Black Lotus

33

The trial of Haru shall commence,” announced Magistrate Ueda.

He was seated upon the dais in the Court of Justice, a cavernous hall with barred windows set in paneled walls, illuminated by lanterns. Sano sat at his right; secretaries flanked them. All wore black ceremonial robes.

The magistrate continued, “Haru is accused of four crimes: arson, and the murders of Police Commander Oyama, a peasant woman named Chie, and a small boy of unknown identity.”

The secretaries wrote, recording his words. Sano hid anxiety behind a cool façade. He’d spent the day preparing for the trial. Now, as twilight dimmed the windows, he hoped to secure a conviction and elicit facts that would convince the shogun to authorize a rescue expedition to the Black Lotus Temple, but the outcome of the trial was by no means certain.

A large audience sat in rows on the floor, in a haze of smoke from tobacco pipes. Sano eyed Hirata, who knelt among other Tokugawa officials, apart from a delegation of civilian town leaders. Hirata’s features were strained with worry about Midori.

Magistrate Ueda addressed the guards stationed at the door at the far end of the court: “Bring in the defendant.”

The guards opened the heavy, carved door. Through it walked two soldiers, with Haru between them. Her hands were bound by ropes, and her ankles shackled in iron cuffs joined by a thick chain. She wore a gray muslin kimono and straw sandals, and her hair was braided. The bruises around her eyes had darkened to violet; her puffy nose and raw, split lips rendered her face almost unrecognizable to Sano. As the guards led her toward the dais, she moved stiffly, as if in pain.

Uneasy murmurs swept the audience. Magistrate Ueda’s calm didn’t waver, yet Sano doubted that this father of a beloved daughter could remain unmoved by the injured girl. She might induce sympathy in the man designated to judge her.

The guards positioned Haru on her knees on a straw mat on the shirasu, an area of floor directly before the dais, covered by white sand, the symbol of truth. Haru bowed low. Looking down at her bent back, Sano could pity her himself.

“Look up,” Magistrate Ueda ordered her.

Haru lifted a woeful face.

“Do you understand that the purpose of this trial is to determine whether you are guilty of the arson and murders for which you were arrested?” Magistrate Ueda said.

“Yes, master.” Haru’s voice was a barely audible whisper that the audience strained forward to hear.

“First we shall hear the facts of the crimes and evidence against you, presented by His Excellency the Shogun’s sōsakan-sama,” said Magistrate Ueda. “Then you may speak in your own defense. Afterward, I shall render my decision. “ He nodded to Sano. “Proceed.”

“Thank you, Honorable Magistrate.” Sano described the fire at the Black Lotus Temple, how the victims found in the cottage had died, then how the fire brigade had discovered lamp oil, a torch, and Haru at the scene. “Haru claimed to have lost her memory of the time preceding the fire. She insisted that she didn’t set the fire or kill anyone. But my investigation has proved that she is a liar, arsonist, and murderess.”

Haru sat with eyes humbly downcast, like a martyr resigned to persecution. Sano was glad that Reiko wasn’t here. He hadn’t seen her since morning, when she’d told him Midori was missing; he hadn’t told her about the trial because he didn’t want her around to interfere. Next he related Haru’s probable involvement in her husband’s death, and what Abbess Junketsu-in and Dr. Miwa had said about her misbehavior at the temple. He mentioned that the two girls from the orphanage had seen Haru go to the cottage.

“Therefore, Haru had both the bad character and the opportunity necessary to commit the crimes,” Sano said.

Still, he feared that his argument would be weakened by his failure to produce the witnesses to speak for themselves. Magistrate Ueda understood that the shogun had prohibited him from contact with Black Lotus members, but if he had the least uncertainty about whether the witnesses had told the truth or Sano had accurately reported their statements, he might give Haru the benefit of the doubt.

“Now I shall show that Haru also had reason to kill,” Sano said. “After further interrogation, she admitted that Commander Oyama once forced her to have sexual relations with him. There is a witness who can prove that she hated him for mistreating her. Will Oyama Jinsai please come forward?”

The young samurai rose from the audience, knelt before the dais, and bowed. Under Sano’s questioning, Jinsai described how Commander Oyama had used the girls at the Black Lotus Temple and introduced him to Haru, who had glared and spat at the commander.

“I say that on the night of his murder, Commander Oyama again violated Haru, and she killed him in revenge,” Sano concluded. “Afterward, she set fire to the cottage to disguise the circumstances of his death.”

Just then, the door opened, and Reiko slipped into the room. Sano beheld her in dismay. As she knelt behind the audience, her level gaze met his. Sano experienced a stab of alarm.

“Honorable Magistrate, I recommend that Haru be condemned,” Sano said, hiding his concern about what Reiko might do.

“Your counsel will be given serious consideration,” Magistrate Ueda said.

Yet Sano knew that Haru’s lack of apparent connection with the other victims was the major flaw in his case, which Magistrate Ueda wouldn’t miss. Because the murders were obviously connected, if she hadn’t committed them all, then perhaps she hadn’t committed any of them. As much as the magistrate wanted to serve justice, he required evidence to support a guilty verdict.

The men in the audience whispered among themselves. Reiko leaned forward, her expression avid. Haru sat meekly, the picture of wounded innocence. Sano fought rising anxiety as he observed the desperation on Hirata’s face. Time was speeding by; Midori was still inside the temple, and he might neither secure Haru’s conviction nor extract the truth from the girl.

“I shall now hear the defendant’s story,” Magistrate Ueda said.

An expectant hush descended upon the audience. Reiko clasped her hands tightly under her sleeves. Anger at Sano twisted inside her. How could he waste time persecuting Haru when he should be trying to rescue Midori? And he hadn’t even done Reiko the courtesy of telling her he’d scheduled the trial! She’d learned about it by chance, when she’d come to ask her father to use his influence to get Sano permission to enter the Black Lotus Temple, and a clerk had told her the trial was under way. But of course Sano didn’t want her to interfere with his destruction of Haru. He was cutting her out of the final stage of the investigation and ending her involvement in his work forever.

Yet Reiko wouldn’t give up her vocation without a fight. Nor could she let Haru suffer for the crimes of the Black Lotus while there was any chance that the girl was innocent. Might Reiko still ensure that her last investigation ended in justice? The flaws in Sano’s argument gave the girl a chance for reprieve, and Reiko wondered why he’d rushed the trial. Still, his haste favored her and Haru. Reiko hoped that Haru would make a good showing.

Magistrate Ueda turned to Haru. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t do it.” Head bowed, the girl spoke in a low but distinct voice.

“Say specifically what you did not do,” Magistrate Ueda instructed her.

“Kill Commander Oyama.”

“What about the woman and boy?”

“I didn’t kill them, either,” Haru said, and Reiko could see her trembling with fear.

“Did you set fire to the cottage?” Magistrate Ueda asked.

“No, master.”

The magistrate seemed unaffected by Haru’s pained earnestness. “There has been much evidence presented against you,” he said gravely, “and in order to prove your innocence, you must refute it. Let us begin with the death of your husband. Did you burn his house?”

“No, master.” Haru sniffled, weeping now. Reiko saw Sano betray his disdain with a slight compression of his lips, but her father’s expression remained inscrutable.

“Did you go to the cottage the night before the fire?” the magistrate asked.

“No, master.”

“Then how did you come to be found there?”

“I don’t know.”

“What had you been doing previously?”

“I can’t remember.”

Reiko listened, upset that Haru was repeating the same story that hadn’t convinced Sano. It probably wouldn’t convince the magistrate, either. Reiko believed more strongly than ever that Haru did know something about the crimes and wished the girl would tell the truth, rather than forfeit her last chance to clear herself and take her secrets to the grave.

Magistrate Ueda thoughtfully regarded Haru. “If you expect me to believe in your innocence, then you must offer some explanation for why you were at the cottage and how three people died in your vicinity.”

Cowering, the girl shook her head. Reiko watched in anxious dismay. Surely Haru realized what a poor impression she was making. Was she concealing facts that would incriminate her?

“Have you anything more to say?” Magistrate Ueda said.

“I don’t know why I was there,” Haru mumbled. “I didn’t set the fire. I didn’t kill anyone.”

The magistrate frowned, clearly weighing her denials against the case Sano had presented. Reiko felt her heart pounding as she hoped her father would see that there wasn’t enough evidence to convict Haru. Yet she feared that Haru deserved conviction.

At last Magistrate Ueda said, “I shall now render my verdict.”

And his verdict would be final, Reiko knew, whether justice was served or contravened. Suddenly Reiko couldn’t watch passively any longer. “Excuse me,” she blurted.

Everyone stared in astonishment at the spectacle of a woman talking out of turn. Reiko, who had never spoken in a public assembly, experienced a daunting embarrassment.

“What is it?” Magistrate Ueda’s cold manner said that she’d better have a good reason for interrupting the trial.

Seeing Sano eye her with consternation, Reiko understood that what she intended to do would probably destroy any hope for a reconciliation between them. Sano would divorce her and keep their son, as he had the legal right to do. Her courage almost failed, until she thought of what would happen if she didn’t act. Haru would be convicted; the Black Lotus would go on to commit more attacks and murders; Sano would be blamed for failing in his duty to protect the public. The shogun would order Sano, Reiko, Masahiro, and their relatives and close associates executed as punishment. Only Reiko could save them all, by doing her best now.

Reiko forced herself to say, “I wish to speak on behalf of the accused.” She saw gladness dawn on Haru’s bruised face, as though the girl anticipated salvation.

“Honorable Magistrate, unsolicited witnesses should not be allowed to interfere with justice,” Sano hastened to say.

He believed that the magistrate had intended to decide in his favor, Reiko thought. Magistrate Ueda addressed her with polite formality: “What can you add to that which has already been said?”

“I-I can present evidence that indicates the crimes were committed by someone other than the accused,” Reiko faltered, intimidated by the audience’s stares.

Sano hadn’t presented this evidence because the law didn’t require him to do so. Reiko’s chest constricted with hope that her father would agree to weigh her testimony in his decision, and dread that he wouldn’t.

“Spurious accusations against other persons are neither evidence nor relevant to the trial of Haru,” Sano argued.

A fleeting, pained expression clouded Magistrate Ueda’s features: He was loath to take sides in a public dispute between Reiko and Sano. Then he said, “Since a life is at stake, I shall grant Lady Reiko the privilege of speaking.”

Rejoicing that his mercy had prevailed over Sano’s objections, Reiko rose and walked toward the dais. As she passed Hirata, she glimpsed his undisguised horror. She knelt beside the shirasu, and Haru welcomed her with a grateful smile. Sano fixed on her a look that seemed to say, Please don’t do this. Trust me, and soon you’ll understand.

Reiko ignored him. In a voice that quavered with nervousness, she described her impressions of Haru as troubled but harmless. She drew courage from her certainty that she was doing the right thing, no matter what Sano thought, and clung to her persistent feeling that events would somehow exonerate Haru. She told about Abbess Junketsu-in, Dr. Miwa, and Kumashiro’s suspiciously determined efforts to blame Haru for the crimes and prevent Reiko from making inquiries into the Black Lotus sect. Reiko mentioned her encounter with Pious Truth and his story of torture, slavery, and murder at the temple.

Mutters of surprise rumbled in the audience. Magistrate Ueda listened in stoic silence, while Sano watched Haru. The girl’s face acquired a strange expression that momentarily unbalanced Reiko. It almost seemed as if Haru didn’t want the Black Lotus maligned. Didn’t she understand that incriminating the sect was to her advantage?

Recovering, Reiko described the murder of Minister Fugatami and his wife, the beating Haru had received in Edo Jail, and the attack on herself and Sano.

“Honorable Magistrate, these incidents represent the Black Lotus’s efforts to destroy its enemies,” she concluded breathlessly. “The sect killed Minister Fugatami to prevent him from censuring it, and tried to assassinate the sōsakan-sama and myself because we were probing its affairs. Its thugs hurt Haru because she refused to confess.” Now Reiko’s voice rang out in a passionate conviction she didn’t feel: “The Black Lotus, not Haru, committed the arson and murders, and has framed her to protect itself.”

A short silence followed. Then Magistrate Ueda said in a neutral tone, “Your points are noted. Now I offer the sōsakan-sama the opportunity to address them.”

Reiko felt her heart sink at the thought that Sano might undo whatever good she’d accomplished.

“Lady Reiko has portrayed you as the innocent victim, slandered and framed by Black Lotus members,” Sano said quietly to Haru. “But it’s not just they who have seen you for what you are.”

Haru gazed up at him, wary and uncomprehending.

“The people who know you best can also attest to your evils,” Sano said, then turned to Magistrate Ueda. “There are two witnesses I didn’t present earlier because their personal situation is sensitive. I request permission for them to testify now.”

Alarm shot through Reiko. Who were these witnesses? What was Sano up to?

“Permission granted,” Magistrate Ueda said.

Sano nodded to Hirata, who left the court, then returned with a middle-aged couple. Both man and woman wore the modest cotton kimonos of peasants. They huddled together, their faces apprehensive.

“I introduce Haru’s parents,” Sano said.

Haru cried joyfully, “Mother! Father!” Shedding her meek, frightened demeanor, she rose up on her knees and leaned toward the couple. “Oh, how I’ve missed you! And now you’ve come to save me!”

But Reiko guessed why Sano had brought them. Filled with dismay, she watched helplessly as Hirata led Haru’s parents up to the dais. They averted their eyes from Haru. Kneeling, they bowed to the magistrate. The mother began weeping quietly; the father hung his head.

“What’s wrong, Mother?” Haru said in confusion. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Your cooperation is much appreciated,” Sano said.

His tone conveyed sympathy for the shame the couple obviously suffered from public exposure at their child’s trial. In response to gentle questions from him, the parents described how they’d married Haru off, and her contradictory stories about the fire that had killed her husband.

“Why are you saying those things?” Haru interrupted, and hurt eclipsed the happiness on her face. “I told you I didn’t set the fire. Why do you want to turn everyone against me?”

Her father regarded her sadly. “We were wrong to hide what we know about you. Now we must tell the truth.”

“And you must face up to what you’ve done,” said her mother, turning a tear-streaked face toward Haru. “Repent, and cleanse the disgrace from your spirit.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Haru protested, beginning to wheeze as she glared at her parents. “You never loved me. No matter how hard I tried to please you, I was never good enough. It’s all your fault that I’m in trouble.”

Sano had kept quiet during this exchange. He’d identified Haru’s feelings for her parents as a vulnerability, Reiko thought, deploring the cruel tactic by which he’d exposed a dark side of Haru. Now he said, “But it wasn’t your parents who committed murder and arson. It was you.”

“They made me marry that horrible old man. I told them how badly he treated me and begged them to let me come home, but they wouldn’t listen.” Louder wheezes rasped from Haru; she squirmed, straining at her bonds. “You didn’t care how I suffered,” she shouted at her parents, who cringed. “All you cared about was the money the old man gave you. I had to protect myself.”

“And that’s why you killed your husband?” Sano said.

“No, no, no!” Haru shrieked, rocking back and forth. “The night he died, he got angry at me for serving him cold tea. He hit me, and his arm knocked over a lamp. It set his clothes on fire. I ran away and let him and his house burn. He deserved to die!”:

The confession descended upon Reiko like a vast iron bell that resonated with her shock and horror. She barely heard the audience’s outcry. Everything seemed hazy. She felt sick because she no longer believed anything Haru said.

“More lies.” Sano addressed the girl with scornful contempt. “I suggest that you threw the lamp at your husband and set him on fire. Did you kill Commander Oyama, too?”

Haru’s resistance suddenly broke into hysteria. “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, yes!”

Reiko bowed her head, mournfully resigned to the knowledge that Haru had deceived her from the start. She’d compromised her marriage and her vocation over a liar and criminal. There would be no exoneration of Haru, no ultimate justification of Reiko’s defense of the girl. Reiko had made a fool of herself in public and failed to direct the power of the law toward the Black Lotus. Mortified, she looked to see if Sano would acknowledge his victory over her, but he was watching Haru.

“What happened that night at the Black Lotus Temple?” he said.

“Commander Oyama told me to meet him in the cottage. I didn’t want to, but the Black Lotus needed his patronage.” The words rushed from Haru like water pouring through a broken dam. “So I sneaked out of the orphanage. When I got to the cottage, he was already there, naked on the bed. He ordered me to-” Haru’s voice dropped in shame “-to suck on him.

“He said that unless I obeyed, he would stop giving money to the Black Lotus, and Anraku would be angry with me and expel me from the temple. I was afraid he was right, so I knelt and took him in my mouth.” Haru gulped, as if swallowing nausea engendered by the memory. “Suddenly his legs came up around my neck and started squeezing, choking me. I begged him to let go, but he just shouted at me to keep sucking. I broke free, and he started hitting me. He pinned me down on the floor and rammed himself inside me. He was strangling me. Everything started going dark. I was so frightened that he was going to kill me.”

Through her emotional turmoil, Reiko absorbed the fact that Oyama had caused Haru’s bruises. But what did it matter that Reiko had correctly believed Haru had been the victim of an attack that night, when she’d been mistaken about too much else?

Haru began to cry in loud, whooping sobs. “I had to stop him. There was an alcove in the wall, with a little brass statue of Kannon inside. I grabbed the statue and struck at his face with it. He ducked, but he let go of my neck and fell off me. I kicked him in the crotch. He howled and doubled up in pain. Then I hit him on the back of the head with the statue. All of a sudden his voice stopped. His eyes were open, but he didn’t move. There was blood all over his head, on the floor, on the statue. I knew he was dead.”

Whether Haru had really killed Oyama in self-defense, or was twisting the truth again, Reiko didn’t know what to think, for she could no longer trust her instincts. They’d failed her, and she perceived the worst of what she’d done. Instead of serving justice, she’d sabotaged Sano’s work and dishonored her vocation. Self-hatred tormented Reiko.

“I was so terrified that I couldn’t move,” Haru went on. “I sat there for a long time, crying and wondering what to do. I thought of going to High Priest Anraku for help, but I was afraid he would get angry at me for killing an important patron. Finally I decided to make it look like an accident, I picked up the statue, left Commander Oyama lying in the cottage, and ran to the main hall. I wiped off the statue and set it in a niche with a lot of other statues like it. Then I got the idea that Commander Oyama was still alive. I had to see, so I went back to the cottage. That was when someone came up behind me and hit my head. I didn’t see who it was. The next thing I knew, the firebell was ringing, I was lying in the garden, and it was morning.”

Tears streaming down her face, Haru cast a beseeching gaze up at Sano. “Yes, I killed Commander Oyama. But not the others. I didn’t even know they were there. That’s the truth, I swear!”

It sounded as if someone else had killed Chie and the boy, then framed Haru for their murders by knocking her unconscious so that she would be found at the scene. Their bodies must have been put in the cottage while Haru was hiding the statue, or while she lay oblivious. Perhaps someone else had indeed set the fire. Yet Reiko had little hope of this, and even if the girl was telling the truth now, it would make little difference to her fate.

“Honorable Magistrate,” Sano said, “whether or not Haru is responsible for the deaths of the woman and boy, she has confessed to killing an important man. She deserves punishment.”

Nor did the possibility of a second murderer change the fact that Reiko had been wrong to ever believe in Haru’s innocence. Sick with shame and regret, Reiko wanted to rush from the room, but a stubborn need to see the case through to the end compelled her to stay.

“Haru, I pronounce you guilty of two instances of murder and arson,” Magistrate Ueda said solemnly. Reiko saw in his face his personal conviction that he’d chosen the correct verdict. “The law requires that I sentence you to death by burning.”

“No!” Haru’s shrill, terrified protest pierced the quiet of the courtroom. She writhed, as if already beset by flames. “Please, I can’t bear it.” She turned to Reiko, begging, “Help! Don’t let them burn me!”

Reiko wordlessly shook her head because she couldn’t help Haru even if she’d wanted to.

Sano exchanged glances with Magistrate Ueda. When the magistrate nodded, Sano said to Haru, “There is one way you can earn a quicker, more merciful death, if you wish.”

The girl exclaimed in desperate relief: “Yes! I’ll do anything!”

“You must tell me everything you know about what’s going on inside the Black Lotus Temple and what the sect plans to do,” Sano said.

Comprehension stunned Reiko. Now she knew why Sano had convened the trial, then pushed so hard for Haru’s conviction. He’d meant to break Haru, thus forcing her to inform on the Black Lotus. Reiko wished he’d told her his intentions even as she inwardly berated herself for not guessing them. By defending Haru, she’d almost ruined Sano’s attempt to get the facts needed to justify an inspection of the temple. She remembered the look he’d given her: He’d been trying to let her know what he was doing. By disregarding his silent plea, she might have cost Midori her life!

“But I can’t tell,” Haru said, recoiling in horror. “I mean, I don’t know anything.”

“Very well,” Sano said. “Then you must endure your original sentence.” He signaled to the guards. “Convey her to the funeral pyre at the execution ground.”

The guards moved toward Haru, who cried, “No! Wait!”

Sano’s raised hand halted the guards. Reiko watched Haru struggle against whatever loyalty or fear kept her in thrall to the Black Lotus. Her eyes flicked from side to side; she bit her lips. Sano looked directly at Reiko for the first time since before Haru had confessed; his frown warned Reiko to keep silent. She bowed her head, miserably aware that she’d already done too much wrong for her to even consider intervening. Haru’s fate was in her own hands now.

At last Haru slumped, her resistance gone. “The mountains will erupt,” she mumbled. “Flames will consume the city. The waters will flow with death, and the air will breathe poison. The sky will burn and the earth explode.”

A chill passed through Reiko as she recognized the words spoken by Pious Truth when the priests captured him. Puzzled exclamations broke out among the audience.

Haru spoke in an emotionless monotone, as if reciting a lesson: “High Priest Anraku has transformed his followers into an army of destroyers who will set fires and bombs around Edo and poison the wells. They will slay the citizens in the streets. The conflagration of death and destruction will spread all across Japan. Only the true believers of the Black Lotus will survive. They shall achieve enlightenment, acquire magical powers, and rule a new world.”