Then he saw he’d misjudged the angle of the blow, the force required to kill, or his opponent’s determination. Lord Niu righted himself with great agility. His broken jaw distorting his face into a ferocious, lopsided leer, he glared at Sano with undiminished fury. He lunged, his flashing blade whitening the air.
Sano’s left arm was virtually useless, and his right began to tire under the force of the repeated blows. Lord Niu gave him no time to recover his own sword. But his perception sharpened until he reached a state of extraordinary mental clarity that he’d never before attained.
He acted without conscious thought, anticipating and countering Lord Niu’s moves with his own. Although he kept his attention riveted on his opponent, he was simultaneously aware of everything in and around him. The battles still raged. He saw-without watching-a guard slice the throats of two men in rapid succession. Pain existed; he couldn’t forget O-hisa, Raiden, Tsunehiko, Wisteria, his father, or his loathing for this man who had driven his mother to murder and suicide. But memory, emotion, and physical sensation simply merged with the oneness of his inner self. They fed his strength, inspired his judgment.
Moving with increasing aggressiveness, he used the other edge he had over Lord Niu-mobility. First swooping near and then bounding away, he forced Lord Niu to follow him. He jabbed Lord Niu’s torso again and again with the point of the jitte. He paid for his extra risks when Lord Niu’s blade sliced his forearms and cheek, but the added pain became another source of power and knowledge. Suddenly he grasped the central truth about his opponent: Lord Niu wanted to kill, but he also wanted to die. The two desires balanced each other. That was the real reason why he wanted to assassinate the shogun, and the reason he’d chosen to attack in a place from which there was little chance for escape.
Backhanding a blow to his opponent’s good leg, Sano knocked Lord Niu to his knees. He felt the balance between the young man’s kill-wish and death-wish shift for an instant. His twisted face contorted further in agony, Lord Niu paused before rising-just long enough for Sano to shift the jitte to his left hand, crouch, and rise again with his long sword in his right. A heady surge of elation erupted inside him. He tasted victory.
Lord Niu swung again. Sano parried with the jitte and caught the blade. He gave the jitte a sharp wrench. Lord Niu’s sword snapped at the hilt. The long blade whirled away. Lord Niu froze. He looked first at his broken sword, then at Sano. Their eyes met for a moment that lasted an eternity. Sano saw hatred, anger, and fear in Lord Niu’s. Then resignation.
Flinging away the jitte, Sano gripped his sword in both hands. He swung it around and upward. Pain screamed in his left shoulder. He screamed, too, in triumph. With all his strength, he sliced downward at Lord Niu’s head. Steel met flesh and bone as his blade cleaved Lord Niu’s skull from crown to brow.
Sano stood motionless for a moment, his hands still locked around the hilt of his sword. His energy abruptly ceased to flow. Like a banked fire, it flickered in the depths of his center, then died. The heightened clarity of perception left him. His surroundings lost color and life. Only a moment after leaving his exalted spiritual state, he could hardly remember what it had felt like. He was empty, numb.
Then the world and its cares came rushing back to fill the void.
He stared at his fallen enemy. Lord Niu lay on his back, legs bent, still clutching his sword. Blood and gore oozed around the blade embedded in his skull and pooled under his head. Death had extinguished the evil light in his eyes. His face looked strangely innocent and peaceful in its final repose.
Sano released the sword. He stumbled backward. Fully conscious now of the throbbing pain in his shoulder and a debilitating weakness in the rest of his body, he sank to his knees. He forced his eyes away from Lord Niu and looked around.
Corpses lay strewn over the blood-spattered ground. All of the Twenty-One, it appeared, and all of the police. A surprising number of other samurai who’d joined the battle, including the armored guards from the gate. Revelers trampled during the stampede. His horse, and another belonging to one of the Tokugawa men. But the shogun and two surviving bodyguards stood a short distance away, watching him. Except for the excited murmurs of spectators who watched from the windows, the street was silent.
Sano closed his eyes against the carnage. It’s over, he thought as a weary sense of completion spread through his mind like a soporific drug. He collapsed to the ground. Through a thickening cloud of pain and dizziness, he was dimly aware of the shogun’s men loading him onto a litter, covering him with a blanket; of the tramp of their feet as they conveyed him out of Yoshiwara and down a dark road; of the immense star-flecked sky above him. He fought to stay alert so that he could explain to the shogun all that had led up to the assassination attempt, and the reason for his own presence. But waves of blackness lapped at his mind. Half-conscious, he dreamed.
He was dead. Pallbearers were carrying his body to a blazing funeral pyre.
“Please,” he whispered. He couldn’t die without telling his story and finally having someone believe him.
“Rest now, talk later,” a gruff voice ordered.
Jolted out of his nightmare, Sano looked down the steep road at what he’d mistaken for a funeral pyre. It was a boat, bobbing on the black river beside the Yoshiwara dock, its cabin decked with glowing lanterns and its masts flying a banner emblazoned with the Tokugawa crest. The litter tipped beneath Sano as the men carried him aboard. He groaned when they slid him onto soft cushions in a small, bright compartment. He saw Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s anxious face hovering over him, heard a voice ordering the boatmen to cast off. Someone cut away his garments and dabbed his wounds with something that burned and stung. He closed his eyes again.
Merciful unconsciousness descended as the boat bore him down the river toward Edo.
Chapter 30
Setsubun was over. The first morning of the New Year enfolded Edo in a hushed serenity. In the deserted streets, only a sprinkling of litter missed by the sweepers-a dusting of crushed soybeans, an abandoned mask, a few colored paper scraps-served as silent reminders of the wild celebration that had ended so recently. A rare late snow had fallen sometime during the night, frosting the rooftops with a barely visible tracery of white. The sun glinted brightly from an icy blue sky, giving the city a sharp-edged, crystalline quality.
Sano rode slowly toward his parents’ home. Last night, the shogun had rescinded the order for his arrest, and he was now a free man. Through eyes watery from the cold and aching with fatigue, he gazed with wonder at a world that seemed strangely altered. The shops were closed for the holiday. Later the streets would fill with people making their New Year’s visits, but for now the houses lay still and silent, their pine-and-bamboo-decorated doors closed tight against the chill. This was the city where he’d lived his entire life. He realized that it looked no different than on any past New Year’s Day. Only he had changed.
The city streets faded from his awareness as he thought about the night he’d spent at Edo Castle. There the doctors had treated his superficial cuts and bruises, stitched the deep gash in his shoulder, and applied herbal poultices to ease the pain and prevent festering. Servants had bathed him, arranged his hair, dressed him in clean warm garments, and given him tea. Then, with no warning and no time to wonder at the miracle of it, he’d found himself in private audience with the shogun, the chamberlain, and the Council of Elders.
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi occupied the dais of the huge reception room. He’d removed his costume and now wore formal black robes. His face looked drawn and anxious and older than his forty-three years. Chamberlain Yanagisawa and the five elders knelt at the foot of the dais; the shogun seemed to need their protection as much as he had that of his guards during the battle.
“You saved my life, Sano Ichirō,” he said in a voice higher and milder than Sano would have expected of the nation’s supreme military commander. “For that I would like to express my appreciation. But first, will you please explain how you came to le
arn of young Lord Niu’s plot?”
Sano told his story. He presented the sandal and the rope- talismans he’d clung to long after they’d lost their practical value. He read aloud the scroll and Lady Niu’s letter.
When he finished, everyone spoke at once.
“An outrage!”
“Lady Niu a murderer?”
“Niu Masahito must have been possessed by demons. Why else would he even attempt such a thing?”
“And can it be true that Magistrate Ogyu obstructed the investigation that led to the discovery of the plot?”
Chamberlain Yanagisawa raised his voice above the others‘. “I suggest we let the honorable magistrate speak for himself.
He clapped his hands. At this signal, two guards escorted a stumbling Magistrate Ogyu into the room. Sano stared in astonishment. His former superior looked as though he’d been dragged from his bed. His face was dazed with sleep, and he wore a cloak thrown hastily over his nightclothes. When he saw Sano, he whimpered and backed toward the door. But the guards yanked him forward and shoved him to his knees before the shogun.
“Your Excellency, what an honor this is,” Ogyu faltered, bowing.
The shogun fixed him with a stern look. “Did you try to prevent Sano Ichirō from investigating the murders of Niu Yukiko and Noriyoshi?”
“Why-why, no, Your Excellency,” Ogyu stammered, obviously too befuddled to lie with conviction. The shogun exchanged glances with Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who frowned. “Are you aware that Lady Niu ordered the murders for the purpose of protecting her son?” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi demanded. “If Sano Ichirō had not persisted in investigating them-against your orders-Lord Niu would have succeeded in his attempt to assassinate me tonight.”
“No. Oh, no,” Ogyu moaned. Body quaking, he prostrated himself before the shogun. Sano could almost see the waves of terror rising from him. “Your Excellency, please understand. I assure you that if I had known, I never would have-”
“Enough!” The shogun’s command cut off his pleas. “For your gross negligence of your duty and your treasonous endangerment of my life, I relieve you of your duties as north magistrate of Edo and sentence you to permanent exile on Hachijo Island. You will be held at Edo Jail until the ship sails in three months.” He nodded at the guards. “Take him away.”
“No!” Ogyu screamed.”‘Please, Your Excellency, have mercy!”
The guards seized him. He kicked and fought, but they bore him swiftly from the room. Sano could hear his hysterical sobs echoing down the corridor. He lowered his own head, shaken by the sudden fall of a once formidable adversary. A spurt of horror and pity diluted his satisfaction at seeing Magistrate Ogyu punished.
When the room was silent once again, one of the elders said, “What shall we do about this sorry state of affairs?”
Chamberlain Yanagisawa spoke before the shogun could. “One thing is certain,” he said. “As few people as possible must be allowed to know that His Excellency was almost killed tonight, or that a slipup in our security ever occurred. I will tell you why this is so and how we can accomplish that which must be done.”
The elders and Tokugawa Tsunayoshi listened with respect. Sano could tell that the handsome Yanagisawa wielded much of the shogun’s authority, just as the other yoriki had implied during that long-ago breakfast in the barracks.
“We cannot afford to have the daimyo think that the shogun is vulnerable to attack,” Yanagisawa explained. “Not only would the Tokugawa clan lose face, but a large-scale insurrection might result.”
There were murmurs of agreement.
“Therefore I propose that we disseminate the following story, which will also be entered into the official records: One band of outlaws attacked a rival band in Yoshiwara tonight. During the ensuing riot, many innocent bystanders, who rushed to the aid of the police, were killed. Young Lord Niu and twenty of his friends numbered among them. All the outlaws not killed on the spot were taken into custody by the police and later executed.”
There was silence while everyone considered this. The shogun nodded, and the elders exchanged glances. Sano, although appalled by this distortion of the truth, could nevertheless see the advantages of the chamberlain’s plan.
Then the senior elder said hesitantly, “It will work, yes. Besides us, very few people know that His Excellency was in Yoshiwara tonight-just his bodyguards, his family, and his most trusted servants. Young Lord Niu and all the members of the Conspiracy of Twenty-One are dead. My assistants have visited the Niu estate and have confirmed that Lady Niu and her manservant Eii-chan are also dead. We can use… methods”-his tone implied “threats and bribes”- “‘to ensure that the witnesses do not spread rumors. And no one associated with the Niu or other daimyo clans will admit to being a party to treason. But the law states that relatives of traitors must be punished. Should we not comply?”
Sano’s heart sank as he imagined Midori and her sisters, Lord Niu Masamune and his sons and grandchildren, the families of the other conspirators-hundreds of innocent people-being led to the execution ground to pay for a crime they hadn’t committed. Relief overwhelmed him when the chamberlain spoke.
“As you have pointed out, the guilty parties are all dead,” Yanagisawa said. “Further punishment… ” He spread his hands in an eloquent gesture, his meaning obvious. Further punishment would satisfy the law, but not the government’s need for secrecy or the country’s need for order and peace.
Sano’s poultices had numbed his pain; the drugged tea was making him drowsy. His eyelids drooped as the shogun and the elders agreed to Yanagisawa’s plan and discussed the particulars of carrying it out. He snapped awake when the shogun spoke his name.
“Sano-san, forgive us for keeping you so long. You are tired. But it will only take a moment more to settle the matter of your reward.”
With difficulty, Sano roused himself.
“In return for the valuable service you have rendered me, I will grant you a favor of your choosing,” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi said.
Sano was overwhelmed by the enormity of this unexpected gift. “Thank you, Your Excellency,” he stammered. But how to make the right choice? Finally he settled on the one that would eliminate his most recent source of guilt. “I ask that the courtesan Wisteria be freed from the pleasure quarter and given enough money to live as an independent citizen.”
The shogun leaned forward, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Very well. But surely this is too trivial a favor. Ask another.”
Emboldened, Sano said, “I ask that a monument commemorating the death of my secretary, Hamada Tsunehiko, in the line of duty, be erected in his family burial plot.” The shogun’s recognition would go far toward comforting the boy’s family, and some way toward fulfilling his own need to make reparation to them. “And that Niu Midori be released from the nunnery at the Temple of Kannon and brought home to Edo.”
“He asks nothing for himself,” the shogun said to the others in surprised admiration. “Only for others.” Turning to Sano, he said, “The things you ask will be done. But in recognition of your selfless generosity, I shall further reward you as I see fit.”
Now Sano entered the gate to his neighborhood. As he crossed the canal, he looked at the splendid black steed that Tokugawa Tsunayoshi had given him to replace Wada-san’s dead one. Its saddlebags bulged with New Year gifts-fine lacquerware and ceramics and silver, beautifully wrapped parcels of mochi and tangerines-for his family and friends. He looked down at himself. The rich padded cloak and silk robes he wore came from the shogun’s own wardrobe; all bore the Tokugawa crest. He touched the magnificent swords his grateful benefactor had given him: the finest work of the master swordmaker, Yoshimitsu. He felt the weight of the pouch containing ten gold pieces-an advance on the real reward that he would collect after his visit home. All the finery seemed as if it belonged to someone else, that stranger he’d become. And he couldn’t bear to think of the real reward just yet.
In front of his parents’ house, Sano dismounted. He’
d no sooner led the horse through the gate when the door opened. There stood his father, frail and stooping and looking more ill than ever. With one hand he supported himself against the door frame; in the other, he held the letter Sano had sent by way of the priest. His sunken eyes reflected a mixture of hope, uncertainty, suspicion, fear, and helpless love.
Guilt tore at Sano’s heart. Whatever he’d accomplished last night, he would never forgive himself for inflicting such pain on his father. He started to speak, but his throat closed. Tears of shame stung his eyes.
“Ichirō.” His father extended the hand that held the letter, then dropped it as if unsure whether to invite Sano inside or bar the door. A cough wracked his body. Recovering, he said, “Are you home to stay?” The tentative query encompassed myriad other unspoken ones.
Sano cleared his throat. “Otōsan,” he said, bowing, “I’ve returned home for the holiday only. The shogun has appointed me his special investigator. When I leave here, I shall take up residence in the castle and begin my work-at ten times my former salary.” There: he’d said it aloud. Telling someone gave the reward a reality it had lacked when the shogun had bestowed it and he’d accepted. The acknowledgment filled him with a formless dread that left no room for pleasure.”If you let me inside, I’ll explain.”
His father frowned in disbelief. Then his eyes, which hadn’t left Sano’s face, moved to the horse, the clothes, the swords. He paled, and the arm that supported him began to shake. He started to fall.
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