The Dragon King's Palace

29

A storm the next day assailed the Tōkaidō, where Sano and his detective corps trotted on horseback behind Chamberlain Yanagisawa and his elite squadron of fighters, bound for the Dragon King’s palace. Gusts of wind lashed streaming rain against the two hundred mounted men. Thunder boomed across distant hills obscured by mist; lightning crazed the sky above the cypress woods that bordered the highway. Sano and his comrades rode hunched against the downpour. Water cascaded off the brim of his wide wicker hat, pelted his face, drenched his cloak and armor. The horses’ hooves splashed in puddles, flung up mud. But discomfort bothered Sano less than did the fact that although he and Yanagisawa had gathered their forces and headed west toward the Izu Peninsula as soon as the shogun had granted them permission, they’d made poor progress.

They’d traveled all yesterday evening and last night, and they’d barely passed Oiso, the halfway point of their journey. Traffic outside Edo and steep stretches of road along the sea had hindered them, although Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s authority had sped them through inspections at checkpoints. Riding any faster would tire the horses, and the village stables didn’t have enough fresh mounts for rent. And the twenty small wooden boats, brought for ferrying troops, guns, and ammunition to the island, further precluded speed.

The boats had traveled on oxcarts for the early part of the trip, but the carts had been abandoned because they couldn’t cross the rivers. Now foot soldiers carried the boats over their heads. The Tokugawa policy that prohibited bridges along the main highways, restricted troop movement, and prevented rebellions had backfired on the rescue mission. At this rate, the mission wouldn’t reach the island until tomorrow. Sano feared that the delay would cost Reiko, Midori, Keisho-in, and Lady Yanagisawa their lives. If only he’d discovered the Dragon King’s identity and whereabouts sooner, or if Hirata had brought the information! Sano wondered what had become of Hirata, Marume, and Fukida.

Suddenly he heard shouts ring out above the thunder. The procession slowed to a halt.

“Why are we stopping?” he said to Detective Inoue, who rode at his side.

Inoue squinted into the pouring rain. “It looks like there’s someone blocking the road.”

Sano stood in the stirrups, peered impatiently over Yanagisawa’s troops, and saw banners emblazoned with the Tokugawa crest. “It’s the army,” he said. “We’ve caught up with the forces that the shogun sent.”

He was glad the army hadn’t yet reached Izu and he and Chamberlain Yanagisawa could prevent its siege of the Dragon King. But the procession remained stopped. Angry voices rose from a stir between tihe procession and the army; mutters of confusion spread through the ranks. Eager to learn the cause of the delay, Sano steered his horse past the troops to the front of the procession. There he found Yanagisawa, astride a black stallion and clad in dripping rain gear, facing off against a bulbous mounted samurai who wore a helmet crowned with golden horns. Sano recognized the samurai as General Isogai, supreme commander of the Tokugawa army.

“I’m taking over the rescue expedition,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa shouted. He gestured at the army, some thousand strong, waiting on the road ahead of him and General Isogai. “Turn your troops around. Go home.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” the general retorted. “The shogun has sent us to rescue his mother, and I intend to do my duty.”

“You’ll do as I say, or be sorry later,” Yanagisawa said.

General Isogai laughed scornfully. “I don’t take orders from you. And in case you haven’t noticed, your threats don’t carry as much weight these days.” Galloping to the head of his army, he called, “Onward!”

The army surged down the highway. Yanagisawa stared after it in helpless rage. Sano experienced disbelief that anyone would treat the chamberlain so rudely, shock that Yanagisawa seemed to have lost much power, and awareness that the kidnapping had spawned unexpected repercussions, which weren’t yet common knowledge outside the bakufu’s top echelon.

Then Yanagisawa yelled to his troops, “Overtake the army!”

His men charged past Sano. Galloping horses buffeted him until he found himself at the front of his own detectives and joined the wild chase. His and Yanagisawa’s forces streamed up the road’s sloping banks around the army and plowed through its ranks. Skirmishes erupted. Yanagisawa’s squadron broke free from the pack and sped away. Sano and his detectives knocked soldiers off their horses, fended off grabbing hands, cleared the way for the men carrying the boats, and followed Yanagisawa.

Lightning stabbed a jagged silver line down the heavens; thunder shook the earth. Murderous yells came from the army, in hot pursuit but falling behind. Through the rainy landscape Sano and Yanagisawa hastened, until they reached the Sakawa River. The rain had swelled the river into a rushing torrent that overflowed the stone dikes. Perilous rapids stretched as far as Sano could see in either direction. The ferrymen who usually rowed travelers to the opposite bank were absent.

“We’ll ride the horses and row our own boats across,” said Yanagisawa.

At his orders, their army plunged into the river. The water became a roiling tumult of men and horses. Some riders were swept off their mounts and carried downstream. The men in the boats fought to row against the current. Sano urged his horse into the river. While the horse trod the water, Sano felt the current tugging at them. Cold waves sloshed over his lap. Midway across, he heard hoofbeats pounding on the road behind him. He looked around, saw mounted troops approaching, and thought the army had caught up. Then he noticed the banner carried by the lead rider. Surprise beset Sano, for the banner bore a dragonfly symbol instead of the Tokugawa crest.

The newcomers dove into the water; they joined the crush of struggling riders and whirling boats. A samurai rammed his horse against Sano’s. “Get out of my way!” he yelled.

“Lord Niu,” Sano said, beholding the crazed, distorted face of the daimyo. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard that you and the chamberlain and the army were going to Izu to rescue my daughter. I decided to go along.” Slapping the reins, Lord Niu shouted at his horse to swim faster.

Sano was horrified at the chaos that had resulted from too many people getting involved, to the detriment of the common good. The impetuous, hot-tempered Lord Niu could jeopardize the rescue even worse than could the Tokugawa army. This mission had become a race to get to Izu first, as well as a fight to stay alive long enough to save the women.

Inside the Dragon King’s palace, the women listened to the commotion that had begun last night and continued through the present afternoon. Shouts echoed; running footsteps sounded throughout the castle buildings and grounds. Reiko heard the distant whir and thump of flying arrows. She peered out the barred window, as she’d done repeatedly since the unrest began.

“What do you see?” Midori asked anxiously, while she nursed the baby.

“It’s going to rain again,” Reiko said. Dark storm clouds encroached upon the overcast sky. She watched Ota step off the veranda and stride through the garden to meet another man who hurried toward him. They conversed in low, urgent tones. “Ota is talking to one of his friends. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they seem troubled.”

The other guard hastened away. Ota shot Reiko an ireful glance. Earlier, she’d asked him about the strange disturbance, but he’d refused to tell her anything. She sidestepped away from the window.

“I wish I knew what’s going on,” she said.

“Could the kidnappers be fighting among themselves?” Lady Yanagisawa said hesitantly. “Or maybe they’ve rebelled against their leader?”

A mutiny would explain the commotion, Reiko thought. It would also explain why the Dragon King hadn’t summoned her since yesterday, when he’d revealed the reason for his crimes and she’d failed to convince him to leave the island. Defending himself against traitors would keep him too busy. But another possibility gave her hope.

“Maybe someone has come to rescue us,” Keisho-in said, voicing Reiko’s thought.

“Oh, I hope it’s Hirata-san and Sano-san!” Eagerness shone on Midori’s face. “Maybe they’ll get us out of here soon.”

Reiko also hoped their husbands had come to their rescue. But if so, what was taking them so long? And she couldn’t feel Sano’s presence, as she always did when he was near.

Lady Yanagisawa joined Reiko near the window. “Might the noise signify a battle between the rescuers and the Dragon King?” Lady Yanagisawa whispered.

“I’m afraid that may be the case,” Reiko whispered back. “Almost a day has passed since the noise began, and we’re still captive. That could mean the Dragon King is successfully defending his stronghold.”

Distress etched Lady Yanagisawa’s face. “If his men kill the rescuers, salvation will never come.”

Reiko nodded unhappily as another unwelcome thought occurred to her. “No matter whether someone’s trying to save us or there’s a mutiny-either one means trouble for us. An attack by the bakufu could panic the Dragon King into carrying out his threat to kill us. But we could also be killed in a war between him and his own men.”

What she’d decided yesterday still seemed to hold true: “Unless I can get to the Dragon King, kill him, and free us, we’ll die.” Even though Reiko prayed that he would send for her again, she longed for rescue to come and spare her the need to do what she planned.

Crouched behind a moss-covered boulder in the gardens within the castle, Hirata, Marume, and Fukida spied two peasant hoodlums striding in their direction through the tall grass. Both carried iron clubs and wore the watchful air of hunters. Hirata was glad the island afforded many hiding places, and the sunless day helped him and his comrades blend into the landscape. But he wasn’t so glad that the kidnappers had begun stalking them in teams. They’d lost the advantage they’d had against lone pursuers. Every time they got close to the part of the castle where Midori was, the kidnappers chased them away. A night, morning, and afternoon of covert warfare had diminished their stamina. Exhaustion, hunger, and strain plagued Hirata, as did his cold. How much longer could they continue their deadly game?

The hoodlums passed them. Marume sprang from behind the boulder. Grabbing the nearest hoodlum, he flung his strong arm across the man’s throat. One brutal squeeze, one strangled cry, and the hoodlum dropped dead. His partner turned, saw Marume, and raised his club. Hirata lunged and swung his sword, gashing the hoodlum’s belly. As the bleeding, groaning man crumpled, Hirata saw two samurai sneaking up behind Fukida, who squatted near the boulder.

“Look out!” Hirata called.

Fukida whirled, sword in hand. He parried strikes from the samurai, then struck one down with a deep, slanting cut to the torso. Hirata and Marume felled the other in a frenzy of clashing swords. Weary and panting, bloodstained from minor injuries, Hirata and the detectives beheld the corpses.

“That’s eighteen so far,” Marume said. “I wonder how many more kidnappers are left.”

“Too many,” Hirata said.

That they’d eliminated some of the enemy seemed to have hardly diminished its numbers. Hirata felt no remorse at slaying men who’d stolen his wife and murdered a hundred people, but the ceaseless round of killing had eroded his spirit. He only hoped he could endure long enough to save Midori.

Suddenly he heard movement behind a wrecked cottage nearby. He saw the cylindrical barrel of a gun poking around the corner. Panic lurched his heart. “Run!” he said.

He and Fukida and Marume launched themselves across the gardens. The shot boomed; the bullet pinged off the boulder. More gunfire roared; running footsteps followed them. They sprinted, crouching low to the ground, through trees that screened the castle from the lake, which rippled like gray lava. Halted at the shoreline, they looked desperately around for somewhere to hide. At the water’s edge, tall reeds waved in the breeze. Low, sooty clouds scudded over the woods and hills on the mainland. Hirata, Marume, and Fukida plowed through the reeds, into water up to their thighs. They crouched in the cover of the reeds.

Two samurai burst from the forest. Each carried an arquebus; containers for gunpowder and bullets dangled at their waists. They paused to survey the area. Their gazes bypassed the spot where Hirata and the detectives waited in motionless suspense. Then they retreated into the forest. Hirata and his comrades exchanged a look that expressed more apprehension than relief.

“That they’re using guns now means they’ve given up trying to capture us,” Hirata said. “They’re shooting to kill.”

“Our close calls are getting closer every time,” Fukida said.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” Marume said. “Eventually they’ll get us.”

Hirata couldn’t deny that likelihood. But he said bravely, “We don’t have to keep this up forever. Just long enough to reduce the castle’s defense and smuggle out the women.”