Sano Ichiro 5 The Samurai's Wife (2000)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  "What conspiracy?" An incredulous look came over Hoshina's face. "Turned me in for what?"

  "Don't play stupid with me. You've been gathering troops and weapons at Lord Ibe's house, and you couldn't take the chance that I might discover the plot to overthrow the Tokugawa. My death would cause a great upheaval in the bakufu. It would be a while before anyone reopened the investigation into Konoe's murder, and in the meantime, you could launch your coup. So you came after me. You killed Aisu because you couldn't tell which of us was which in the dark." Yanagisawa slammed Hoshina against the wall. "Murderer! Traitor!"

  Now Hoshina's eyes blazed with anger. "Those are fine insults, coming from you. I've never murdered anyone, but everybody knows you have. I'm not plotting to overthrow the government, but you've already stolen the shogun's authority. If you want to see a real murderer and traitor, look in the mirror!"

  The yoriki shoved Yanagisawa away from him. Rage erupted within the chamberlain. "How dare you lay hands on me?"

  "You were perfectly content to have my hands on you the other night," Hoshina retorted.

  "Don't mock me!" Yanagisawa kicked at Hoshina's knees and crotch, flung blows at his head and chest, all the while yelling curses.

  At first Hoshina only ducked the strikes. "How can you treat me like this, after what I've done for you?" he cried. "I put myself in jeopardy by sabotaging Sano. Would I have risked conspiring against the shogun's sosakan if not to help you?"

  "Stop trying to justify what you did!" Yanagisawa grabbed Hoshina, then punched his chin so hard that his head jerked back. "You wanted the power and wealth that I could give you. You wanted Sano gone so he couldn't interfere with your plans."

  The yoriki shot out a forearm and bludgeoned Yanagisawa's face. Pain exploded in Yanagisawa's head. Then they were caught up in the whirlwind of earnest combat. Yanagisawa's armor protected his body, but he took more blows to his face. He pummeled Hoshina. They crashed to the floor together. As they grappled for each other's throats, desire inflamed Yanagisawa. He wanted Hoshina as badly as he wanted to kill the man with his bare hands.

  Then the cell was full of men. They dragged Hoshina off Yanagisawa, begging, "Stop, Hoshina-san!"

  Yanagisawa sat up and saw two yoriki holding Hoshina. Fury contorted Hoshina's face as he struggled against them. Marume helped Yanagisawa stand. His left eye had begun to swell and his entire body was sore, but as far as he could tell, nothing was broken. As he stalked out of the cell, his spirit ached with an agony that had nothing to do with physical pain.

  "Yanagisawa-san."

  Hoshina's voice, filled with pleading, stabbed Yanagisawa like a jagged metal blade. Against his will, he turned.

  Now Hoshina stood meekly while the police held him. "I swear upon my honor that I never wanted to hurt you, and I'm truly sorry I did." Sincerity shone in his eyes, which gazed out at Yanagisawa from a bloody, bruised face.

  "More lies and apologies won't save you from paying for your crimes. I sentence you to death." Even as he condemned Hoshina, Yanagisawa suffered an onslaught of desire and grief. He acknowledged a devastating truth.

  He was in love with Hoshina. Love was the cause of the yearning he'd felt for the yoriki, the source and substance of the comradeship that had grown between them. He should have known. And he should have known better.

  "If you'll give me another chance, I'll make it up to you," Hoshina said. "I'll help you solve the murder case, devote my life to your service-anything you want. I'll prove that I'm innocent of any crimes. Just please..." Emotion cracked his voice. "Have mercy."

  Yanagisawa turned his back on Hoshina. Even if the yoriki wasn't guilty of murder or treason, he deserved to die. He must die so that Yanagisawa could thwart Sano's blackmail. And Yanagisawa would never again make the mistake of falling in love.

  "You'll be executed tomorrow morning," he said.

  The battering ram struck the gate of Lord Ibe's house with a thunderous crash, splintering wood and breaking hinges. Soldiers rushed through the portals. More troops climbed the fences around the house and swarmed the property. Brandishing swords and spears, they shouted, "In the name of the shogun, come out and surrender!"

  Chamberlain Yanagisawa charged into the front yard after his men. He welcomed action that would take his mind off the pain of Hoshina's betrayal. He wanted to forget that he still loved Hoshina and mourned the yoriki's impending death, even though he'd ordered it himself. He must avert the possible threat to the regime, and the capture of the outlaws represented a new chance to solve the murders.

  The troops were inside the house now. As Yanagisawa entered, they stormed the corridor and rooms. Above him pounded the footsteps of the men who'd invaded the second story. Shouts echoed in the dim, musty space. Yanagisawa gripped his sword. His desire to be a great detective persisted; he discovered in himself a need to prove he was capable of more than just sabotaging Sano. The thrill of the raid stirred the place deep inside him where his samurai spirit lay dormant. With a strange, heady anticipation, Yanagisawa hungered for battle.

  Then Detective Marume came running from the back of the house. "Nobody in here, Honorable Chamberlain," he said.

  Detective Fukida clattered down the stairs. "'Second floor's empty, too. They've all cleared out."

  Yanagisawa's spirits plunged. "What about the weapons?"

  Fukida shook his head. Marume said, "We didn't find any."

  The soldiers gathered in the corridor, sheathing their swords. Yanagisawa cursed, using temper to hide the despair that filled him as his suspicions about Hoshina grew. Had the yoriki somehow managed to send orders for the outlaws to move the arsenal after Sano imprisoned him? Yanagisawa didn't wish to acknowledge the worst sins of his lover, or admit defeat. He wanted to torture Hoshina into revealing the outlaws' whereabouts; he wanted to vent his fury while slaking his desire.

  "Search the place again," he said. "Look for anything that might tell us where the outlaws are or what they're planning."

  While the men obeyed, Yanagisawa inspected the storerooms. They were empty, although the air still reeked of gunpowder. A single round bullet lay under the window. Yanagisawa picked up the bullet and cupped it despondently in his palm. His mood grew bleaker when the troops came to report an unsuccessful search.

  "Ask the neighbors if they know where the occupants went," Yanagisawa said. "If not, I want the city and surrounding areas searched for the arsenal. The outlaws may have gone to join their confederates. Find them before we have a war on our hands."

  He lingered in the empty arsenal. Tracing the outlaws would probably require a long, tedious search that would keep him in Miyako for ages. Yanagisawa hated the thought of reporting the bad news to his bakufu subordinates, who would spread the tale of his unsuccessful raid, setting him up to take the blame if a revolt did materialize. He dreaded spending the night alone at Nijo Castle, knowing that Hoshina would soon be dead. Crouching on the floor, he laid his head on his knees and succumbed to misery.

  22

  An incongruous sight greeted Sano and Right Minister Ichijo at the emperor's residence. Two armies of banner bearers, archers, gunners, spearmen, and mounted swordsmen faced off across the courtyard. The troops wore armor in the style of four centuries before, featuring huge arm flaps, long tunics, and intricate lacing. Sunlight glinted off polished helmets; a war drum boomed across a battle scene straight out of history.

  Then, as Sano drew nearer, the illusion dissolved. The weapons were wooden; the horses were painted papier-mache heads mounted on sticks. None of the soldiers was more than sixteen years old. Most wore only bits of tattered armor, as though the imperial treasure-house hadn't supplied enough equipment for everyone. These were young courtiers at play, not samurai at war. Waiting for a signal to begin fighting, they giggled and pushed one another.

  Suddenly a loud whoop rang out. At the rear of one army, Emperor Tomohito, clad in a complete, splendid suit of armor, raised a war fan bearing the gold imperial chrysanthemum crest. Straddling
his toy horse, he ran up the side of the battlefield. So much for the rule forbidding the emperor's feet to touch the ground, Sano thought.

  "His Majesty enjoys war games," Ichijo said, then bowed and departed.

  The archers let blunt-tipped arrows fly. Gunners aimed toy arquebuses, shouting, "Bang! Bang!" Wooden swords and spears made a racket as foot soldiers and horsemen clashed. Some boys on the emperor's side wore the insignia of northern and western samurai clans; others sported the white cowls of warrior priests. The other side wore armor with the red lacing associated with the Minamoto regime that had once ruled Japan. Recognizing the battle, Sano wondered why Emperor Tomohito had chosen to re-enact it.

  Then he heard hoots coming from the sidelines. Near a collection of spare weapons stood Prince Momozono. He wore a plain cotton kimono and a helmet much too big for him. His arms and head jerked.

  Approaching, Sano greeted the prince.

  Momozono's hoots turned to squeals of alarm. As he lurched around to face Sano, his leg buckled, and he fell. Fear glazed his rolling eyes as he struggled to rise.

  "I'm sorry I startled you," Sano said, again feeling instinctive disgust. He warned himself that the prince was still a suspect, and one he hadn't had a chance to investigate thoroughly. He couldn't assume that Momozono was harmless. Hiding his distaste, Sano reached out to the fallen prince. "Let me help you up."

  "N-no, thank you, that's all right." Hoot, puff, gasp. Twitching all over, Momozono somehow managed to stand.

  Pity moved Sano. He spoke gently, as if to a child: "Well, this is certainly an exciting battle. Are you the captain of the arsenal?"

  "I'm not much good at anything, but H-his Majesty is kind enough to give me a p-part in his games."

  More noises accompanied Momozono's answer, but Sano couldn't mistake the emphasis on the last word. Momozono was no childlike cripple, but a mature man who understood the difference between make-believe and the terrible reality of his own existence.

  "You're fond of the emperor, then?" Sano asked, watching Tomohito gallop across the battlefield.

  "Yes." Momozono made barking sounds, like a dog.

  "I understand that His Majesty treated you kindly and gave you a place at court when no one else wanted you around."

  "He did m-more than that." Momozono gripped his arms, forcing them to hold still. "If not for him, I would be dead." Unpleasant memory clouded his straining face.

  "Tell me what happened," Sano said.

  Prince Momozono hesitated: He obviously knew the danger a murder suspect courted by confiding in the shogun's sosakan. Yet Sano sensed in him an impulse that opposed caution. How often did anyone bother talking to him? How much he must yearn for communication! Finally, Momozono spoke.

  "W-when I was young, I lived in the imperial children's palace with the other p-princes and princesses. Then, in the s-spring when I was eight, my affliction started. I w-was scolded and beaten, but I couldn't control myself. The d-doctors couldn't discover what was wrong with me. They forced m-medicines down my throat and gave me purges and enemas." Through the grunts that punctuated the words echoed the anguish of a child who didn't understand what was happening to him. "Priests s-said I was possessed by a demon. They lit fires around me and ch-chanted spells to drive it out.

  "B-but nothing worked. I got worse. Finally I was l-locked in a storehouse. Every day a s-servant opened the door and put food inside. I was allowed to come out only wh-when the storehouse was c-cleaned. The s-servant would throw b-buckets of water inside and sweep out the filth. Then he stripped me and threw water on m-me. There was only one w-window in the storehouse. All I could s-see was the sky through the b-branches of a cherry tree. For a whole y-year I lived there."

  Sano imagined the young Momozono hooting and convulsing in his prison, watching the cherry blossoms bloom then drift to the ground, the leaves unfurl then drop, until snow covered the boughs. Empathy had no place in a murder investigation, but the prince's story affected Sano deeply.

  "Then one night, s-some men came. They wrapped me up in qu-quilts so I couldn't m-move, and tied a gag over my mouth. They c-carried me away in a palanquin. They didn't t-tell me where they were taking me, but I h-heard them talking about how I was going to live in exile. I was glad because I thought Exile was the n-name of a place where children like m-me could be happy. I didn't know any better."

  His voice broke on a sob; his eyes teared. Grimacing and puffing, he said, "We traveled for a l-long time. At last we stopped at a m-mountain village. It was d-dark and snowing and very c-cold. The men set me down outside the v-village and untied my gag. Then they picked up the palanquin and left." Momozono sniffled; he tried to wipe his nose, but his hand flew upward, and he used the other to pull it down. "I was terrified. I didn't know what to do, so I sat and w-waited.

  "F-finally it began getting light. The v-villagers came. They d-didn't want me any more than the Imperial Court did." The prince gulped and blinked. "I sat alone for t-two days, freezing and h-hungry and scared." Ragged sobs choked him. "P-please excuse me."

  Filled with pity, Sano imagined what had happened when the villagers found Momozono. Probably they'd taunted him and stoned him before leaving him to die.

  "Then I b-began to feel sleepy and warm," Momozono said. "I stopped caring what h-happened to me. I was on the verge of d-death. But then the m-men returned. They took me back to the palace. I was washed and fed and given a r-room in the emperor's residence. His M-majesty came in. He s-said he'd dreamed about a demon who threatened to cause a terrible p-plague unless h-he rescued me and made me his c-companion. L-later I heard people saying he'd invented the whole story and b-brought me back to spite everyone. But I was too g-grateful to care why he'd saved me."

  His face twisted with tics and emotion, Momozono gazed at Emperor Tomohito, who was beating his sword on the helmet of another soldier. Boyish cries arose as the battle raged on. "Because of His M-majesty, I'm allowed to live here." He added softly, "I've done my b-best to repay His Majesty."

  By giving him a false alibi? Sano wondered. Whatever the emperor's motive for saving Momozono, he'd won the devotion of his cousin. Sano caught himself falling into the assumption that Momozono's affliction rendered him incapable of any worse crime than lying to protect the emperor. Momozono had revealed himself as a man of intelligence. To have survived his ordeals, he must be stronger than he looked.

  "Your loyalty must be of valuable help to His Majesty," Sano said. Momozono humbly shook his head, but his eyes brightened with pleasure. "Now perhaps you can help me. How well did you know Left Minister Konoe?"

  The prince hopped up and down, hooting and growling, striking out with his fists.

  Startled, Sano dodged the blows. "You didn't care for the left minister, then?"

  Rolling his eyes, Momozono reeled backward. "Forgive me, I can't h-help myself."

  "I think it's more than that," Sano said. "What did Konoe do to you?"

  "I suppose you'll find out from someone else if I don't tell you. L-left M-minister Konoe was the one who had me locked up in the storehouse. H-he gave the order to exile me." Momozono looked Sano straight in the eye, and Sano fought the impulse to avert his gaze from the prince's twitching face. "Yes, I-I hated him," Momozono said defiantly. "When His Majesty and I found him dead, I rejoiced. But I didn't do it. If I'd wanted to kill him, why would I have waited t-ten years?"

  Hatred could fester over time, Sano knew. Momozono and the emperor shared an alibi. Which of them was it really meant to protect? Tomohito had rescued his cousin once already.

  With a self-deprecating laugh, Momozono said, "How can you think I could k-kill anybody?"

  Just then, Emperor Tomohito waved to him from across the battlefield, calling, "Bring me another sword!"

  Momozono picked up a sword from the pile of toy weapons. He dropped it twice as he lurched toward the emperor. Watching, Sano tried and failed to imagine him as the killer. If Momozono fumbled the simplest tasks, how could he master the art of kiai? W
here would he have learned it? Perhaps he exaggerated his symptoms, but Sano still believed that the conspiracy and the murder of Left Minister Konoe were related. How could a despised outcast mount an insurrection?

  The emperor spied Sano. Ignoring the sword Momozono offered him, he dropped his toy horse and swaggered over. "What do you want?" he demanded.

  Kneeling, Sano bowed, honoring the churlish youth as the descendant of the gods. Had they granted his bloodline the power to manipulate cosmic forces? Had his imperial ancestors bequeathed to him the secret of kiai?

  "I've come to ask you some questions," Sano said.

  "Stand up," Tomohito ordered.

  Obeying, Sano returned the emperor's scrutiny. The armor added bulk to Tomohito's large build, and menace to his petulant, childish face. He said, "You've got nerve coming here, after what you did. You arrested my consort! You knocked me down!"

  Sano noted these offenses as motives for Tomohito to want him dead.