The Incense Game

15

From a distance Zojo Temple appeared unchanged, its hilly terrain and pine forests serenely beautiful under the fresh snow. Sano could almost believe that all was well at the Tokugawa family temple, home to three thousand priests, nuns, novices, and their attendants-until he and his troops drew nearer.

The two-story main gate lay in fragments by the road. Sano’s party trod carefully on shifted, crumbled stone stairs that led to the temple’s main precinct. Inside the precinct, people crowded the space around the temple buildings. Some sheltered under tents; others sat in the falling snow with nothing to protect them except the clothes on their backs. Children snuggled against mothers who held crying infants. The pagoda leaned as if in a fierce wind. Walls had peeled off the abbot’s residence and the novices’ dormitories, exposing empty rooms. Heat waves rose from the crematorium, where the fires that would burn more dead bodies during the night had already been lit. Rhythmic chanting emanated from the main hall, whose massive structure, carved columns and doors, wooden bracketry, and undulating roofs were miraculously intact. Sano and his men entered its cavernous realm of flame-light and shadow. The smoke was so thick that Sano could hardly breathe, the smell of incense overpowering. Kneeling people packed the floor, facing the altar. Their lips moved as they chanted. They were praying to the Buddha to deliver them from evil. Sano hoped the Buddha was listening.

On the altar, hundreds of candles burned before a giant golden Buddha statue. Its many arms seemed to wave in the flickering light that reflected off thousands of golden lotus flowers that surrounded it. Priests in saffron robes knelt on the raised floor before the altar, their backs to the crowd. Their shaved heads gleamed. The tallest man, at their center, wore a glittering stole of red and gold brocade that seemed made of fire. It was Priest Ryuko. His chanting boomed above the others, deep and resonant. The earthquake seemed to have added luster to his image as Japan’s leading cleric.

Sano edged around the crowd to the side of the altar. From there he had a good view of Priest Ryuko. Appearance had certainly played a part in Ryuko’s good fortune. His profile was comely, with a high brow, long nose, heavy-lidded eyes, and lips as full and curved as the Buddha statue’s. He must have sensed Sano’s attention; he turned his head slightly. His gaze grew hooded. He rose in a motion that was smooth and quick for a man in his fifties. He beckoned Sano. They went to a side chapel, where a smaller altar held gilded statues of the spirits of prosperity, relief to the poor, and the exorcism of evil. The sound of chanting was muted here. Incense sticks gave off bittersweet smoke tendrils. In the dim light of a few candles, Sano and Ryuko bowed to each other. Sano could see that leading the faithful through this crisis had taken its toll on Ryuko. Purplish shadows smudged the skin under his eyes, and his vibrant golden skin had turned ashen with fatigue.

“I presume this is not a social call.” Ryuko’s voice rasped from so much chanting. “None of us has time for those nowadays.”

“Indeed,” Sano said. “I came to see how the temple is faring.”

Ryuko studied Sano intently, as if trying to glean the significance behind the pretext. They were political allies by default rather than because of mutual trust. Ryuko detested Yanagisawa, whose power had threatened the authority of the clergy, and had backed Sano during his clashes with Yanagisawa. But Ryuko and Sano were leery of each other’s power.

“Your officials were here two days ago,” Ryuko said. “I’ve made a full report.”

His suave manner had a splintery edge. The earthquake had revealed wellsprings of patience and compassion in some people; in others, their natural bad tempers. Ryuko was among the latter, goaded by frustration to turn a simple chat into a quarrel, the last thing Sano needed while conducting a murder investigation that he wasn’t supposed to be conducting and questioning a suspect who wasn’t supposed to know he was a suspect.

“It’s good to see things with one’s own eyes,” Sano said in a placating tone.

“True.” Yet Ryuko clearly chafed at Sano’s authority. “As you’ve probably noticed, we haven’t been able to repair our buildings that were damaged. May I ask when we can expect help from the government?”

Although religion was important to the shogun, and he’d proclaimed that fixing the temples was a top priority, he’d left Sano to allocate scarce resources. Sano had put the temples behind urgent needs such as feeding and supplying clean water to the population and repairing the castle, roads, and bridges. Ryuko had protested the decision. So had other officials who thought their homes, offices, and businesses deserved a bigger share.

“You can expect help soon.” As soon as he solved the case and Lord Hosokawa handed over the money, Sano thought. If he didn’t solve the case, the civil war would start and Priest Ryuko would have more serious problems to worry about than fixing the temple.

“That’s good news.” Ryuko’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“By the way,” Sano said, “I understand that someone you’re acquainted with was found yesterday, during the search for victims of the earthquake.”

“Oh? Who is it?”

“An incense teacher named Madam Usugumo. Didn’t you take lessons from her?”

“Usugumo is dead?” Ryuko’s heavy eyelids lifted so high that the entire pupils showed, dark brown rimmed with black, shining in the candlelight.

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it. What a pity.” There was a strange note in Ryuko’s voice; it sounded closer to pleasure than surprise or sorrow. Something in him had relaxed, a tension that Sano only became aware of now, in its absence. “How do you know about Usugumo’s death?”

“Hirata- san told me. He found her while he was searching and rescuing.” Sano omitted the fact of his own involvement.

“I didn’t know her very well, but she was a good teacher, a fine woman.” Ryuko’s manner grew cautious, as if he realized that there had been something wrong with his initial reaction, which he hoped Sano hadn’t noticed. “The earthquake has cost so many people their lives.”

“The earthquake didn’t kill Usugumo,” Sano said. “She was poisoned.”

Ryuko’s expression stiffened; he resembled a Buddha statue more than ever. Sano felt the tension in him return, drawing his muscles tight. “Poisoned, how?” His lips barely moved.

“At an incense game with two of her pupils.” Sano didn’t mention that the other victims were Lord Hosokawa’s daughters. “There was arsenic in the incense. All three women were found dead together, in the remains of Usugumo’s house.”

Ryuko swallowed visibly. “It couldn’t have been an accident?” His eyes betrayed the hope that his flat tone tried to conceal.

“Anything’s possible, but it looks like murder,” Sano said.

“That’s why you’re here.” Ryuko couldn’t hide the fear that turned his complexion grayer. “You’re not checking on the temple; you’re investigating Usugumo’s murder. And you think I killed her!”

“I’m not investigating any murder. How would I have time?” Sano hoped the lie sounded more believable than it felt. “Her murder will be a matter for the police, when they get around to it. But since you raised the possibility that you killed her, I might as well ask: Did you put the arsenic in the incense?”

Offense revived the color in Ryuko’s face. “I shouldn’t dignify that question with a reply, but I will.” He said forcefully, “No.”

Sano couldn’t tell if he was lying. Ryuko, like all successful courtiers, was an expert actor, even when under pressure. “You’ve been in Usugumo’s house, haven’t you? You could have mixed in the arsenic while you were blending incense. Or you could have prepared the poisoned incense pellets ahead of time and brought them with you to your lessons.”

“Why would I do that?” Ryuko sounded a shade more tentative now, as if he were afraid that Sano had the answer. He hurried to counterattack. “I think you are investigating the murder. If you aren’t, why bother bringing it up?”

“Just curious,” Sano fibbed. “I’m sorry to upset you.”

“I am not upset,” Ryuko said in the haughty tone that often accompanies this lie. Perspiration gleamed on his shaved scalp. “I am merely annoyed, because you have the temerity to suggest that I could be involved in such a sordid matter. And because I think you”-he pointed a finger at Sano-“are up to some kind of dirty business, and the murder investigation is a ruse.”

“No dirty business, no ruse,” Sano said in the artless tone in which a false denial is often spoken. “Pardon me. Forget I mentioned Usugumo. I’ll be leaving now.”

Ryuko thrust his finger into Sano’s face. Its nail was long, curved, and sharp. “I warn you,” he said, the rasp in his voice like a jagged knife. His angry eyes glittered as brightly as his stole. “Leave me alone, or I’ll have a word with Lady Keisho-in. She won’t like you making insinuations about her favorite priest.” But his fear that he would be blamed for the murder, and lose her patronage, showed in the trembling edges of his fierce smile. “She’ll turn against you. And after a word from her, so will the shogun.”

He swept past Sano, his robes lashing against Sano’s legs as he stalked toward the main hall where the prayers droned on and on. Sano wondered what he could have done differently, to avoid antagonizing Ryuko. He also wondered what Ryuko was hiding about his relations with the incense teacher.

“You don’t want to go in there,” said one of the ladies-in-waiting huddled on the veranda outside the Large Interior.

The Large Interior contained the women’s quarters of the palace, where the shogun’s mother, wife, female concubines, and their attendants lived. They still lived there, although most of their building had collapsed during the earthquake; no better accommodations were available. A bamboo fence screened the intact wing from the ruins, the workers clearing them away, and the noise.

“Why not?” Reiko noticed more women occupying the pavilion in the snowy garden. These most privileged, pampered women in Japan were living like housewives in the slums. The earthquake had equalized the social classes. They looked cold and dour.

“You’ll see,” the lady-in-waiting said ominously.

Carrying a small lacquer lunch box she’d brought, Reiko entered the low, half-timbered building. A din of women’s shrill voices sounded like quarrelsome birds. She left her shoes by a pile of other shoes and draped her cloak on other garments that hung in the entryway. Heading down the corridor, she winced at the stale odor of too many people shut up in too little space. Chambers contained women bathing, brushing their hair, putting on makeup, eating, or playing cards. Acrimony tinged their conversations. Two girls squabbled about a broken comb. They were all like caged animals, venting their frustrations on one another. The loudest voice emanated from the largest room. Reiko stood at the threshold because so many women knelt on the floor, taking up all the space. Young and old, they wore brightly painted kimonos, their hair spiked with expensive ornaments. They sat in frightened silence. Amid them lay Lady Keisho-in, the shogun’s mother.

She drummed her heels and fists on the floor and yelled, “How dare he?” in her croaky old voice. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

Small and plump, she wore a brilliant magenta silk kimono. She loved girlish clothes, which she’d never given up even though she was seventy-six years old. Thick white rice-powder on her round, double-chinned face hid its wrinkles. Red rouge on her lips and cheeks, and black hair dye, lent her a semblance of youth. As she ranted, the gaps between her teeth hardly showed; the ones that remained were painted black in the fashionable style for married women. She’d never married the shogun’s father, Reiko knew; she’d been his peasant concubine. The fact that she’d given birth to the shogun gave her every privilege of fashion and rank she wanted. Reiko understood why the women were outside in the cold: They didn’t like to be around while Lady Keisho-in had a tantrum.

A gray-haired attendant spied Reiko and exclaimed brightly, “Look, my lady! You have a visitor!”

The other women cleared a path for Reiko. As she walked into the room, they bowed, smiled, and backed out, leaving her to cope with Lady Keisho-in, who shouted curses. Reiko knelt. Lady Keisho-in sat up and went silent, surprised to see Reiko, puzzled because she’d lost her audience.

“Good afternoon, Lady Keisho-in,” Reiko said. “May I ask what has upset you so much?”

An angry scowl creased the makeup on Lady Keisho-in’s face. “It’s that damned astronomer. Have you heard about his pronouncement?”

“Yes, my husband mentioned it,” Reiko said.

“His constellations say the cosmos is displeased with the government in general, and an important personage in particular. He had the nerve to hint that it’s me, because I was promoted to the highest rank in court, which is too far above my station.” Lady Keisho-in exclaimed, “Can you believe it?”

Reiko hadn’t heard that part of the story. “No, indeed, I can’t.” It was dangerous for anyone to criticize the shogun’s mother.

“As if that weren’t bad enough, he suggested that the earthquake is my fault!”

The astronomer had put Lady Keisho-in in danger, too, Reiko realized. People wanted someone to blame for the earthquake. If it was Lady Keisho-in, not even her status as the shogun’s mother would protect her from harsh punishment. Reiko reflected that no matter how bad one’s own earthquake-related problems seemed, others had theirs that were even worse.

“He doesn’t know his anus from a hole in his head,” Lady Keisho-in declared. “I deserve that rank even though I was born a peasant. I’m the mother of the shogun! Besides, my son has the right to promote anyone he wants!” She cursed, then asked Reiko, “What do you think?”

Reiko thought giving birth to a shogun was a matter of sex and luck rather than accomplishment, and it shouldn’t entitle Lady Keisho-in to such high honors. But she also thought it was far-fetched to blame the earthquake on Keisho-in. Even if the gods didn’t like Keisho-in’s promotion, it seemed too trivial a matter for them to make millions of people suffer through an earthquake. But Reiko didn’t dare say any of this.

“I think you’re right,” she said.

“Of course I am,” Lady Keisho-in said stoutly. “That astronomer has a grudge against me because I don’t invite him to my moon-viewing parties. He’s jealous and vindictive, and he’s out to get me. I’ll have him run out of town!”

The astronomer had better prepare for a battle unless he changed his tune, Reiko thought. She steered the conversation to the topic she’d come to discuss. “What does Priest Ryuko think of this business?”

Disgruntlement soured Keisho-in’s face. “That man! How should I know what he thinks? He never comes near me! I’m furious! After all I’ve done for him! I introduced him to my son. I even got him his own temple. If not for me, Ryuko wouldn’t have a pot to make water in. But it’s always, ‘I’m busy helping the poor earthquake victims, my dear.’” She snidely imitated the priest’s booming voice.

“I suppose Priest Ryuko is too busy for incense lessons,” Reiko said.

“Incense lessons?” Keisho-in looked baffled by this new, unexpected topic.

“Somebody told me he was taking them,” Reiko said. “Before the earthquake. I was thinking of studying incense myself, when things get back to normal. Now what was his teacher’s name?” She frowned, as if trying to recall. “Oh, yes. Madam Usugumo.”

“That bitch!” Lady Keisho-in exclaimed.

Startled, Reiko said, “Did you know her?” Then she wanted to bite her tongue because she’d spoken in the past tense. She didn’t want to let on that Usugumo was dead and invite unwelcome questions.

Lady Keisho-in didn’t seem to notice. “I never met her, but Ryuko- san mentioned her. I don’t like anybody who offends my dearest.”

“What did he say about her?” Reiko spoke casually, but excitement quickened her heartbeat.

“That she had taken him in. That if he had known what she was really like, he never would have associated with her.”

“It sounds as if something happened between them.” Containing her excitement, Reiko asked, “What was it?”

“I don’t know.” Keisho-in’s face bunched up like a sulky child’s. “He wouldn’t tell me. All I know is that when he came home from his lesson, he was terribly angry and upset. After that, he quit the lessons. He never went back to Usugumo again.”

“Have you any idea why?” Reiko probed. “Do you remember anything else?”

Keisho-in turned her irritation on Reiko. “No, I don’t. All I remember is that my dearest Ryuko- san was grumpy for a long time.”

Reiko didn’t dare press the issue and risk irritating Keisho-in, who had a history of extreme wrath toward people who crossed her. She’d had maids, ladies-in-waiting, and even the shogun’s concubines beaten, sent to the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter to work as prostitutes, or exiled to islands in the middle of the ocean for infractions as minor as not flattering her enough. The women in the Large Interior walked on tiptoe around her. Reiko changed the subject.

“I heard that Lord Hosokawa’s daughters were taking incense lessons, too,” she said. She had to explore the possibility that if the priest had indeed committed murder, the teacher hadn’t been his intended target. “Is Priest Ryuko acquainted with them?”

“He’s not acquainted with any women except me.” Lady Keisho-in was renowned for her jealousy. She treated Ryuko as if he were her husband, even though he’d taken a religious vow of celibacy. It was no secret that he visited her in her bedchamber. The irritation in her eyes took on a suspicious glint. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“No, no,” Reiko said. “I just thought that maybe Priest Ryuko met Lord Hosokawa’s daughters when he took incense lessons at Usugumo’s house.” She was wondering whether he’d seen anything to indicate whether they were guilty, when a new and dismaying idea occurred to her. Had Priest Ryuko been involved with Usugumo? Had their quarrel been a lover’s spat? If so, then here was another suspect-Lady Keisho-in. Reiko had thought that nothing could be more dangerous than implicating Lord Hosokawa’s daughters in the murders.

“Ryuko- san never met anyone at Usugumo’s house. His lessons were private.” Lady Keisho-in leaned toward Reiko, suddenly hostile. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

The risk of making Priest Ryuko a suspect in the crime was also hazardous. Even if Lady Keisho-in believed her lover was guilty, she would be just as angry at those who exposed him as at Ryuko himself. Reiko felt danger suffuse the air, like poisoned incense smoke. The shogun loved his mother. Accusing or displeasing her was tantamount to treason.

“I almost forgot,” Reiko said. “Please excuse my poor manners. I brought you a gift.” She offered the lacquer box to Lady Keisho-in. Polite custom dictated that she should have given the gift as soon as she’d arrived, but Reiko had waited, in case she needed it to smooth over a difficult moment.

“Oh, wonderful!” Lady Keisho-in pounced on the box, as eager as a child for a treat. She opened it, saw the pale green cakes colored with tea, filled with sweet lotus paste, and dusted with cinnamon. Reiko’s cooks had made them with the last of the spice. “My favorite!”

She crammed a cake into her mouth, chewed, and smacked her lips. The danger dissipated. Reiko relaxed.

“I just remembered something else Ryuko- san said when he came home from his last incense lesson,” Lady Keisho-in said as she munched another soft, gooey cake. “He said that if Usugumo tried to get him in trouble, he would make her sorry.” Lady Keisho-in licked her fingers.