Sano Ichiro 9 The Perfumed Sleeve (2004)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Chin in hand, Yanagisawa frowned at the sums. Lord Matsudaira surely had much more in his war treasury. Yanagisawa battled his doubts about the wisdom of challenging Lord Matsudaira. Yet it was too late for misgivings. And determination had won many a battle against overwhelming odds.

  “How many troops do we have?” Yanagisawa asked.

  “Five thousand currently in Edo,” said Mori. His lithe, fit physique contrasted with his pitted complexion, puffy eyes, and air of dissipation. “Two thousand more are on their way from the provinces.”

  But Lord Matsudaira had the entire Tokugawa army. Yanagisawa inhaled on his silver tobacco pipe, trying to calm his nerves. The air in the room was already hazy and acrid with smoke. Perhaps his downfall had begun.

  “How goes our campaign to purge our opponents from the bakufu?” Yanagisawa said.

  Kato presented another scroll that bore a list of detractors. He pointed to three names. “These men are gone,” he said. “I convinced them to accept posts in the far north. They decided not to gamble that joining Lord Matsudaira would protect their families from you.” Kato’s finger touched a name near the top of the list. “After I tell him I’ve discovered he’s been stealing and selling rice from the Tokugawa estates, he’ll never lift a hand against you.”

  Satisfaction abated Yanagisawa’s fears. “Very good,” he said. “Where do we stand on allies?”

  Mori opened a third scroll. Pointing to four names at the bottom of a list, he said, “Yesterday these men swore allegiance to you.”

  “It’s a pity they don’t have more troops or wealth,” said Kato.

  “Most of the men who do chose sides a long time ago,” Yanagisawa said. “Not many of them are still available. Though there’s one notable exception.”

  “Sano Ichirō?” said Kato.

  Yanagisawa nodded.

  “But Sano has resisted all our attempts to win him over,” Mori said. “I think he’s a lost cause.”

  Yanagisawa said, “We’ll see about that.” He and Kato and Mori smoked their pipes while they contemplated the scroll. “There’s one person we can cross off the list.” Yanagisawa picked up a writing brush from his desk, dipped it in ink, and drew a line through Senior Elder Makino’s name.

  “How fortunate for us that he died at this particular time,” Kato said.

  “Indeed,” Mori said. “After he decided to join Lord Matsudaira’s faction, he was a mortal danger to us.”

  “You’ve never told me how you found out he planned to defect,” Kato said to Yanagisawa.

  “Makino started hinting that he wanted me to give him more money and authority in exchange for his support,” Yanagisawa said. “I ignored his hints because he already had as much as he should, but I knew he would try to satisfy his greed elsewhere.”

  “So we had him watched,” Mori said. “Our spies saw him talking with Lord Matsudaira’s nephew Daiemon several times.”

  “Lately Makino had seemed afraid that our side would lose,” Yanagisawa said. “When we added up his greed, his fear, and his relations with the enemy, we concluded that he would soon turn traitor.”

  Admiration for Yanagisawa’s perspicacity glinted in Kato’s eyes. “Makino could have done us much harm by spying for Lord Matsudaira while pretending he was still loyal to us. It’s a good thing you caught on to him.”

  “We can be thankful that someone eliminated him and saved us the trouble,” Mori said.

  Yanagisawa watched his companions avoid his gaze. The atmosphere seethed with their suspicion that he was responsible for their stroke of luck. That he’d known about Makino’s betrayal had given him ample cause to want his former crony dead. That he’d had a spy planted in Makino’s estate implied opportunity to commit the murder. But Yanagisawa didn’t answer their unspoken question of whether he was guilty or innocent. He wouldn’t admit to the crime, not even to his most trusted comrades, for he knew they could betray his trust as Makino had done. Nor would he claim innocence, for he wanted them to believe him capable of assassinating whoever crossed him. Intimidation was his strongest hold over his subordinates.

  Fear for his own future was his primary concern.

  “Makino’s death isn’t an unmitigated blessing,” Yanagisawa said. “The murder investigation is as serious a threat to us as he ever was.”

  Above Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s office, a hole the diameter of a coin pierced the elaborate woodwork of the ceiling and overlooked the desk. In the attic above, Lady Yanagisawa lay on a tatami mat on the floor, an eye to the hole, peering through it at the chamberlain, Kato, and Mori. Their voices drifted up to her. Beside her lay her daughter Kikuko. A quilt shielded them from the damp winter cold. Daylight from grilles set in the peaked gables dimly illuminated their faces. Nearby, rodents scrabbled, their pungent odor fouling the musty air. But Lady Yanagisawa didn’t notice the discomforts of this place from which she habitually spied on the chamberlain. All her attention focused on him, the beautiful, clever, and powerful husband she adored.

  Throughout their ten-year marriage, she’d hoped for him to love her in return, despite overwhelming odds. Theirs had been a union of political and economic convenience. She came from an affluent clan related to the Tokugawa, and the chamberlain had wed her for her dowry and connections. Why else would he choose a woman so ugly, so devoid of charm? He’d engaged in sexual relations with her during the few months after their wedding, then stopped when she’d become pregnant with Kikuko. After he discovered that their child was feebleminded, he’d never touched Lady Yanagisawa again. For years he had ignored her and Kikuko. But although his indifference tormented Lady Yanagisawa, she still dreamed of winning his love.

  To her joy, recent events had given her fresh hope.

  Her abduction by the Dragon King, and her brush with death, had taught Lady Yanagisawa that life was short, and those who waited for what they wanted might die before ever getting it. The revelations had overcome her innate shyness. Instead of just spying on her husband from a distance, she’d dared approach so close within his view that he couldn’t help noticing her. At first she’d lacked the nerve to speak, but one day, upon encountering him in the garden, she murmured, “Good morning, my lord.” And miracle of miracles, he answered!

  More emboldened than ever, Lady Yanagisawa insinuated herself into his life. On the rare evenings when he didn’t go out, she served him his dinner. He talked of politics, vented ire at his enemies, celebrated triumphs over them. Lady Yanagisawa cherished those evenings and the privilege of his company. Yet he never said anything personal to her; he treated her as he would a faithful servant. His gaze never lingered on her, never reflected the need that burned within her.

  Then one night she told her husband how she’d almost killed Reiko on the Dragon King’s island. For once he looked at her with genuine interest. That drove her to even greater audacity. She began to frequent his bedchamber, where he’d slept alone since Police Commissioner Hoshina left him. In the mornings she brought him tea and helped him dress. At night, during his bath, she scrubbed and rinsed him before he soaked in the tub. The sight of his naked body filled her with such desire! But he never showed the least sign of wanting her. Why he allowed her this intimacy with him, she didn’t understand. Perhaps he enjoyed her frustration; perhaps he was lonely now that Hoshina was gone.

  Now, as Lady Yanagisawa listened to her husband talking with Kato and Mori, she realized that the chamberlain was in trouble. His problems created a fresh opportunity for her. In her mind coalesced vague plans for endearing herself to her husband and reaching her heart’s desire.

  “Surely Sano doesn’t suspect that Senior Elder Makino was killed by someone in your faction,” Kato said to Chamberlain Yanagisawa. “When he announced that Makino had been murdered, you did a superb job of pretending you were upset. You almost fooled me. Surely you fooled Sano as well as the shogun.”

  Yanagisawa prided himself on his performance, but he said, “I accomplished no more than to gain us time to protect o
urselves. Should Sano learn about Makino’s defection, he’ll realize that Makino was worth more to me dead than alive.”

  “He won’t learn it from us,” Mori said.

  “But Daiemon and Lord Matsudaira will tell him, if they haven’t already,” Yanagisawa said. “They’ll jump to save their own necks by incriminating me. I’ll become his primary suspect.” Yanagisawa felt a grudging admiration for Sano. “He’s like a dog who won’t let go of a bone even if it bites him back.”

  “What shall we do?” Apprehension creased Kato’s leathery face.

  “The obvious course of action is to get Sano on our side,” Yanagisawa said. “But in case we can’t recruit him, we need an alternate plan to divert his suspicion and, at the same time, weaken the Matsudaira.”

  Just then, Yanagisawa heard footsteps in the corridor, approaching along the nightingale floor, which was specially designed to emit loud chirps when trod upon. Few persons were allowed in his private domain, and Yanagisawa recognized this one from his step. He dismissed Kato and Mori. After they’d departed, he called through the open door: “Enter.”

  In walked his son Yoritomo, seventeen years old, a youthful image of Yanagisawa. He had the same slender build and striking beauty. But his gait was hesitant, his expression perpetually shadowed by self-doubt. He had a sweet, vulnerable air of innocence, inherited from his mother, who was a Tokugawa relative and former palace lady-in-waiting, with whom Yanagisawa had enjoyed a brief love affair.

  As he knelt cautiously before Yanagisawa and bowed, Yanagisawa felt a possessive affection toward him. The boy touched a tender, hidden spot in his heart. The blood they shared bound them together. And Yoritomo was not just the fruit of his loins, but his means to supremacy.

  “My apologies for interrupting your business, Honorable Father.” Yoritomo’s voice was a faint, immature echo of Yanagisawa’s. “But I thought I should tell you that the shogun has just sent for me.”

  “Excellent,” Yanagisawa said. “That’s the fifth time this month. The shogun’s fondness for you is growing.”

  And every moment the shogun spent with Yoritomo was one he didn’t spend with Daiemon, the rumored heir apparent. When the shogun named an official successor, Yanagisawa wanted it to be his son, not Lord Matsudaira’s nephew.

  “You’ve done a brilliant job attaching yourself to our lord,” Yanagisawa said.

  Yoritomo blushed with pleasure at the compliment. Yanagisawa recalled visits he’d made to the isolated country villa where he’d kept the boy and his mother. Yoritomo wasn’t the only child that Yanagisawa maintained in this fashion—he had five sons, all by different women, living in separate households. He regularly visited them all, establishing himself as a figure of authority and watching them for signs of usefulness. But Yoritomo was not only the one most likely to attract the shogun; he was, from his infancy, the one most attached to his father.

  Whenever Yanagisawa had come to call, the little boy had toddled to Yanagisawa and flung out his arms. Later, Yoritomo had recited his school lessons and demonstrated his martial arts skills for his father. He’d always excelled at both, but afterward he stood tense with fear, awaiting Yanagisawa’s judgment. If Yanagisawa criticized his performance, he fought tears; if Yanagisawa praised him, he shone as though blessed by a god. His eagerness to please Yanagisawa continued to this very day. It moved Yanagisawa, as well as confirmed Yoritomo as his best chance of placing a son at the head of the next regime and ruling Japan through him.

  Now Yoritomo said humbly, “I’m grateful for your praise, Honorable Father, but I don’t deserve it. Your teaching is responsible for any success I’ve had with the shogun.”

  Several years ago, Yanagisawa had hired one of Edo’s best male prostitutes to instruct Yoritomo in the art of manly love. Although Yoritomo had no inherent taste for it, he’d dutifully cooperated and learned the techniques the shogun most enjoyed. When Yanagisawa had introduced Yoritomo to the shogun last year and secretly watched them together in the bedchamber, Yoritomo had performed with an expertise that ravished the shogun.

  “We mustn’t keep His Excellency waiting,” Yanagisawa said now. “You’d better hurry to him.”

  “Yes, Honorable Father.” Yoritomo obediently rose.

  But Yanagisawa perceived a hint of reluctance in Yoritomo’s manner. He felt the qualm that had struck a repeated, dissonant chord in him since he’d first pandered his own son to his lord. He knew from experience that the shogun’s weak, aging body afforded little pleasure even to a partner who enjoyed manly love. Sex with the shogun could give only disgust to Yoritomo. Recalling too well that his own father had used him in similar fashion with the aim of advancing the family fortunes, Yanagisawa felt guilt, shame, and pity toward his son.

  He hastened to intercept Yoritomo at the door, then put his hands on his son’s shoulders and looked into the clear, guileless eyes that gazed back at him.

  “You do understand why it’s necessary that you please the shogun?” Yanagisawa asked.

  “Yes, Honorable Father,” Yoritomo said. “I must supplant Lord Matsudaira’s nephew as the heir apparent. When the shogun dies, I must succeed him as dictator of the next regime.”

  Yanagisawa had drilled this lesson into Yoritomo during the five years since he’d chosen the boy as the best candidate to fulfill his political ambitions. “And why must you?” Yanagisawa said, anxious to make sure Yoritomo remembered the whole lesson.

  “So that I can rule Japan with your help, Honorable Father,” Yoritomo said dutifully. “So that together we will command supreme power over everyone else.”

  “What will happen if the shogun dies and you don’t succeed him?” Yanagisawa said.

  “We’ll lose His Excellency’s protection and your control over the bakufu,” Yoritomo said. “We’ll be vulnerable to our enemies. For me to become the next dictator is the only way to ensure that we survive a change in regime.”

  Conviction rang in his voice. He stood tall with his determination to achieve the goal Yanagisawa had set. Yanagisawa told himself that survival justified schooling Yoritomo to be a whore. Lord Matsudaira would have done the same with Daiemon, except Daiemon willingly prostituted himself. Daiemon, a rake experienced with both men and women, had no need of lessons on how to pleasure the shogun. Still, Yanagisawa’s guilt toward Yoritomo persisted.

  “Do you understand that what we’re doing pains me as much as you?” he said urgently. “Do you understand that if there were any other way, I wouldn’t ask so much of you?”

  “Yes, Honorable Father, I understand,” Yoritomo said with perfect, ardent sincerity. “I’ll gladly do whatever you ask, because you know what’s best for us both.”

  “I thank you, Son. I hope that someday you’ll thank me.” Humbled by Yoritomo’s attitude, overcome by love, Yanagisawa squeezed his shoulders, then released him.

  Yoritomo spread his arms, as if to embrace his father. Yanagisawa had a sudden memory of a little boy running to greet him. Then Yoritomo apparently recalled that he was no longer a child. He dropped his arms, bowed, and exited the room. Anguish and doubts plagued Yanagisawa. If he should be implicated in Senior Elder Makino’s murder, and if he should lose the battle against Lord Matsudaira, then his sole hope for the future rested upon Yoritomo.

  Lady Yanagisawa and Kikuko peered in through the door of the chamberlain’s office. Inside, he’d seated himself at his desk. His hand plied a writing brush, inking a page with his elegant script. Lady Yanagisawa’s heart beat fast with the excitement she always felt when near him.

  Without looking up, the chamberlain said to her, “Don’t just stand out there, come in.”

  Lady Yanagisawa crept into the room. Its air was charged with the erotic energy that her husband radiated. He glanced up and saw Kikuko trailing her. His face darkened.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want to see her?” he said.

  Lady Yanagisawa knew he didn’t like to be reminded that he’d sired an idiot, even thoug
h he blamed his wife for Kikuko’s defects. But Lady Yanagisawa hoped he’d come to appreciate how pretty and sweet Kikuko was. His treatment of their daughter caused Lady Yanagisawa terrible anguish, but not even this could diminish her love or need for him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said humbly, and turned to Kikuko. “Go to your room, dearest.”

  Kikuko, normally docile and obedient, clutched Lady Yanagisawa’s sleeve. Her sunny expression turned plaintive. “Me stay with you.”

  Lady Yanagisawa realized that her daughter was jealous of her new relationship with the chamberlain. Kikuko had grown tired of being shunted aside in favor of a man who was a hostile stranger to her; she didn’t understand why she must share her mother with him. But although Lady Yanagisawa hated to hurt Kikuko, she couldn’t let her daughter come between her husband and herself.

  “You must go,” she said, pushing Kikuko toward the door.

  “Me no want go!” Kikuko cried. She burst into sobs. She fell to the floor, pounding her fists, kicking, and shrieking.

  “Get her out of here!” the chamberlain shouted, enraged.

  Desperate to preserve her foothold in his life, Lady Yanagisawa carried the hysterical Kikuko out of the office and thrust her into the arms of a maid passing along the corridor.

  “Take Kikuko-chan to her room,” she ordered.

  As the maid bore her away, Kikuko screamed, “Mama, Mama!”

  Fighting the urge to rush after her beloved daughter, Lady Yanagisawa returned to her husband. He was pacing the room in swift, restless strides, as he always did when agitated. “If that ever happens again, I’ll send the brat away,” he said.

  Lady Yanagisawa clasped a hand against her throat. That he might banish his own child and separate her from Kikuko! Stabbed by his cruelty, she suddenly thought of the reports from her spies in Reiko’s house, who’d described Sano romping and laughing with Masahiro. Sano adored his child. Sano would never treat Reiko the way the chamberlain did Lady Yanagisawa. According to her spies, Sano made passionate love to Reiko almost every night. Reiko didn’t have to act like a dog begging for crumbs of affection. Lady Yanagisawa seethed with anger and hatred toward Reiko, who had more than her share of good luck.