The Samurai’s Wife

13

It was evening by the time Sano rode his horse up to the gate of Nijō Manor. Above the plaster walls and spreading tile roof of the inn, an ocher residue of daylight stained the western rim of the soot-colored sky. Lanterns burned in the windows of surrounding houses. Noisy crowds streamed toward the shrines, temples, cemeteries, and pleasure quarter for Obon celebrations. When Sano entered the courtyard of Nijō Manor, he found it filled with newly arrived travelers. He got a stableboy to take charge of his horse. As he walked down the corridor to his rooms, he looked forward to Reiko’s company, yet he also felt a strong desire for solitude.

A long day of inquiries hadn’t resolved his problems with Lady Asagao’s confession. Mentally and physically exhausted, Sano needed to relax for a while. Reiko would be waiting to hear about everything, but Sano wasn’t ready to face her questions, her youthful energy, her eagerness for debate. Besides, he had another reason for not wanting to see Reiko.

The subject of Left Minister Konoe’s former wife hadn’t yet come up between them, but eventually Reiko would remember that Sano had gone to Kodai Temple. She would ask about Kozeri. Usually Sano enjoyed the intuitive understanding between him and his wife, but he didn’t want Reiko to guess how Kozeri had affected him.

Servants hauling baggage down the corridor momentarily blocked the door to Sano’s suite. He welcomed the chance to compose himself. Then he entered the room.

Reiko was there, fresh and pretty in her yellow dressing gown. When she saw him, she leapt up from her seat by the window, eyes bright with anticipation. “What happened?” she cried.

Sano experienced the usual gladness and affection at the sight of Reiko, followed by guilt. “We have a solution to the case,” he said, “but I’m not exactly happy about it.”

He placed his swords in a wall rack, then lay down on the floor, resting his head on a cushion. Relief permeated his muscles, but his nerves remained on edge.

“You’re tired. I should let you rest instead of bombarding you with questions,” Reiko said contritely.

Kneeling beside him, she spread a damp, cool cloth on his forehead. She poured a cup of water for him. Her solicitude increased Sano’s guilt. “That’s all right,” he said, and described Lady Asagao’s confession and arrest.

Reiko exclaimed in amazement. “I can’t believe she confessed. Nor can I believe she’s guilty. Have you checked her story?”

“Yes, I have.” For some reason, Sano resented her implication that he would accept Asagao’s statement at face value. He said, “After the arrest, I went back to Left Minister Konoe’s mansion and interviewed his personal attendants. They admitted to knowing about his affair with Lady Asagao. They also delivered the message asking Asagao to meet Konoe in the Pond Garden on the night he died. When I asked why they hadn’t mentioned this when I questioned them the first time, they said they’d kept quiet to prevent a scandal, but since Asagao had confessed, they could tell the truth. So there was an affair, and a strong motive for Asagao to want Konoe dead.”

“But what about the means and opportunity to kill?” Reiko asked.

“As I’ve said, Asagao wouldn’t -or couldn’t- demonstrate a spirit cry. But she apparently did have the opportunity to murder Konoe.” Sano drank water from his cup, swallowing his irritation at Reiko. Did she think he’d forgotten the basics of detective work? “I questioned the ladies-in-waiting you met yesterday. They admitted they’d lied to you when they said Asagao was with them during the murder. She’d left her chambers shortly before midnight -to meet someone. The women didn’t know who it was, or where she was going, but she’d been sneaking out often for the past few months. Their story is indirect confirmation of the affair, and it breaks Asagao’s alibi.”

Reiko sat mulling over the information, innocently oblivious to Sano’s mood. “Granted, Asagao isn’t very smart, but she must have known the danger involved in taking a lover. How could she risk losing her position? And for a man old enough to be her father!”

Though the age difference between himself and Reiko was less than a generation, Sano thought she should understand that love wasn’t confined to couples similar in age. “Some women like older men, who often have a sophistication that young men lack,” he said with controlled impatience. “And didn’t Asagao complain to you that life in the palace is dull? Perhaps she couldn’t resist the excitement of an illicit romance.”

Reiko must have perceived antagonism in Sano’s voice, because a puzzled frown marred her smooth brow. “But you might not have learned about the affair if she hadn’t told you. It would have been better for her just to keep quiet.” Then Reiko’s eyes lit with inspiration. “What if the emperor found out about the affair, but he loves Asagao too much to hurt her? Instead, he kills Konoe, pretends to discover the body, and thinks that’s the end of his problems. But then you come to investigate the murder.

“The emperor panics, because if he’s charged with a serious crime, at the very least, he’ll lose his throne, and at worst, his life. He asks Prince Momozono to give him an alibi, but he’s afraid that’s not enough. So he tells Right Minister Ichijo and Lady Jokyōden what he’s done and begs them to help him. They decide that Lady Asagao should sacrifice herself to save the emperor.”

“And that happens between yesterday, when you left her after the Kabuki play, and this morning, when she walked in on you searching her room,” Sano said.

Reiko nodded. “It would explain why she was so frightened and unhappy, and why her confession sounded so unconvincing. She lied-all the while knowing what would happen to her.”

“What about the bloodstained robes?” Sano asked.

After some thought, Reiko said, “Left Minister Konoe thought he was meeting Asagao in the Pond Garden, but what if the emperor intercepted the message? His Majesty went to the rendezvous. It was dark, and he wore Asagao’s clothes, so that if anyone saw him, they would think he was Asagao. It was he who stepped in Konoe’s blood. He took off the clothes and hid them; later, he or Lady Jokyōden put them in Asagao’s room.”

“That’s pretty far-fetched,” Sano said. “However, I did consider the possibility that Asagao was forced into confessing.” Sano thought Reiko should have given him credit for that much intelligence. “I went to see her. She’s at police headquarters, in a special cell.” Samurai charged with crimes usually awaited trial under house arrest, and peasants in public jails, but because of the number of travelers who visited Miyako, other accommodations for high-ranking citizens were available. “I thought that if I spoke to Asagao alone, she might be more likely to tell the truth, but we’ve gone over and over her story, and it never changed. I tried to persuade her that if she’s innocent, she shouldn’t take the blame for the murder. Asagao still swears by her confession.”

“But you don’t believe she’s guilty any more than I do,” Reiko said.

“No,” Sano admitted. “I’ve felt there was something wrong about this case all along, and the feeling is even stronger now. This is a false confession. I know it.”

“Yet you arrested Lady Asagao anyway,” Reiko said.

“Because I had to,” Sano said defensively. “She’s guilty by law. For me to let a confessed murderer go free would be to forsake my duty to the shogun and the public. I would be subject to official censure for failing to uphold the power of the bakufu-as if I don’t have enough troubles already.”

“What about Lady Asagao’s troubles?” Reiko said. “Would you let her die for a crime she didn’t commit, and have the real killer go free? Don’t you want to discover the truth anymore?”

“Of course I do!” Now Sano’s temper snapped. That Reiko should accuse him of compromising his personal principles for the sake of a quick solution to the case! He sat up and turned on his wife. “You just don’t understand the stakes involved. One more mishap after the fiasco over the Lion, and I’ll be expelled from my post, or even put to death. Shall I make you a widow who shares my disgrace? Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.” Anger and bewilderment clouded Reiko’s eyes. “And I do understand what’s at stake. What I don’t understand is why you’re so angry with me.”

“I’m not. Why must you take every disagreement so personally?”

“If you’re not angry, then why are you shouting?”

As they glared at each other, Sano realized that he was angry at himself for desiring Kozeri, and taking it out on Reiko. He had a frightening premonition that this case would destroy his marriage along with everything else that mattered to him. Forcing a smile, he took Reiko’s hand. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I’m irritable. Forgive me.”

Reiko sat wary and unrelenting for a moment; then she smiled back, and her hand clasped Sano’s. “I do know why you arrested Lady Asagao, and I shouldn’t have spoken so strongly. You were right to be angry. I’m sorry, too.”

Her honest apology only fed Sano’s guilt.

“It’s just that I feel responsible for what happens to Lady Asagao,” Reiko continued in a worried voice. “I was the one who searched her room. I found the clothes and gave them to you.”

“You didn’t make her confess,” Sano said. “It was my decision to have you investigate the palace women, and your duty to turn whatever you found over to me.”

“1 know,” Reiko said unhappily, “but still…”

Sano couldn’t offer any absolution, because he shared her sense of responsibility for Lady Asagao. They sat for a moment, holding hands, joined in dread of the future.

“What shall we do?” Reiko asked. “Find the real killer?”

“Or try to,” Sano said. “There’s not much time. Delaying Asagao’s trial will give me a bad reputation that could spread to Edo and have me thrown out of the bakufu before I can solve the case. Someone else will take over my job, and Asagao will die.”

“But we won’t give up yet,” Reiko declared.

“No, we won’t,” Sano said, heartened by his wife’s determination. “Tomorrow I’ll restart the investigation. If there are any clues or suspects Yoriki Hoshina missed, I’ll find them.”

“Speaking of other suspects,” Reiko said, “I forgot to ask if you saw the left minister’s former wife.”

Suddenly the space around Sano seemed a landscape of quicksand, deep holes, and sharp-edged rocks. He withdrew his hand from Reiko’s, lest she feel his nervousness, and said, “Yes, I did.” Then, in as neutral a voice as he could manage, he recited the dry facts from his interview with Kozeri.

“So Konoe was a constant problem for his wife since she left him,” Reiko mused. To Sano’s relief, she didn’t seem to suspect anything amiss. “Kozeri belongs to a peaceful Buddhist order that shuns violence and doesn’t practice the martial arts. Still, I find it hard to believe she bore no ill will toward Konoe. I wonder if she told you the whole story. She might be more frank with another woman. Maybe I should go see her.”

“No!” The word burst from Sano. Reiko looked at him, obviously perplexed by his vehemence. “I mean, I think Kozeri is a less likely suspect or witness than the members of the Imperial Court.”

He had to keep Reiko and Kozeri apart. If Reiko saw Kozeri, she might guess how he’d felt toward the beautiful nun. Also, if the investigation required another interview with Kozeri, he wanted to be the one who went, because he wanted to see her again. The knowledge filled Sano with fresh guilt.

“But she’s the only lead I can follow,” Reiko said, disappointed. “Now that the Imperial Court knows I spied for you, there’s no use in my going back to the palace; the women won’t tell me anything. It would be better for me to talk to Kozeri than just sit here and do nothing while time runs out for you-and Lady Asagao.”

A knock at the door spared Sano the necessity of answering. “Come in,” he called, grateful for the reprieve.

Detectives Marume and Fukida entered the room. They bowed to Sano and Reiko. Marume said, “Please excuse the interruption, Sōsakan-sama, but just as we arrived at the inn, an imperial messenger came asking for you.”

“He brought you this,” Fukida said, holding out a cylindrical black lacquer scroll case decorated with gold chrysanthemums.

Sano opened the case and unrolled the document inside. He scanned the message written in bold, black calligraphy and inspected the signature seal. “It’s from the emperor,” he said. “His Majesty demands that I come to see him immediately.”

“What for?” Reiko said.

“He doesn’t say, but I’m guessing that he wants to persuade me to free Lady Asagao.” Sano’s heart sank at the prospect of another clash with the Imperial Court. “Still, I can’t ignore an order from the emperor. I have to go.”

With a sense of leaving one dangerous situation for another, Sano rose and donned his swords. “Marume-san, Fukida-san, come with me.” To Reiko, he said, “We will finish our conversation later.”