Yet something deep within Reiko would not let her give up so easily.
Her husband had been murdered. This was an intolerable outrage. Now fury cut through Reiko’s pain like a blade lancing a wound. She must avenge Sano’s death. Until she did, she would neither rest nor succumb to grief. She hoped more than ever that she was pregnant, because then a part of Sano would survive him. And she could not let their child grow up knowing that its father’s murderer had gone free.
Determination gave Reiko strength, and she sat up. Vertigo spun the room around her. Breathing deeply, she waited for the after-effects of the sleeping potion to pass. She began planning what to do. Before she could avenge Sano’s death, she had to solve the murder case in order to learn who had killed him. But serious obstacles loomed ahead of her.
She had no authority to investigate crimes; hence, the Imperial Palace was off-limits to her. She couldn’t expect help from Marume and Fukida because they were under no obligation to obey her orders. They’d accepted her participation in Sano’s work out of duty to him, but they didn’t really approve of her. In fact, they might decide to take the responsibility of solving the case and avenging Sano’s death upon themselves and send her home.
Then a plan sprang into Reiko’s mind. It involved great potential danger and depended on the cooperation of someone with little reason to cooperate, but there seemed no other way.
Reiko rose on shaky legs. One of the maids awakened, saw her, and said, “Mistress, what are you doing?”
“I’m going out,” Reiko said.
“But you need rest. You must come back to bed. Please—”
Reiko silenced the maid with a glance that threatened unspeakable punishment to anyone who tried to stop her. “I’m going out,” she repeated. “Help me wash and dress.”
16
Sano crouched in the underbrush beneath tall cedars, gazing up a steep dirt road at a mansion that stood behind a plank fence in the hills north of Miyako. Dew drenched his trousers. Early morning mist drifted over the woods, diffused the daylight spreading across the sky, and obscured his view of the city. A shrill chorus of birds rose in the treetops.
From a distance, the house appeared unoccupied. The second-story windows visible above the fence were shuttered, and during the hour since Sano had arrived, he’d observed the property from all angles without seeing any sign of activity. However, the gate bore the spiral crest that Yoriki Hoshina had described while giving directions to the mansion, and Sano could feel Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s nearness like a warning tingle in his spirit. Now he moved cautiously uphill through the woods.
The closest other houses lay far above and below on the hillside, and the main road passed to the east; Sano knew because he’d already scouted the area and discovered that Yanagisawa had chosen an isolated place for his secret activities. Sano paused at the edge of the level clearing where the mansion stood. The fence was some fifteen paces away. Through the cracks between the planks Sano saw a human shape move past: a patrolling guard. After a short interval a larger figure passed. Sano timed the guards’ routine by counting silently as he watched them circle around again. Feeling the strain of an eventful, sleepless night and the long ride from the city, he mustered his flagging energy.
He waited for the right moment, then sped over to the fence. He climbed it and balanced on top. With a quick glance, he took in the scene below: a garden of shrubs, boulders, and grass outside a rustic house with latticed windows and half-timbered walls. He heard footsteps on the gravel path that bordered the garden. Here came a samurai whom he recognized as one of Yanagisawa’s bodyguards. Sano jumped down in front of him. The guard grunted in surprise. When he reached for his sword, Sano struck him hard in the face. The guard reeled backward, crashed to the ground, and lay still.
More footsteps signaled the approach of the second guard. Sano ducked behind a boulder. He watched the man come upon his comrade’s body and squat to examine it. Sano sprang out and kicked the second guard on the chin, knocking him unconscious. He used the guards’ sashes to bind their hands and feet, then crammed their socks into their mouths as gags. His pulse racing, he checked the grounds for more guards. He prayed that he wouldn’t have to kill anyone. Although violence was a samurai’s natural domain and an inevitable part of Sano’s work, every death he caused haunted him.
There were no other guards outside the house. Sano slipped quietly in the back door. Tiptoeing along dim corridors, he peered into the kitchen, reception room, and study, all furnished with the simple elegance of a wealthy samurai’s summer home, all unoccupied. In the front entryway he found a third guard seated against the wall, asleep. Sano stole up to the guard, grasped his neck, and pressed on the main blood vessels. With a jerk and a whimper, the guard passed from sleep to unconsciousness. Sano quickly tied and gagged the guard. He crept up the stairs.
On the second floor, he found another corridor. Near the end was an open door from which light spilled. Sano drew his sword. As he moved closer, he heard violent coughing. He stood to one side of the door and peered through it into a bedchamber. The light of a hanging lantern glowed on gilt murals and lacquered furniture. On a futon in the center, Chamberlain Yanagisawa crouched on knees and elbows, retching into a basin. He wore a white silk under-kimono. His complexion was a ghastly shade of gray, his expression agonized. Again and again he retched, producing merely a thin drool that ran down his chin. At last he fell back on the bed, gasping.
Sano entered the room, nonplussed because he’d never seen Yanagisawa in less than perfect health and had expected to find the chamberlain either asleep or celebrating the downfall of his rival. What was wrong with him?
At the sound of Sano’s footsteps, Yanagisawa turned his head. He saw Sano. “You,” he said in a tone of terrified disbelief. Pushing himself upright, he shouted, “Guards!”
To Sano’s relief, no one came. “All your men are incapacitated at the moment,” he said, advancing on Yanagisawa. For once, the balance of power was weighted on his side. The knowledge elated Sano. “It’s just you and me.”
The chamberlain gulped as if he might get sick again, but he lurched to his feet and faced Sano with courage rooted in arrogance. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I’ve come to talk about your sabotage of my investigation into Left Minister Konoe’s murder,” Sano said. “You thought you could solve the case yourself, impress the shogun, and destroy me at the same time, didn’t you?”
Yanagisawa ignored the question; he seemed not to have heard it. He said, “How did you find me?”
“Yoriki Hoshina gave me directions,” Sano said.
“Hoshina? He told you I was in Miyako?” The disbelief in Yanagisawa’s voice was even more pronounced than when Sano had appeared before him. “He sent you here?” The chamberlain shook his head in vehement denial. “No. He couldn’t have.”
“He did.” Confusion halted Sano a few steps away from Yanagisawa. Something was wrong with this conversation. Why was Yanagisawa more disconcerted to learn how he’d been discovered than surprised to see Sano alive? “Didn’t you receive a report of my murder at the Imperial Palace?”
Yanagisawa took a step toward Sano, moving carefully, as if in pain, his expression unfathomable. “Where is Hoshina?”
“In a safe place,” Sano said, increasingly perplexed. Yanagisawa must have been waiting for the news. Surely one of his agents would have rushed it to him. “I put Hoshina under protection after I convinced him to tell me about your plot against me.”
A ragged laugh issued from Yanagisawa. Again he shook his head, but this time at some private, bitter joke. He didn’t even try to deny the existence of a plot. As Sano tried to make sense of the chamberlain’s reaction, various aspects of the situation that hadn’t seemed directly related came together for him. Aisu’s presence in the palace, Yanagisawa’s illness, and the scheme his enemy had previously used added up to a startling picture.
“You were there with Aisu, weren’t you?”
Sano said, dazzled by enlightenment. “You forged the message from the emperor that brought me to the palace. You and Aisu lay in wait, planning to arrest the killer and take credit for solving the murder case after I was dead—the same trick you tried when I ambushed the Lion. But something went wrong. The killer attacked you and Aisu instead of me. It was you two that I heard crying out right before the spirit cry. Somehow you escaped, and the only harm you suffered is sickness from the after-effects of exposure to the force of kiai.”
Clutching his stomach, the chamberlain winced. He dropped to his knees on the futon. His eyes, with their dark, liquid irises and blood-veined whites, watched Sano intently. Sano was disturbed to realize how close his own scheme had come to failing. Yanagisawa might have sent someone to track him down and stop him before he got this far. “You weren’t surprised to see me alive,” Sano said, “because even though you heard about my death, you knew the truth—that Aisu was the killer’s victim, not I. You must have been waiting for Hoshina to come so you could plan what to do next.” Yet an important question remained. “How did you set up my murder?”
Yanagisawa suddenly lunged toward the head of the bed beneath him. He thrust his hand under the futon. Sano leapt forward and jabbed the point of his sword against Yanagisawa’s throat. The chamberlain cried out in alarm. His hand jerked up, holding a dagger that he’d obviously meant to hurl at Sano. He fell on his side, straining away from the sword.
“Drop the dagger,” Sano ordered, his heart hammering in delayed panic. “Drop it, or I’ll kill you!”
Fear shone in Yanagisawa’s eyes. He lay rigid, knees drawn up, awkwardly supporting his body on his left hand, the dagger extended in his right hand. But his mouth twisted in an insolent smile.
“You won’t kill me,” he said in a breathy, corrosive voice. “You hate to kill, and you think it’s because you’re so noble, so benevolent, that taking a life is beneath you.” He uttered a derisive snort of laughter. “But I know the truth. You’re not only an incompetent detective who fell into the trap I set for you, you’re a coward. You’re afraid of what will happen if you kill the shogun’s second-in-command. You’re incapable of looking me in the eye and cutting my throat!”
Indeed, Sano had spoken his threat merely to frighten Yanagisawa into obedience; he’d had no real intention of killing. But a sudden fury swept over him. That Yanagisawa should insult his professional ability and his honor! For more than two years, Sano had endured the chamberlain’s physical and verbal attacks. He’d stifled the urge to retaliate because of his duty to respect the shogun’s second-in-command, and because Yanagisawa had the power to destroy his family. Yet now, in the heat of rage that had built to a critical point, he knew he could kill Yanagisawa and not care about the consequences. What he thought about Yanagisawa, but had never spoken before, exploded from him.
“You call me incompetent?” he shouted. “You, who couldn’t find the Lion by yourself, and certainly wouldn’t have accomplished anything on this investigation without help from Yoriki Hoshina and me!”
Yanagisawa gaped in amazement at Sano’s outburst. “How dare you speak to me this way?” Anger flushed his pale complexion. “Have you forgotten who I am?”
“You’ve forgotten that you’re at my mercy,” Sano retorted, jabbing his sword fiercely at Yanagisawa, who gasped and scuttled backward, still gripping the dagger. Sano advanced until he had Yanagisawa pinned against the wall. “If you think I’m a coward, there’s no bigger coward in the world than you! You send flunkies to assassinate me because you’re afraid to do it yourself. You stab your enemies in the back because you haven’t the courage to challenge them face to face!”
“Shut up!” Yanagisawa commanded.
Sano was shaking with righteous anger, exhilarated by the release of pent-up fury. “Your way is to stab and hide, but I can make sure you won’t live to do so ever again. Now drop the dagger, you corrupt, evil, back-stabbing, and cowardly disgrace to Bushido!”
Bloodlust obliterated prudence. Sano’s vision narrowed until all he could see was the hateful face of his enemy. His muscles tensed, ready to drive the sword deep into Yanagisawa’s throat. Yanagisawa must have felt the increased pressure on the blade and realized what a state Sano was in, because horror replaced the insolence in his gaze. As they stared at each other, the moment stretched into a deadly space in time where the worst could happen.
Yanagisawa opened his hand and let the dagger fall.
The clatter it made hitting the floor was like a chunk of ice dropped into a hot porcelain bowl. The cold impact of reason shattered the murderous rage in Sano. The savage pleasure of holding Yanagisawa’s life in his hands vanished. He kicked away the dagger and eased his grip on his sword. What if he had killed the chamberlain?
Across his mind flashed images of himself standing over the bloody corpse of his enemy; his trial for murder; himself, Reiko, their entire families, and all their close associates marching to the public execution ground to die for his crime of high treason against the Tokugawa regime. Sano was horrified to know himself capable of an insanity where even honor mattered less than satisfying his anger.
He saw the same knowledge, and new respect, mirrored on Yanagisawa’s face. Sano realized that Yanagisawa had never really feared him before, had always relied on the self-discipline that had kept him from striking back. But this incident had destroyed Yanagisawa’s belief that he could attack Sano without serious consequences.
“That’s better,” Sano said. His voice had returned to its normal calm pitch, but in the wake of his rage, a heady sense of power remained. “Now tell me how you set up my murder.”
Yanagisawa glanced down at the blade that still impinged on his throat. “Would you mind if I sat up first?” His tone had a courteous entreaty with which he’d never before addressed Sano.
When Sano withdrew the sword just far enough so it was no longer touching him, Yanagisawa expelled a long, tremulous breath and gingerly eased himself upright. Sweat trickled in rivulets down his face. He said, “The night of the shoshidai’s banquet, Hoshina told me that Lady Asagao had admitted hating Left Minister Konoe and lied about where she was during his murder. I anticipated that you would search her chambers for evidence, so I had Hoshina get some robes of the type she wears, stain them with horse blood, and plant them there.
“The next morning, Hoshina held a secret interview with Lady Asagao. He informed her that you would be coming to talk to her, and he conveyed my orders that when you did, she should confess to the murder. He told her the story she should tell, and said she must convince you that she was guilty. She didn’t want to do it, but Hoshina gave her my promise that if she cooperated, she would be pardoned later. If not—or if she told anyone what he’d said—she would be executed.”
Now Sano understood why Asagao had behaved so oddly, produced such a logical yet dubious confession, and seemed as terrified as determined to persuade him that she’d killed Konoe. Asagao had lied not to protect Emperor Tomohito and the Imperial Court, but to protect herself from the punishment with which Hoshina had threatened her.
“You manipulated me into making a false arrest,” Sano said with a grudging admiration for Yanagisawa’s cleverness. “Hoshina pressured Left Minister Konoe’s attendants into confirming the affair and the ladies-in-waiting into retracting Asagao’s alibi. You planned to make your official appearance in Miyako after I was dead, take over the investigation, and catch the real killer. You picked Asagao for bait because she’s so unlikely a suspect that I would look stupid for arresting her, although the law gave me no choice. You couldn’t be satisfied with my death; you wanted to destroy my reputation, too.”
“Yes,” the chamberlain conceded reluctantly, “Lady Asagao suited my purpose. But I didn’t choose her for herself alone. I had to give the real murderer a reason to kill you.”
The connection between Lady Asagao’s arrest and the killer’s attack now became apparent to Sano. “Hoshina didn’t tell me that Right Minister Ichijo
is a suspect because you believe he’s the killer and you wanted to keep him to yourself. Lady Asagao is his daughter; her position as the emperor’s chief consort gives Ichijo special influence over the Imperial Court, which he would lose if anything happened to her. You thought the arrest would make Ichijo desperate enough to try to save Asagao from execution by killing me, which would spare you the trouble.”
The chamberlain said, “When Hoshina sent you the forged message, he also sent anonymous ones to Right Minister Ichijo, Emperor Tomohito, Lady Jokyden, and Prince Momozono, telling them you were coming to the palace.”
Of course, the devious Yanagisawa wouldn’t stake his success on a gamble that Ichijo was indeed the killer, Sano thought; he’d hedged his bet by alerting the other suspects. Sano could think of reasons some of them might wish to eliminate the man in charge of the murder investigation.
“Those messages also specified the route that the palace guards would follow while escorting you through the imperial enclosure,” Yanagisawa continued. “I went there early with Aisu and my bodyguards to catch Ichijo in the act of murder and arrest him. When we were heading toward the spot where the guards were supposed to abandon you, I felt a strange vibration in the air. We saw an eerie light and heard loud breathing. I felt someone following us, and I was suddenly terrified. So were my men. I ordered everyone to stay together, but my bodyguards ran off. I followed Aisu to the imperial kitchens. And then…”
The muscles of Yanagisawa’s throat contracted; he shuddered. “Merciful gods, that scream. It knocked me flat. I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except lie there howling in pain while the terrible noise went on and on.” The chamberlain took a deep breath, then said, “Finally it stopped. My ears were ringing; I was trembling and sore and nauseated. I got up and found Aisu lying nearby. He was dead. Then the vibration started again. It was very faint, coming from between the buildings. The killer was there; I could feel him. He was getting ready to scream again and kill me.”
The Samurai's Wife Page 17