“I’ve come about your daughter,” Reiko said.
The woman’s smile vanished; displeasure thinned her lips. “My daughter isn’t here. It’s been many years since she’s lived in this house.”
“She is Lady Wisteria, the courtesan?” Reiko said, wanting to make sure they were both talking about the same person.
Madam Yue looked away and nodded.
“You know she disappeared from Yoshiwara the night when the shogun’s heir was murdered?”
Another nod from Madam Yue; she twisted her dainty hands together at her bosom and frowned into space.
“My husband needs to find Wisteria,” said Reiko. “I was hoping you could help us.”
“I haven’t seen her, and I don’t know where she’s gone,” Madam Yue said. Her elegance had deserted her; she spoke in a flat, common voice. “I’m not surprised she’s in trouble, though. If you find her, I would appreciate it if you would tell her not to expect any help from me.”
Though Reiko was disappointed that this expedition wouldn’t reveal the location of Wisteria, the woman’s attitude intrigued her. Clearly, there had been trouble between Wisteria and her mother. “Maybe if you tell me about your daughter, that will give me a clue to where she is,” Reiko said.
Madam Yue’s mouth twitched and her gaze darted. She looked anxious to avoid speaking of Wisteria, yet afraid to offend the ssakan-sama’s wife. She sighed in resignation.
“How did Wisteria come to be a courtesan?” Reiko asked.
“That kind of thing doesn’t usually happen in our family,” Madam Yue burst out. “But she deserved it. I’m glad I sold her to the brothel!”
This woman had willingly delivered her own daughter into a life of degradation. Reiko was horrified into speechlessness.
“When she was a little girl I loved her so much, but she went bad.” Madam Yue spoke in a rush, her round eyes glittering with shame, tears, and a need to justify herself. “I did without things so I could buy pretty clothes for her, and she repaid good with evil!”
The woman sniffled angrily and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “It started when she was thirteen, after her father died. He was a laborer in a boatyard. He hurt his leg there, and it festered, and the sickness killed him. I didn’t know how Wisteria and I would live, because we had no money or family. But then the owner of the boatyard offered me a job as a maid—in this house. He let me bring my girl to live here with me and help with the work. It turned out that he fancied me. The next year we were married. I became the mistress of the house.”
She smiled through her tears, proud of her advancement in society, but then her expression turned bitter. “I should have noticed how Wisteria looked at him, and how he looked at her, and bought her things, and paid more attention to her than to me. But I never suspected. Then one night I was wakened by noises in the house. You’ll understand what I mean when I say they were the kind of noises that shouldn’t have been coming from anywhere except the room where my husband and I sleep. He was supposed to be working late that night. I thought one of the maids had sneaked in a man. So I got up and went to throw them out.
“But I discovered that the noises were coming from Wisteria’s room. I looked inside. And I saw them. They were in bed together—Wisteria and my husband!” Indignation blazed in Madam Yue’s eyes. “I grabbed him and pulled him away from Wisteria. I began hitting him, and I shouted, ‘Leave my girl alone, you beast!’ ”
Pantomiming her actions, Madam Yue beat her fists at the air. Reiko winced, imagining the innocent child mistreated by her stepfather.
“He fell on the floor,” Madam Yue continued. “I hurried to Wisteria and said, ‘Are you all right?’ And the sight of her froze my heart. I expected her to be frightened and crying. But she stood up, stark naked, with her head high.” Madam Yue rose, her manner cruelly triumphant. “She said, ‘I love him, Mother. And he loves me, not you. He only married you so he could have me, because I’m the one he’s always wanted. And now that I’m old enough, he’s going to marry me.’
“I couldn’t believe what she said. I was so shocked that I stood there gaping at her, shaking my head.” The woman’s attitude altered to suit her words. “Then Wisteria said to my husband, ‘Tell her it’s true. Tell her you’re going to divorce her, like you promised, so we can marry.”
While Reiko sat amazed by this story, Madam Yue said, “I turned to my husband. ‘She’s lying,’ I said to him. ‘Tell me she’s lying.’ But he just hung his head and sat there. And I realized that Wisteria had seduced him into betraying me. I rushed at her and shouted, ‘Wicked slut! How dare you steal my husband?’ I slapped her face. I pulled her hair. I threw her to the floor and trampled her. She called to my husband to save her. But he didn’t move, he wouldn’t look at us. Wisteria started crying. I cursed and beat her until my strength gave out. We all sat in that room, without speaking, for the rest of the night.”
Madam Yue sank to her knees, her expression murderous. Reiko pictured the guilty man, the raging wife, and the weeping girl, characters in a tragic play.
“You can see why I had to get rid of my daughter.” Madam Yue turned a defiant gaze on Reiko. “My husband wasn’t really going to marry her and throw me out, but if she stayed, she would make him always want her instead of me.” Bitterness curdled the woman’s voice. “I couldn’t just put her out of the house, because she would come back and persuade my husband to take her in again. And she deserved to be punished.
“When morning came, I told them what we were going to do. Wisteria begged my forgiveness, but I ignored her. My husband took us in a ferry up the river to Yoshiwara. We walked to the gate, and I said to a guard, ‘I want to sell my daughter.’ He fetched the brothel-masters. They fought over Wisteria because she was so pretty. I sold her to the one who offered me the most money. It was enough that I thought she’d be trapped in Yoshiwara forever. As the man took her into the quarter, she begged my husband not to leave her. She cursed me and screamed that I would be sorry for what I’d done, but I just walked away. My husband followed me. We went home.”
Reiko was appalled. What Madam Yue had done was worse than poor peasants selling children they couldn’t afford to raise. Those peasants gave up the children so they would be fed and clothed at the brothels, while Madam Yue had sought to condemn Wisteria to a lifetime of prostitution. Reiko glanced at O-hana, who gave a smug nod, as if to say, I told you that lies sound better than the truth. Wisteria must have created a new personal history for herself because she didn’t want to tell people that she’d brought about her own disgrace and her mother had won their battle for the man they both wanted. Reiko pondered what implications the courtesan’s falsehood had for the murder case. At the very least, it suggested that Wisteria was a more complex woman than Reiko or Sano had thought.
A man dressed in the dark, respectable cotton robes of a successful merchant peered through the parlor doorway. Madam Yue saw him, and a look of guilty chagrin came over her face. “Honorable Husband. You’re home early.” Flustered, she introduced him and Reiko.
They bowed to each other, murmuring polite greetings. Reiko noted that the man was some years younger than his wife, and handsome. His diffident manner suggested weakness of personality, and Reiko perceived that he would always yield to the person with the strongest will. His young stepdaughter hadn’t stood a chance against her outraged, overpowering mother.
The man withdrew. A moment passed in uncomfortable silence while Madam Yue twisted her hands nervously. She said, “I don’t like to talk about the past when my husband is around,” then forced a bright, artificial smile at Reiko. “Many thanks for the honor of your visit. I hope you have a pleasant trip home.”
She was obviously eager to see her guests gone. Reiko thanked Madam Yue for her cooperation and allowed the woman to escort her and O-hana outside. The afternoon continued sunless and bleak; moisture in the air condensed into icy droplets that chilled Reiko’s face. Pausing before she climbed into her palanquin, she turned to
Madam Yue.
“Was that day at Yoshiwara the last time you saw your daughter?” Reiko asked.
Madam Yue hardened her mouth. “I wish it had been. But Wisteria came back here about four years ago.”
“She did?” Reiko said, surprised. “How?”
Courtesans were forbidden to leave Yoshiwara, except in special cases. A tayu could only go home to visit fatally ill parents, and that circumstance didn’t apply to Wisteria.
“I came home from shopping,” Madam Yue said, “and I found Wisteria in my room. She was all grown up, and beautiful, and dressed in the highest fashion.” The murderous look darkened the woman’s features again. “She was slashing my clothes with a knife. There was a big pile of shredded fabric on the floor around her.
“I said, ‘How did you get here? What do you think you’re doing?’ Wisteria said, ‘I’ve been freed. And I’m paying you back for what you did to me.’ Then she urinated on my ruined clothes. I shouted, ‘Get out of here!’ She laughed and said, ‘May you be reborn into the life of degradation that I suffered.’ And she swept out of the house. That was the last I’ve seen of her. And good riddance!” Madam Yue snorted; fury glinted in her eyes.
Though Wisteria’s violence and crudity disgusted Reiko, she could sympathize with the courtesan’s need for revenge. And the story offered a possible clue.
“Who was it that freed Wisteria?” Reiko asked.
“She didn’t say. Later I heard he was a wealthy, high-ranking official.”
One aspect of the story perplexed Reiko. She said, “If this man freed Wisteria, why did she return to Yoshiwara?”
“I don’t know.” An unpleasant smile twisted Madam Yue’s lips. “But I’m glad she did.”
Reiko decided she must find out the identity of the man. Perhaps he and Wisteria had kept in contact, and he knew where she was. “Did Wisteria have any close friends I might talk to?” Reiko meant to continue probing Wisteria’s past, which seemed a rich source of enlightenment.
“There was a girl named Yuya. She lived down the street when she and Wisteria were young. I heard she went bad, too, but I don’t know what became of her.”
“If you should see Wisteria, or hear from her, will you please send a message to my husband’s estate at Edo Castle to let me know?” Reiko said.
“Oh, I certainly will,” Madam Yue replied, with a nasty chuckle that conveyed how much she would like to turn her daughter in to the shogun’s ssakan-sama. “Does your husband think Wisteria killed Lord Mitsuyoshi?”
“He’s investigating the possibility,” Reiko admitted.
“Well, you can tell him that she’s mean and spiteful and cunning enough to be the murderer,” Madam Yue said. “And when he catches her, I’ll be plenty glad to say so at her trial.”
19
The guards at the Court of Justice opened the broad, carved door for Sano. He and four of his detectives entered the cavernous room, which was filled with men kneeling in rows all the way up to the shirasu, an area of floor covered with white sand, symbol of truth. There knelt Treasury Minister Nitta. Head bowed, his wrists shackled, he faced the low dais at the front of the room. On the dais, flanked by two secretaries stationed behind desks equipped with paper and writing implements, sat Magistrate Aoki.
Sano and his men knelt at the back of the audience. The magistrate addressed Nitta in a cracked but resonant voice: “We have just heard evidence that you stole from the treasury.” His face reminded Sano of a bitter-melon—tapering and deeply wrinkled, his eyes like black stones embedded in furrows. He wore black ceremonial robes adorned with gold crests. His bald scalp reflected light from the lanterns above the dais. “You may now speak for yourself if you wish.”
“I confess that I took the money, betrayed my lord’s trust, and dishonored myself,” Nitta said. His quiet words conveyed no feeling, but his shoulders slumped in despair. The penalty for stealing from the Tokugawa was death, as everyone knew.
“I hereby pronounce you guilty of embezzlement and treason,” said Magistrate Aoki.
Sano drew a breath to ask that Aoki delay the execution until he solved the murder case. He might need more information from Nitta, and he wanted all the suspects alive until he determined who was the killer. But the magistrate spoke first.
“I will wait to sentence you because you are accused of yet another serious crime,” he said to Nitta. “You will now undergo trial for the murder of Lord Mitsuyoshi.”
The treasury minister jerked upright, as if pierced by shock. Disbelief stunned Sano. Magistrate Aoki intended to try Nitta here, today, for the murder, and hadn’t even notified Sano! Then Sano realized he should have expected this. The magistrate aspired to a loftier status than his present post, and he never gave up trying for a promotion. He always insinuated himself into high-level bakufu business, hoping to impress the shogun. Unsatisfied with condemning Treasury Minister Nitta for embezzlement, he’d seized the chance to prosecute Nitta as the murderer of the shogun’s heir.
Magistrate Aoki now stared across the room at Sano, defying him to object.
“Honorable Magistrate, with all due respect, I must ask that you postpone the murder trial.” Despite his anger, Sano spoke politely because he knew the danger inherent in his request. Heads swiveled toward him, and he recognized important bakufu officials among the audience. “I also ask you to defer Treasury Minister Nitta’s sentence for embezzlement and keep him under house arrest for now.”
“Why is that?” Magistrate Aoki’s stony eyes glinted.
Sano saw the treasury minister gazing at him in avid hope of reprieve. Nitta’s normally pale skin had acquired the same gray color as his hair; he looked to have aged a decade since Sano had last met him.
“The murder investigation isn’t finished,” Sano said, although alarmed to take the dubious position of protecting a criminal from the law. “It hasn’t yet been established whether Treasury Minister Nitta or someone else is the killer. And I need him to be available for interrogation.”
“Your request is noted—and regretfully declined.” Magistrate Aoki’s manner was deferential, but laced with enjoyment. “I remind you that a magistrate has the right to schedule trials and sentences at his discretion.”
While Sano enjoyed high status in the bakufu because he belonged to the shogun’s inner court, his actual rank was ambiguous. Whether he had authority over other officials was a matter of constant debate.
“The court shall proceed,” Magistrate Aoki continued. “Whatever punishment I deem appropriate for Treasury Minister Nitta shall be meted out today.”
“His Excellency the Shogun has given me the responsibility for identifying the killer of Lord Mitsuyoshi,” Sano said, struggling to control his rage. “For Treasury Minister Nitta to be tried for murder and punished for embezzlement today will interfere with my duty.”
“I begin to think that you wish to delay justice for your own sake.” Menace lurked beneath Aoki’s even voice; the audience stirred in uneasy anticipation. “Would you rather see the murderer of His Excellency’s heir go unpunished than have someone other than yourself determine whether Treasury Minister Nitta is guilty?”
This was tantamount to an accusation of treason, and Sano knew that if he persisted in opposing the trial, the accusation might stick. Defeated, he shook his head and seethed in silence. What bad luck that Aoki was on duty this month, instead of Reiko’s father! Magistrate Ueda wouldn’t place self-aggrandizement before reason.
“We shall hear the first witness,” Magistrate Aoki said.
Mixed feelings beset Sano. He didn’t want to see Aoki prove Treasury Minister Nitta’s guilt when he himself couldn’t; but if the magistrate served justice by convicting Nitta, then Sano had no right to complain. Much as he would hate to lose face and the shogun’s regard if Aoki solved the mystery, an end to the investigation would quiet the unrest in the bakufu and save Sano trouble even if his reputation suffered. Furthermore, Sano was curious to see what the trial revealed.
One of the secretaries said, “Kacho, courtesan of Yoshiwara, is ordered to come forward.”
In the front row of the audience, a woman shuffled forth on her knees and stopped near the shirasu. Sano recognized her as one of the courtesans who’d entertained party guests at the Owariya the night Lord Mitsuyoshi died.
“Are you acquainted with Treasury Minister Nitta?” the magistrate asked her.
She bowed and replied meekly: “Yes, Honorable Magistrate.”
“Was he so much in love with Lady Wisteria that he reserved all her appointments because he didn’t want any other man to have her?”
“Yes, Honorable Magistrate.”
“Let it be noted that Treasury Minister Nitta is a jealous man who went to great lengths to keep Lady Wisteria all to himself,” Magistrate Aoki said to the assembly. “This witness is dismissed. We shall hear the next one.”
Sano’s objection to the trial gained force because Magistrate Aoki had used the witness as a puppet to confirm his own statements, which set Treasury Minister Nitta up as the murderer. Virtually all trials in Japan ended with a guilty verdict, and this one was looking to be an example of how Aoki maintained the trend.
The second witness was the proprietor of the Owariya. Magistrate Aoki asked him, “Did Treasury Minister Nitta keep his appointment with Lady Wisteria the night of the murder?”
When the proprietor replied in the negative, Magistrate Aoki said, “Why not?”
“Lord Mitsuyoshi requested Lady Wisteria’s company, and Treasury Minister Nitta yielded to him,” said the proprietor.
“Was the treasury minister angry and upset because Lord Mitsuyoshi took his appointment with the woman he loved?”
“Very angry. Very upset.”
“Let it be noted that Treasury Minister Nitta’s anger toward the victim and bad mood were ample reasons for murder,” said Magistrate Aoki.
The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria Page 17