The Perfumed Sleeve

21

No!” the shogun cried. “It can’t be! First my old friend Makino dies of, ahh, foul play, and now my dearest, beloved Daiemon. Why are these terrible things happening to me?” He flung himself facedown on his dais and sobbed.

Below him, to his right on the upper floor level of the reception hall, knelt Lord Matsudaira, who had just broken the news of Daiemon’s murder. He wore a somber air appropriate for the occasion. Sano knelt opposite the shogun. Police Commissioner Hoshina sat near Sano. Suppressed excitement animated Hoshina’s dignified pose. On the lower level of the floor sat a crowd of Matsudaira troops, Sano’s detectives, and Hoshina’s police officers. Along the walls stood the shogun’s bodyguards. A tense, waiting silence gripped the assembly. The sunrise tinted the windows red as if with blood.

“Tell me,” the shogun entreated Lord Matsudaira as he sat up and wiped his tear-drenched face, “what villain has, ahh, cut Daiemon down in the prime of his life?”

Lord Matsudaira leaned toward the shogun like a general riding into a decisive battle. “My nephew had an enemy who was envious of your affection for him. That enemy has been plotting to destroy Daiemon and strike at you by killing him.”

He didn’t come right out and name Yanagisawa because he first wanted to lay groundwork for his accusation, Sano understood. And he couldn’t name Yanagisawa’s real motive for the murder-to weaken the Matsudaira clan and clear his son’s way to inherit the dictatorship-because the shogun wasn’t supposed to know about the factions’ struggle for power. The whole bakufu had an unspoken agreement to keep him in the dark.

“Last night his enemy stabbed Daiemon to death,” Lord Matsudaira said.

Confusion wrinkled the shogun’s forehead. “And who is this enemy?”

“I regret to say that he is none other than your chamberlain.” Lord Matsudaira spoke with grave sincerity that hid his enjoyment of openly attacking his rival at last.

Sano braced himself for the reaction. Police Commissioner Hoshina kneaded his hands, while everyone else sat frozen. The shogun gasped in wide-eyed shock.

“Chamberlain Yanagisawa? But that’s, ahh, impossible. He would never hurt anyone who matters to me… would he?” Sudden doubt colored the shogun’s features. Ever open to influence by people more forceful than himself, he looked from Lord Matsudaira to Sano to Hoshina. “What makes you think he, ahh, killed Daiemon?”

“The evidence points to him,” Lord Matsudaira said.

Hoshina nodded in staunch affirmation. And Sano couldn’t say that Lord Matsudaira had no real evidence to justify an accusation against the chamberlain. Before the meeting, Lord Matsudaira had told Sano to keep quiet or he would be expelled.

Sputtering with fury, the shogun said, “Well, ahh, I shall have Yanagisawa-san come and, ahh, answer for what he has done.”

“A good idea.” Lord Matsudaira’s tone hinted at how much he welcomed a face-to-face clash with his rival.

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi ordered his attendants, “Bring the chamberlain here.”

The attendants hastened to obey. Soon the door to the reception hall opened to reveal Yanagisawa standing at the threshold. Apprehension glimmered in his eyes as he saw Lord Matsudaira. His gaze bypassed Sano and skittered over Hoshina.

“You wished to see me, Your Excellency?” he said.

Glaring at him, the shogun said, “Don’t just, ahh, stand there, you scoundrel-come in.”

The apprehension in Yanagisawa’s eyes deepened, but he strode toward the dais. After him walked his son Yoritomo. Sano was surprised to see the boy, for Yanagisawa had never before included him in official business. Why did he now? Lord Matsudaira’s and Hoshina’s faces also showed surprise as the handsome, shy Yoritomo neared them. The chamberlain noted Lord Matsudaira seated in his own usual place by the shogun. He paused, tacitly ordering Lord Matsudaira to move. When Lord Matsudaira didn’t, Yanagisawa knelt in the lesser position to the shogun’s left. He motioned for his son to kneel between them. As Yoritomo complied, Sano watched the shogun’s attention fix upon the boy.

“May I inquire what this is about?” Yanagisawa asked the shogun.

“Ahh…” Distracted by Yoritomo, the shogun faltered, then said, “I have just heard some terrible news. Daiemon was murdered last night.”

His admiration for the son had depleted some of his ire toward the father as well as his grief over the death of his favorite. Lord Matsudaira and Hoshina stared in dismay. Sano marveled at whatever prescience or genius had inspired Yanagisawa to bring his son as a weapon to protect himself.

Yanagisawa’s face expressed shock, apparently genuine, at the news of the murder. If he realized that Daiemon’s death had benefited him and the Matsudaira faction had lost ground, he didn’t show it. “What happened?”

“He was stabbed to death while in a house of assignation,” Hoshina said. His manner toward the chamberlain reflected the bitterness that had accompanied the demise of their affair. “Except you didn’t really need to ask, did you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Yanagisawa’s perplexity seemed as honest as his shock.

“He means that you knew how and where Daiemon died, because you killed him,” Lord Matsudaira declared.

The shogun reluctantly detached his gaze from Yoritomo and eyed Yanagisawa with renewed suspicion.

“Your Excellency, that’s ridiculous.” Amazement and outrage visibly jolted Yanagisawa. His breath exploded from him in a loud huff. “I did not kill Daiemon.”

“Not with your own hands,” Lord Matsudaira said. “You’d have kept them free of blood by sending one of your minions to do your dirty work.”

“I was nowhere near any house of assignation,” Yanagisawa continued, raising his voice over Lord Matsudaira’s and directing his vehemence at the shogun. “My guards will verify that I didn’t leave my compound last night.”

“See how careful he is to arrange himself an alibi.” Hoshina sneered. “A man of his wealth and power can easily bribe or force other men to lie for him.”

Yanagisawa shifted position, blocking the shogun’s view of Hoshina. “I had no need to kill Daiemon.” He flashed Lord Matsudaira a glance that Sano interpreted to mean he could win their fight without resorting to assassination. “Their accusations are false, Your Excellency. Don’t listen to them. Trust me.” The gaze he fixed on Tokugawa Tsunayoshi alluded to their longtime companionship. His voice took on a husky, fervent tone: “I swear I’m innocent.”

But Sano remembered their conversation last night and his suspicion that Yanagisawa was up to something. Had the chamberlain been plotting Daiemon’s murder? Was that why he’d felt confident enough to claim that Lord Matsudaira was vulnerable and promise Sano rewards for joining his side?

Vacillation played across the shogun’s weak features as Yanagisawa held his gaze captive. “Don’t believe him,” Lord Matsudaira said, enraged that Yanagisawa was foiling him. “He’s guilty. He’s lying to save his disgraceful neck. And he’s brought his bastard to soften your feelings toward him and make you forget my nephew.”

Lord Matsudaira shot a contemptuous look at Yoritomo, who blushed and bowed his head. If Yanagisawa had killed Daiemon, he would have expected to be accused of the crime and come prepared to defend himself, Sano realized. Yoritomo was his weapon against Lord Matsudaira as well as his shield against the shogun’s wrath.

“He’s playing you for the fool he thinks you are, Honorable Cousin,” said Lord Matsudaira.

The shogun goggled at Yanagisawa. “Are you?” he said, hovering between fear and anger.

“Of course not,” Yanagisawa said. “Lord Matsudaira and Police Commissioner Hoshina are the ones trying to deceive you. Let us ask ourselves why they’re so eager to convince you that I murdered Daiemon. I suggest that they killed him, and they want to frame me.”

Lord Matsudaira and Hoshina looked flabbergasted by the counterattack, although Sano thought they should have known that Yanagisawa considered a good offense as the best defense. The shogun turned his suspicion, fear, and anger on them. “Is that why you, ahh, accused Yanagisawa-san?” he demanded.

“The very idea is blasphemy!” Lord Matsudaira’s complexion turned so red that Sano thought he would burst a vein. “Why would I kill my own nephew?”

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi shrank from his cousin’s anger. The chamberlain sat calm and smug, in control of the situation now. He said, “Everyone knows Daiemon was ambitious for power within your clan. Many a high-ranking samurai has protected his position by killing off young challengers among his kin.”

That Daiemon was ambitious, and Lord Matsudaira hard-pressed to restrain him, Sano had seen for himself. Sano now wondered if Lord Matsudaira was indeed responsible for his nephew’s death.

Lord Matsudaira, reduced to blustering indignation, shouted, “I would never shed the blood of my own clan!” The strain of waging political warfare during many months had undermined his self-discipline. Fear shone through his rage, because now the shogun beheld him with distrust.

“Oh, I doubt that you stabbed Daiemon yourself,” Yanagisawa said. “You’d have had other hands wield the dagger.” Now his accusing gaze swung to Hoshina. “The hands of your lackey the police commissioner.”

Hoshina stiffened as though Yanagisawa had tossed a bomb into his lap. Sano saw that Yanagisawa wasn’t content to attack Lord Matsudaira; he sought to harm his onetime lover who’d joined forces with his rival. Hoshina went very still, as though afraid the bomb would explode if he moved.

“That’s absurd,” he said. His matter-of-fact tone didn’t hide his panic. “I had nothing to do with the murder.”

“Your officers were surely familiar with the house of assignation,” Yanagisawa said. “They must have known that Daiemon was a patron, and they passed the gossip to you. It served you well when you needed to rid your master of his unruly nephew.” The chamberlain swelled with vengeful pleasure at paying back Hoshina for hurts and insults inflicted on him. “You found out when Daiemon was due to visit the house. You lay in wait for him there. You took him by surprise and stabbed him.”

“I didn’t!” As Hoshina’s panic broke through his self-control, sweat glistened on his face. “I’m innocent!” He looked to Lord Matsudaira, who frowned severely at him.

Sano longed for the power to divine their thoughts. Was Hoshina afraid because he and Lord Matsudaira really had conspired to murder the shogun’s heir apparent? Or was there no conspiracy, and did Hoshina fear only that Yanagisawa would drive a wedge between him and Lord Matsudaira by implicating him in the murder? The accusation against Hoshina could hurt him either way. Sano had to admire Yanagisawa’s cleverness.

Desperate, Hoshina addressed the shogun. “Chamberlain Yanagisawa is just flinging mud at me in the hope that you won’t notice the stains of guilt on him!”

The shogun put his arms over his head to shield himself from the storm of conflicting ideas. The distrust in his eyes encompassed all three combatants.

“Chamberlain Yanagisawa killed Daiemon, and I’ll tell you exactly why,” Hoshina said, brazen in his need to save himself. “Daiemon knew that Yanagisawa killed Senior Elder Makino. He was going to use his knowledge to destroy Yanagisawa. Therefore, Yanagisawa had Daiemon assassinated.”

“Daiemon knew nothing of the sort,” Yanagisawa said with a gesture that disdained Hoshina’s attempt to pin both crimes on him. “I didn’t kill Makino. I didn’t kill Daiemon, either. But you needn’t take my word against Lord Matsudaira’s or the police commissioner’s for it, Your Excellency. Let’s consult an impartial source.” Yanagisawa turned to Sano. “Tell us how your investigation has exonerated me of both crimes.”

His intent gaze reminded Sano of the rewards he’d promised in exchange for Sano’s cooperation. Sano felt a stab of dismay. So far, his investigation hadn’t proved Yanagisawa guilty of either murder, but it hadn’t cleared him, and honor forbade Sano to twist the truth to benefit Yanagisawa. Yet Sano realized that the chamberlain was giving him one last chance to accept his offer. If he refused now…

“Sōsakan Sano has nothing to say in defense of the chamberlain,” Lord Matsudaira said. His emphatic tone reminded Sano that he’d been ordered not to speak. “His findings show that the chamberlain is guilty of two murders, while I and my associates are innocent of any wrongdoing.” He nodded to Sano, and an ominous smile thinned his lips. “You now have my permission to say so.”

Although Sano was loath to lie for Yanagisawa, he couldn’t compromise the facts to please Lord Matsudaira either. He sat tongue-tied while the path he’d been navigating between the two adversaries became a narrow, slippery ridge with deep chasms on either side.

“Have you lost your voice, Sōsakan Sano?” the shogun said, peeved by the argument whose undertones escaped him. “Tell me what to believe. Everyone else will, ahh, remain silent. All this shouting is, ahh, giving me a headache.”

Damned no matter what he said, Sano opted for the truth. “Daiemon might have seen or heard or found out something that told him who killed Makino. Maybe the murderer did kill Daiemon to keep him quiet.”

Hoshina looked vindicated and Lord Matsudaira appeased. But Yanagisawa’s face darkened with the thought that Sano had chosen to side with his enemies.

“That’s possible because Daiemon was at the scene of the murder that night,” Sano continued. “He told me so. But his presence there also makes him a suspect. It’s possible that he killed Makino himself.”

Yanagisawa nodded, placated. Lord Matsudaira bristled because Sano had impugned his dead nephew.

Sano continued tiptoeing along the slippery ridge. “But there are other possible reasons for Daiemon’s murder-such as bad blood between him and Chamberlain Yanagisawa.” Sano forbore to say why and break the news of the faction wars to the shogun. As Yanagisawa glared at him, and gratification vied with caution on Lord Matsudaira’s and Hoshina’s faces, Sano said, “I’ve not even begun making inquiries regarding Daiemon. His family will have to be investigated because many murders are committed by someone close to the victim.”

Loud gusts of breath issued from between Lord Matsudaira’s clenched teeth as he tried to control his fury at Sano’s agreeing that he might, as Yanagisawa had suggested, have killed his own nephew.

“The police are also suspects,” Sano said, and watched Hoshina tense, ready to lunge at him in a rage. He described the strange tale of how they’d heard about the murder and how quickly they’d arrived on the scene. “And they’re closely associated with Lord Matsudaira.”

Fear, hostility, and foreboding thickened the atmosphere in the room. Sano knew he’d cast enough aspersion on Chamberlain Yanagisawa, Lord Matsudaira, and Police Commissioner Hoshina to land them all in deep trouble no matter who was guilty or not. But the shogun regarded Sano with an expression of utter, blank confusion.

“I ahh, did not quite follow everything you said,” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi said. His timid voice conveyed his ever-present fear of seeming stupid. “What I want to know is, who killed Makino? Who killed Daiemon?”

Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira impaled Sano with sharp, steely gazes, each compelling him to name the other. This, Sano realized, was his last opportunity to choose sides, the end of negotiating the path between the two rivals. He felt angry as well as hounded by them. His natural stubbornness hardened his will. He would not bend to pressure, come what might.

“It’s too early to know who the murderer is,” Sano said. “There are still other suspects who must be investigated, such as the members of Senior Elder Makino’s household and the woman who met Daiemon at the house of assignation and is now missing.”

Disappointment sagged the shogun’s posture. Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa glared at Sano. He saw that by refusing to bend to either, he’d outraged both. Then their gazes turned cold and distant; they looked away from him. Sano imagined himself standing at the edge of a river full of perilous rapids. He envisioned the tenuous security offered by Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira as fragile rope bridges, slashed by his own sword, falling into the water.

“Well, ahh, you had better get busy,” the shogun told Sano. “I hold you responsible for, ahh, finding out who killed Daiemon as well as Senior Elder Makino.”

In addition to all his other troubles, Sano must now solve two murder cases instead of one. Maybe they were related, and the killer was the same person in both instances, maybe not. But both cases promised him the same, dire penalties for failure-demotion, exile, or death.

“You’d better watch your step, Sōsakan Sano,” Lord Matsudaira said in a tone replete with malevolence.

“A man who walks alone has no one to catch him if he falls,” Yanagisawa said softly. “A warrior who throws away his shield during battle invites injury.”

Menace, scorn for Sano’s stubbornness, and pity mingled in his voice. His meaning was clear: If Sano failed to solve the crimes, he couldn’t expect either faction to protect him from punishment as he could have if he’d allied himself with one or the other. And Yanagisawa had just revoked the truce that had shielded Sano against attacks from him.

“As for you…” The shogun pointed a trembling finger at Yanagisawa, Lord Matsudaira, and Hoshina. His eyes shone with the atavistic fear of a man confronted by evil spirits. “I don’t want to see any of you again until, ahh, I am certain that you did not kill Daiemon or Senior Elder Makino.”

Concern marked Yanagisawa’s, Lord Matsudaira’s, and Hoshina’s faces. Sano saw that this meeting had worsened their situation, too. Their open attacks on each other had backfired, and they’d all lost the shogun’s trust. Without it, one faction might crush the other but fail to reach the ultimate goal of dominating the present regime or the next. To what lengths would they go to recoup this critical ammunition that could determine the victor?

“You are dismissed,” the shogun said, flapping his hand at Sano, Lord Matsudaira, Chamberlain Yanagisawa, and their men. As they rose, so did Yoritomo. The shogun reached toward him and caught the hem of his robe. “You may stay.”

Sano saw the triumphant look that Yanagisawa flashed at Lord Matsudaira as they all led their men from the reception hall. Lord Matsudaira scowled in reply. Yanagisawa had entered the meeting as a man in extreme jeopardy and left it with a slim advantage: His potential successor to the dictatorship was alive, while Lord Matsudaira’s was gone.

Outside the palace, a wintry wind rattled the bare, black branches of the trees. Gray clouds trapped the rising sun and darkened the sky. Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa ranged themselves and their troops against each other.

“I won’t wait for Sōsakan Sano to deliver you to justice for killing my nephew,” Lord Matsudaira told the chamberlain. An ugly smile bared his teeth; hatred, grief, and fury raged like wildfire in his eyes. “I’ll avenge his death myself. My retribution will begin this very day.”

“Then so will your demise,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said, equally hostile.

The two foes and their troops stalked away. Sano suddenly saw his personal concerns dwarfed by the perils that faced Japan. The murder of Daiemon had escalated political strife to the point of war.