The Concubine’s Tattoo

6

When Sano arrived at his residence after the long, tiring ride from Edo Jail, Hirata came out through the gate to meet him. “The shogun’s mother has agreed to speak with us before her evening prayers. The otoshiyori-chief lady palace official-will answer questions, but she has to make her night tour of inspection around the Large Interior soon.”

Sano cast a longing look at his mansion, which held the promise of food, a hot bath, and the company of his new bride. With what peaceful, feminine pursuits had she occupied the time since their wedding? Sano pictured her sewing, writing poetry, or perhaps playing the samisen- an oasis of calm amid violent death and palace intrigue. He yearned to enter that oasis, to become acquainted with Reiko at last. But night was rapidly descending upon the castle and Sano couldn’t keep Lady Keisho-in and her otoshiyori waiting, or delay informing the shogun that there would be no epidemic because Lady Harume had been murdered.

Leaving his horse with the guards, Sano said to Hirata, “We’d better hurry.”

Through stone-walled passages they ascended the hill, past patrol guards carrying flaming torches. Out of cautious habit they didn’t speak until they’d cleared the last security checkpoint and were approaching the palace, whose many-gabled tile roof gleamed in the moonlight. Torches flared against its half-timbered walls and sentries guarded the doors. The garden lay deserted under the moonlight. Here, among the gravel paths and shadowy trees, Sano told Hirata the results of Dr. Ito’s test.

“The residents and staff of the Large Interior are potential murder suspects,” Sano said. “Did your inquiries turn up anything?”

“I spoke to the guards and their commander,” Hirata said, “as well as the chief administrator of the Large Interior. The official story is that Harume’s death is a tragedy, which they all mourn. No one would say otherwise.”

“Because it’s the truth, or to protect themselves?” Sano mused. With the fact of murder established, he and Hirata could probe beyond official stories later. The women were the people closest to Harume, with the easiest access to her room and the ink jar. Sano and Hirata needed the cooperation of Lady Keisho-in and the otoshiyori before they could interview the concubines and attendants.

Gaining admission to the palace, they walked past silent, dark offices to the shogun’s private chambers. The guards stationed there told Sano, “His Excellency is not available. He left word that you should report to him first thing tomorrow.”

“Please tell him there’s no epidemic,” Sano said, so that Tokugawa Tsunayoshi need worry about illness no longer.

Then he and Hirata continued deeper into the palace’s labyrinth. As they approached the Large Interior, a high-pitched hum pervaded the quiet. When the guards opened the door to the women’s quarters, the hum exploded into a din of shrill female voices, chattering to the accompaniment of slamming doors, running footsteps, splashing water, and the rattle of crockery.

“Merciful gods,” Hirata said, covering his ears. Sano winced at the noise.

In the hours since their first visit, the Large Interior had assumed what must be its normal condition. Walking toward Lady Keisho-in’s private suite at the center, Sano and Hirata passed chambers jammed with pretty, gaudily dressed concubines eating meals off trays, preening before mirrors, or playing cards while arguing with one another and calling orders to their servants. Sano saw nude women scrubbing themselves or soaking in high wooden tubs, and blind masseurs massaging naked backs. All the women met his gaze with a curious passivity that reflected a stoic acceptance of their lot. Sano was reminded of Yoshiwara’s courtesans: the only difference seemed to be that those women existed for public pleasure, and these for only the shogun’s. When he and Hirata passed a chamber, conversation and activity ceased momentarily before resuming with undiminished noise. A gray-robed female official patrolled the corridors beside a male guard. In this feminine prison, life went on, even after the violent demise of an inmate.

Yet Sano wondered if one or more of the women knew the truth about Lady Harume’s death, and the identity of the killer. Perhaps they all did, including their mistress.

The door to Lady Keisho-in’s private chambers, located at the end of a long corridor, was like the main portal of a temple: solid cypress, rich with carved dragons. A lantern burned above; two sentries stood like guardian deities a discreet twenty paces away. As Sano and Hirata approached, the door slid open. A tall woman stepped out and bowed.

“Madam Chizuru, chief lady official of the Large Interior,” Hirata said.

He introduced Sano, who studied the otoshiyori with interest. She was in her late forties; white strands threaded the hair piled neatly atop her head. Her drab gray kimono draped a body as strong and muscular as a man’s. Madam Chizuru’s square face also had a masculine cast, emphasized by a cleft chin, thick, unshaven brows, and a shadowing of dark hairs on her upper lip. Sano knew that the otoshiyori’s most important duty was to keep a vigil outside Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s bedchamber whenever he slept with a concubine, to ensure that no woman extorted favors during his vulnerable moments. Like the other female palace officials, she would have once been a concubine herself-probably to the previous shogun-but the only visible feminine charm was her mouth, as dainty as that of a courtesan in a woodblock print. Arms folded, she regarded Sano with a bold, level gaze that brooked no misbehavior.

“You cannot see Lady Keisho-in yet,” Madam Chizuru said. Her voice was deep, but not unpleasant. “His Excellency is with her now.”

So that was where the shogun had gone. “We’ll wait,” Sano said. “And we need to speak with you, too.”

As Madam Chizuru nodded, a pair of younger female officials arrived. An unspoken form of communication-oblique glances, nods, a twitch of lips-passed between them and their superior. In this alien territory, even the language was different. Then Madam Chizuru said to Sano and Hirata, “Urgent business demands my attention. But I shall return shortly. Wait here.”

“Yes, master,” Hirata said under his breath as the otoshiyori, flanked by her lieutenants, strode away. To Sano he said, “These women will be running the country someday if we men don’t watch out.”

The otoshiyori had left Lady Keisho-in’s door open a crack. Murmurs came from within. Curiosity overcame Sano. He stole a look. In the shadowy chamber, a ceiling lantern formed a nimbus of light around a woman seated upon silk cushions. Small and dumpy, she wore a loose, shimmering gold satin dressing gown printed with blue waves. Long black hair, untouched by gray, spilled around her shoulders, giving the sixty-four-year-old Keisho-in a strikingly youthful appearance. Sano couldn’t see her face, which was bent over the man cradled in her plump arms.

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, Japan ’s supreme military dictator, pressed his face against his mother’s ample breasts. His black court robes swaddled his bent knees; his shaved crown, minus the customary black cap, looked as vulnerable as an infant’s. Mumbles and whimpers issued from him: “… so afraid, so unhappy… People always wanting things from me… expecting me to be strong and wise, like my ancestor, Tokugawa Ieyasu… never know what to do or say… stupid, weak, unworthy of my position…”

Lady Keisho-in petted her son’s head, emitting soothing sounds. “There, there, my dear little boy.” Her crusty voice betrayed the age that her appearance belied. “Mother is here. She’ll make everything all right.”

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi relaxed; his whimpers turned to a purr of contentment. Lady Keisho-in took up the long, silver pipe that lay on the smoking tray beside her, puffed, coughed, and addressed her son gently. “To earn happiness, you must build more temples, support the clergy, and hold more sacred festivals.”

“But Mother, that sounds so difficult,” the shogun whined. “How shall I ever manage it?”

“Give money to Priest Ryuko, and he’ll take care of everything.”

“What if Chamberlain Yanagisawa or the Council of Elders object?” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s voice quavered with fear of his subordinates’ disapproval.

“Just tell them that your decision is the law,” said Lady Keisho-in.

“Yes, Mother,” sighed the shogun.

At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, Sano quickly moved away from the door, embarrassed and appalled by what he’d observed. The rumors about Keisho-in’s influence over Tokugawa Tsunayoshi were true. She was a fervent Buddhist, dominated by the ambitious, self-aggrandizing Ryuko, her favorite priest-and, Sano had heard, her lover. No doubt Ryuko had convinced her to ask the shogun for money. That such power lay in their hands posed a serious threat to national stability. Throughout history, the Buddhist clergy had raised armies and challenged samurai rule. And how ironic that Tsunayoshi had officials to protect him from unscrupulous concubines, but not from the most dangerous woman of all!

Madam Chizuru rounded the corner and approached her mistress’s suite. She put her head inside the door. At some signal from within the chamber, she turned and said, “Lady Keisho-in will see you now.”

They entered the room. There Lady Keisho-in sat alone, puffing on her pipe. There was no sign of the shogun, but the brocade curtains at Keisho-in’s back moved, as if someone had slipped through them. Sano and Hirata knelt and bowed.

“Sōsakan Sano and his chief retainer, Hirata,” Madam Chizuru announced, kneeling near Lady Keisho-in.

The shogun’s mother studied her visitors with frank interest. “So you are the men who have solved so many baffling mysteries? How exciting!”

Viewed up close, she didn’t look as young as she had at first. Her round face, with its small, even features, might have once been attractive, but the white powder didn’t completely mask deep creases in her skin. Bright cheek and lip rouge lent a semblance of vitality that the veined, yellowish whites of her eyes belied. A double chin bulged above a full bosom that had sagged with age. Her black hair had the uniform, unnatural darkness of dye. Her smile revealed cosmetically blackened teeth with two gaps in the top row, which gave her a rakish, common appearance. And commoner she was, Sano thought, recalling her history.

Keisho-in was the daughter of a Kyōto greengrocer. When her father had died, her mother became servant and mistress to a cook in the household of the imperial regent prince. There Keisho-in formed a friendship with the daughter of a prominent Kyōto family. When the friend became concubine to Shogun Tokugawa Iemitsu, she took Keisho-in to Edo Castle with her, and Keisho-in also became Iemitsu’s concubine. At age twenty, she had borne his son Tsunayoshi and secured herself the highest position a woman could attain: official consort to one shogun, mother of the next. Ever since then, Keisho-in had lived in luxury, ruling the women’s quarters.

“My honorable son has told me so much about your adventures,” Lady Keisho-in said, “and I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.” Batting her eyes at Sano and Hirata, she displayed the coy charm that must have enticed Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s father. Then a sigh rattled in her throat. “But what a sad occasion that brings you here: Lady Harume’s death. A tragedy! We women are all afraid for our own lives.”

However, it was apparently not Keisho-in’s nature to remain sad for long. Smiling flirtatiously at Sano, she said, “But with you here to save us, I feel better. Your assistant told Madam Chizuru that you desire our help in preventing an epidemic. Just tell us what we can do. We’re eager to be of use.”

“Lady Harume didn’t die of a disease, so there won’t be an epidemic,” Sano said, relieved to find the shogun’s mother so compliant. With her rank and influence, she could oppose his investigation if she chose; all inhabitants of the Large Interior were suspects in this politically sensitive crime, including herself. About Madam Chizuru’s feelings, Sano wasn’t sure. The otoshiyori’s expression remained neutral, but her rigid posture indicated resistance. “Lady Harume was murdered, with poison.”

For a moment, both women stared; neither spoke. Sano detected a flicker of unreadable emotion in Madam Chizuru’s eyes before she averted them. Then Lady Keisho-in gasped. “Poison? I’m shocked!” Eyes and mouth wide, she fell back against the cushions, panting. “I can’t breathe. I need air!” Madam Chizuru hurried to her mistress, but Lady Keisho-in waved her away and beckoned to Hirata. “Young man. Help me!”

Casting an uneasy glance at Sano, the young retainer went over to Lady Keisho-in. He picked up her fan and began fanning her vigorously. Soon her breaths evened; her body relaxed. When Hirata helped her sit up, she leaned against him for a moment, smiling into his face. “So strong and handsome and kind. Arigatō.”

“Dō itashimashite, " Hirata mumbled. He hastily returned to his place next to Sano with a sigh of relief.

Sano eyed him with concern. Usually Hirata could face with aplomb witnesses of either sex or any class; now, he knelt with his head down, shoulders hunched. What was the problem? For now, Sano considered the women’s reactions. Was the poisoning really news to them? Keisho-in’s swoon had seemed genuine, but Sano wondered if the otoshiyori had known or guessed about the murder.

“Who would want to kill poor Harume?” Keisho-in said in a plaintive voice. She puffed on her pipe, and a tear rolled down her cheek, leaving a track in the thick white makeup. “Such a sweet child; so charming and vivacious.” Then Keisho-in’s flirtatious manner returned. With a dimply smile at Hirata, she said, “Harume reminded me of myself when I was young. I was once a great beauty, and a favorite with everyone.”

She sighed. “And Harume was the same. Very popular. She sang and played the samisen wonderfully. Her jokes made us all laugh. That’s why I chose her to be one of my attendants. She knew how to make people happy. I simply adored her, like a daughter.”

Sano looked at Madam Chizuru. The otoshiyori pressed her lips together; a single breath eased from her: it was obvious that she didn’t share Keisho-in’s view of the dead girl. “What did you think of Lady Harume?” Sano asked Chizuru. “What kind of person did she seem to you?”

“It’s not my place to have opinions about His Excellency’s concubines,” Madam Chizuru said primly.

Sano sensed that Chizuru could tell him plenty about Lady Harume, but didn’t want to contradict her mistress. “Did Lady Harume have any enemies in the palace who might have wanted her dead?” he asked both women.

“Certainly not.” Keisho-in blew out an emphatic puff of smoke. “Everyone loved her. And we’re all very close here in the Large Interior. Like sisters.”

But even sisters had disagreements, Sano knew. Past quarrels in the Large Interior had resulted in murder. For Keisho-in to claim that five hundred women, crowded into such a tight space, lived together in complete harmony, she must either be quite stupid-or lying.

Madam Chizuru cleared her throat and said hesitantly, “There was a feud between Harume and one of the other concubines. Lady Ichiteru. They… didn’t get along.”

Keisho-in gaped, showing her missing teeth to unfortunate advantage. “No! This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Why didn’t Lady Ichiteru and Lady Harume get along?” Sano asked.

“Ichiteru is a lady of fine lineage, " Chizuru said. “She’s a cousin of the emperor, from Kyōto.” This was where the imperial family lived in genteel poverty, though stripped of political power and under the complete domination of the Tokugawa regime. “Before Harume came to Edo Castle eight months ago, Lady Ichiteru was the honorable shogun’s favorite companion… at least, among the women.”

Stealing a nervous glance at her mistress, Chizuru put a hand to her mouth. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s preference for men was common knowledge, but not, apparently, discussed in his mother’s presence.

“But when Harume came, she replaced Lady Ichiteru in the shogun’s affections?” Sano guessed.

Madam Chizuru nodded. “His Excellency stopped requesting Ichiteru’s company at night and started inviting Harume to his chamber.”

“Ichiteru should not have minded,” Lady Keisho-in announced. “My darling son has the right to enjoy any woman he chooses. And it’s his duty to beget an heir. When Ichiteru failed to produce a child, he was correct to try another concubine.” Keisho-in giggled. Winking at Hirata, she said, “One who is young and saucy and fertile-like I was when I met my dear, deceased Iemitsu. You know the kind of girl, don’t you, young man?”

A bright red spot of embarrassment burned on each of Hirata’s cheeks as he blurted, “Sumimasen-excuse me, but was there anyone among the servants, guards, or attendants who didn’t get along with Lady Harume?”

Shaking her head, Keisho-in waved away the question with her pipe, scattering ash onto the cushions. “The staff are people of excellent character and disposition. I personally interviewed them all before they were permitted to work in the Large Interior. None would have attacked a favored concubine.”

Madam Chizuru set her jaw and looked at the floor. Sano saw a disturbing fact emerging: Lady Keisho-in was oblivious to what happened around her. The otoshiyori handled the administration of the Large Interior, just as Chamberlain Yanagisawa managed the government for Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. That both leaders of Japan ’s ruling clan were so weak and dull-witted-there seemed no better term for it-boded ill for the nation.

“Sometimes people are not what they seem,” Sano hinted. “Someone may hide his true nature, until something happens… ”

Chizuru seized on this opening: she was obviously torn between fears of contradicting Lady Keisho-in and of lying to the shogun’s sōsakan-sama.

“The palace guards are all men who come from good families and have good service records. Usually they’re of good character, too. But one of them, Lieutenant Kushida… Four days ago, Lady Harume registered a complaint. She said he was behaving in an improper fashion toward her. When the palace officials weren’t watching, he would loiter around her, trying to start conversations about… inappropriate things.”

Meaning sex, Sano interpreted.

“Lieutenant Kushida sent offensive letters to Lady Harume, or so she said,” continued Madam Chizuru. “She even claimed that he spied on her while she bathed. She said she told him again and again to leave her alone, but he persisted, then finally got mad and threatened to kill her.”

“Disgusting!” Lady Keisho-in made a face, then said indignantly, “Why does no one tell me anything?”

Chizuru’s pained glance at Sano told him that she had informed the shogun’s mother, who had forgotten.

“What happened then?” Sano asked.

“I was reluctant to believe the accusations,” Chizuru said. “Lieutenant Kushida has worked here for ten years without causing any trouble. He is a fine, upstanding man. Lady Harume had been here only a short time.” The otoshiyori’s tone indicated that she had thought Harume less fine and upstanding, and the likely source of the problem. “However, this kind of accusation is always treated seriously. The law forbids male staff to bother the women, or engage in any improper relations with them. The penalty is dismissal. I reported the matter to the chief administrator. Lieutenant Kushida was temporarily relieved of his duties, pending an investigation of the charges.”

“And was this investigation performed?” Sano asked.

“No. And now that Lady Harume is dead…”

The charges, without her to substantiate them, must have been dropped, which explained why the chief administrator had neglected to tell Hirata about them. How fortunate for Lieutenant Kushida that his accuser’s death had averted the disgrace of losing his post. He, as well as the envious Lady Ichiteru, definitely merited an interview.

“Jealous concubines, rude guards,” lamented Keisho-in. “Dreadful! Sōsakan-sama, you must find and punish whoever killed my sweet little Harume and save us all from this evil, dangerous person.”

“I’ll need to have my detectives search the Large Interior and speak with the residents,” Sano said. “May I have your permission?”

“Of course, of course.” Lady Keisho-in nodded vigorously. Then, with a grunt, she pushed herself upright and beckoned Madam Chizuru to help her stand. “It’s time for my prayers. But please come and see me again.” She dimpled at Hirata. “You, too, young man.”

They made their farewells. Hirata almost ran from the room. Sano followed, wondering about his retainer’s uncharacteristic bashfulness and looking ahead to all the work they must do. Yet as they left the palace, he was glad that the hour was too late to begin calling on suspects or witnesses, and that they needn’t meet with the shogun until tomorrow. At home, Reiko waited. This was their wedding night.