“There was a fire near the jail,” Marume said. “The prisoners were let out.”
The law stated that when fire threatened the jail, the prisoners must be freed, to save their lives. It was a rare instance of mercy toward criminals, due to the Great Fire, when the main neighborhood gate near Kodemmacho was closed to prevent the prisoners from escaping. All the prisoners, and many neighborhood residents-some twenty thousand people-had been trampled and killed in the crush at the gate. Now prisoners were released under strict orders to return when the fire was out. Usually they did, with a few notable exceptions.
“Mother, are you all right?” Sano asked anxiously.
Her eyes welled huge and black. They seemed to look through Sano at horrors visible to her alone. “The fire is coming,” she cried. “We have to go across the river before it’s too late.”
She was reliving the Great Fire, Sano thought. As the detectives carried her down the passage and he accompanied them, he asked, “Was she hurt?”
“No,” Fukida said. “Dr. Ito sent her to the castle with the men you left to guard her. We saw them waiting in the line to get inside. We brought her here.”
“I’m grateful,” Sano said, “but how did you get her past the sentries?”
“I talked them into letting her in,” Marume said.
“Good work.” Sano could imagine the fast talking and intimidation that Marume must have employed.
“It helped that there’s a lot of confusion in the castle,” Fukida said as he and Marume maneuvered the litter around a corner. “Everyone is running around like ants whose hill has been stepped on. What’s the matter?”
“The shogun found out that Lord Matsudaira has been trying to take over,” Hirata said. “Lord Matsudaira is under house arrest.”
The detectives set down the litter in the guest chamber and stared in disbelief. “Well, well, I guess we’ve been away too long,” Fukida said to Marume.
“We didn’t find any witnesses, and we missed all the fun,” Marume lamented. “How did it happen?”
“I’ll fill you in.” Hirata led the men out of the room, leaving Sano to tend to his mother.
The door between the room and the adjacent one slid open. Sano saw Reiko standing on the other side. Behind her, the children sat with Lieutenant Asukai and their old nurse, O-sugi. Everyone beheld Sano and his mother with surprise.
“Grandma’s back,” Masahiro said, rising from the table where he’d been playing chess with Lieutenant Asukai.
He ran over to her, and Akiko followed, leaving her dolls with O-sugi. When Sano’s mother muttered and wailed, the children backed away, puzzled and curious.
Reiko was relieved to see her mother-in-law out of jail, but the old woman’s condition and Sano’s expression made it obvious that all was not exactly well. “What happened?”
Sano explained about the fire, then told her how and why Lord Matsudaira had been arrested.
“I know about Lord Matsudaira,” Reiko said. “Lieutenant Asukai heard and told me.”
Since then, Reiko had not let the children out of her sight. She’d kept Lieutenant Asukai and O-sugi with them for additional protection. They were the only people in the household that she could completely trust.
So far nothing had happened, but of course not enough time had passed for Lord Matsudaira’s plan to be set in action.
“Do you think Lord Matsudaira will fall?” she asked, hopeful that he would before his assassins could strike.
“I’m not going to count on it,” Sano said, “and I’m not off the hook yet.” He told Reiko about how he and Hirata had found the tutor dead. “Not only do I now have two murders to solve, I’m a suspect in this one, even though Lord Arima has been implicated. As long as it’s his word against mine and that of two men who are dead, my name will never be clear.”
The fear that had plagued Reiko since she’d heard of Lord Matsudaira’s plan resurged in the wake of her disappointed hope.
“In the meantime, we’d better make my mother comfortable,” Sano said.
“I’ll fetch a maid to fix her bed,” Masahiro volunteered.
“No!” Reiko said. “Stay here!”
Sano’s and Masahiro’s eyebrows flew up in surprise at her sharp tone. Reiko said, “I’ll make the bed. Masahiro, you can help.”
“All right,” Masahiro said.
While Akiko returned to her nurse and her dolls, he and Reiko hauled the futon out of the cabinet and laid down quilts. Sano loosened the blanket around his mother, lifted her from the litter, and eased her into bed. Reiko drew the quilt over her, noticing how much weight she’d lost in the past few days.
“Can I go now?” Masahiro said. “My friends from Papa’s army are coming to say good night to me, and I want to talk to them before I go to bed.”
He’d made friends among Sano’s younger troops, whose company he preferred to boys his own age. Reiko had never minded before; she and Sano had thought they were good examples for him. Now she feared that Lord Matsudaira’s assassins numbered among them.
“No,” she said.
“Why not?” Masahiro was disappointed.
“Yes,” Sano said.
His word overruled Reiko’s. As Masahiro ran off, Reiko told Lieutenant Asukai, “Go with him. Don’t let him out of your sight.”
When she and Sano were alone with his mother, Sano said, “Why are you keeping Masahiro on such a tight rein?”
Now was the time for Reiko to tell Sano what she’d heard. “He’s in danger.”
“That’s nothing new. I seem to remember that Lord Matsudaira did have him kidnapped.”
“But Lord Matsudaira doesn’t just want to kidnap Masahiro,” Reiko said. “He wants to kill him, and you and me and Akiko.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sano said. “As far as he’s concerned, we’re all fair game, and with what happened to him today, he must really want our blood.” Sano’s gaze wandered, and Reiko could tell he was thinking of the other problems he needed to solve. “But don’t you think the children are as safe as possible? Why start being extra vigilant?”
“Because Lord Matsudaira has nine assassins planted among your men. They’re under orders to kill us all!”
Sano refocused his gaze sharply on her. “How do you know?”
“Lieutenant Asukai has a friend among Lord Matsudaira’s bodyguards, who overheard Lord Matsudaira talking about his plans.”
Shock opened Sano’s mouth. Then he blew out his breath. “Well, thank the gods for friends in the right places. And thank Lieutenant Asukai for this valuable bit of intelligence.” Then he shook his head, and Reiko saw anguish in his eyes. “So the enemy has spread farther into our midst. Nine more of my men are traitors and assassins.”
Reiko hated to be the messenger of such upsetting news, but at least she’d made Sano aware of the threat. “Now you understand why Masahiro and Akiko are in danger at home. What are we going to do?”
“I’ll find out who those nine traitors are,” Sano said, harsh with determination. “In the meantime, I’ll have Detectives Marume and Fukida guard the children.”
“How do you know you can trust them?”
“How do you know you can trust Lieutenant Asukai?” Sano countered.
“He’s been my bodyguard for years,” Reiko said. “I have no doubt of his loyalty.”
“Marume and Fukida have served me for years,” Sano said. “I’ve never doubted their loyalty, either.”
He and Reiko gazed at each other in dismay that they dared not trust anyone in their household. Sano’s vast army offered no security; it harbored nine assassins, hiding like snakes in a forest. The walls that repelled attacks from outside couldn’t protect Sano and his family from treachery within. Until the traitors were caught, none of them was safe.
“I can’t stay home and watch over the children. I still have to clear my mother’s name, not to mention my own.” Sano sounded torn between conflicting responsibilities. “Or else we’re dead even
if Lord Matsudaira’s assassins don’t get us.” He rose. “You’ll have to guard Masahiro and Akiko.”
“With my life,” Reiko vowed. “Where are you going?”
“To take care of some business. Will you be all right?”
Even though consumed by fear for her children and hating to see Sano leave, Reiko nodded. At least their shared trouble had put their quarrel behind them, and they were reunited.
Reiko looked at her mother-in-law, who lay curled in bed, whimpering in a fitful slumber. Even though Reiko foresaw a new opportunity to get the truth out of Etsuko, she resisted the temptation to try. She’d made that mistake once, and whatever Etsuko might be hiding was Sano’s task to uncover, not Reiko’s.
Sentries guarding the portals of the estates in the daimyo district looked up and down the broad, empty streets. The evening sky glowed with a smoky orange haze from fires burning in the city. High above the roofs, in the fire-watch towers, the watchers stood alert. They suddenly aimed their spyglasses downward, at a group of mounted samurai that galloped into view.
Sano and his troops reined in their horses outside Lord Arima’s estate. Two of the soldiers he’d assigned to watch Arima stepped from the shadows between the lanterns at the gates. One said, “He hasn’t moved since he left the palace.”
“Good. It’s time he and I had a talk.” Sano told the sentries, “I want to see your master. Bring him out.”
The man they fetched wasn’t Lord Arima. He was a samurai in his forties, with features that looked as if they’d been squashed vertically, the brow and chin converging toward his nose. “I’m Inaba Naomori, chief retainer to Lord Arima,” he said. “I regret to inform you that my master isn’t here.” His compressed mouth widened into a smug smile when he saw the look of dismay that passed between Sano and his men. “He left the house hours ago.”
“He couldn’t have,” protested Sano’s soldier. “We would have seen.”
“You’re welcome to search the premises,” Inaba said, “but you won’t find him, Honorable Chamberlain.”
The rat had slipped the trap. Either Lord Arima’s men had smuggled him out in disguise or the estate had secret exits, tunnels underground. “Where did he go?” Sano asked angrily.
“Sorry, I don’t know,” said Inaba. “Neither does anyone else here. He didn’t tell us his destination.”
“I’m sure,” Sano said. Lord Arima clearly didn’t want to be traced and held accountable for ordering the death of a witness in the murder case or for betraying Lord Matsudaira. But Sano could smell that Inaba wasn’t telling the truth.
“Whatever business you have with my master, you’ll have to conduct with me,” Inaba said pompously. “I’m in charge.”
“I’m delighted to hear that,” Sano said. “Now is your chance to stand in for Lord Arima. I regret that I missed him, but you’ll do. You’re coming with me.”
He gestured to his troops. They leaped from their horses and seized Inaba, who protested, “Hey! You can’t do that!”
“Just watch me,” Sano said.
As the troops marched him down the street, Inaba called, “Help!” But Sano’s other troops pointed swords at the sentries, who stood idle rather than risk their own lives.
“I don’t deserve this kind of trouble,” Inaba fumed. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
Sano laughed with sardonic amusement. “Since when did that matter in this world?”
Before Hirata went out to pursue his inquiries, he stopped at home to check with his staff on the progress of work ordered by the shogun. The noise of laughter drew him to his children’s room. From the doorway he saw Taeko and Tatsuo romping on the bed, swatting each other with pillows. Midori scolded them good-naturedly. A hollow sensation ached in Hirata’s stomach. He felt like a starving man watching a banquet to which he wasn’t invited.
Midori’s gaze met his and turned somber. The children saw Hirata, stopped playing, and fell silent. Midori folded her hands and waited for Hirata to say what he wanted or leave. Now Hirata felt ashamed of his wish to be part of his family, and angry at Midori for excluding him. He gave up his plan to bide his time and wait for her to make a move toward him so they could have a showdown.
“I want to talk to you,” he said.
“Very well,” she said meekly, and followed him down the passage to their chamber.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Hirata said.
Midori didn’t flinch from the belligerence in his voice. “Nothing, Husband.”
Angrier than ever, he said, “You’re treating me as coldly as if I were a stranger. And your attitude has rubbed off on the children. You’ve turned them against me. Are you still trying to punish me for leaving you?”
“That isn’t it.”
Hirata didn’t believe her, although there was a steadiness about her that told him she wasn’t lying. Her feelings about his abandonment of her and the children had shifted in some way that he couldn’t define. That his mystic martial arts powers were so useless with his wife!
“Well, if you have some other grievance against me, just say it,” he ordered. “Don’t play games! Stand up and fight!”
Annoyance twitched Midori’s mouth. “I’m not some enemy warrior. I’m your wife.”
“Then act like it!” Hirata exclaimed in frustration. “I said I was sorry for leaving. Now that I’m home, can’t we just go back to the way we were before?”
“Maybe you can. But I can’t.” Midori’s manner was sad but calm. “I can’t forget that you were gone for three years.”
Those three years had been some of the most challenging and fulfilling in Hirata’s life. But he suddenly realized how they must have seemed to Midori-an eternity of waiting, loneliness, and wondering if he would ever return. He felt guiltier than ever, and impatient with her for not seeing his side.
“I had no choice but to go,” he said. “It was my destiny.”
“I understand,” Midori said, devoid of the anger that she’d expressed when he’d previously spoken those words. “I also understand that if your destiny calls you to go away again, you will. You must do what you must. And I must do what I must.”
For the first time since his return from Ezogashima, he really looked at Midori. He was shocked at how much she’d matured since he left. Their separations had aged her far beyond her twenty-four years. She wasn’t the innocent girl she’d been when they’d married for love, over the strenuous objections of their families. She was a woman he didn’t know.
“If you want me to be your wife, I will,” Midori said. “Whatever you ask me to do, I’ll obey. I’ll live with you, share your bed, make our children be nice to you, and bear you others if you want. I’ll speak or not speak at your command. But nothing more.”
The life she proposed, which described that of most other married couples, wasn’t what Hirata had ever wanted. As he gazed at her in alarm, he couldn’t think of anything to say except, “You are trying to punish me. You’re still angry.”
Midori shook her head; her expression was bleak, resigned. “I’ve buried my anger. Those are the terms on which I can continue our marriage.” She spoke with an uncharacteristic formality. “By accepting them, I won’t care when you leave the next time.”
Hirata was speechless, and appalled.
Until this moment he’d never truly regretted choosing his martial arts studies over Midori. Their quarrels had vexed him so much that he’d thought she deserved to be abandoned any time he felt like leaving again. Now he realized that her behavior wasn’t an act, wasn’t a ploy to nettle him or force him to prove his love for her. Along with her anger she’d buried her love for him. And Hirata had lost not just his wife but his entire family. They were his by law, to command as he wished; yet he couldn’t force their affection.
“Now if you will please excuse me, Husband,” Midori said, “I must put the children to bed.”
She stepped past Hirata and exited the room. Hirata stood alone, more helpless than ever in his life
. He’d never met a problem that he couldn’t confront head-on, with physical strength and mental agility, as a samurai should. But this one was different. How was he going to solve it?
26
The Sumida River flowed past the sleeping city. The glow in the sky stained the rippling water orange, as if fires burned beneath its surface. The rhythmic, clacking noise of watchmen’s clappers echoed over barges and boats moored at the docks. Warehouses on the banks raised solid walls and closed doors against intruders. By day a place alive with people and commerce, the riverfront was deserted at night, a private place for business best conducted in the dark.
Sano owned a warehouse that stored the huge quantities of rice with which he paid his retainers. Inside, he and his troops surrounded Inaba, who knelt on the floor. The cavernous room was dimly lit by one lantern. Straw rice bales, stacked against the walls up to the roofline, ensured that sounds made within wouldn’t reach passersby outside. Sano could have questioned his captive in the comfort of his estate, but that wouldn’t have had the same intimidation value.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” Sano said. “Where is Lord Arima?”
Inaba’s squashed features glistened with sweat and his eyes with terror, but he said insolently, “I already told you: I don’t know. You’re wasting your time.”
But Sano was determined to find out more than Lord Arima’s whereabouts. He believed Lord Arima was the key to figuring out more than the two murders. “I bet I can persuade you to change your mind.”
“How? By torturing me?” Inaba forced a laugh. “You won’t. You’re too squeamish. Everybody knows your reputation.”
Everybody did know that Sano was opposed to torture even though it was a legal means for forcing people to talk. Many thought him a coward about inflicting pain. But although he was capable of it, he’d always found other means worth trying first.
“I can make an exception for you,” he said, “but instead I’m going to offer you a deal. You have two choices: Either you talk to me, or you talk to Lord Matsudaira.”
“What do you mean?” Inaba said, disconcerted.
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