The Fire Kimono

7

Reiko entered the women’s quarters to find Sano carrying an old woman down the hall. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Who-?”

The woman lay limp in Sano’s arms, her complexion sickly pale. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed oblivious to the world. Then Reiko recognized her. “Honorable Mother-in-law,” Reiko said in surprise, then turned to Sano. “What is she doing here? Is something wrong?”

Her relationship with Sano’s mother was cordial but not close. As a new bride Reiko had tried to befriend her mother-in-law, who always seemed nervous around her. The old woman had endured rather than warmed under Reiko’s attentions, and they didn’t have much to say to each other. Sano’s mother had never spent a night in this house during his marriage, and she seldom visited.

“My mother has been accused of the murder of Tokugawa Tadatoshi and placed under house arrest,” Sano said. He looked more stunned than Reiko had ever seen him.

“What?” Reiko said. “How can that be?”

She gazed in bewilderment at her mother-in-law, the most harmless person she knew. She felt as if the world had turned upside down.

Sano called to the servants who loitered in doorways: “My mother will be staying here. Prepare a bed for her. And fetch her maid.”

He carried her into a guest chamber. Reiko followed. The servants hurried to obey his orders. He gently laid her on the futon that they spread on the floor. Hana rushed in and took charge. Sano and Reiko stepped out to the corridor while Hana got the old woman settled. There Sano described how his mother had been dragged out of her house and brought before the shogun, how Colonel Doi had told his incriminating story about her. Reiko listened in shock.

“Who is this Colonel Doi, and why is everybody taking his accusation seriously?” she asked.

“He’s a big man in Lord Matsudaira’s army,” Sano replied.

“I should have guessed,” Reiko said. “Lord Matsudaira is behind everything bad that happens.” She remembered the matter that had been foremost in her mind just moments ago. “I know you don’t need more problems, but there’s something I must tell you that can’t wait. My bodyguard has discovered that Lord Matsudaira has a spy in our house.”

Sano lifted his eyes skyward, simultaneously alarmed, vexed, and overwhelmed. “You’re right, I didn’t need that now. But thank you for alerting me. I’ll mount a search for the spy as soon as I have a free moment.”

Reiko said, “Planting a spy in our midst is bad enough, but now Lord Matsudaira has attacked your poor, helpless mother. This is preposterous! Of course she didn’t kill that boy.”

“Of course.” But Sano’s expression was grave, conflicted.

“You can’t think there’s any chance she did it?” Amazement filled Reiko.

Sano’s frown deepened. “I really don’t know what to think.” He expelled a deep breath. “It seems I don’t really know my mother. She led me to believe she was a peasant, but I just now learned that she’s from a Tokugawa vassal clan.”

As Sano related how this fact had come out, Reiko shook her head. That her meek, shy mother-in-law had a secret past!

But as Reiko recovered from her initial shock, she wasn’t really surprised. She remembered things about Sano’s mother that had never fit her persona. Her manners had the effortless grace of a lady. Her speech was more refined than a typical commoner’s. Although she dressed plainly, her clothes had an elegance that had less to do with expensive fabric and the latest fashion than with the wearer’s style. Sano wouldn’t have noticed such things; men seldom did. Reiko hadn’t told Sano because she hadn’t thought it important enough and he would have scoffed at the idea that his mother was someone other than she seemed. But the revelation about his mother explained a lot.

“How did her life turn out the way it did?” Reiko asked.

“I don’t know. That’s one question I mean to ask her.” Sano’s expression was stony with hurt because his mother had deceived him, and grim because he now must contend with her troubles as well as his own. “And believe me, I have plenty of others. I have to determine who really killed Tadatoshi, and at the moment she’s my only source of clues.”

He turned toward the guest room. “She should be settled by now.”

“Shall I come with you?” Reiko asked, filled with curiosity.

“No,” Sano said. “I’d rather talk to her alone. Whatever she says, I’ll tell you later.”

Reiko resisted the temptation to eavesdrop. As Sano entered the guest room, she drifted down the corridor, marveling at the turn of events. Last night she’d offered to help him with his investigation if something arose that she could work on at home. Now it had. The investigation had come to her, in the form of the one and only suspect.

Sano’s mother lay in bed, propped on cushions, guarded by Hana. Her expression was desolate. She gazed into space, her hands limp on the quilt that covered her. She hadn’t touched the tea set on the table. But at least she was calm.

“Mother?” Sano knelt at her feet.

She blinked, and her eyes focused on him. In them appeared the same expression with which she’d beheld him since his childhood-a mixture of love, pride, and maternal anxiety. But there was something new.

It was fear.

Of him.

Sano didn’t want to think what her fear might signify. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, murmuring, “I’m sorry to make so much trouble for you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Sano said with affection. She’d always put him first. “I want to help you. I need to ask you some questions about what’s happened. Do you feel up to that?”

“I suppose so.” But she looked ill and exhausted.

Sano wouldn’t have forced her, except that they had no time to lose. Lord Matsudaira was probably working to ruin them already. “Hana-san, will you leave us for a few moments?”

Reluctance compressed Hana’s mouth, but she started to rise. Sano’s mother said, “Please, I want Hana to stay.”

For moral support or protection against him? Sano had never thought to find himself interrogating his own mother who was accused of the crime he was investigating. He could see in her face that her feelings toward him had changed: He was no longer the same son she’d borne. He was the authority, a danger.

“Please don’t be upset,” Sano said, “but I have to ask you: Did you kill Tadatoshi?”

“No!” Hurt encroached on the fear in her eyes. “I’m innocent. You don’t believe him, do you?”

Sano supposed that any woman arrested, dragged out of her house, accused before the shogun, and threatened with death would be afraid, even if not guilty. “Believe Colonel Doi? Of course not. But why would he make up that story?”

“… I don’t know.”

Sano noticed the hesitation before she answered, the glance she and Hana exchanged. “Do you know Colonel Doi?”

Although she wouldn’t meet his eyes, she nodded.

“How well?”

Hana said, “Tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Sano said, mystified.

His mother sighed. “Colonel Doi and I were once engaged to be married.”

Sano’s body didn’t register the shock. His breath didn’t catch; no blow landed in the pit of his stomach. It was as if her words had fallen on a cushion whose stuffing had already been punched out by earlier revelations about her. But he felt a sensation like a knife piercing the core of his spirit. That his mother had been engaged to Colonel Doi, and he hadn’t known, put to question everything he’d believed about their family.

“When was this?” he asked.

Sadness and shame clouded her face. “Before I met your father.”

He’d thought his father had been the only man in her life. He knew it was stupid to be jealous on his father’s behalf, or his own. His father had been dead eleven years; nothing could hurt him. And Sano had no claim on his mother before his birth. But emotions were often neither rational nor controllable.

“Did my father know?” Sano asked.

“Yes.”

“And neither of you ever told me.” Anger gathered heat in Sano. The engagement didn’t mean his mother and Doi had been involved in any unseemly way, because most marriages were arranged, and betrothed couples were barely acquainted until their wedding day. But Sano felt as if her prior engagement was a violation of her marriage to his father and their family.

“We didn’t think it mattered,” she said weakly.

“What happened with the engagement?”

“It was broken.”

“Obviously.” Had it not been broken, she couldn’t have married Sano’s father. “Who broke it? Your parents or Doi’s?”

Her gaze turned vague. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember why it was broken?”

“… No.”

Sano beheld her with disbelief. The breaking of an engagement was a serious matter. In this instance it had resulted in his mother marrying a poor ronin and losing her place in high society. Sano doubted that even after more than forty years she’d forgotten.

“What did Colonel Doi think about the broken engagement?” Sano asked.

“Must we talk about this?” Her voice was querulous, her face wan.

“If you expect me to save you, I have to figure out what’s going on,” Sano said. “You have to work with me.”

She closed her eyes briefly, as if wanting to hide from him. “I’m sorry.”

“All right, let’s forget Colonel Doi for now,” Sano said. She’d already given him a possible clue in that direction. If Doi had been upset about the broken engagement and nursed a grudge all this time, maybe that was why he’d incriminated her. He certainly merited investigation. “Let’s talk about Tadatoshi. Do you remember him?”

“He was just a boy. I barely knew him.”

Her hand crawled across the quilt toward Hana. The maid held and patted it reassuringly. Her stern gaze disapproved of Sano’s treatment of his mother even if it was for her own good.

“Could he really have been kidnapped?”

“I don’t know.”

Sano remembered the shogun saying Tadatoshi had been prone to wander off. That was a preferable explanation for his disappearance that Doi’s story had unfortunately eclipsed. “What can you tell me about the day he disappeared?”

A shadow of memory darkened her eyes. “It was the day the Great Long-sleeves Kimono Fire started. Everyone in the house was supposed to travel across the river, to get away from it. But when we were ready to leave, Tadatoshi was missing. We looked all over the estate, but he wasn’t there. His father sent us all out to look for him in the city. But nobody ever found him.” Her voice broke. “I was caught in the fire. So were other people from the house. Only a few of us survived.”

“Did anyone think at the time that Tadatoshi had been kidnapped?”

“I don’t know. There was so much confusion.”

“If you didn’t kidnap him, maybe someone else did.” Sano knew it was dangerous to assume she was innocent, but he couldn’t believe she would kidnap a child any more than kill it. “What about this tutor, this monk named Egen, that Colonel Doi mentioned? Could he have done it?”

“No! I mean, I don’t know, I can barely remember him.” She squirmed in bed, her face averted from Sano. “Please, no more questions. That was such a terrible time. I can’t stand talking about it.”

Hana said, “Leave your mother alone, young master. Let her rest.” She used the same no-nonsense tone as when scolding him during his childhood. “Pestering her isn’t going to make her memory come back.”

“Very well,” Sano said, and watched his mother sag with relief. “But we’re going to have to discuss it, the sooner the better. The more information you can give me, the more chance I’ll find out who really killed Tadatoshi.”

As he left the room, he didn’t wonder if she was hiding something. He wondered how much it was, and how bad.

“I didn’t want to say this when the young master was here,” Hana said, “but maybe you should tell him the whole story.”

Etsuko stared at her maid in horror. “I can’t.”

“But he’s said that if he’s to help you, you have to help him.” Hana was sympathetic but firm. No matter that they were servant and mistress; her long years of devotion gave Hana the privilege of speaking her mind. “I think he’s right.”

“I’ve told him plenty.” That had been hard enough. Etsuko pulled the quilt up to her chin. She wished she could crawl under the quilt and hide from her troubles, just as she’d hidden for forty-three years. “He doesn’t need to know the rest.”

“What would it hurt for him to know?” Hana persisted. “After all this time?”

“You saw his face when I told him about my engagement to Colonel Doi. It did hurt him. And it hurt me to see him angry because I hid my past from him.” As heartache and shame filled her, Etsuko rushed to justify her decision. “But I hid it to protect our family’s honor. For his sake as well as mine.”

They shared an understanding glance. Hana knew most of what had happened. She’d stood by Etsuko and faithfully kept her silence. But now she said, “Have you stopped to think that your secrets may come out no matter what you do? There are other people alive who know. Better that your son should hear the truth from you first.”

But the truth was even worse than Hana thought. Etsuko hadn’t shared the whole story with her longtime confidante. She prayed that those who knew would keep the silence they’d maintained all these years. They had as much reason as she, but could she count on their discretion?

“If you don’t tell him, maybe I should,” Hana said.

“No!”

Etsuko grabbed Hana’s arm and clutched it so tightly that Hana gasped in pain. In her eyes shone the fear that her mistress would harm her to keep her quiet. Etsuko experienced her own sudden trepidations that Hana might know more about her and Colonel Doi, Tadatoshi and his tutor, than she’d thought.

“I’m sorry,” Etsuko said, releasing her hold on Hana. “You’re right. I should tell him. And I will.” She had no intention, but she must prevent Hana from talking. “But not yet.” She lay back on the bed, feeling exhausted and ill. “This has been too much for me. I can’t bear any more right now.”

Relenting, Hana tucked the quilt around her. “All right. Rest awhile. I’ll be here if you need anything. We’ll get through this together.”

Etsuko closed her eyes, but knew she would have no rest. The discovery of Tadatoshi’s murder had opened a door to the past, and out of it came the winds of memory, rushing upon her like a storm.

A fierce northern wind buffeted Edo. It shook the houses, penetrated chinks in the walls, rattled bare tree branches, and swept whirlwinds of dust through the streets. After months without rain, the city was as dry as tinder. Every day, sparks from charcoal braziers ignited fires all over town. Buildings burned to the ground in an instant. Fire alarm bells rang continuously. The blue sky was obscured by swirling clouds of black smoke.

Inside the walled estate of Lord Tokugawa Naganori, cousin to the shogun, the gusts jangled wind-chimes that hung from the eaves. Etsuko and a party of other girls were gathered on the veranda, bundled in padded silk cloaks, hoods, and mittens. She was sixteen, the youngest lady-in-waiting to Lord Naganori’s wife. They cheered at the antics of Lord Naganori’s soldiers, who cavorted in the garden, showing off.

A soldier turned somersaults across the dry brown grass and hit a tree. Etsuko and her friends giggled. His comrades jeered. One said, “My turn!”

Tall and lithe, he balanced himself on his hands and effortlessly walked on them up to the veranda. He flipped backward and landed on his feet. As he bowed, the ladies clapped, fluttery with admiration.

“You’re so lucky,” one of the women whispered to Etsuko.

Etsuko was the most beautiful lady-in-waiting, envied by her friends, admired by the men. And she was engaged to be married to Doi Naokatsu, the samurai athlete, whose proud, smiling gaze focused on her.

“He’s so handsome,” sighed another woman.

Even better, he was a favorite of Lord Naganori’s. He currently served as chief bodyguard to the lord’s son Tadatoshi, but he was slated for a much higher position in the future. When Etsuko married him, her future as the wife of a rich, important man would be secure. Her parents were happy about the match they’d arranged for her, and so had Etsuko been, at first. She’d known Doi forever; his family and hers were old friends. She liked him, and she’d welcomed the prospect of having him for a husband.

Until she’d lost her heart to someone else.

Doi and his friends began a mock sword battle, vying for the ladies’ attention. Etsuko slipped into the house. Drafts rattled the lattice-and-paper walls as she tiptoed through the corridors. From a room drifted Tadatoshi’s voice. Etsuko peeked through the door.

Tadatoshi knelt at a table furnished with books, paper, and writing supplies. He recited a lesson from the history of Japan. He was such an odd boy that the sight of him gave Etsuko a creepy, uncomfortable feeling. He seldom spoke voluntarily, his eyes never looked straight at anyone, and he had a peculiar smile. Etsuko’s gaze fixed on the man who sat beside Tadatoshi. Her breath caught.

His shaved head was turned toward his pupil. A hemp monk’s robe clothed his slim body. His long, finely modeled hands toyed with his beaded wooden rosary while he listened. As if Etsuko’s yearning gaze had touched him, Egen turned and saw her. His beautiful, sensitive features made Etsuko tremble inside. Her eyes met his deep, somber ones. She almost fainted.

Until Egen had come to the estate last spring, Etsuko had never been in love. The moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d felt the sweet, exhilarating rapture. And she could tell by his expression that he’d felt it, too. The stories she’d heard, the plays she’d seen, had told the truth: Souls could meet and know in an instant that they were meant for one another.

Now Tadatoshi finished his recitation. Egen corrected his mistakes, then said, “It’s time for your sword-fighting lesson. You may go.”

Tadatoshi stood, bowed, and exited the room. He had a furtive, scrambling gait. He passed Etsuko without seeming to see her. She hardly noticed him. She floated toward Egen, who rose.

“Hello,” he said in his quiet, gentle voice.

“Hello,” she murmured.

Love imbued their slightest conversations with profound meaning. Every word spoken between them breathed passion-and despair. They both knew their love couldn’t last.

“I had to see you,” she said.

“I’m glad you came.” He moved closer, and Etsuko quaked with the desire for his touch. His smile faded; worry darkened his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You know what.”

Her engagement to Doi made a life together as impossible as did his vow of celibacy. The unfairness of their situation was something they often discussed and mourned. But Etsuko sensed more on Egen’s mind. “What else?”

“I’m worried about Tadatoshi.”

Jealousy stabbed Etsuko. She wanted his concern all for herself. “How can you think of him, when-”

“He’s my pupil,” Egen hastened to explain. “I’m responsible for him.”

“Oh,” Etsuko said, trying to be generous and understanding. “Why are you worried?”

“He doesn’t have any playmates or seem to want any. He’d rather brood by himself. And sometimes, I swear, he’s like a ghost. He disappears, and I can’t find him anyplace. Then he reappears as if out of thin air. Where does he go? What’s he doing? He’s not normal.”

Etsuko agreed, but she said, “I don’t think there’s much you can do.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, clearly not convinced. Etsuko smiled up at him and grazed her fingers against his wrist. The worry in his eyes gave way to desire. He closed his hand around hers. “Will I see you tonight?” he asked urgently.

Etsuko nodded, breathless with anticipation.

“In our usual place?”

Footsteps coming down the passage startled them. Egen let go of Etsuko’s hand. They sprang apart just as Doi appeared.

“Oh, there you are,” Doi said to Etsuko. “The girls sent me to look for you.”

Etsuko blushed; her heart pounded wildly. He’d almost caught them!

“Your mistress is going to the theater. You’re all to accompany her, and so are some of us men.” Doi beamed, glad for a party, for a chance to sit beside her during the play. Etsuko pitied him because he didn’t know that her feelings toward him had changed. Doi turned to Egen. “You can come, too.”

Shame filled Etsuko. He was a kind, generous man. He’d befriended Egen, who was an outsider in this house, a gentle scholar and poet among rowdy samurai. And she and Egen were betraying him.

“Thank you,” Egen said, and Etsuko could see that he felt as guilty as she did. “But I have lessons to prepare.”

“Oh. Well, maybe next time.” Doi said to Etsuko, “Come on, let’s go.”

But he hesitated, looking curiously at her, then at Egen. Etsuko winced inwardly. Did he suspect?