The Samurai's Wife

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Yanagisawa slipped out of the entryway. Sidling past buildings and across alleys, he circled the Ear Mound until he was behind it. He tiptoed to the edge of the moat. Now he distinguished three voices speaking in turn—one gruff, one a high whine, and Ichijo’s.

  “…took you long enough to get here,” Ichijo was saying. “You were supposed to be waiting for me.”

  “We came as soon as we could,” said Gruff Voice.

  “With the trouble we’ve had, you should be glad we made it at all,” whined the other man.

  “I hired you to handle trouble,” Ichijo said coldly. “I hired you to obey my orders, and I expect to get the service you promised.”

  “Well, we expect to be treated better than slaves.” Belligerence harshened Gruff Voice’s tone. “After all, we’re risking our lives to do your dirty work.”

  “You knew the duties the job entailed. You knew the danger,” Ichijo retorted. “If you’re too lazy and cowardly to go on, then I’ve no use for you. I can’t afford to leave such important matters in the hands of unreliable men. Unless you fulfill your part of the bargain, you won’t reap the rewards.”

  Yanagisawa’s heart began to race. The two samurai were rnin, possibly the ones from Lord Ibe’s house. If “trouble” meant the hasty relocation of troops and weapons, then “important matters” referred to the imperial restoration, and “rewards” to the spoils of war.

  “All right, all right; we’re sorry we were late,” the Whiner said quickly.

  Gruff Voice said, “This place makes me nervous. Let’s hurry up so we can get out of here.”

  There was a brief silence. Then Ichijo said, “How are they?”

  “Safe and well,” said Gruff Voice.

  Ichijo’s allies, Yanagisawa thought; secure in their positions, waiting for the command to march.

  “Has my merchandise arrived?”

  “Yes. The last of it came twelve days ago.”

  The guns and ammunition, manufactured illegally and smuggled into Miyako a little at a time?

  “Well, then.” An odd sadness tinged Ichijo’s tone. “I suppose you’d best be on your way.”

  There was a clink of gold coins.

  “Is this all?” Gruff Voice said with disapproval.

  Ichijo said, “You’ll get more later.”

  When the emperor rules Japan and the Imperial Court commandeers the nation’s wealth? A thrill shot through Yanagisawa. He was sure he’d just witnessed Ichijo advancing payment for mounting a war against the Tokugawa. With great relish Yanagisawa looked forward to arresting Ichijo. He could hardly wait to see the look on Sano’s face when he…

  A familiar sensation, like invisible hands on his skin, disturbed Yanagisawa: Someone was watching him. Instinctively he crouched, scanning the alleys and rooftops. In the darkness, he couldn’t see anyone, but the menacing hidden presence revived the terror of the attack in the Imperial Palace. Was the killer stalking him again?

  But that was impossible, with the killer sitting just around the curve of the Ear Mound. Yanagisawa heard Ichijo and the samurai talking, although his panic reduced their words to gibberish. Could there be more than one killer? Was it Hoshina? Yanagisawa wanted to learn more about the conspirators’ plans, but he had to get away, fast.

  Then he heard Ichijo say, “Farewell. We shall meet again soon. Until then, I place my faith in you.”

  Footsteps tapped across the bridge. The horses’ bridles clanked as the samurai untied them. Yanagisawa guessed that Ichijo’s parting words to the mercenaries meant that he planned to launch the revolt in the near future. He was entrusting them to deploy the troops and weapons, while he carried on his normal existence until the battle. Yanagisawa’s samurai instinct, for so long buried beneath personal ambitions and torments, now challenged his fear for his own safety. A forgotten sense of duty spurred his determination to catch the traitors. Peering around the Ear Mound, he saw the two samurai ride off down an alley. He sprang up to follow.

  But old habit persisted. Yanagisawa thought of the hidden watcher. Only a fool tracks outlaws to their den alone! warned his inner voice.

  Hesitation cost him his chance. By the time he raced after the two samurai, there was no sign of them. He could hear their horses’ hoofbeats receding into the distance, but although he spent hours looking for the outlaws, they’d vanished into the night.

  32

  “I’m going out now,” Sano said to Reiko the next morning. When they’d returned to Nij Manor last night, he’d found a message from Detective Fukida, alerting him to a matter that required action today. “Will you be all right?”

  “Yes.” Seated by the window of their room in Nij Manor, Reiko was immaculately dressed and groomed, her face pale and drawn but composed. She did not look at Sano.

  “Are you sure?”

  Last night he’d caught her as she ran from Gion Shrine, wild-eyed and breathless. He hurried her back to Nij Manor, where she’d calmed down enough to tell him that Kozeri had admitted being in the Pond Garden during Left Minister Konoe’s murder, but claimed that she’d seen Right Minister Ichijo afterward. Sano didn’t know whether to believe it, but he guessed that more had transpired than Reiko would say. In bed, she’d lain rigid and silent beside him, and this morning he’d awakened to find her brooding by the window. He desperately wanted to know what had happened between her and Kozeri, yet he was afraid to ask.

  Now Reiko said, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  “What will you do today?”

  “I thought I’d finish examining the papers from Left Minister Konoe’s office. Maybe there are clues somewhere.”

  Sano welcomed her interest in the case as a sign that they still had common ground. Always eager for the truth, he longed to break through her reticence. “Reiko-san,” he began.

  “Yes?”

  He heard apprehension in her voice; she still wouldn’t look at him. Forcing her to talk now would only make things worse. He said, “Marume has been questioning the associates of Yoriki Hoshina to find out where he might have gone, with no luck. Hoshina seems to have vanished completely. But Fukida had interesting news. He thinks Chamberlain Yanagisawa is on to something important that he doesn’t want us to know about.”

  Rising, Reiko moved to the boxes of papers, knelt, and bent her head over them. “I hope you find out what it is.”

  “Thank you.” Sano paused, then said, “Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye.”

  Things couldn’t continue like this, Sano thought as he left the inn. Something had to break, and he hoped that when the air cleared, they would find happiness again.

  Sano, Marume, and Fukida strode into the private quarters of Nij Castle, where Chamberlain Yanagisawa was finishing his morning meal. Outside the open rain doors, the shady garden looked deceptively cool, but the glaring, hazy sky visible above the rooftops heralded another sultry day. And Sano’s temper was as hot as the weather.

  Without preliminary greetings, he said to Yanagisawa, “When were you going to tell me about Right Minister Ichijo?” He paused, then added accusingly, “Or weren’t you?”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” The picture of innocence, Yanagisawa wiped his lips on a napkin. The bruises on his face had darkened to a lurid bluish purple, but the swelling had gone down. “I’ve already told you all I know.”

  “Don’t bother with denials,” Sano said, furious. He heard Yanagisawa’s bodyguards stir behind the sliding walls. “You followed Ichijo to the Ear Mound and listened to his conversation with two samurai he met there.”

  Lifting his tea bowl, the chamberlain’s hand gave an involuntary jerk.

  “I followed you,” said Fukida.

  Yanagisawa surged to his feet and glared at Sano. “Of all the low, silly tricks. With a killer on the loose and an insurrection brewing, you squander effort by sending a flunky to spy on me, as if I were the criminal! We’re working together, remember?”

  “I haven’t forgotten, but obviously you have
.” Sano faced down Yanagisawa. “Don’t try to confuse the issue. Putting surveillance on you turned out to be a good idea, didn’t it? You wouldn’t spy on Ichijo unless it was important to the case. I want to know why you followed him and what you learned.”

  Yanagisawa gave Sano an insolent smile. “Nothing.”

  “You were close enough to hear what Ichijo and those samurai were saying,” Fukida said.

  “Shut up,” Yanagisawa ordered without looking at him. To Sano he said, “Even if I did hear something, why should I tell you? Many thanks for breaking Right Minister Ichijo’s alibi, but you and I are finished. I know Ichijo is responsible for the murders and the imperial restoration conspiracy.”

  Marume and Fukida looked at Sano, who experienced a rapid, jarring sequence of reactions. First came dismay: Yanagisawa had solved the case, and with Hoshina gone, Sano had no proof of Yanagisawa’s earlier sabotage and therefore no way to discredit his enemy’s victory. Then he felt anger: The chamberlain had beaten Sano by using the results of his work, then pursuing leads behind his back. Next came fear of dishonor, loss of his post, and the destruction of his family. But Sano saw a glimmer of hope: If Ichijo was the traitor and murderer, then Kozeri wasn’t. Maybe she’d told Reiko the truth. Could Sano and Reiko forget her and put their quarrel behind them?

  Recovering his equilibrium, Sano said to Yanagisawa, “You let Ichijo’s friends get away last night. If you’d told me about your plans, we might have captured them. And if Ichijo is the killer, then why haven’t you arrested him?” The narrowing of Yanagisawa’s eyes told Sano he’d hit a nerve. “Ichijo may very well be the leader of the conspiracy, but you’re afraid you won’t be able to make him tell you where the outlaws and weapons are. You need me, because you can’t think what to do next.”

  “You’re insane,” Yanagisawa declared.

  “You know I’m right,” Sano said.

  “Get out of here.”

  “Good luck.” Sano nodded to Marume and Fukida, who followed him to the door. “I suppose you don’t want to hear my plan for coercing Ichijo. Oh, and you’d better just hope that what I’ve discovered about him isn’t the critical piece of evidence you need to get his cooperation.”

  Sano and his men had walked halfway down the corridor when they heard Yanagisawa call, “Wait.” Marume and Fukida grinned at Sano. They all returned to the chamber, where Yanagisawa said, “Well? What’s this critical evidence you have?”

  “First I want to know what you learned from spying on the right minister last night,” Sano said.

  The chamberlain’s expression turned murderous. Sano nodded encouragingly. At last Yanagisawa grimaced in exasperation. “The two samurai are rnin who work for Ichijo.” After describing their conversation, he said, “They must be part of the army he recruited to overthrow the Tokugawa. But they didn’t mention when or where they’ll attack, and I don’t know where they are now.”

  Excitement coursed through Sano, followed by unwilling admiration for his enemy. Yanagisawa had established an apparent connection between Ichijo and the restoration conspiracy. Sano asked, “How did you think to spy on Ichijo?”

  Yanagisawa’s ominous look warned Sano off the subject. “It’s your turn to talk.”

  “Before I say anything, I want you to reinstate our partnership,” Sano said.

  Yanagisawa nodded grudgingly.

  “I also want you to agree that you won’t sneak around behind my back again, sabotage me, or try to harm me in any way while we’re working together.”

  “All right, all right!” Yanagisawa threw up his hands. “You have my word. Now tell me what you know about Ichijo. And it had better be good.”

  Although Sano didn’t trust Yanagisawa’s word, he had to be content with their pact if they were to go on together. “I have a witness who saw Ichijo at the scene of Left Minister Konoe’s murder,” he said, and told Kozeri’s story, which Yanagisawa’s news about Ichijo had convinced him to believe.

  “A witness.” Yanagisawa spoke with relief as well as satisfaction. Obviously he’d still harbored uncertainty about Ichijo. “The right minister’s attempt to cover up Konoe’s murder also supports his guilt. So what’s your plan for him?”

  “We confront him with the evidence,” Sano said. “We give him a chance to confess and turn in his confederates. If he refuses, we lock him up and interrogate him continuously. He eats, sleeps, and bathes only when we permit him; he sees no one except us. We don’t mistreat him, but he’s a proud man who’s used to being in control; imprisonment will break him eventually.”

  “But that could take forever!” Yanagisawa said.

  “When Ichijo’s mercenaries hear of his arrest, they’ll worry that he’ll turn them in,” Sano said. “They’ll run for their lives. The rebellion will fall apart.” He lifted a hand, forestalling Yanagisawa’s objections. “But we don’t just wait for that to happen. While one of us is wearing Ichijo down, the other will be giving the same treatment to Emperor Tomohito.”

  Approval dawned on Yanagisawa’s face.

  “Ichijo must have told the emperor some details of the plot,” Sano went on. “I think His Majesty can be persuaded to inform on Ichijo in exchange for keeping his throne.”

  “A brilliant scheme,” Yanagisawa admitted with a calculating look in his eyes. “I’m glad I thought of it.”

  Though Marume and Fukida frowned at the theft of their master’s idea, Sano nodded, willing to give Yanagisawa credit for his plan if it meant they could deliver a killer to justice and avert a war.

  Yanagisawa said, “What are we waiting for?”

  The brilliant plan crumbled as soon as they rode up to the Imperial Palace. Tokugawa troops had gathered outside the compound, along with a battalion of yoriki, doshin, and civilian police assistants. The commanders shouted urgent orders. While Sano, Marume, Fukida, and Yanagisawa watched in bewilderment, the whole army swarmed into the city.

  Yanagisawa approached the gate, where two scared-looking watchmen stood guard. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Bowing, they answered, “The emperor is missing!”

  Stunned, Sano looked at Marume and Fukida. Their exclamations echoed his alarm.

  “Where is Shoshidai Matsudaira?” Yanagisawa demanded.

  “At the emperor’s residence,” chorused the watchmen.

  “Can this have anything to do with the murder case?” Fukida asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sano said, “but if something bad has happened to the emperor, it could mean disaster.”

  Any misfortune that befell the sacred sovereign heralded trouble for all of Japan: earthquakes, fires, typhoons, famine. And if Emperor Tomohito should die, even a temporary break in the continuity of the imperial succession would create disorder in the cosmos and evil among mankind.

  Yanagisawa had already dismounted and marched into the palace compound. Sano, Marume, and Fukida leapt off their horses and followed. Watchmen and Tokugawa troops ran up and down the lanes of the kuge quarter. In the sunbaked courtyard of the emperor’s residence, anxious court nobles and ladies stood apart from a crowd of angry samurai officials. Shoshidai Matsudaira hurried out of the latter group and flung himself on the ground at Yanagisawa’s feet.

  “Oh, Honorable Chamberlain,” the shoshidai wailed, “I apologize for letting the emperor disappear. I’ve failed in my duty. I shall commit seppuku to atone for my negligence.”

  “Stop whining and tell me exactly what happened,” Yanagisawa said. “How long has the emperor been gone?”

  Right Minister Ichijo left the group of nobles and came over. “No one has seen His Majesty since he retired to his bedchamber last night. His attendants discovered that he was missing when they went to wake him for his sunrise prayer ritual. When His Majesty wasn’t found after a search of the palace, I notified the shoshidai. But he could have disappeared hours before daybreak.”

  “Have you examined his quarters?” Sano asked.

  “Yes,” said Ichijo. “Everything was in o
rder. A set of daytime clothes is missing from his wardrobe.”

  “Then he probably went voluntarily,” Sano deduced. “How did he get out of the palace?”

  “He must have climbed over the wall.”

  “Had he said or done anything recently that might indicate where he was going or why?” Sano watched Yanagisawa fuming over the catastrophe and the disruption of their plans.

  “Not that I’ve been able to determine,” Ichijo said. “His attendants say he acted perfectly normal; he told them nothing. And the idiot Prince Momozono is nowhere to be found. I suspect he went with His Majesty.”

  An imperial watchman ran into the courtyard, waving a scroll with gold chrysanthemum crests on the ends, bound in gold silk cord. “Here’s a letter from His Majesty. I found it hanging in the Purple Dragon Hall.”

  “Give me that.” Snatching the scroll, Yanagisawa opened it. Sano saw large, childish calligraphy scrawled upon the fine paper. Yanagisawa read aloud:

  “‘To My Honorable Family and Loyal Court:

  Don’t bother looking for me. We shall meet again soon enough, and then the whole world will know what I’ve done. This is the dawn of a new era. Tonight I shall lead my army in battle against the Tokugawa oppressors who have subjugated the imperial throne for too long. I shall seize the capital and take my place as the rightful ruler of the land. No one can stop me. The gods have decreed my triumph. Until then, farewell.

  The Divine Emperor Tomohito’”

  A stunned silence hung over the courtyard, thick as the sweltering heat. Sano shook his head in confusion. This new development marked Emperor Tomohito as the instigator of the imperial restoration conspiracy, but what about all the evidence against Right Minister Ichijo?

  The watchman said, “The sacred sword is missing from the treasure storehouse. His Majesty’s suit of armor is gone, too.”