That open door exerted a powerful, tempting pull on Reiko. Spurning caution, she started to climb the fence. When her long, full robe hindered her, she impatiently tied the skirts around her hips. She eased herself down on the other side, then tiptoed across Lord Ibe’s yard. The presence of a gangster and a peasant ruffian in a daimyo’s house signaled trouble, and Reiko had no doubt that the left minister’s notes referred to their activities. Peeking in the back door, she saw a dim, vacant corridor with rooms opening off it. She glanced toward the privy. Grunts issued from the man inside. Reiko slipped through the door of the house and stood with her back pressed against the wall. Hearing male voices, she tensed.
Footsteps creaked above the ceiling: The men were upstairs. Even armed with a dagger, Reiko had no desire to confront them alone. She’d thought that grief had put her beyond caring what happened to her, but now she regretted her impulsiveness; it was all too clear what men would do to a young female trespasser. She wanted to leave, but then she heard footsteps behind her, outside: The gangster was coming.
Reiko darted down the corridor and through the nearest door, into a storeroom crammed with boxes. Holding her breath, she waited until the man walked past. Planks squeaked as the gangster mounted the stairs. A bitter odor caught Reiko’s attention. She looked around, and when her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw wall racks full of spears, swords, and bows. Stacked wooden chests almost covered the floor. Curious now, Reiko lifted a lid. She found a suit of armor.
Uneasiness stirred within her. The odor grew stronger as she moved toward the door leading into the adjacent room. It held more chests. Reiko opened one, and her heart lurched. Inside lay a cache of arquebuses—long, tubular steel guns. Barrels, round wooden boxes, and square wicker baskets stood nearby. When Reiko pried the lid off a barrel, the smell billowed up into her face, smoky and acrid. She dipped a finger into fine black granules. Though she’d never seen gunpowder before, she knew this must be it. In the boxes she found spherical iron bullets. The baskets contained arrows. Reiko wouldn’t have been surprised to find swords and spears in a daimyo’s house, though not in such huge quantity. And guns were reserved for the sole use of the Tokugawa, but she’d just discovered enough weapons and ammunition to equip a small army.
The implications of the discovery stunned and enlightened Reiko. Left Minister Konoe must have watched men gathering at the house, bringing the arsenal. Surely this activity was the object of the surveillance mentioned in his notes. If Reiko was correct about the purpose of the weapons, then here was a secret that constituted the true motive for Konoe’s murder.
Reiko hastened to the door, looked cautiously, and saw no one. Even though the temptation to flee was overpowering, she forced herself to move down the corridor, toward a flight of stairs that led to the second story. The voices sounded louder; Reiko discerned at least three different men speaking. Slowly she ascended the stairs, easing her weight down on the creaky planks. Fear nauseated her, and the sweat on her skin turned cold; she held herself rigid, fighting the sickness. Telling herself she must be strong for Sano, she climbed higher and saw another empty corridor that extended past more doors. The voices came from the second room on the right. Tiptoeing up the last steps, Reiko emerged into hot, stuffy air thick with tobacco smoke. Muddy daylight filtered through the balcony blinds and the paper walls of the corridor. Reiko crept to the doorway of the second room and listened.
“You shouldn’t have been so rude,” said a young man’s worried voice. “You made her suspicious.”
There were murmurs of agreement. Then another man spoke with defensive belligerence: “Who cares what some stupid woman thinks?” Reiko recognized the voice of the fellow at the gate. “She’s probably just some whore that Lord Ibe uses when he’s in town, and that’s how she knows this is his house. Anyway, she’s gone.”
“You should never open the gate without looking to see who’s there, Gorobei-san,” another man said in cultured Miyako speech.
“I thought it was Ikeda, with another load of weapons,” Gorobei said sullenly. “I already said I was sorry.”
“I am afraid that this matter is far from done. You know how whores gossip. What if that one has clients in the bakufu and tells them there’s something funny going on here? They could send troops to raid us.”
“They won’t bother,” said a different voice. “Even if they believe her, those bakufu bureaucrats are lazy.”
“It was a mistake to use our master’s place, even though he won’t be back until winter,” fretted the first man.
“Well, where else could we go that’s big enough, private enough, and right in town?”
These two must be Lord Ibe’s retainers, assigned to guard the property, Reiko realized. Instead, they’d taken advantage of his absence by turning the house into an armed fort.
“We shouldn’t be doing this, it’s too dangerous.”
“I’m sick of your whining. Shut up!”
The man with the cultured voice said, “We’ve no more time for argument. We must figure out what to do so that Gorobei’s carelessness won’t jeopardize our mission.”
The nature of that mission seemed obvious to Reiko. The conspirators were planning a military assault. She didn’t think it involved feuding peasant gangs; that wouldn’t have required illegal weapons, or interested the metsuke. The mission could be nothing less than a revolt against the Tokugawa. This threat was the reason for the law that prevented daimyo from gathering troops and arms in Miyako—so they couldn’t seize the old capital as the first step toward taking over Japan. Horror and elation filled Reiko as she realized that the conspiracy must include many people besides the ones here, at least one of whom was likely to be involved in Sano’s murder.
A sudden, ominous silence in the room alerted her. Then the man with the cultured voice said, “There is someone else in the house.”
Reiko froze, aghast.
“How do you know?” Gorobei asked.
“I can feel it.”
“You’re just nervous,” said one of the guards. “It’s all in your imagination.”
“After the unfortunate incident that just occurred, I refuse to take any chances. Come. We shall check downstairs.”
Reiko darted into the adjacent room, hid behind a cabinet, and watched the men file past the door. First came a priest with a shaved head and athletic build, dressed in a saffron robe and carrying a spear. Then came three samurai, swords drawn, wearing the square Ibe crest on their robes: the guards. Gorobei, the gangster, and three more tough-looking peasants, all bearing stout clubs, and two shabbily attired samurai who appeared to be rnin, followed. Their grim expressions told Reiko that they would kill her if they caught her. Heart pounding in panic, she rushed onto the balcony. She pushed aside the bamboo blinds and looked outside.
The balcony overhung the side fence. Directly opposite stretched the balcony of the house next door. As Reiko climbed onto the rail, she heard the men moving about downstairs. She perched for a moment, then sprang with all her strength. She sailed through the air like a large, awkward bird and landed on the other balcony, taking the impact on her knees and forearms to protect her womb. Huddling there for a moment, she sobbed in relief. Then she rose and lowered herself over the rail to the ground and hurried in the direction of Nij Manor.
She must tell Marume and Fukida what she’d seen in Lord Ibe’s house and convince them to do something about it.
19
Twilight had dissipated the worst heat of the day and dimmed the sky to misty gray when Reiko got back to Nij Manor. She went to look for Detective Fukida, but neither he nor Sano’s other men were in their quarters. Her maids had vanished, too. Covered with sweat and grime, hair disheveled, and weary to the bone, Reiko shut herself in her room to wait for Fukida because she couldn’t go to the authorities by herself; they probably wouldn’t even give a woman an audience. She drank water and wiped her face with a damp cloth and thought about taking a bath, but it seemed like too much work. She
lay down to rest, letting the mild breeze from the windows waft over her.
But sleep wouldn’t come, despite her exhaustion. In desolation, she realized she’d almost convinced herself that if she worked hard enough, Sano would return to her. She’d still believed he was out in the world somewhere, and if she demonstrated enough strength and courage, they would be reunited. But of course, avenging his murder wouldn’t bring him back. Grief wracked her body, and she wept.
The door opened. Through her tears, Reiko saw a man silhouetted in the light from the corridor. He had a samurai’s shaved crown and swords, and Sano’s dimensions. Reiko felt a spring of hope, then crushing disappointment as she recognized another illusion created by the same wishful thinking that had populated Miyako with men who resembled Sano. It was probably just a nosy guest.
“Go away,” Reiko called, sobbing harder.
The man said in Sano’s voice, “Reiko-san, it’s me.”
Shocked, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “No. It can’t be.” Then, as he knelt beside her, the light from the windows illuminated Sano’s worried face. Reiko laughed hysterically as disbelief and joy collided in her.
Sano gathered her in his arms. She wept and moaned, stroking his face and his chest, reveling in the miracle of his resurrection. Her efforts must have worked after all; she’d brought him back.
“I’m sorry,” Sano murmured into her hair. “I’m so sorry.” Then he said, “I was worried about you. Where have you been?”
Confusion halted Reiko’s catharsis. She drew back to look at Sano. “Where have I been?”
“I came back this afternoon and found everyone gone,” Sano said. “I’ve been out looking for you. Where were you?”
Now Reiko understood that there must be a rational explanation for Sano’s return. She wanted so badly to know what it was that her own activities seemed beside the point. “If you weren’t murdered, what really happened? Where have you been?”
“Before I tell you,” Sano said, “let me first say that I never meant to hurt you.” His expression somber, he explained that Aisu had been the killer’s victim, and he’d faked his own death to force Chamberlain Yanagisawa into the open.
That Sano had been around all along explained why Reiko had felt as if he were still alive, and Yanagisawa’s presence in Miyako clarified many things about the murder case. But Reiko’s joy turned to puzzlement. “Why did you let me believe you were dead?”
“I had to keep hidden, even from you, because there are so many spies, and I was afraid that the news might reach Yanagisawa. As things turned out, he knew already, but my plan still worked.” Sano described how he’d confronted the chamberlain and secured his cooperation.
Reiko knew she should be glad of the plan’s success, but she was too deeply hurt. “You let me suffer because you didn’t think I could keep a secret. How could you trust me so little?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Sano clasped Reiko to him, a pleading note in his voice. “But I couldn’t take the chance that someone might guess the truth from your behavior.”
“I could have acted the part of a grieving widow well enough,” Reiko retorted, furious now. “Have you any idea what you’ve put me through?”
“I can guess,” Sano said contritely, “and I beg you to forgive me.”
His touch suddenly seemed repugnant to Reiko, his apology spurious. She pounded him with her fists, shouting, “Forgive you? Never! What you did was terrible and cruel.”
Sano looked stricken, then sad. “I deserve every bit of your anger. Please believe that I am truly sorry.”
“That’s not good enough!”
Reiko jumped to her feet and bolted away. Sano chased her. He locked her in an unrelenting embrace. She struggled to break free, screaming, “Go away! Leave me alone!” Then her anger dissolved into weeping; he held her tight.
“Shh,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s all right.”
He eased her onto the floor, lying beside her. The warm pressure of his body ignited fierce desire in Reiko. She moaned, arching against him, and felt the hardness in his groin. Then they were tearing away garments, entwining in the dim bands of light from the windows. After the wild coupling that overwhelmed them both with pleasure, they lay still in a sweaty tangle of limbs and clothing. Bars of waning light striped their bodies; incense smoke drifted in on the cooling breeze.
Sano touched Reiko’s cheek. “Can you possibly forgive me?” he said softly.
Her body had already forgiven him; eventually, her heart would too. Basking in physical and spiritual well-being, Reiko murmured, “I never thought that love with a dead husband would be so good.”
They laughed at her joke, and she saw relief in Sano’s eyes. The joy of having him back was almost worth her ordeal.
There was a commotion outside, then a knock at the door. “Honorable Lady Reiko, are you in there?” called Fukida’s voice.
Rising, Sano donned his kimono and went to the door. He opened it a crack.
“Oh, good, you’re back, ssakan-sama.” Despite the relief in his voice, Fukida looked frantic with worry. The guards and Reiko’s maids stood in an anxious group behind him. “I regret to say that I’ve failed in my duty to protect your wife. She left the inn without telling anyone. We’ve all been out searching for her, but we couldn’t find her.”
“She’s here,” Sano said. “It’s all right.” He dismissed his staff, shut the door, and turned to Reiko. She was sitting up, wrapped in her white under-robe, uneasily watching him.
“Maybe now you’ll tell me where you’ve been,” Sano said.
“I went to the palace to ask Lady Jokyden to help me solve the murder case,” Reiko said.
“What?” Sano exclaimed in alarm. “You saw Jokyden, after you promised me you would stay away from her?”
“Yes, because I didn’t know you were still around to care about promises,” Reiko said defensively. “It seemed more important to find your killer and avenge your death.”
Sano realized that he should have expected Reiko to behave this way; not even his death would quell her determined spirit. Now he was disturbed to learn that his short absence had been too long to leave Reiko on her own.
“Are you mad?” he said, standing over her. “Didn’t you see that the second murder reduced the number of suspects and made Jokyden even more likely to be the killer? Didn’t you recognize the danger of associating with her?”
“Of course I did. But the risk was worth it.” Rising, Reiko walked to the table, picked up her embroidered silk purse, and removed a fragment of paper, which she handed to Sano. “I found this in a house that Left Minister Konoe owned in the textile district.”
As she described the house, how she’d gotten there, and her idea that Konoe had used it for espionage, Sano barely glanced at the words on the paper. He said, “Lady Jokyden took you to this place?”
Vexation crossed Reiko’s features. “We weren’t alone. I brought my guards with us. Please give me credit for some intelligence.”
“You believed what Lady Jokyden told you about Left Minister Konoe purchasing the house? How did she know, anyway?”
“She didn’t say.”
An evasive note in Reiko’s voice signaled a lie. For the sake of peace, Sano chose to overlook it for the moment. “Look, I know you were upset and not thinking clearly, but even so, you should have known better than to trust a murder suspect. So far, there’s no evidence except Jokyden’s word that the house belonged to Konoe, or that this paper is his. Jokyden might have been misleading you to divert suspicion away from herself.”
“Well, yes, I was upset. Whose fault was that?” Reiko said sarcastically. “I did consider the problems you mentioned, but there must be a way to verify that Konoe owned the house and wrote the note. Besides, what I discovered next proves that it doesn’t matter whether or not I was thinking clearly, or what Jokyden’s motives were for taking me to the house. I thought the note referred to spying that Konoe did on Lord Ibe. So I w
ent there, and—”
“Wait.” Sano held up his hands. He had an ominous feeling that he was going to hear something else he wouldn’t like. “Slow down. You went where?”
“To the daimyo’s house in the cloth dyers’ district,” Reiko said patiently. “Lady Jokyden gave me directions.”
“She did, did she?” When Sano had met Jokyden, he’d thought her arrogant and contrary; now he liked her even less for abetting his wife’s misadventures.
“I asked Fukida-san to go with me,” Reiko said, “but he wouldn’t. He even took away my palanquin and guards. I realize now that he wanted to wait for you to come back before doing anything, but at the time I thought he was ignoring an important clue. So I went alone.”
Horror filled Sano. “You walked across town by yourself?” If he’d known what she would do, he would have risked letting her know the truth about his faked death. “Didn’t you think of what might have happened to you?”
“Nothing did, so there’s no need to worry now.” Reiko hesitated, then said, “I met a rough-looking man at Lord Ibe’s house. He wouldn’t answer my questions, and I was suspicious, so I sneaked through the back door for a look inside.”
She spoke as if she’d done the most reasonable thing in the world. Sano stared, dumbstruck.
“And guess what I found!” Animated with excitement, Reiko described an arsenal of weapons and a gang of samurai, gangsters, peasant ruffians, and an armed priest.
Sano was too upset by her daring to think about the implications of her discovery. He shouted, “I can’t believe you did that! You could have been killed! That was the most stupid, reckless, thoughtless, dangerous, foolhardy—”
The Samurai's Wife Page 20