The Samurai’s Wife

19

Twilight had dissipated the worst heat of the day and dimmed the sky to misty gray when Reiko got back to Nijō Manor. She went to look for Detective Fukida, but neither he nor Sano’s other men were in their quarters. Her maids had vanished, too. Covered with sweat and grime, hair disheveled, and weary to the bone, Reiko shut herself in her room to wait for Fukida because she couldn’t go to the authorities by herself; they probably wouldn’t even give a woman an audience. She drank water and wiped her face with a damp cloth and thought about taking a bath, but it seemed like too much work. She lay down to rest, letting the mild breeze from the windows waft over her.

But sleep wouldn’t come, despite her exhaustion. In desolation, she realized she’d almost convinced herself that if she worked hard enough, Sano would return to her. She’d still believed he was out in the world somewhere, and if she demonstrated enough strength and courage, they would be reunited. But of course, avenging his murder wouldn’t bring him back. Grief wracked her body, and she wept.

The door opened. Through her tears, Reiko saw a man silhouetted in the light from the corridor. He had a samurai’s shaved crown and swords, and Sano’s dimensions. Reiko felt a spring of hope, then crushing disappointment as she recognized another illusion created by the same wishful thinking that had populated Miyako with men who resembled Sano. It was probably just a nosy guest.

“Go away,” Reiko called, sobbing harder.

The man said in Sano’s voice, “Reiko-san, it’s me.”

Shocked, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. “No. It can’t be.” Then, as he knelt beside her, the light from the windows illuminated Sano’s worried face. Reiko laughed hysterically as disbelief and joy collided in her.

Sano gathered her in his arms. She wept and moaned, stroking his face and his chest, reveling in the miracle of his resurrection. Her efforts must have worked after all; she’d brought him back.

“I’m sorry,” Sano murmured into her hair. “I’m so sorry.” Then he said, “I was worried about you. Where have you been?”

Confusion halted Reiko’s catharsis. She drew back to look at Sano. “Where have I been?”

“I came back this afternoon and found everyone gone,” Sano said. “I’ve been out looking for you. Where were you?”

Now Reiko understood that there must be a rational explanation for Sano’s return. She wanted so badly to know what it was that her own activities seemed beside the point. “If you weren’t murdered, what really happened? Where have you been?”

“Before I tell you,” Sano said, “let me first say that I never meant to hurt you.” His expression somber, he explained that Aisu had been the killer’s victim, and he’d faked his own death to force Chamberlain Yanagisawa into the open.

That Sano had been around all along explained why Reiko had felt as if he were still alive, and Yanagisawa’s presence in Miyako clarified many things about the murder case. But Reiko’s joy turned to puzzlement. “Why did you let me believe you were dead?”

“I had to keep hidden, even from you, because there are so many spies, and I was afraid that the news might reach Yanagisawa. As things turned out, he knew already, but my plan still worked.” Sano described how he’d confronted the chamberlain and secured his cooperation.

Reiko knew she should be glad of the plan’s success, but she was too deeply hurt. “You let me suffer because you didn’t think I could keep a secret. How could you trust me so little?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Sano clasped Reiko to him, a pleading note in his voice. “But I couldn’t take the chance that someone might guess the truth from your behavior.”

“I could have acted the part of a grieving widow well enough,” Reiko retorted, furious now. “Have you any idea what you’ve put me through?”

“I can guess,” Sano said contritely, “and I beg you to forgive me.”

His touch suddenly seemed repugnant to Reiko, his apology spurious. She pounded him with her fists, shouting, “Forgive you? Never! What you did was terrible and cruel.”

Sano looked stricken, then sad. “I deserve every bit of your anger. Please believe that I am truly sorry.”

“That’s not good enough!”

Reiko jumped to her feet and bolted away. Sano chased her. He locked her in an unrelenting embrace. She struggled to break free, screaming, “Go away! Leave me alone!” Then her anger dissolved into weeping; he held her tight.

“Shh,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s all right.”

He eased her onto the floor, lying beside her. The warm pressure of his body ignited fierce desire in Reiko. She moaned, arching against him, and felt the hardness in his groin. Then they were tearing away garments, entwining in the dim bands of light from the windows. After the wild coupling that overwhelmed them both with pleasure, they lay still in a sweaty tangle of limbs and clothing. Bars of waning light striped their bodies; incense smoke drifted in on the cooling breeze.

Sano touched Reiko’s check. “Can you possibly forgive me?” he said softly.

Her body had already forgiven him; eventually, her heart would too. Basking in physical and spiritual well-being, Reiko murmured, “I never thought that love with a dead husband would be so good.”

They laughed at her joke, and she saw relief in Sano’s eyes. The joy of having him back was almost worth her ordeal.

There was a commotion outside, then a knock at the door. “Honorable Lady Reiko, are you in there?” called Fukida’s voice.

Rising, Sano donned his kimono and went to the door. He opened it a crack.

“Oh, good, you’re back, Sōsakan-sama.” Despite the relief in his voice, Fukida looked frantic with worry. The guards and Reiko’s maids stood in an anxious group behind him. “I regret to say that I’ve failed in my duty to protect your wife. She left the inn without telling anyone. We’ve all been out searching for her, but we couldn’t find her.”

“She’s here,” Sano said. “It’s all right.” He dismissed his staff, shut the door, and turned to Reiko. She was sitting up, wrapped in her white under-robe, uneasily watching him.

“Maybe now you’ll tell me where you’ve been,” Sano said.

“I went to the palace to ask Lady Jokyōden to help me solve the murder case,” Reiko said.

“What?” Sano exclaimed in alarm. “You saw Jokyōden, after you promised me you would stay away from her?”

“Yes, because I didn’t know you were still around to care about promises,” Reiko said defensively. “It seemed more important to find your killer and avenge your death.”

Sano realized that he should have expected Reiko to behave this way; not even his death would quell her determined spirit. Now he was disturbed to learn that his short absence had been too long to leave Reiko on her own.

“Are you mad?” he said, standing over her. “Didn’t you see that the second murder reduced the number of suspects and made Jokyōden even more likely to be the killer? Didn’t you recognize the danger of associating with her?”

“Of course I did. But the risk was worth it.” Rising, Reiko walked to the table, picked up her embroidered silk purse, and removed a fragment of paper, which she handed to Sano. “I found this in a house that Left Minister Konoe owned in the textile district.”

As she described the house, how she’d gotten there, and her idea that Konoe had used it for espionage, Sano barely glanced at the words on the paper. He said, "Lady Jokyōden took you to this place?”

Vexation crossed Reiko’s features. “We weren’t alone. I brought my guards with us. Please give me credit for some intelligence.”

“You believed what Lady Jokyōden told you about Left Minister Konoe purchasing the house? How did she know, anyway?”

“She didn’t say.”

An evasive note in Reiko’s voice signaled a lie. For the sake of peace, Sano chose to overlook it for the moment. “Look, I know you were upset and not thinking clearly, but even so, you should have known better than to trust a murder suspect. So far, there’s no evidence except Jokyōden’s word that the house belonged to Konoe, or that this paper is his. Jokyōden might have been misleading you to divert suspicion away from herself.”

“Well, yes, I was upset. Whose fault was that?” Reiko said sarcastically. “I did consider the problems you mentioned, but there must be a way to verify that Konoe owned the house and wrote the note. Besides, what I discovered next proves that it doesn’t matter whether or not I was thinking clearly, or what Jokyōden’s motives were for taking me to the house. I thought the note referred to spying that Konoe did on Lord Ibe. So I went there, and-”

“Wait.” Sano held up his hands. He had an ominous feeling that he was going to hear something else he wouldn’t like. “Slow down. You went where?”

“To the daimyo’s house in the cloth dyers’ district,” Reiko said patiently. "Lady Jokyōden gave me directions.”

“She did, did she?” When Sano had met Jokyōden, he’d thought her arrogant and contrary; now he liked her even less for abetting his wife’s misadventures.

“I asked Fukida-san to go with me,” Reiko said, “but he wouldn’t. He even took away my palanquin and guards. I realize now that he wanted to wait for you to come back before doing anything, but at the time I thought he was ignoring an important clue. So I went alone.”

Horror filled Sano. “You walked across town by yourself?” If he’d known what she would do, he would have risked letting her know the truth about his faked death. "Didn’t you think of what might have happened to you?”

“Nothing did, so there’s no need to worry now.” Reiko hesitated, then said, “I met a rough-looking man at Lord Ibe’s house. He wouldn’t answer my questions, and I was suspicious, so 1 sneaked through the back door for a look inside.”

She spoke as if she’d done the most reasonable thing in the world. Sano stared, dumbstruck.

“And guess what I found!” Animated with excitement, Reiko described an arsenal of weapons and a gang of samurai, gangsters, peasant ruffians, and an armed priest.

Sano was too upset by her daring to think about the implications of her discovery. He shouted, “I can’t believe you did that! You could have been killed! That was the most stupid, reckless, thoughtless, dangerous, foolhardy-”

“And the most important piece of evidence yet,” Reiko said.

“You shouldn’t have done it!”

“What’s done is done. Now please stop yelling and consider what this means to the case.”

“First I want you to promise you’ll never do such a thing again,” Sano said.

“Only if you’ll promise never again to trick me into thinking you’re dead.”

This was one of those times when Sano longed for a traditional marriage where the husband set the rules and the wife obeyed them, instead of this constant negotiation. “All right, I promise,” he said. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Reiko said, then hurried on: “I believe the gang is plotting to overthrow the Tokugawa regime, and that someone in the Imperial Court is behind the plot. One of the murder suspects must be arming troops in preparation to restore power to the emperor. Left Minister Konoe must have found out, and the murderer killed him to prevent him from telling the authorities.”

Sano saw the logic of her reasoning, and the new political element in the case disturbed him, but he strove for objectivity. “That’s quite a leap to make from a few scribbled notes, a few troublemakers, and a few guns.”

“There were more than just a few guns,” Reiko said, “and the size of the arsenal means there must be hundreds, even thousands of troublemakers involved in the plot. They could launch a full-scale siege of Miyako at any moment.” She grasped Sano’s hands. “You must do something immediately.”

“Of course I’ll investigate the situation,” Sano said. “Any potential threat against the regime must be taken seriously. But let’s not jump to conclusions. You were in the house for only a short time, while you were under severe emotional stress. Maybe there weren’t as many weapons as you thought; maybe you misinterpreted what the men said.”

“I know what I saw and heard,” Reiko said stubbornly. “If you don’t arrest those men and seize the arsenal, there could be a revolt that turns into nationwide civil war. Entire provinces could fall under rebel control before the bakufu has time to mount an effective defense. Eventually, war could reach Edo.”

“That’s a distinct possibility.” While Sano could think of arguments against the theory, he hesitated to raise them lest he reawaken Reiko’s hurt and resentment over his deception. “Therefore, I have to proceed with caution. A revolt goes beyond the scope of the murder investigation. I must inform the shoshidai and Chamberlain Yanagisawa.”

“Soon, I hope?” Reiko said.

“Tonight.” Instead of the evening of rest that he’d wanted, Sano anticipated hours of secret meetings. “And tomorrow I’ll begin looking for the instigator of the plot at the Imperial Palace.”