The Concubine’s Tattoo

2

The women’s quarters in Edo Castle occupied a private inner section of the main palace known as the Large Interior. The route to it led Sano and Hirata through the outer, public areas of the palace, past audience halls, government offices and conference rooms, through convoluted passages. An ominous pall had stilled the castle’s normal bustle of activity. Officials huddled in clusters from which rose uneasy mutters as news of the concubine’s shocking death spread. Armored guards patrolled the corridors in case of further unrest. The great Tokugawa bureaucracy had ground to a halt. Imagining the serious repercussions that an epidemic in Japan ’s capital might have for the nation, Sano hoped that Lady Harume’s sickness would prove to be an isolated incident.

A massive oak door, banded in iron and decorated with carved flowers, sealed the entrance to the women’s quarters, home to the shogun’s mother, wife, and concubines, their attendants, and the palace’s cooks, maids, and other female servants. Two sentries guarded the door.

“We’re here on His Excellency’s orders to investigate the death of Lady Harume,” Sano said, identifying himself and Hirata.

The sentries bowed, opened the door, and admitted Sano and Hirata into a narrow, lantern-lit corridor. The door closed behind them with a soft, reverberant thud.

“I’ve never been in here before,” Hirata said, his voice hushed with awe.”Have you?”

“Never,” Sano said. Mingled interest and trepidation stirred inside him.

“Do you know anyone in the Large Interior?”

In his capacity as the shogun’s sōsakan, Sano had free access to most of the castle. He was familiar with its walled passages and gardens, keep, ancestral shrine, martial arts training ground, and forest preserve, the Official Quarter where he lived, the outer section of the palace, and even the shogun’s private chambers. But the women’s quarters were closed to all men except a few carefully chosen guards, doctors, and officials. These did not include Sano.

“I know some of the servants and minor officials by sight,” he said, “and I once headed a military escort to convey the shogun’s mother and concubines on a pilgrimage to Zōjō Temple. But my duties have never involved direct contact with anyone from the Large Interior.”

Now Sano had the disconcerting sense of entering alien territory.”Well, let’s get started,” he said, driving confidence into his voice as he regretted his postponed nuptial festivities. How much longer before he and Reiko could be together? Sano started down the corridor, resisting the urge to tiptoe.

The polished cypress floor gleamed, dimly reflecting Sano’s and Hirata’s distorted images. Painted flowers adorned the coffered ceiling. Unoccupied rooms were crammed full of lacquer chests, cabinets, and screens, charcoal braziers, mirrors, scattered clothing, dressing tables littered with combs, hairpins, and vials. Gilt murals covered the inner walls, in abandoned bathchambers, round wooden tubs steamed. The corridor was deserted, but behind the latticed wood and paper walls, countless shadowy figures moved. As Sano and Hirata passed, doors cracked open; frightened eyes peeked out. Somewhere a samisen played a melancholy tune. The high murmur of feminine voices filled the air, which felt warmer and smelled different than in the rest of the palace, sweet with the scent of perfume and aromatic unguents. Sano thought he could also detect the subtler smells of women’s bodies: sweat, sexual secretions, blood?

In this crowded hive, the very walls seemed to expand and contract with female breath. Sano had heard rumors of extravagant entertainments held here, of secret intrigues and escapades. But what practical expertise could he bring to a mysterious case of fatal disease in this private sanctum? Sano glanced at Hirata.

The young retainer’s wide, boyish face wore a look of nervous determination. He walked self-consciously, shoulders hunched, putting one foot in front of the other with exaggerated care, as if afraid to make noise or occupy space. Despite his own discomfort, Sano smiled in rueful sympathy. Both of them were beyond their depth here.

Sano, the son of a rōnin-masterless samurai-had once earned his living as an instructor in his father’s martial arts academy and as a tutor to young boys, studying history in his spare time. Family connections had secured him a position as a senior police commander. He’d solved his first murder case and saved the shogun’s life, an act that had led to his current post.

Twenty-one-year-old Hirata’s father had been a doshin, one of Edo ’s low-ranking police patrol officers. He’d inherited the position at age fifteen, maintaining order in the city streets until becoming Sano’s chief retainer a year and a half ago, when they’d investigated the notorious Bundori Murder case. Their humble origins, personal inclinations, and past experience ill suited them for this assignment. Yet, as Sano reminded himself, they’d emerged victorious from other difficult situations.

“What should we do first?” Hirata asked, his cautious tone echoing Sano’s misgivings.

“Find someone who can show us the scene of Lady Harume’s death.”

This, however, proved unnecessary. A great commotion drew Sano and Hirata deeper into the shadowy maze of rooms inhabited by countless unseen women who whispered and sobbed behind closed doors. Blue-robed physicians rushed about, carrying medical chests; servants followed with trays of tea and herbal remedies. Voices chanted and called; bells tinkled; drums throbbed; paper rustled. The sweet, tarry odor of strong incense wafted through the corridors. Sano and Hirata easily located the focus of activity, a small chamber at the end of a hallway. They entered.

Inside, five saffron-robed Buddhist priests rang bells, chanted prayers, beat drums, and shook paper-tasseled wands to drive away the spirits of disease. Maids sprinkled salt on the windowsill and around the perimeter of the room, laying down a purifying boundary, across which death’s contamination could not pass. Two middle-aged female palace officials, dressed in the somber gray robes of their station, waved incense burners. Through the asphyxiating haze Sano could barely see the shrouded body on the floor.

“Please wait outside for a moment,” Sano told the priests, maids, and officials. They complied, and Sano said to Hirata, “Get the chief physician.”

Then he opened the window to admit sunlight and clear away the smoke. He took a folded cloth from beneath his sash and covered his nose and mouth. After wrapping his hand with the end of his sash to protect himself from physical disease and spiritual pollution, he squatted by the corpse and pulled back the white shroud.

There lay a young woman, full and robust of body, skirts parted to expose naked hips and legs. She had an oval face whose smooth skin and softly curved features must have once been beautiful, but were now smeared with the blood and vomit that also stained her red silk kimono and the tatami around her. Sano swallowed hard. Earlier this morning he’d been too nervous about the wedding to eat; now, the sensation of nausea on an empty stomach was almost overpowering. He shook his head in pity. Lady Harume had died in the bloom of her youth. Then Sano frowned, noticing the corpse’s odd condition.

Her whole body looked as rigid as if she’d been dead for many hours, instead of just moments: spine arched, fists tight, arms and legs stiffly straight, jaws clenched. With his covered hand, Sano palpated her arm. It felt hard and unyielding, the muscles frozen in a permanent spasm. And Harume’s wide-open eyes seemed too dark. Leaning over for a closer look, Sano saw that the pupils were dilated to maximum size. And her shaved pubis bore what appeared to be a freshly tattooed symbol, still red and puffy around the inked black cuts-the character ai:

At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, Sano looked up to see Hirata and the castle physician enter the room. They crouched beside him, cloths held over their noses and mouths, studying Lady Harume’s corpse.

“What disease was this, Dr. Kitano?” Sano spoke through his own cloth, which was now wet with saliva.

The doctor shook his head. He had a lined face, and thin gray hair knotted at his nape.”I don’t know. I’ve been a physician for thirty years, but I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this before. The sudden onset, the violent delirium and convulsions, the dilated pupils, the rapid demise… It’s a mystery to me; I know of no cure. The gods help us if this disease should spread.”

Hirata said, “During my first year in the police service, a fever killed three hundred people in Nihonbasbi. Not with those symptoms, or so quickly, but it caused serious trouble. Shops were deserted by owners who had died or run for the hills. Fires started because people burned candles and incense to purify their homes and keep away the fever demon. Bodies lay in the streets because they couldn’t be taken away fast enough. The smoke from all the funerals made a big, black cloud over the whole city.”

Sano covered Harume’s corpse with the shroud, stood, and put away his facecloth, as did his companions. He remembered the epidemic and dreaded an even more disastrous repeat here, in the heart of Japan ’s government. But because of his observations, another, equally disturbing alternative occurred to him.

“Had Lady Harume displayed any signs of illness before now?” he asked Dr. Kitano.

“Yesterday I personally conducted her monthly examination, as I do for all the concubines. Harume was in perfect health.”

Even as Sano’s fear of an epidemic waned, he felt a growing sense of unease.”Are any of the other women sick?”

“I haven’t examined them all yet, but the chief lady official tells me that although they’re upset, they’re physically well.”

“I see.” Though this was Sano’s first visit to the Large Interior, he knew of its crowded conditions.”The women live together, sleep together, bathe together, eat the same food, and drink the same water? And they and the staff are in constant contact with one another?”

“That is correct, sōsakan-sama,” the doctor said.

“Yet no one else shares Lady Harume’s symptoms.” Sano exchanged glances with Hirata, whose face showed dawning-and dismayed- comprehension.”Dr. Kitano, I think we must consider the possibility that Lady Harume was poisoned.”

The doctor’s worried expression turned to one of horror.”Lower your voice, I beg you!” he said, though Sano had spoken softly. Casting a furtive glance toward the corridor, he whispered, “In this day and age, poison is often a possibility in a case of sudden, unexplained death.” Indeed, Sano knew that it was used commonly in peacetime by people who wanted to attack their enemies without open warfare.”But are you aware of the dangers of making such a claim?”

Sano was. News of a poisoning-whether actual or conjectured- would create an atmosphere of suspicion just as destructive as an epidemic. The legendary hostilities in the Large Interior would escalate, and might even turn violent. This had happened in the past. Shortly before Sano came to the castle, two concubines had ended an argument in a brawl, the winner stabbing the loser to death with a hairpin. Eleven years ago, an attendant had strangled a female palace official in the bath. Panic could spread to the rest of the castle, intensifying existing rivalries and provoking fatal duels among samurai officials and troops.

And what if the shogun, ever sensitive to challenges to his authority, should perceive the murder of a concubine as an attack upon himself? Sano envisioned a bloody purge of potential culprits. Seeking a possible conspiracy, the bakufu-Japan’s military government-would investigate every official, from the Council of Elders down to the most humble clerks; every servant; every daimyo-provincial lord-and all their retainers; even the lowliest rōnin. Politically ambitious individuals would try to advance themselves by casting aspersions upon their rivals. Evidence would be manufactured, rumors circulated, characters maligned, until one or many “criminals” were executed…

“We have no proof that Lady Harume was murdered,” Dr. Kitano said.

Noting the man’s pallor, Sano knew he feared that, as chief physician, with a knowledge of drugs, he would be the prime suspect in a crime involving poison. Sano himself had no desire to face the bakufu’s scrutiny, because he had a powerful enemy eager for his ruin. The image of Chamberlain Yanagisawa flashed through Sano’s mind. Sano now had a wife and in-laws, also vulnerable to attack. In Nagasaki he’d learned the dire consequences of indulging curiosity by probing sensitive matters…

Yet, as always at the beginning of an investigation, Sano found himself entering a realm where higher concerns outweighed personal, practical ones. Duty, loyalty, and courage were the cardinal virtues of Bushido-the Way of the Warrior-the foundation of a samurai’s honor. But Sano’s personal concept of honor encompassed a fourth, equally important cornerstone: the pursuit of truth and justice, which gave his life meaning. Despite the risks, he had to know how and why Lady Harume had died.

Also, if she had been murdered, there might be more deaths unless he took action. This time his personal desires coincided with the interests of security and peace in Edo Castle, for good or bad.

“I agree that we can’t rule out disease yet,” Sano said to Dr. Kitano.”An epidemic is still a possibility. Finish your examination of the women, keep them quarantined, and report any cases of illness or death to me immediately. And please have someone take Lady Harume’s body to Edo Morgue.”

“ Edo Morgue?” The doctor gaped.”But sōsakan-sama, high-ranking castle residents don’t go there when they die; we send them to Zōjō Temple for cremation. Surely you know this. And Lady Harume cannot be removed yet. A report documenting the circumstances of her death must be filed. The priests must prepare the body for the funeral, and her comrades keep an overnight vigil. It’s standard procedure.”

During such rituals the corpse would deteriorate, and evidence possibly get lost.”Arrange Lady Harume’s transport to Edo Morgue,” Sano said.”That’s an order.” Unwilling to say why he wanted the concubine taken to a place where dead commoners, outcasts, and victims of mass disasters such as floods or earthquakes went, Sano knew that a show of authority often yielded better results than explanations.

The doctor hurried off. Sano and Hirata surveyed the room.”The source of the poison?” Hirata said, pointing at the floor near Lady Harume’s shrouded corpse. Two delicate porcelain cups lay on the tatami; their spilled contents had darkened the woven straw.”Maybe someone was with her, and slipped the poison into her drink.”

Sano picked up a matching decanter from the table, looked inside, and saw that a bit of liquor remained.”We’ll take this, and the cups, as evidence,” he said.”But there’s more than one way to administer poison. Perhaps she breathed it.’’ Sano gathered lamps and incense burners.”And what do you make of the tattoo?”

“The character ai, " Hirata said.” ‘Love.’ ” He grimaced in distaste.”Yoshiwara courtesans mark themselves this way to prove their love for their clients-even though everyone knows they really do it to get more money from the men. But I would have thought that the shogun’s concubines were too elegant and refined to stoop to such a low-class custom. Do you think the tattoo has anything to do with Lady Harume’s death?”

“Perhaps.” Sano contemplated the razor, blood-tipped knife, and shaved pubic hairs on the floor.”It looks as though she’d just finished the tattoo before she died.”

He collected the tools, then found the ink bottle lying in the corner and placed it with the other items. Then he and Hirata began searching the room.

Cabinets and chests contained folded quilts and futons; kimonos and sashes; toiletries, hair ornaments, makeup; a samisen; writing brush and inkstone-the miscellany of women’s lives-but no food, drink, or anything resembling a poisonous substance. Wrapped inside a white under-kimono Sano found a book the size of his hand, bound in silk printed with a pattern of pale green intertwined clover stems and blossoms on a mauve background, and tied with gold cord. He leafed through sheets of soft rice paper covered with tiny characters written in a feminine hand. The first page read, “The Pillow Book of Lady Harume.”

“A diary?” Hirata asked.

“It looks like it.” Since the reign of the Heian emperors five hundred years ago, court ladies had often recorded their experiences and thoughts in books like this. Sano tucked the diary under his sash for later perusal, then said quietly to Hirata, “I’m taking the sake, lamp oil, incense, tools, and ink to Dr. Ito at Edo Morgue-perhaps he can identify the poison, if it’s there.” He carefully bundled the articles in the garment that had contained the diary.”While I’m gone, please supervise the removal and transport of Lady Harume’s body; see that no one tampers with it.”

From outside the room, Sano heard the priests’ muttered conversation, the chatter and weeping of women in nearby chambers. Lowering his voice even more, he continued, “For now, the official cause of death is illness, with an epidemic still a possibility. Have our men distribute the news to everyone who lives in the castle, instructing them to stay in their quarters or at their posts until the danger has passed.” Over the past year, Sano’s personal staff had grown into a team of one hundred detectives, soldiers, and clerks, enough to handle this large task. He added, “That should help prevent rumors from spreading.”

Hirata nodded.”If Lady Harume died of a contagious disease, we need to know what she did, where she went, and whom she saw just before she died, so we can trace the sickness and quarantine her contacts. I’ll set up appointments with the chief lady palace official, and His Excellency’s Honorable Mother.”

The shogun’s wife was a reclusive invalid who kept to her bed, her privacy and health guarded by a few trusted physicians and attendants. Therefore Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s mother, Lady Keisho-in, his constant companion and frequent adviser, ruled the Large Interior.

“But if it was murder,” Hirata continued in a lower voice, “we’ll need information about Lady Harume’s relations with the people around her. I’ll make discreet inquiries.”

“Good.” Sano knew he could trust Hirata, who had demonstrated impressive competence and unswerving loyalty during their association. In Nagasaki, the young retainer had helped solve a difficult case-and saved Sano’s life.

“And sōsakan-sama? I’m sorry about the wedding banquet.” They left the room, and Hirata bowed.”My congratulations on your marriage. It will be a privilege to extend my service to the Honorable Lady Reiko.”

“Thank you, Hirata-san.” Sano also bowed. He appreciated Hirata’s friendship, which had supported him through a lonely period of his life. One of the hardest things about his job had been learning to share responsibility and risk, but Hirata had taught him the necessity-and honor-of both. They were united in the ancient samurai tradition of master and servant, absolute and eternal. Glad to leave matters in trustworthy hands, Sano left the palace, bound for Edo Morgue.