A woman emerged from the mass of court ladies. At first Sano didn’t recognize Lady Jokyden. She wore a dressing gown, no makeup, and her hair loose; in the crisis of the emperor’s disappearance, she must have forgotten to dress. Instead of a youthful Miyako beauty, she looked like a middle-aged woman ravaged by horror.
“My rash, foolish son!” Jokyden cried, wringing her hands.
Chaos broke loose. Courtiers loudly disclaimed any involvement with the rebellion; sobs arose from the ladies. The whole group surged toward the courtyard gate. Sano understood their fear of being punished as unwitting parties to treason, but the last thing he needed was a disturbance in the court.
“Restrain them!” he called to the bakufu officials. “Put everyone in the palace under house arrest!”
The officials hastened to obey. Yanagisawa turned on Right Minister Ichijo. “You’re responsible for this. You put the emperor up to the revolt. You recruited the army and planned the siege!”
With haughty dignity Ichijo said, “I have no part in His Majesty’s actions. If I had known of his plans, I would have dissuaded him from going.”
“Don’t lie to me!” Yanagisawa shouted. “I saw you with those rnin last night. They’re your mercenaries. You paid them combat wages for the battle that the emperor thinks he’s leading. Where will they launch the attack?”
Ichijo’s face went ashen with shock. “You…saw me?” He staggered backward, leaning heavily on his cane. “But my business with those men has nothing to do with the emperor, or a conspiracy against the Tokugawa.”
“Lady Asagao has admitted that you weren’t with her when Left Minister Konoe died,” Sano said, “and we have a witness who saw you in the Pond Garden immediately after the murder.”
“Yes…I was there. But I didn’t kill him.” Ichijo spoke in a distracted tone, as if he neither knew nor cared what he was saying.
“Yes, you did!” Yanagisawa said. “You murdered Aisu, and you tried to murder me, too. Confess! Tell me where the emperor is!”
Ichijo’s eyes were glazed as he murmured, “Konoe…Merciful gods. I should have guessed…” He swayed dizzily and collapsed in a faint.
“Wake up!” Yanagisawa slapped Ichijo, but the right minister remained unconscious. The bakufu officials herded the court nobles and ladies away. Yanagisawa glared at Sano. “What brilliant scheme do you propose now?”
The next hours passed in a blur. By afternoon, search parties had covered much of the capital without locating the emperor. Right Minister Ichijo had regained consciousness, but continued to insist that he knew nothing about the rebels. A distraught Lady Jokyden insisted likewise. Both suspects were under house arrest along with the rest of the Imperial Court. Soldiers now guarded all approaches to Miyako; cannon had been mounted along the Great Rampart, and all samurai in the area drafted into service. Yet the local Tokugawa army numbered only the few thousand required to maintain a visible presence during almost a century of peace. The rebels might have recruited more than this, and could launch a violent bid for power even though the emperor’s foolish announcement of his plans had lost them the advantage of surprise.
Nij Castle now assumed its proper role as a military fortification. Troops occupied the guard turrets. Sano and Yanagisawa, like rival generals forced to unite against a common threat, shared a hasty meal in the private chambers.
“Maybe we already have the clue we need to find the emperor and prevent the revolt,” Sano said, scooping noodles into his mouth with chopsticks.
Yanagisawa drank tea. “Not those mysterious coins? Even if we had time for them, I seriously doubt whether they would help us solve our immediate problem.”
“I wasn’t talking about the coins,” Sano said, “although I have found out that they’re linked with a local gangster clan, the Dazai. I meant the papers you took from Left Minister Konoe’s office. If he was spying on the rebels, perhaps he knew where they planned to assemble and wrote down the information.”
“I’ve already been through those papers, and I can’t recall seeing anything that might be a reference to a siege on Miyako.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to check again,” Sano said.
With a shrug, Yanagisawa conceded, “What have we got to lose?”
When Sano arrived at Nij Manor, Reiko met him at the gate, her face vivid with anxiety. “I’ve been watching the soldiers march through the city,” she cried as Sano dismounted from his horse. “The shoshidai has ordered all the samurai at the inn to report for military duty. Does this mean the revolt is going to start soon?”
“Yes.” Sano explained about the emperor’s letter and disappearance. “Unfortunately, we don’t know when or where the rebels will attack.”
“What are you going to do?”
At least they were speaking again, Sano thought. A stable boy took charge of his horse, and he went into the inn with Reiko. “You and I will review the papers from Left Minister Konoe’s office.”
In their room Sano discovered that Reiko had emptied the boxes; journals, scrolls, and loose pages lay sorted into piles around the room. Pointing at various piles, she described their contents: “These are the left minister’s calendars, which list meetings, ceremonies, and holidays. Those are his notes on palace business. Drafts of imperial edicts. Letters from the bakufu and other court nobles. Banquet menus. His diaries include the history of his rivalry with Right Minister Ichijo, insults toward Lady Jokyden, and complaints about Emperor Tomohito’s bad behavior, but if there’s anything here to say who killed him, I can’t find it.”
“That doesn’t matter. Chamberlain Yanagisawa and I are almost certain that Ichijo is the murderer,” Sano said.
Reiko stood perfectly still as Sano told her about the apparent link between Ichijo and the imperial restoration conspiracy.
“Ichijo admits he was in the Pond Garden during Konoe’s murder,” Sano finished, “and his alibi for Aisu’s murder is weak. As a high court official and intelligent, ambitious politician, he’s the likeliest instigator of the revolt, although he claims he’s innocent and won’t talk. What I hope to find in the papers is a clue to the rebels’ strategy.”
“Then Kozeri really did see him. She told me the truth.” Reiko dropped to her knees. Wide-eyed, she pressed a hand to her throat as if choking.
“What’s wrong?” Alarmed, Sano knelt beside his wife.
To his delight, Reiko leaned into his embrace. He felt her trembling as she spoke through sobs: “Last night Kozeri said she’d tried to seduce you, but you wouldn’t let her because you love me. I didn’t believe her then, but I can now. And I know that she did use magic to deceive and entice you, because she tried the same thing with me. Please forgive me for doubting you!”
Sano held Reiko tight. Almost weeping himself in the bliss of their reunion, Sano whispered, “It’s all right now.” He thanked fate for the way the threads of the case had woven together.
After a moment Reiko disengaged from him. “Enough,” she said, wiping away tears. Her voice was brusque, but her face shone with relief and happiness. “We have work to do.”
They began going through the papers she’d sorted. Even with a war looming on the horizon, Sano found a keen pleasure in their task. Still, as he pored over documents, his hope of a successful search waned.
“I’m not finding anything useful,” he said. “Maybe the information is in code.”
Reiko laid aside a scroll and took up another. “If so, I didn’t recognize it. The meaning of all these writings seems perfectly clear to me. I can identify the purpose of each document, and there are no ambiguous phrases. I haven’t seen anything that I would judge as not what it appears to be.”
…ambiguous phrases…the meaning…seems perfectly clear…not what it appears to be…Reiko’s words formed a mesh of sound that drifted like a net through Sano’s mind and snared a dim, amorphous memory. Where had he recently read an ambiguous phrase whose meaning had seemed clear, but might not have been what it seemed? Instinct told him that
the answer was critically important. Holding his breath, Sano concentrated. The memory crystallized into bright clarity.
“We’re looking in the wrong place,” he said.
Reiko glanced at him in surprise. “You mean you don’t think the information is in Left Minister Konoe’s papers?”
“Yes, I do,” Sano said, “but these aren’t his only papers.” He hurried to the cabinet. “Konoe also wrote those letters to Kozeri.” With trembling fingers Sano took out the last letter. “This was written seven days before Konoe’s murder. Listen.” He read the angry expressions of unrequited love, concluding with the passage he’d recalled:
“‘Soon the forces of defense and desire will clash upon the lofty, sacred heights where spires pierce the sky, feathers drift, and clear water falls.’”
“It sounds like a poetic allusion to sex between a man who wants it and a woman who doesn’t,” Reiko said, “which describes the relationship between the left minister and Kozeri.”
“That’s what I thought at first. But what if he’s describing a different kind of struggle, at a real place? ‘Forces of defense and desire’ could mean the Tokugawa army and the rebels who want to take over Japan.” Another inspiration struck Sano. “Didn’t you say that Konoe had asked Kozeri to meet him at the palace to celebrate a ‘special occasion’?”
Reiko nodded; comprehension sparkled in her eyes. “He asked her six days after he wrote the letter, and one day before his death. Maybe he was hinting in the letter that he’d discovered the rebels’ strategy—”
“And where they planned to launch the attack,” Sano said.
“The ‘special occasion’ was the revolt, which would fail because Konoe was going to report it to the bakufu in time for the army to—”
“Head off the siege of Miyako. Then the bakufu would—”
“Reward Konoe by granting his request to shut down the Kodai Temple convent and force Kozeri to go back to him,” Reiko finished triumphantly.
Exhilarated by their shared reasoning, they laughed together. “I found the clue on our first day in Miyako, but I didn’t recognize its significance,” Sano said. “Now we just have to figure out where this place is.”
“Lofty, sacred heights,” Reiko mused. “Maybe Konoe was talking about a mountain, but if so, which one?”
“Spires could mean a temple,” Sano said, “though there must be as many of those as there are mountains in the Miyako area.”
“Drifting feathers and clear water?” Reiko shook her head.
“That part doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“I’ve read something like that before, in writings about Miyako…” Sano thought hard, but couldn’t grasp the memory. “My knowledge of the city is limited, but a local citizen might recognize the reference.”
He rushed out the door and found the innkeeper’s wife kneeling in the corridor, her ear to the wall. She gasped in alarm and said, “Hello, master.”
“Please come in,” Sano said, hurrying her into the room. He read her the passage from the letter. “Does that suggest anything to you?”
The woman smiled, obviously relieved because he didn’t scold her for eavesdropping. “Oh, of course. It means Kiyomizu Temple—the Clear-Water Temple on Sound-of-Feathers Mountain. A very beautiful place. You must see it while you’re in Miyako.”
“I expect I will. Many thanks for your help.”
Now Sano recalled what he’d read. Kiyomizu Temple, strategically situated on high ground, had been for centuries a favored spot for mobilizing troops and a secret rendezvous site of spies and rebels. He and Reiko exchanged jubilant smiles, but immediately sobered as their gazes moved to the window. It was nearly dusk.
There wasn’t much time to head off the rebels’ attack.
33
It was the last night of Obon. The time had come for the visiting souls of the dead to leave the world of the living. Throughout Miyako, people threw stones on roofs to drive the spirits away. As the pale pink sunset sky deepened to magenta, crowds converged upon the Kamo River. They launched small straw boats, each containing incense, a lantern to light the spirits’ way to the netherworld, food for the journey, and written prayers. The water became a sparkling stream of lights. Huge bonfires in the shape of auspicious characters burned on the hillsides, guiding the spirits back to the cemeteries.
Marching southeast from Nij Castle, the Tokugawa army, two thousand strong, made slow progress through streets flocked with citizens. “Make way!” shouted the banner bearers at the head of the procession. “Take cover. Go home!”
Gunners, archers, and mounted troops pushed through the heedless crowds. Sano, clad in full armor, rode at the end with the commanders. He said to Marume and Fukida, “The rebels probably chose tonight to attack because they thought the entire militia would be busy participating in the Obon rites.”
“If not for the emperor’s decision to announce his plans, they might have succeeded in capturing Miyako,” said Marume.
“They might still cause mass destruction,” Fukida said, “if we don’t get to Kiyomizu Temple in time.”
The army crossed the Gojo Bridge. Below, tiny bright boats floated downstream. For Sano, the scene had the atmosphere of a nightmare. The long Tokugawa peace had lulled the samurai class into complacency; never had he imagined riding off to civil war, except in fantasy. But fantasy had become reality. Beneath his metal breastplate, Sano’s heart thudded like the urgent cadence of a war drum. He smelled the sharp odor of nerves and anticipation rising from his comrades. Would he fulfill the ultimate samurai destiny of dying in battle for his lord? Sano offered a silent prayer that he and Reiko would be safely reunited. She was in Nij Manor, protected by her guards, and she’d promised that if the war reached the city, she wouldn’t join the fight. Sano hoped she would keep that promise.
Someone rode up beside him. “Are you ready, ssakan Sano?”
It was Chamberlain Yanagisawa, mounted on a black steed. He wore a magnificent suit of red-lacquered armor and a golden-horned helmet. Since learning the rebels’ plans, he’d applied his impressive organizing skills to the task of defending the regime. He’d marshaled the best fighters and gotten them under way in an impossibly short time, while leaving forces behind to guard the city. Sano had been amazed to discover that inside the corrupt chamberlain beat the heart of a samurai.
Now, as they rode through the eastern suburbs toward Kiyomizu Temple, Sano bowed to Yanagisawa, who looked the perfect general, ready to inspire his troops to victory. Never had Sano envisioned fighting under the command of the man who’d so often tried to destroy him. Yet the ancient mystique of great warriors like Tokugawa Ieyasu and Toyotomi Hideyoshi surrounded Yanagisawa like a magic spell. The warrior in Sano cleaved to it. He willingly placed his life in his enemy’s service.
“You understand your orders?” Yanagisawa said. The gaze he swept over Sano, Marume, and Fukida was clear of animosity, focused on larger concerns than personal strife.
“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain. We three will find the emperor and capture him alive,” Sano said.
“Good. I’m counting on you.”
As Yanagisawa moved on to confer with his other commanders, Sano felt strangely uplifted by the encounter. Surely all the men present would fight their best for Yanagisawa tonight.
The approach to Kiyomizu Temple led the army up a steep incline, along a narrow lane of shops where craftsmen had produced pottery for generations. High above loomed the temple gate, its square arch and flaring roof stark against a landscape of forested cliffs. The sky was the color of a fresh wound.
A murmur rippled through the ranks of the army: “Listen!”
From beyond the gate came the thunder of hoofbeats. Torches borne through the temple precinct by the approaching rebel army cast an eerie glow. Sano felt battle lust consuming him and his allies like invisible flames.
Chamberlain Yanagisawa called, “Ambush them at the top of the hill!”
The army surged forward, reaching the cre
st just as several thousand rebels stampeded through the gate and down broad stone stairs leading to a plaza. Some were samurai in elaborate armor, but many wore ragged peasant clothes. Gangsters sported leather tunics over bare, tattooed skin. White hoods cowled the shaved heads of priests in saffron robes. Banner bearers waved flags imprinted with the imperial crest. Foot soldiers carried bows, guns, and spears; mounted troops brandished swords and lances. Their torches illuminated shocked faces: They hadn’t expected such prompt opposition. Now they froze in ranks.
“You’re trapped!” Yanagisawa shouted from his position behind his troops. “Surrender!”
Instead, a defiant yell came from the rebel general, a mounted samurai clad in full armor: “Stand and fight!”
Simultaneously the archers and gunners of both armies dropped to their knees, aiming bows and arquebuses. A storm of arrows whirred across the plaza. Volleys of gunfire rocked the night. Amid gunpowder fumes and smoke, men fell dead and injured. Conch trumpets and war drums signaled troop movements. Then a maelstrom of swinging blades and rearing horses engulfed the plaza as the troops fought. Pressing forward through the melee, Sano felt arrows clatter against his armor. A rebel samurai galloped at him, waving a sword. Sano cut his opponent across the neck. The rebel’s horse galloped away, dragging a corpse. The glory of destruction horrified Sano, and thrilled him to the core of his samurai spirit.
“Come on!” he shouted to Marume and Fukida. “Let’s find the emperor!”
They fended off attackers while their mounts trampled fallen bodies. Torches lay scattered on the ground. In their light, Sano scrutinized the rebel soldiers. He didn’t see the emperor among them. He guessed that the rebels wouldn’t allow Tomohito to join the battle. Tomohito represented their claim to power, and they needed to keep him safe.
“He must be in the temple,” Sano said.
As he and his men urged their mounts up the stairs beyond the plaza, gunfire exploded behind them. Shots ricocheted off Sano’s armor, jolting him. Marume’s lance speared a swordsman who blocked their way, but another rebel dragged him off his mount. While they fought, a bullet struck Fukida’s horse. It screamed and tumbled down the stairs. Fukida jumped out of the saddle, but his arm caught in the reins. Sano leapt from his own mount and jerked Fukida loose. They fought the enemy past twin statues of roaring lion-dogs and up the second flight of steps, leaving dead men in their wake. Marume joined them. They raced through the gate.
The Samurai's Wife Page 32