries.

  “Police headquarters gave me a possible lead on the drug peddler,” Hirata said, “an old man selling aphrodisiacs around town. And I’m using one of my informants—the Rat.”

  Sano nodded his approval. The police’s drug dealer might have supplied the Indian arrow toxin that had killed Harume, and he was familiar with the Rat’s abilities. “Now, what about Lady Ichiteru?”

  Hirata’s gaze slid away. “I spoke with her. But…I don’t have anything definite to report yet.”

  He seemed uncharacteristically distracted, and his eyes shone with a peculiar intensity. Sano was troubled by Hirata’s evasiveness, as well as his failure to obtain information on an important suspect. Nonetheless, he hated to reprimand Hirata.

  “I suppose tomorrow is soon enough to finish investigating Lady Ichiteru,” he said.

  His voice must have conveyed doubt, because Hirata said defensively, “You know it’s not always possible to get the whole story from someone on the first try.” Squirming, he clasped and unclasped his hands. “Would you rather interrogate Lady Ichiteru yourself? Don’t you trust me? After Nagasaki?”

  Sano recalled how his inclination to meet all challenges alone there had almost destroyed him, and how Hirata’s competence and loyalty had saved his life. “Of course I trust you,” Sano said. Changing the subject, he described the examination of Lady Harume’s corpse and his interviews with Lieutenant Kushida and the Miyagi. “We’ll keep the pregnancy a secret until I inform the shogun. Meanwhile, try to discreetly find out who knew or guessed that Harume was with child.”

  “Do you think she knew herself?” Hirata asked.

  Sano pondered. “It seems as though she must have at least suspected. My theory is that she didn’t report the pregnancy because she wasn’t sure who the father was, or whether the shogun would claim the child as his.” Sano noticed Hirata staring off into space instead of listening. “Hirata?”

  Starting nervously, Hirata reddened. “Yes, Sōsakan-sama! Is there something else?”

  If Hirata’s behavior didn’t return to normal soon, Sano thought, they must have a serious talk. But right now, Sano was eager to see Reiko. “No. There’s nothing else. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean, she’s not here?” Sano asked the manservant who’d greeted him in the mansion’s private living quarters with the news that Reiko had left the house that morning and not yet returned. “Where did she go?”

  “She wouldn’t say, master. Her escorts sent word that they were taking her to various places in Nihonbashi and Ginza. But it’s not clear what she was doing there.”

  An unpleasant suspicion formed in Sano’s mind. “When will she be back?”

  “No one knows. I’m sorry, master.”

  Annoyed by the postponement of a romantic evening, Sano realized that he was hungry—he hadn’t eaten since noon, a bowl of noodles at his mother’s house after the interview with Lieutenant Kushida. And he needed to wash away the taint of the illegal dissection. “Have my bath prepared and my evening meal brought,” he told the servant.

  Once bathed, dressed in clean robes, and settled in the warm, lamp-lit sitting room, Sano tried to eat his dinner of rice, steamed fish, vegetables, and tea. But his irritation with Reiko soon turned to concern. Had something bad happened to her?

  Had she left him?

  His appetite lost, Sano paced the sitting room. It occurred to him that this was what marriage must be like for women: waiting at home for their spouses to return, wondering and fretting. Suddenly he understood Reiko’s rebellion against her lot in life. But anger precluded sympathy. He didn’t like this one bit. How dare she treat him so? For the next hour, his rage alternated with growing worry. He imagined Reiko caught in a burning building, or assaulted by outlaws. In his mind he rehearsed the scolding he would give her when she got home.

  Then he heard hoofbeats outside. His heart jumped with simultaneous relief and fury. At last! Sano rushed to the front door. In walked Reiko, followed by her entourage. The cold wind had put a vivid sparkle in her eyes and loosened strands of long hair from her coiffure. She looked utterly lovely—and satisfied with herself.

  “Where have you been?” Sano demanded. “You shouldn’t have gone without my permission, and without leaving word of your whereabouts. Explain what you were doing out so late!”

  The servants, foreseeing a marital dispute, faded away. Reiko squared her shoulders, delicate chin jutting forward. “I was investigating Lady Harume’s murder.”

  “After I ordered you not to?”

  “Yes!”

  Despite his anger, Sano admired Reiko’s nerve. A weaker woman might have lied to avoid censure instead of standing up to him. His attraction to her charged the air of the dim corridor with invisible sparks. And he could tell that she felt it, too. Self-consciousness broke her gaze; her hand went up to straighten her disheveled hair; her tongue touched the chipped tooth. He felt himself becoming aroused against his will. He forced a sarcastic laugh.

  “Investigating how? What could you possibly do?”

  Hands clasped, jaws set in rigid self-control, Reiko said, “Don’t be so quick to mock me, Honorable Husband.” Icy scorn frosted her voice. “I went to Nihonbashi to see my cousin Eri. She’s a palace official in the Large Interior. She told me that Lieutenant Kushida was caught in Lady Harume’s room two days before
the murder. Lady Ichiteru threatened to kill Harume during a fight they had at Kannei Temple.”

  She laughed at Sano’s surprised look. “You didn’t know, did you? Without me, you never would have, because both incidents were hushed up. And Eri thinks someone threw a dagger at Harume and tried to poison her last summer.” Reiko described the events, then said, “How long might it have taken you to find out? You need my help. Admit it!”

  This evidence placed Lieutenant Kushida in Lady Harume’s room on the day Lord and Lady Miyagi had sent the ink bottle. Kushida might have read the letter and seen the perfect opportunity to administer the poison with which he’d already planned to kill her. Reiko had also confirmed Lady Ichiteru’s hatred for Harume. Sano was impressed by Reiko’s ability, then furious at her lack of remorse.

  “A few stray facts don’t solve a case,” he blustered, although he knew they sometimes did. “And how can I be sure your cousin is a reliable witness, or that her theories are correct? You defied me and risked danger for nothing.”

  “Danger?” Reiko frowned in confusion. “What harm could come from just talking and listening?”

  Further incensed by his wife’s challenge, Sano spared no mercy for her feminine sensibilities. “When I was a police commander, I had a secretary, a man even younger than you.” Sano’s voice hoarsened at the memory of Tsu-nehiko’s childlike innocence. “He died at a highway inn, his throat cut, in a pool of his own blood. He did nothing to deserve death. His only mistake was accompanying me on a murder investigation.”

  Reiko’s eyes widened in shock. “But…you’re still all right.” Her bold voice became a tentative murmur.

  “Only by the grace of the gods,” Sano retorted. “I’ve been attacked—cut, shot at, ambushed, beaten—more times than I care to think about. So believe me when I say that detective work is dangerous. It could get you killed!”

  Reiko stared. “All those things happened while you were investigating crimes and catching murderers?” she said slowly. The scorn had left her voice. “You risked death to do what was right, even when you knew people would kill to stop you?”

  The new admiration in her eyes left Sano more shaken than her defiance had. Speechless, he nodded.

  “I didn’t know.” Reiko took a hesitant step toward him. “I’m sorry.”

  Sano stood paralyzed, unable even to breathe. He sensed in this young woman a dedication to truth and justice that matched his own, a willingness to sacrifice herself for abstract principles, for honor. This similarity of spirit was an undeniable basis for love. The knowledge thrilled, and horrified, Sano.

  But Reiko’s face shone with joyful recognition of the same fact. Eagerly she reached out a slim hand to him. “You understand how I feel,” she said, responding to their unspoken exchange. Passion heightened her beauty. “Let’s work and serve honor together. Together we can solve the mystery of Lady Harume’s murder!”

  What would it be like, Sano wondered, to have that passion directed at me in the bedchamber? The thought dizzied him. The prospect of having a partner to share his mission was almost irresistible. He longed to take the hand she offered.

  But he could not draw his wife into the perilous web of his profession. And he knew his own faults, which he didn’t want to encourage in her. How could he live with someone as stubborn, reckless, and single-minded as himself? He still cherished the dream of a submissive wife, a peaceful home.

  Sano said, “You’ve heard my reasons for wanting you to stay out of business that doesn’t concern you. I’ve made my decision, and it’s final.”

  Reiko’s hand dropped. Hurt extinguished her radiance like a shroud thrown over a lamp, but her resolve didn’t waver. “Why should my life not be mine to risk if I choose, or my honor mean less than yours because I’m a woman?” she demanded. “I, too, have samurai blood. In centuries past, I would have ridden into battle at your side. Why not now?”

  “Because that’s just the way things are. Your duty is to me, and I expect you to serve it here at home.” Sano knew he sounded pompous, but he believed every word. “For you to do otherwise would be pure selfish, willful disregard of your family responsibilities.”

  The irony of the situation struck him. That he, who had often jeopardized family duty for the sake of personal causes, should criticize Reiko for doing the same! Faltering, he grasped for the thread of the argument. “Now tell me why you went to Ginza. For more women’s gossip?”

  “If you’re going to belittle my work, you don’t deserve to know.” Reiko’s melodic voice coated a core of steel; her expression was no less cold or hard. “And if you don’t want my help with the investigation, then it can hardly matter. Now please excuse me.”

  As she swept past him, Sano felt an immediate sense of loss. And he couldn’t let her have the last word. “Reiko. Wait.” He grabbed her arm.

  Glaring, she pulled away. Her sleeve tore with a loud, ripping sound. Then she was gone, leaving Sano holding a long piece of silk in his hand.

  Sano stared after her for a moment. Then he hurled the fragment of sleeve to the floor. His marriage Was going from bad to worse. Stalking to his own chamber, he dressed in outdoor wear, hung his swords at his waist, and summoned a servant. “Have my horse saddled,” he said.

  He couldn’t solve his problems alone. Therefore, he would consult the one person who might be able to help him with Reiko—and who might also have vital information relating to the murder investigation.

  “Good evening, Sano-san. Please come in.” Magistrate Ueda, seated in his office, did not seem surprised by Sano’s unannounced arrival. Lamps burned on his desk amid writing supplies, official documents, and scattered papers: evidently he was catching up on work. To the servant who had escorted Sano into the mansion, he said, “Bring tea for my honorable son-in-law.” Then he gestured for Sano to kneel opposite him.

  As Sano complied, nervousness and shame tightened his stomach. He was unaccustomed to asking for help with personal problems. His trouble with Reiko signified a most embarrassing incompetence; a high-ranking samurai should be able to handle a mere woman. Seeking advice reflected a weakness that he didn’t want to reveal to his father-in-law, whom he respected but hardly knew at all. Now Sano sought the words to obtain assistance while saving face.

  Magistrate Ueda spared him the effort. “It’s my daughter, isn’t it?” At Sano’s nod, an expression of grim sympathy came over his features. “I thought so. What’s she done now?”

  Encouraged by the magistrate’s frankness, Sano poured out the entire story. “You’ve known Reiko all her life. Please tell me what to do.”

  The servant brought tea. Magistrate Ueda frowned and said in the authoritative tone he used in the Court of Justice, “My daughter is too intelligent and strong-willed for everyone’s good. You must control her with a firm hand and show her who’s in charge, hmm?”

  Then he sighed and lapsed back into his ordinary voice. “Who am I to talk? I, who have always given in to Reiko’s wishes. Sano-san, I fear you’ve come to the wrong person for advice.”

  They gazed at each other in rueful understanding: magistrate of Edo and most honorable investigator, confounded by the woman who united them. Suddenly they were Mends.

  “By putting our heads together, we should be able to find an answer to the problem,” Magistrate Ueda said, sipping tea. “I’ve always compromised with Reiko because I didn’t want to break her spirit, which I admire in spite of myself.” A humorous twinkle lit his eyes when he saw Sano’s wry grin. “Ah, I see that you do, too. Perhaps it’s your turn to bend. Why not assign her an easy, safe part of your work, like keeping records?”

  “That won’t satisfy her,” Sano said with conviction. “She wants to be a detective.” Grudgingly, he admitted, “And she’s not bad at it.”

  As he related Reiko’s discoveries, Magistrate Ueda beamed with paternal pride. “Then there must be something else she can do. More covert inquiries, such as she carried out today, might prove very helpful, hmm?”

>   Every instinct in Sano clamored in rebellion against this alternative. “What if the killer thinks she’s a threat and attacks her when I’m not around to protect her?” Despite his anger at his wife, the thought of losing Reiko shot terror through him. He was falling in love with her, he realized unhappily, with little chance of reciprocation. Yet he refused to relinquish control over his household.

  “Your stubborn nature is a barrier in the path to a happy marriage,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Reiko will have to submit if you force her obedience, but she would never love or respect you. Therefore I fear that a compromise on your part is necessary.”

  Sano sighed. “All right. I’ll try to think of something for Reiko to do.”

  Now he recalled the other reason he’d come to see his father-in-law. “I was hoping you might be able to give me some background information on the murder suspects.” Any crimes in their pasts or complaints against them would be recorded in the official court documents. Despite the problems in Sano’s marriage, it had brought him one clear benefit: a connection with Magistrate Ueda. “Have Lieutenant Kushida, Lady Ichiteru, or Lord and Lady Miyagi been in trouble before?”

  “I checked the records on Kushida and Ichiteru this morning, when I heard they were suspects,” Magistrate Ueda replied. “There was nothing on them. The Miyagi, however, are a different matter. I recall an incident that occurred four years ago. The daughter of a guard disappeared from the estate next door to the Miyagi’s. The girl’s parents claimed that Lord Miyagi was responsible. He enticed her into his house and tried to seduce her, they said, then killed her when she resisted.”

  A tingle of excitement began in Sano’s chest. Perhaps the daimyo did follow the ways of his cruel ancestors. Perhaps he’d poisoned the girl—and later Lady Harume, for refusing to perform acts he requested. “What happened?”

  “The girl’s body was recovered from a canal a few days later. The police couldn’t tell how she died. No charge was brought against Lord Miyagi. The case remains unsolved.” Magistrate Ueda’s shrug conveyed a deep cynicism. “That is the way of the law.”