The Samurai's Wife

by Laura Joh Rowland

  This story, which contradicted what Kozeri had told Sano about her marriage and the time and nature of her last encounter with Konoe, only increased Reiko’s distrust. “How could the left minister close down the convent, when the Imperial Court has no authority over religious orders?” Reiko asked.

  Kozeri lifted her hands, then let them fall. “He said he could. I believed him.”

  Had she been so convinced of her former husband’s power over her that she’d taken the threat seriously? Reiko wondered. Or was Kozeri lying again? “What was the special occasion?”

  “He didn’t say. I didn’t ask. But I knew he meant to take his pleasure from me.”

  “Go on,” Reiko said.

  “I agreed to meet him,” Kozeri said. “The next night his attendants came to the temple after everyone there was asleep. They took me in a palanquin to the Imperial Palace. We traveled to the imperial enclosure without meeting anyone. We stopped in the Pond Garden, and the attendants took me to the cottage on the island. They lit a lantern and left me alone inside.”

  Prince Momozono claimed he’d seen a light in the cottage just before he and Emperor Tomohito discovered Konoe dead, Reiko remembered; there had indeed been someone else in the Pond Garden besides them. The secrecy with which Konoe had arranged the rendezvous explained why the imperial records showed no outsiders in the palace that night and Yoriki Hoshina hadn’t identified Kozeri as a suspect.

  “There was a sake decanter with two cups on the table in the cottage,” Kozeri said. “I sat and had a drink and prayed for the courage to kill the left minister.”

  Reiko couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “Wait. You admit you went to the Pond Garden to kill him?”

  “Yes.” Kozeri moved into the shadows beneath a tree. A breeze riffled the leaves, casting patterns of light and dark across her haunted face. The pulse of drums punctuated the singing in the courtyard. “I had a small vial inside my sleeve. It contained a drug that I’d bought from a peddler. I was going to pour it into the left minister’s sake. After he drank, he would fall asleep and never awaken. I hoped I could slip away and everyone would think he’d died of a sudden illness.”

  She’d planned to use poison, not the power of kiai? Reiko listened, dumbfounded.

  “Then I heard him call out, ‘Help!’ First he was running, then it sounded as if he were dragging himself across the ground. His breathing was loud and strange. I looked out the window and saw him standing by the cottage. He cried, ‘No. Please, no.’ I was terrified. Then—”

  Shuddering, Kozeri said, “There was a terrible scream. It went on and on. I watched the left minister writhing in agony while blood gushed from him. Then he lay still. The scream stopped.” She fixed a strange, blurred gaze on Reiko. “The left minister was dead.”

  She’d wanted to kill him so he couldn’t abuse her anymore, but the murderer had spared her the trouble. The explanation made sense to Reiko, and her skepticism waned. “What did you do then?” she asked.

  “I knew that everyone in the palace would have heard the scream,” Kozeri said, caressing the top of her bosom. “Someone would come and find the left minister. I didn’t want them to think I’d killed him, so I blew out the lantern and ran away. In the kuge district, I found a watchtower with fire equipment underneath. I got a ladder and climbed the palace wall. I took the ladder with me and threw it in an alley so no one would know that someone had sneaked out of the compound. Then I walked back to Kodai Temple.”

  Reiko felt a pang of sympathy for the nun who’d suffered so long and witnessed a terrible murder. “Please forgive me for upsetting you,” she said, taking Kozeri’s soft, smooth hands in hers. “I’ll tell my husband what you said. Attempted murder is a crime, but under the circumstances, surely he’ll pardon you.”

  Tears of gratitude streamed from Kozeri’s eyes. “A thousand thanks,” she murmured, smiling gladly. “You’re so understanding and kind.”

  Although Reiko had never been attracted to women, touching Kozeri gave her a sensuous pleasure. Her anger dissolved in hazy confusion. She couldn’t remember why she’d hated Kozeri just a moment ago. Sexual arousal burgeoned inside her. Then realization jolted Reiko alert.

  “You’re doing to me what you did to my husband!” she cried, recoiling from Kozeri.

  “What?” The nun gaped in surprise.

  “You used mental energy to keep him from asking where you were during the murders. I didn’t believe him when he told me, but I do now, because you’re confusing me the same way!” Now Reiko regretted accusing Sano of lying to her.

  Fear shimmered in Kozeri’s eyes, but she said bravely, “Yes, but I meant you no harm. I just wanted you to believe me. I needed to make you like me so you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “And you made him want you.” As enlightenment dawned, Reiko cursed herself for doubting Sano’s love for her.

  Whatever had happened between Sano and Kozeri hadn’t been entirely his fault. If she could entice a woman, then what a strong effect her magic must have on men!

  Reiko lashed out at Kozeri: “Liar! You didn’t try to poison the left minister. You didn’t just watch him die. You murdered him, and Aisu too!”

  “I didn’t!” Hurt indignation welled in Kozeri’s eyes. “I wouldn’t wish such an awful death on anyone.”

  “Not even the man who murdered your first husband?”

  The blood drained from Kozeri’s face, leaving her lips so white that Reiko could see red marks where she’d bitten them. “How—how did you know?”

  “You were once married to Konoe’s secretary. Konoe stabbed him to death. Then he married you. Somehow you discovered what Konoe had done. You plotted revenge.”

  Kozeri drew herself up; angry color blotched her cheeks. “All right. I knew. I hated the left minister for killing Ryzen. I blamed him for the loss of the child I miscarried after the murder. But it all happened years ago. If I had wanted revenge against the left minister, I had plenty of opportunity when we lived together. Why would I wait so long?”

  “Because you didn’t have the ability to murder him back then,” Reiko retorted. “Instead, you ran away. At Kodai Temple, the nuns taught you how to channel your mental energy through your voice. You acquired the power of kiai.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Kozeri laughed, a shrill, hysterical sound. “We do exercises that bring tranquility and enhance our prayers. We can influence people’s thoughts, but we don’t believe in violence.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Determined to implicate Kozeri in another crime, Reiko said, “Have you ever been to Lord Ibe’s house in the cloth dyers’ district? Do you know the outlaws who’ve been living there? Where are they now? Where have they taken the weapons?”

  While her mouth soundlessly formed the words outlaws and weapons, Kozeri looked at Reiko as if she’d gone mad. But Reiko conjectured that she’d befriended the outlaws during her travels through the city and joined their cause as a way to gain power against her former husband. What if she’d learned that Konoe had discovered the plot and decided to kill him before he could report it to the bakufu? She could have contacted Konoe, pretended she wanted a reconciliation, and arranged the secret meeting in the Pond Garden.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t understand.” Fists clenched, Reiko shouted into Kozeri’s terrified face, “Where are the weapons? What are the outlaws planning?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Kozeri cried. Her eyes darted; she leaned away from Reiko, then blurted, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell your husband. Something that will help his investigation.” When Reiko only stared at her in speechless fury, she said, “As I was leaving the Pond Garden after the left minister died, I saw a man hiding in the shadows. It was Right Minister Ichijo.”

  Did Kozeri think her gullible enough to fall for another trick? Reiko felt angry blood suffuse her face.

  Obviously daunted by Reiko’s expression, Kozeri began to babble: “He didn’t see me, but I recognized him from w
hen I lived in the palace.” Her eager smile didn’t erase the fear in her eyes. “Don’t you see what that means? There was somebody else in the garden besides me. Ichijo must have killed my former husband.”

  Reiko’s emotions exploded. “I don’t want to hear any more of your lies!” she shouted. “Ichijo wasn’t there. Only you.”

  “I’m not lying,” Kozeri protested.

  Reiko grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her; Kozeri’s head snapped back and forth. “You’re part of the rebel conspiracy. You killed Konoe. Admit it!”

  “Stop. You’re hurting me.”

  Limp and unresisting, Kozeri began to sob. Reiko understood how Konoe’s love for her had turned to murderous rage. So meek yet so contrary, she was weak despite her magic powers, pitiful but exasperating.

  Was this what Sano wanted in a woman?

  Reiko had an impulse to strike Kozeri until she confessed and begged for mercy. So much did she want Kozeri to be guilty and die for the crimes, she didn’t care whether Kozeri could kill her with a scream.

  The drums ceased with a burst of applause: The Obon dance had ended. Reiko heard Sano calling, “Reiko-san! Where are you?” She froze, immobilized by contrary urges. She wanted to run to her husband, but she dreaded facing him after what had just happened. She couldn’t bear for Sano to find her and Kozeri like this, and she longed to flee, but not if that meant leaving him alone with Kozeri.

  Then Kozeri said in a plaintive voice, “I can see why you think I’m guilty, but why do you hate me so much? Is it because you think your husband loves me?”

  That her jealousy was so obvious humiliated Reiko. She turned and stumbled away, not wanting to hear more.

  “I tried to get him to make love to me because I wanted him, not just to trick him,” Kozeri called after her. “But he wouldn’t. Now that I’ve met you, I understand why. He loves you. He wanted me, but he couldn’t betray you.”

  Reiko halted in her tracks. How she longed to believe that! But many men did commit adultery; while she’d thought Sano was different from other husbands, perhaps her trust in him had been naïve. Besides, Kozeri had lied and deceived too often. Didn’t her claim that she and Sano hadn’t coupled indicate that in fact they had?

  Then Reiko was running blindly. The speed of her flight chilled the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t know what to think or do. Nor did she know whether to believe Kozeri’s story about seeing Ichijo at the scene of Konoe’s murder.

  31

  At the hour of the boar, business had ceased on Kawaramachi Avenue, except in a few teahouses. The wide avenue, which ran north and south past Miyako’s main commercial district, resembled a long tunnel, with the high earthen wall of the Great Rampart on the east, rows of shops and houses lit by Obon lanterns on the west, and the purple-black night sky above. Gates in the rampart provided access to the Kamo River. At intersections, guards manned neighborhood gates. Although some residents already slumbered on mattresses spread on balconies to catch the river breezes, others sat in doorways, talking and smoking, while pedestrians drifted home from cemetery visits.

  Through the thinning crowds walked Right Minister Ichijo, a solitary figure dressed in a modest gray kimono and wicker hat instead of his usual court costume. Leaning on his ebony cane, Ichijo maintained a brisk pace for a man his age, looking neither right nor left nor behind him. His elegant profile and stooped shoulders inclined forward as if he were impatient to reach his destination.

  Chamberlain Yanagisawa followed at a discreet distance behind the right minister. Again he wore the garb of a rnin. After chasing Lady Jokyden’s messenger, pursuing Ichijo was easy. Either the right minister didn’t think anyone would follow him, or he didn’t care if they did. Instead of weaving through alleys, he marched right down the middle of the street. He certainly didn’t act like a man on a secret mission, but Yanagisawa believed that appearances lied.

  His spies had turned up the interesting fact that Ichijo had told his staff he was going out alone tonight, without disclosing his plans. Did this herald one of the mysterious trips that Yoriki Hoshina had mentioned? Yanagisawa still yearned to believe that Hoshina had honestly tried to help him by unearthing genuine clues. He especially needed evidence against Ichijo because of what his spies had reported about Lady Jokyden.

  Servants claimed to have seen Jokyden in her office shortly before hearing the scream that had killed Aisu. She’d also been there when the imperial watchmen went to inform her about the second murder. No one had seen her elsewhere. Although Yanagisawa didn’t know why she’d refused to admit this to Sano, it seemed unlikely that she’d sneaked outside, killed Aisu, and gotten back to her office without anyone noticing her. If she hadn’t murdered Aisu, then the probability that she’d murdered the left minister decreased; the messenger and the Daikoku Bank might have nothing to do with the conspiracy. Therefore, Ichijo was the prime suspect, now that Sano had broken his alibi for Konoe’s murder. Yanagisawa hadn’t told Sano about Ichijo’s trips. If they revealed a connection between Ichijo and the rebels, Yanagisawa wanted to be the hero who arrested the killer and averted a civil war.

  At the Gojo Avenue intersection, Ichijo stopped at a gate in the Great Rampart. Yanagisawa took cover in a doorway and watched Ichijo speak to the sentry, who opened the gate. The right minister vanished through it. Yanagisawa hurried over.

  “Let me out,” he ordered the sentry. “Quickly!”

  “State your name and your business.” The sentry regarded Yanagisawa’s humble appearance with scorn.

  This time Yanagisawa was prepared for encounters with officialdom. From his waist pouch he took a small scroll that gave his name and rank. He showed it to the sentry. The man was probably illiterate, but he recognized the shogun’s personal seal on the document. He hastily let Yanagisawa through the gate.

  Outside the Great Rampart, Yanagisawa spied Ichijo walking down the stretch of Gojo Avenue that sloped toward a flight of stone steps leading down to the river. Together yet far apart, Ichijo and Yanagisawa descended these, then crossed the Gojo Bridge. Beneath it the Kamo rippled, faintly luminous. Lights twinkled on the opposite bank; bonfires smoldered. The smell of smoke, the laughter of couples strolling the embankment, music drifting from teahouses, and the warm night all evoked in Yanagisawa the memory of his night with Hoshina. A wave of longing swept through him.

  Where was Hoshina now? The search parties had turned up no trace of him. Through sheer will, Yanagisawa banished the thought of the lover who’d betrayed him.

  Ichijo walked off the bridge and into a deserted neighborhood of densely packed houses. A few Obon lanterns still burned. Yanagisawa trod softly within the darkness beneath eaves and balconies so that Ichijo wouldn’t notice him. He thought he’d conquered his fear of walking alone in the city, but now it revived. If Ichijo was the commander of the rebel outlaws, he would have to communicate with them somehow. He wouldn’t let them come to the palace; nor could he send or receive messages that might be intercepted. He would have to meet his troops secretly. Was he on his way to their hiding place now? Yanagisawa wanted badly to locate it, but he dreaded an encounter with a band of rnin, gangsters, and warrior priests. What if they caught him spying? And if Ichijo was the killer, Yanagisawa was in mortal danger.

  The right minister quickened his steps. Buildings gave way to a gleaming moat. From a tall stone foundation in its center rose a grassy earthen mound as high as the nearby houses and perhaps a hundred paces in diameter. A fence of stone pillars ringed the top of the foundation, enclosing a tree-shaded plateau from which loomed the mound’s retaining wall.

  Lagging behind in an alley, Yanagisawa watched the right minister march around the structure. It was crowned by a stone monument shaped like a squat pagoda. Lights from below illuminated characters engraved there. Reading them, Yanagisawa recognized the structure as the Ear Mound. This was the monument to Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s war on Korea more than a century ago. Although the invasion had failed, Hideyoshi’s force
s had slain many defenders. Distance had prevented his army from following the usual practice of presenting the severed heads of their defeated enemies to their commander. Therefore, the ears of some forty thousand Korean soldiers had been pickled in brine, shipped to Japan, and entombed in the Ear Mound.

  A bridge spanned the north side of the moat. Ichijo stepped onto it. Yanagisawa hid in the entryway of a house directly opposite the bridge, which led to stone steps in the Ear Mound’s foundation. Above these, beyond an iron gate and the trees, more steps climbed to the base of the mound, where an altar held flowers, burning lamps, and a smoking incense vat. Ichijo walked to the first set of steps. He eased himself down, laid his cane across his lap, and wiped his brow. Then he folded his hands and sat motionless.

  Time passed. Yanagisawa grew impatient. Then he heard rapidly approaching hoofbeats. The right minister raised his head. He was meeting the outlaws here, Yanagisawa guessed. Ichijo was too crafty to go to the rebels’ den and risk leading spies there. A meeting in a public place could pass for a chance encounter. Anticipation and fear gripped Yanagisawa. He wanted to see the outlaws, learn their plans. But if they should discover him here in this lonely place, they would most certainly kill him.

  From an alley to his right emerged two samurai on horseback. They cast furtive glances around the Ear Mound. Ichijo waved. Yanagisawa peered through the bamboo lattice that screened his hiding place. The two samurai dismounted at the bridge, tied their horses to the posts, and walked toward Ichijo, who rose to meet them. A round of bows ensued, and greetings inaudible to Yanagisawa. Then the three men settled on the steps, their figures haloed by the light of the lamps on the altar behind them.