The Concubine's Tattoo

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Yes,” Sano said. “The word of a mere soldier wouldn’t stand a chance against Lord Miyagi’s influence.”

  “Influence is a formidable threat, Sano-.raw.” The magistrate bent a penetrating gaze upon him. “Shortly after the daughter’s death, that guard was run out of town by Lord Miyagi’s retainers. He couldn’t get another post. He and his wife died paupers. The bakufu neither protected them nor punished Lord Miyagi.”

  Sano made a decision. “There’s something I want to tell you about the murder—something very sensitive. Will you promise to keep it in the strictest confidence?” At Magistrate Ueda’s assent, Sano told him about the pregnancy.

  Frowning in contemplation, Magistrate Ueda hesitated, then said, “Because of Lady Harume’s pregnancy, the murder case now potentially involves the succession of power. Your investigation could implicate powerful citizens who wish to weaken Tokugawa rule by breaking the hereditary line. The outside lords, for example. Or the man responsible for many of your past troubles, hmm?”

  Chamberlain Yanagisawa. Recalling his odd behavior at their last meeting, Sano wondered uneasily whether it signified the chamberlain’s involvement in the murder. At first this case had seemed straightforward. Now the prospect of unraveling a high-reaching conspiracy daunted Sano.

  “I respect your ability and your principles,” Magistrate Ueda said. “But beware of making serious accusations against influential suspects. If you anger the wrong people, even your rank may not protect you.” Another weighty pause, then: “I’m concerned for my daughter’s sake as well as yours. You will promise not to endanger her recklessly, hmm?”

  In warfare and politics, enemies often attacked one another’s kin. “I promise,” Sano said, feeling the contrary pull of honor and professional integrity, prudence and family considerations. Bowing, he said, “Thank you for your advice, Honorable Father-in-law. My apologies for disturbing you so late. I’d better go home and let you get back to work.”

  “Good night, Sano-san.” Magistrate Ueda bowed. “I shall do everything in my power to help you resolve the murder case with minimum damage to our families.” Then he smiled wryly. “And good luck with Reiko. If you can tame her, you’re a better man than I.”

  It was a scant two hours until midnight by the time Sano returned to Edo Castle. From across the hills blew a frost-edged autumn wind. Acrid charcoal smoke rose from thousands of braziers. The sky’s starry black canopy arched above the sleeping city. Sano, huddled in his heavy cloak as he rode through the castle’s maze of walled passages, felt more than ready for sleep himself. This had been a long, tiring day, with the promise of another one tomorrow. Craving a warm bed, Sano entered his street in Edo Castle’s Official Quarter.

  He experienced a premonition of danger the moment before his vision registered its cause. The area was completely dark, though there should have been lights above the gates of every estate. The district seemed unnaturally quiet and deserted. Where were the sentries and patrol guards?

  Hand on his sword hilt, Sano rode slowly toward his own house, keeping close to the rows of barracks that surrounded the mansions of his neighbors. By the light of the moon he saw two lanterns hanging from the roof of a gate, their flames extinguished. And below, a dark heap lying in the street. Sano dismounted, the sense of danger flowing over him like a malignant wind current. Crouching, he examined the heap. His heart thumped when he discerned the still bodies of two armored sentries, breathing but unconscious. Leaving his horse behind, Sano ran to the next gate, where he discovered more unconscious guards. Bloody wounds, made by a blunt weapon, marked their heads.

  Alarm surged in Sano as he recalled past attempts on his life. Was this an ambush, set by Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who had tried to assassinate him many times before? Or by someone else who knew he’d left the district alone tonight? The great fortress of Edo Castle was, he knew from personal experience, no safe haven for a man with powerful enemies. Had an assassin disabled everyone who might have interfered with an attack? The guards, not expecting invasion during peacetime, had been easy targets. Was someone lying in wait for Sano now?

  At his home, where Reiko, Hirata, the detective corps, and the servants slept, unaware of the danger?

  Breathless with anxiety, Sano ran to his own estate. The wounded sentries lay unconscious across the threshold.

  “Tokubei! Goro!” Kneeling, Sano shook them. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  The men stirred, groaning. “…got past us,” Goro muttered. “Sorry …” Dragging himself to his feet, he swayed dizzily, clutching his head.

  “Who was it?” Sano asked.

  “Didn’t see. Happened too fast.”

  The ironclad gate was open. Sword drawn, Sano leaned into the courtyard. Nothing moved in the darkness. Beckoning for Goro to follow, he entered cautiously—and stumbled over the inert bodies of his patrol guards. The door to the fenced inner enclosure stood ajar.

  “Go in the barracks and wake the detectives,” Sano told Goro. “Tell them there’s an intruder in the house.”

  The guard hurried off to obey. Sano approached the enclosure. Though aware that he could be walking into a top, he must protect his household. He couldn’t wait for help. Before him loomed the dark mansion. Sano crept up the wooden steps. He paused in the shadows beneath the deep eaves above the veranda, listening. Somewhere on the hill, a horse neighed but no sound came from inside the house. Sano tiptoed through the open front door and crossed the entry porch. Weapon raised, he moved stealthily down the corridor. Reaching his office, he halted. His whole body went still and tense.

  Dim lamplight spread a yellow glow across the mullioned paper wall. The door was closed. Now Sano heard footsteps creaking the floor inside, a drawer sliding open, the rustle of paper. The intruder was apparently going through his possessions. Sano placed two fingers in the recessed door handle and pushed. The wooden panel slid quietly aside in its oiled frame. In the alcove that housed Sano’s desk stood a figure dressed in a black cloak with a close-fitting hood. It was rummaging through a cabinet, facing away from the door.

  Bursting into the room, Sano shouted, “Stop! Turn around!”

  17

  The intruder whirled. It was Lieutenant Kushida. Around him Sano’s books and papers lay in a scattered mess. Having already swept the shelves clear, he’d been ransacking the cabinet. His wrinkled monkey-face went slack with dismay. For a moment he stood frozen. His panicky gaze skipped from Sano to the barred windows, then lit on his naginata, which leaned against the wall nearby.

  “Don’t move!” Sano ordered.

  In a motion so fast that it seemed to leap into his hand, Kushida grabbed the spear. He rocketed over the desk, leapt from the alcove’s raised platform, and advanced on Sano. His eyes were black pools of desperation. The weapon’s sharp, curved blade gleamed in the dim lamplight.

  “Don’t even try,” Sano warned, assuming a defensive crouch and raising his sword. “My men will be here any moment.” From the front of the mansion came the sound of hurrying footsteps, voices calling. “Even if you kill me, you won’t escape. Drop your weapon. Surrender.”

  Lieutenant Kushida charged. Sano jumped aside, and the blade narrowly missed his chest. He circled, preparing to strike back. The lieutenant jabbed the spear at his throat. Sano parried. The impact of the blades knocked him sideways. A stunning blow struck his hip: Kushida had deployed the spear’s handle, as he must have done with the sentries. Sano stumbled, gasping from the pain. Regaining his balance, he lashed out with his sword.

  But Kushida deftly evaded each slice. Teeth bared in a fierce grimace, he was everywhere and nowhere, like a ghost fighter who moved through space with unnatural speed. The naginata’s blade battered Sano’s sword. Its metal-tipped end jabbed his legs and back. With his shorter reach, Sano couldn’t get close enough to score a cut. Slashing and thrusting, Kushida chased him around the room. Sano vaulted backward over an iron chest. He slammed into a painted screen, then feinted a backhand slice. Kushid
a angled his spear to parry. Sano quickly brought his sword around. The blade cut Kushida’s arm, but the lieutenant maintained his relentless assault, driving Sano back toward the wall.

  Male voices outside the room grew louder, nearer. Running footsteps pounded the corridor.

  “In here!” Sano shouted, losing more ground to Kushida.

  A figure dashed through the door. Finally, help at last! Sano glanced around. Relief turned to horror.

  Dressed in a pale pink-and-white-flowered night robe, long hair flowing down to her knees, Reiko held a sword in both hands. Her beautiful eyes shone with excitement.

  “Reiko! What do you think you’re doing?” Sano demanded, dodging the naginata’s lethal blade.

  “Defending my home!” Reiko shot back.

  With surprising agility, she lunged at Kushida, hair and skirts streaming. She whipped her sword around and delivered a resounding whack to the spear’s handle, striking one of its metal reinforcing rings.

  Sano gaped in shock. One finger’s breadth in either direction, and she would have severed the shaft. It was a stroke worthy of an expert. But Reiko was so small, so delicate. Panic filled Sano. He inserted himself between Reiko and Lieutenant Kushida, flailing his sword.

  “This is no game, Reiko. Get out of here before you get hurt!”

  “Move! Let me at him!”

  Reiko’s face wore the sublime expression Sano had seen on battling samurai. Again she attacked Kushida. Their blades clashed. She gracefully avoided a counterstrike and launched a series of cuts that forced the lieutenant to retreat. Yet she couldn’t possibly stand against such a formidable adversary. Then and there, Sano decided that he must never give her any part of his work. She had no sense. She wouldn’t know when to stop.

  Sano positioned himself beside his wife. Fighting off Lieutenant Kushida, he reached out his free hand and shoved Reiko with all his strength.

  With an indignant cry, she went flying out the door. Sano heard a crash as her body hit the corridor wall opposite. She was safe, but the moment of lapsed attention cost Sano. Kushida’s spear came slashing toward his heart. He leapt away just in time; the blade grazed his ribcage. An evil grin stretched the lieutenant’s face as he continued wielding the naginata. Sano inflicted more cuts on him, but he wouldn’t stop.

  Then an army of samurai burst into the room. Swords drawn, they surrounded Lieutenant Kushida. “Drop the spear!” ordered Hirata.

  Cornered, Kushida tensed. His fierce gaze swept the faces of Sano’s men. He took a step backward, his spear lowered ever so slightly.

  And then chaos erupted as Kushida began battling the detectives. Blades clashed with the ear-splitting ring of steel. Whirling, darting figures trampled Sano’s possessions. Shouts arose. Sano plunged into the melee, shouting, “Don’t kill him! Capture him alive!” He had to find out why Lieutenant Kushida had come here.

  Though outnumbered ten to one, Kushida fought bravely, ignoring repeated orders to surrender. In the course of the battle, paper walls tore, wooden mullions splintered. Inevitably blades met flesh, and blood spattered the tatami. At last, two detectives grabbed Kushida from behind. Hirata and three others pried the spear out of his hands. They wrestled him to the floor, where he kicked and thrashed.

  “Get your hands off me! Let go!” These were the first words Kushida had spoken.

  Sano sheathed his sword, gasping for breath. “Tie him up and dress his wounds. Then bring him to the parlor. I’ll talk to him there.”

  Walking down the corridor, Sano met Reiko, who stood alone, sword dangling from her hand. She gave him a look of pure hostility. Then she turned away and swept toward her chambers.

  Lieutenant Kushida knelt on the parlor floor, his wrists and ankles tied behind him. Naked except for his loincloth and the bloodstained bandages that covered sword wounds on his arms and legs, he struggled to free himself. His ugly face twisted with rage; angry grunts issued from him. His sweat filled the room with a rank, sour odor. Hirata and two detectives crouched near Kushida, lest he somehow break loose. A lantern above his head bathed him in stark light.

  Sano paced the floor, gazing down at the captive lieutenant. His own injury was slight, but he felt a raw, aching need to lie with a woman, to purge himself of battle trauma and reaffirm life through the act of sex. He regretted that the sad state of his marriage wouldn’t permit this release. Tonight’s incident had further damaged relations between him and Reiko, perhaps permanently.

  “Did you attack the guards outside my house and the other estates?” he asked Kushida.

  The lieutenant fixed him with a hateful stare. “So what if I did?” he spat out. “They’re all alive. I know how to wound without killing.”

  So much for remorse, Sano thought. “What were you doing in my office?”

  “Nothing!” Lieutenant Kushida strained at his bonds, face reddening with the effort. Hirata and the detectives eyed him warily.

  “You’ll have to do better than that, Kushida,” said Sano. “One doesn’t knock out ten guards, enter another man’s house without permission, and ransack his possessions for no reason. Now answer me: Why did you come here?”

  “What difference does it make? You’ll invent lies about me and draw your own conclusions, no matter what I say.” Kushida’s body heaved in an awkward lunge toward Sano. Hirata grabbed him, dragging him back. “May the gods curse you and all your clan!” Kushida spewed a stream of bitter invective.

  “You’re in a lot of trouble,” Sano said, keeping his voice level despite rising impatience. “Even with your good record, you face execution for using a weapon inside Edo Castle, breaking into my house, and trying to spear my wife, my men, and myself. But I’m ready to listen to your story and recommend a lesser punishment if your reasons are good enough. So talk, and be quick about it. I haven’t got all night.”

  Lieutenant Kushida glared at Sano, Hirata, and the detectives. He gave one last, strenuous tug at the ropes. Then resistance seeped out of him. Body limp, head bowed, Kushida said, “I was looking for Lady Harume’s pillow book.”

  “How did you know about it?” Sano asked.

  A sort of dignified misery settled upon Kushida’s features. “I found it in her cabinet.”

  “And when was this?”

  “Three days before she died.”

  “So you lied when you said you never went into Lady Harume’s room.” Sano felt extreme chagrin as he remembered Reiko telling him that her cousin had placed the lieutenant in Harume’s private quarters at that very same time. Reiko’s information had proved accurate. He had insulted her by questioning it.

  “All right, I lied,” Lieutenant Kushida said dully, “because I wasn’t in her room to poison her, like you thought. And I didn’t come here to hurt anyone. I had to get the diary. When I reported for duty tonight, I meant to steal it from Lady Harume’s room. But the guard captain said you’d postponed my return to work.” Kushida flashed a bitter look at Sano. “Then I found out from a soldier that you’d confiscated the diary as evidence. So I came here after it.”

  Sano wished he’d barred the dangerous, unbalanced guard from the castle entirely. Still, he might gain some useful information now. “Why do you want the diary?”

  “I only managed to read a few pages the first time.” Kushida’s voice sounded weary, desolate. “I wanted to find out who her lover was, and I thought she might have written his name somewhere in the diary.”

  “How did you know Harume had a lover?” Sano exchanged a significant glance with Hirata: the lieutenant had not only admitted entering Harume’s room, but also given himself an additional motive for her murder.

  With the fight gone out of him, Kushida looked like a small, tragic ape. “When I escorted Lady Harume and the other women on their outings, she would sneak away from the group. Three times I followed her, and lost her. The fourth time, I tracked her to an inn in Asakusa. But I couldn’t get past the gate because there were soldiers guarding it. They weren’t wearing any crests, and they wo
uldn’t tell me who they were.”

  Lord Miyagi’s men, thought Sano, protecting their master’s privacy during his tryst with Harume.

  “I never saw the man she chose instead of me,” Kushida continued. “But I know there was one. Why else would she sneak around? I lie awake at nights, wondering who he is and envying him the joy of her. I can’t stand not knowing. It’s killing me!” His eyes burned with an obsession that hadn’t faded, even now that its object was dead. “Do you still have the diary?” Tense with hope, he beseeched Sano, “Please, may I see it?”

  Sano wondered if the lieutenant had another, more practical reason for trying to steal the diary. Maybe he believed it contained incriminating evidence against him, which he wanted to destroy.

  “When you were in Lady Harume’s room, did you also find a jar of ink and a love letter asking her to tattoo herself?” Sano asked.

  Kushida shook his head impatiently. “I’ve already told you, I never saw that ink jar. Or a letter. I wasn’t looking for any such things. All I wanted was a—personal keepsake from Harume.” Lowering his eyes in shame, he mumbled, “That’s how I found the diary. It was with her underclothes. I told you I didn’t know about the tattoo. I didn’t poison her.”

  “I understand that Lady Harume became violently ill last summer,” Sano said, “and that someone threw a dagger at her. Did you know? Were you responsible?” Seeking to verify Reiko’s story, Sano also wondered whether Lieutenant Kushida feared that Harume’s diary implicated him.

  “I knew. But if you think I had anything to do with what happened, you’re wrong.” Kushida glared at Sano in contemptuous defiance. “I never would have hurt Harume. I loved her. I did not kill her!”

  Ahead, shining like a sunlit path through a dark forest, Sano saw a way out of his own dilemma. Lieutenant Kushida’s attempted burglary made him the prime suspect. His earlier lies rendered his denials unconvincing. If Sano charged Kushida with murder, his conviction was virtually assured: most trials ended in a verdict of guilty. Sano could avoid the political perils of continuing the investigation, and the disgrace of execution if he failed. And with a major source of conflict between him and Reiko gone, they could get a fresh start on their marriage. But Sano wasn’t ready to close the case.