The Samurai’s Wife

32

I’m going out now,” Sano said to Reiko the next morning. When they’d returned to Nijō Manor last night, he’d found a message from Detective Fukida, alerting him to a matter that required action today. “Will you be all right?”

“Yes.” Seated by the window of their room in Nijō Manor, Reiko was immaculately dressed and groomed, her face pale and drawn but composed. She did not look at Sano.

“Are you sure?”

Last night he’d caught her as she ran from Gion Shrine, wild-eyed and breathless. He hurried her back to Nijō Manor, where she’d calmed down enough to tell him that Kozeri had admitted being in the Pond Garden during Left Minister Konoe’s murder, but claimed that she’d seen Right Minister Ichijo afterward. Sano didn’t know whether to believe it, but he guessed that more had transpired than Reiko would say. In bed, she’d lain rigid and silent beside him, and this morning he’d awakened to find her brooding by the window. He desperately wanted to know what had happened between her and Kozeri, yet he was afraid to ask.

Now Reiko said, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“What will you do today?”

“I thought I’d finish examining the papers from Left Minister Konoe’s office. Maybe there are clues somewhere.”

Sano welcomed her interest in the case as a sign that they still had common ground. Always eager for the truth, he longed to break through her reticence. “Reiko-san,” he began.

“Yes?”

He heard apprehension in her voice; she still wouldn’t look at him. Forcing her to talk now would only make things worse. He said, “Marume has been questioning the associates of Yoriki Hoshina to find out where he might have gone, with no luck. Hoshina seems to have vanished completely. But Fukida had interesting news. He thinks Chamberlain Yanagisawa is on to something important that he doesn’t want us to know about.”

Rising, Reiko moved to the boxes of papers, knelt, and bent her head over them. “I hope you find out what it is.”

“Thank you.” Sano paused, then said, “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

Things couldn’t continue like this, Sano thought as he left the inn. Something had to break, and he hoped that when the air cleared, they would find happiness again.

Sano, Marume, and Fukida strode into the private quarters of Nijō Castle, where Chamberlain Yanagisawa was finishing his morning meal. Outside the open rain doors, the shady garden looked deceptively cool, but the glaring, hazy sky visible above the rooftops heralded another sultry day. And Sano’s temper was as hot as the weather.

Without preliminary greetings, he said to Yanagisawa, “When were you going to tell me about Right Minister Ichijo?” He paused, then added accusingly, “Or weren’t you?”

“Whatever are you talking about?” The picture of innocence, Yanagisawa wiped his lips on a napkin. The bruises on his face had darkened to a lurid bluish purple, but the swelling had gone down. “I’ve already told you all I know.”

“Don’t bother with denials,” Sano said, furious. He heard Yanagisawa’s bodyguards stir behind the sliding walls. “You followed Ichijo to the Ear Mound and listened to his conversation with two samurai he met there.”

Lifting his tea bowl, the chamberlain’s hand gave an involuntary jerk.

“I followed you,” said Fukida.

Yanagisawa surged to his feet and glared at Sano. “Of all the low, silly tricks. With a killer on the loose and an insurrection brewing, you squander effort by sending a flunky to spy on me, as if I were the criminal! We’re working together, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten, but obviously you have.” Sano faced down Yanagisawa. “Don’t try to confuse the issue. Putting surveillance on you turned out to be a good idea, didn’t it? You wouldn’t spy on Ichijo unless it was important to the case. I want to know why you followed him and what you learned.”

Yanagisawa gave Sano an insolent smile. “Nothing.”

“You were close enough to hear what Ichijo and those samurai were saying,” Fukida said.

“Shut up,” Yanagisawa ordered without looking at him. To Sano he said, “Even if I did hear something, why should I tell you? Many thanks for breaking Right Minister Ichijo’s alibi, but you and I are finished. I know Ichijo is responsible for the murders and the imperial restoration conspiracy.

Marume and Fukida looked at Sano, who experienced a rapid, jarring sequence of reactions. First came dismay: Yanagisawa had solved the case, and with Hoshina gone, Sano had no proof of Yanagisawa’s earlier sabotage and therefore no way to discredit his enemy’s victory. Then he felt anger: The chamberlain had beaten Sano by using the results of his work, then pursuing leads behind his back. Next came fear of dishonor, loss of his post, and the destruction of his family. But Sano saw a glimmer of hope: If Ichijo was the traitor and murderer, then Kozeri wasn’t. Maybe she’d told Reiko the truth. Could Sano and Reiko forget her and put their quarrel behind them?

Recovering his equilibrium, Sano said to Yanagisawa, “You let Ichijo’s friends get away last night. If you’d told me about your plans, we might have captured them. And if Ichijo is the killer, then why haven’t you arrested him?” The narrowing of Yanagisawa’s eyes told Sano he’d hit a nerve. “Ichijo may very well be the leader of the conspiracy, but you’re afraid you won’t be able to make him tell you where the outlaws and weapons are. You need me, because you can’t think what to do next.”

“You’re insane,” Yanagisawa declared.

“You know I’m right,” Sano said.

“Get out of here.”

“Good luck.” Sano nodded to Marume and Fukida, who followed him to the door. “I suppose you don’t want to hear my plan for coercing Ichijo. Oh, and you’d better just hope that what I’ve discovered about him isn’t the critical piece of evidence you need to get his cooperation.”

Sano and his men had walked halfway down the corridor when they heard Yanagisawa call, “Wait.” Marume and Fukida grinned at Sano. They all returned to the chamber, where Yanagisawa said, “Well? What’s this critical evidence you have?”

“First I want to know what you learned from spying on the right minister last night,” Sano said.

The chamberlain’s expression turned murderous. Sano nodded encouragingly. At last Yanagisawa grimaced in exasperation. “The two samurai are rōnin who work for Ichijo.” After describing their conversation, he said, “They must be part of the army he recruited to overthrow the Tokugawa. But they didn’t mention when or where they’ll attack, and I don’t know where they are now.”

Excitement coursed through Sano, followed by unwilling admiration for his enemy. Yanagisawa had established an apparent connection between Ichijo and the restoration conspiracy. Sano asked, “How did you think to spy on Ichijo?”

Yanagisawa’s ominous look warned Sano off the subject. “It’s your turn to talk.”

“Before I say anything, I want you to reinstate our partnership,” Sano said.

Yanagisawa nodded grudgingly.

“I also want you to agree that you won’t sneak around behind my back again, sabotage me, or try to harm me in any way while we’re working together.”

“All right, all right!” Yanagisawa threw up his hands. “You have my word. Now tell me what you know about Ichijo. And it had better be good.”

Although Sano didn’t trust Yanagisawa’s word, he had to be content with their pact if they were to go on together. “I have a witness who saw Ichijo at the scene of Left Minister Konoe’s murder,” he said, and told Kozeri’s story, which Yanagisawa’s news about Ichijo had convinced him to believe.

“A witness.” Yanagisawa spoke with relief as well as satisfaction. Obviously he’d still harbored uncertainty about Ichijo. “The right minister’s attempt to cover up Konoe’s murder also supports his guilt. So what’s your plan for him?”

“We confront him with the evidence,” Sano said. “We give him a chance to confess and turn in his confederates. If he refuses, we lock him up and interrogate him continuously. He cats, sleeps, and bathes only when we permit him; he sees no one except us. We don’t mistreat him, but he’s a proud man who’s used to being in control; imprisonment will break him eventually.”

“But that could take forever!” Yanagisawa said.

“When Ichijo’s mercenaries hear of his arrest, they’ll worry that he’ll turn them in,” Sano said. “They’ll run for their lives. The rebellion will fall apart.” He lifted a hand, forestalling Yanagisawa’s objections. “But we don’t just wait for that to happen. While one of us is wearing Ichijo down, the other will be giving the same treatment to Emperor Tomohito.”

Approval dawned on Yanagisawa’s face.

“Ichijo must have told the emperor some details of the plot,” Sano went on. “I think His Majesty can be persuaded to inform on Ichijo in exchange for keeping his throne.”

“A brilliant scheme,” Yanagisawa admitted with a calculating look in his eyes. “I’m glad I thought of it.”

Though Marume and Fukida frowned at the theft of their master’s idea, Sano nodded, willing to give Yanagisawa credit for his plan if it meant they could deliver a killer to justice and avert a war.

Yanagisawa said, “What are we waiting for?”

The brilliant plan crumbled as soon as they rode up to the Imperial Palace. Tokugawa troops had gathered outside the compound, along with a battalion of yoriki, doshin, and civilian police assistants. The commanders shouted urgent orders. While Sano, Marume, Fukida, and Yanagisawa watched in bewilderment, the whole army swarmed into the city.

Yanagisawa approached the gate, where two scared-looking watchmen stood guard. "What’s going on?” he asked.

Bowing, they answered, “The emperor is missing!”

Stunned, Sano looked at Marume and Fukida. Their exclamations echoed his alarm.

“Where is Shoshidai Matsudaira?” Yanagisawa demanded.

“At the emperor’s residence,” chorused the watchmen.

“Can this have anything to do with the murder case?” Fukida asked.

“I don’t know,” Sano said, “but if something bad has happened to the emperor, it could mean disaster.”

Any misfortune that befell the sacred sovereign heralded trouble for all of Japan: earthquakes, fires, typhoons, famine. And if Emperor Tomohito should die, even a temporary break in the continuity of the imperial succession would create disorder in the cosmos and evil among mankind.

Yanagisawa had already dismounted and marched into the palace compound. Sano, Marume, and Fukida leapt off their horses and followed. Watchmen and Tokugawa troops ran up and down the lanes of the kuge quarter. In the sun-baked courtyard of the emperor’s residence, anxious court nobles and ladies stood apart from a crowd of angry samurai officials. Shoshidai Matsudaira hurried out of the latter group and flung himself on the ground at Yanagisawa’s feet.

“Oh, Honorable Chamberlain,” the shoshidai wailed, “I apologize for letting the emperor disappear. I’ve failed in my duty. I shall commit seppuku to atone for my negligence.”

“Stop whining and tell me exactly what happened,” Yanagisawa said. “How long has the emperor been gone?”

Right Minister Ichijo left the group of nobles and came over. “No one has seen His Majesty since he retired to his bedchamber last night. His attendants discovered that he was missing when they went to wake him for his sunrise prayer ritual. When His Majesty wasn’t found after a search of the palace, I notified the shoshidai. But he could have disappeared hours before daybreak.”

“Have you examined his quarters?” Sano asked.

“Yes,” said Ichijo. “Everything was in order. A set of daytime clothes is missing from his wardrobe.”

“Then he probably went voluntarily,” Sano deduced. “How did he get out of the palace?”

“He must have climbed over the wall.”

“Had he said or done anything recently that might indicate where he was going or why?” Sano watched Yanagisawa fuming over the catastrophe and the disruption of their plans.

“Not that I’ve been able to determine,” Ichijo said. “His attendants say he acted perfectly normal; he told them nothing. And the idiot Prince Momozono is nowhere to be found. I suspect he went with His Majesty.”

An imperial watchman ran into the courtyard, waving a scroll with gold chrysanthemum crests on the ends, bound in gold silk cord. “Here’s a letter from His Majesty. I found it hanging in the Purple Dragon Hall.”

“Give me that.” Snatching the scroll, Yanagisawa opened it. Sano saw large, childish calligraphy scrawled upon the fine paper. Yanagisawa read aloud:

“ ‘To My Honorable Family and Loyal Court:

Don’t bother looking for me. We shall meet again soon enough, and then the whole world will know what I’ve done. This is the dawn of a new era. Tonight I shall lead my army in battle against the Tokugawa oppressors who have subjugated the imperial throne for too long. I shall seize the capital and take my place as the rightful ruler of the land. No one can stop me. The gods have decreed my triumph. Until then, farewell.

The Divine Emperor Tomohito’ ”

A stunned silence hung over the courtyard, thick as the sweltering heat. Sano shook his head in confusion. This new development marked Emperor Tomohito as the instigator of the imperial restoration conspiracy, but what about all the evidence against Right Minister Ichijo?

The watchman said, “The sacred sword is missing from the treasure storehouse. His Majesty’s suit of armor is gone, too.”

A woman emerged from the mass of court ladies. At first Sano didn’t recognize Lady Jokyōden. She wore a dressing gown, no makeup, and her hair loose; in the crisis of the emperor’s disappearance, she must have forgotten to dress. Instead of a youthful Miyako beauty, she looked like a middle-aged woman ravaged by horror.

“My rash, foolish son!” Jokyōden cried, wringing her hands.

Chaos broke loose. Courtiers loudly disclaimed any involvement with the rebellion; sobs arose from the ladies. The whole group surged toward the courtyard gate. Sano understood their fear of being punished as unwitting parties to treason, but the last thing he needed was a disturbance in the court.

“Restrain them!” he called to the bakufu officials. “Put everyone in the palace under house arrest!”

The officials hastened to obey. Yanagisawa turned on Right Minister Ichijo. "You’re responsible for this. You put the emperor up to the revolt. You recruited the army and planned the siege!”

With haughty dignity Ichijo said, “I have no part in His Majesty’s actions. If I had known of his plans, I would have dissuaded him from going.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Yanagisawa shouted. “I saw you with those rōnin last night. They’re your mercenaries. You paid them combat wages for the battle that the emperor thinks he’s leading. Where will they launch the attack?”

Ichijo’s face went ashen with shock. “You… saw me?” He staggered backward, leaning heavily on his cane. “But my business with those men has nothing to do with the emperor, or a conspiracy against the Tokugawa.”

“Lady Asagao has admitted that you weren’t with her when Left Minister Konoe died,” Sano said, “and we have a witness who saw you in the Pond Garden immediately after the murder.”

“Yes… I was there. But I didn’t kill him.” Ichijo spoke in a distracted tone, as if he neither knew nor cared what he was saying.

“Yes, you did!” Yanagisawa said. “You murdered Aisu, and you tried to murder me, too. Confess! Tell me where the emperor is!”

Ichijo’s eyes were glazed as he murmured, “Konoe… Merciful gods. I should have guessed…” He swayed dizzily and collapsed in a faint.

“Wake up!” Yanagisawa slapped Ichijo, but the right minister remained unconscious. The bakufu officials herded the court nobles and ladies away. Yanagisawa glared at Sano. “What brilliant scheme do you propose now?”

The next hours passed in a blur. By afternoon, search parties had covered much of the capital without locating the emperor. Right Minister Ichijo had regained consciousness, but continued to insist that he knew nothing about the rebels. A distraught Lady Jokyōden insisted likewise. Both suspects were under house arrest along with the rest of the Imperial Court. Soldiers now guarded all approaches to Miyako; cannon had been mounted along the Great Rampart, and all samurai in the area drafted into service. Yet the local Tokugawa army numbered only the few thousand required to maintain a visible presence during almost a century of peace. The rebels might have recruited more than this, and could launch a violent bid for power even though the emperor’s foolish announcement of his plans had lost them the advantage of surprise.

Nijō Castle now assumed its proper role as a military fortification. Troops occupied the guard turrets. Sano and Yanagisawa, like rival generals forced to unite against a common threat, shared a hasty meal in the private chambers.

“Maybe we already have the clue we need to find the emperor and prevent the revolt,” Sano said, scooping noodles into his mouth with chopsticks.

Yanagisawa drank tea. “Not those mysterious coins? Even if we had time for them, I seriously doubt whether they would help us solve our immediate problem.”

“I wasn’t talking about the coins,” Sano said, “although I have found out that they’re linked with a local gangster clan, the Dazai. I meant the papers you took from Left Minister Konoe’s office. If he was spying on the rebels, perhaps he knew where they planned to assemble and wrote down the information.”

“I’ve already been through those papers, and I can’t recall seeing anything that might be a reference to a siege on Miyako.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check again,” Sano said.

With a shrug, Yanagisawa conceded, “What have we got to lose?”

When Sano arrived at Nijō Manor, Reiko met him at the gate, her face vivid with anxiety. “I’ve been watching the soldiers march through the city,” she cried as Sano dismounted from his horse. “The shoshidai has ordered all the samurai at the inn to report for military duty. Does this mean the revolt is going to start soon?”

“Yes.” Sano explained about the emperor’s letter and disappearance. "Unfortunately, we don’t know when or where the rebels will attack.”

“What are you going to do?”

At least they were speaking again, Sano thought. A stable boy took charge of his horse, and he went into the inn with Reiko. “You and I will review the papers from Left Minister Konoe’s office.”

In their room Sano discovered that Reiko had emptied the boxes; journals, scrolls, and loose pages lay sorted into piles around the room. Pointing at various piles, she described their contents: “These are the left minister’s calendars, which list meetings, ceremonies, and holidays. Those are his notes on palace business. Drafts of imperial edicts. Lefters from the bakufu and other court nobles. Banquet menus. His diaries include the history of his rivalry with Right Minister Ichijo, insults toward Lady Jokyōden, and complaints about Emperor Tomohito’s bad behavior, but if there’s anything here to say who killed him, I can’t find it.”

“That doesn’t matter. Chamberlain Yanagisawa and I are almost certain that Ichijo is the murderer,” Sano said.

Reiko stood perfectly still as Sano told her about the apparent link between Ichijo and the imperial restoration conspiracy.

“Ichijo admits he was in the Pond Garden during Konoe’s murder,” Sano finished, "and his alibi for Aisu’s murder is weak. As a high court official and intelligent, ambitious politician, he’s the likeliest instigator of the revolt, although he claims he’s innocent and won’t talk. What I hope to find in the papers is a clue to the rebels’ strategy.”

“Then Kozeri really did see him. She told me the truth.” Reiko dropped to her knees. Wide-eyed, she pressed a hand to her throat as if choking.

“What’s wrong?” Alarmed, Sano knelt beside his wife.

To his delight, Reiko leaned into his embrace. He felt her trembling as she spoke through sobs: “Last night Kozeri said she’d tried to seduce you, but you wouldn’t let her because you love me. I didn’t believe her then, but I can now. And I know that she did use magic to deceive and entice you, because she tried the same thing with me. Please forgive me for doubting you!”

Sano held Reiko tight. Almost weeping himself in the bliss of their reunion, Sano whispered, “It’s all right now.” He thanked fate for the way the threads of the case had woven together.

After a moment Reiko disengaged from him. “Enough,” she said, wiping away tears. Her voice was brusque, but her face shone with relief and happiness. “We have work to do.”

They began going through the papers she’d sorted. Even with a war looming on the horizon, Sano found a keen pleasure in their task. Still, as he pored over documents, his hope of a successful search waned.

“I’m not finding anything useful,” he said. “Maybe the information is in code.”

Reiko laid aside a scroll and took up another. “If so, I didn’t recognize it. The meaning of all these writings seems perfectly clear to me. I can identify the purpose of each document, and there are no ambiguous phrases. I haven’t seen anything that I would judge as not what it appears to be.”

… ambiguous phrases… the meaning… seems perfectly clear… not what it appears to be… Reiko’s words formed a mesh of sound that drifted like a net through Sano’s mind and snared a dim, amorphous memory. Where had he recently read an ambiguous phrase whose meaning had seemed clear, but might not have been what it seemed? Instinct told him that the answer was critically important. Holding his breath, Sano concentrated. The memory crystallized into bright clarity.

“We’re looking in the wrong place,” he said.

Reiko glanced at him in surprise. “You mean you don’t think the information is in Left Minister Konoe’s papers?”

“Yes, I do,” Sano said, “but these aren’t his only papers.” He hurried to the cabinet. “Konoe also wrote those letters to Kozeri.” With trembling fingers Sano took out the last letter. “This was written seven days before Konoe’s murder. Listen.” He read the angry expressions of unrequited love, concluding with the passage he’d recalled:

“ ‘Soon the forces of defense and desire will clash upon the lofty, sacred heights where spires pierce the sky, feathers drift, and clear water falls.’

“It sounds like a poetic allusion to sex between a man who wants it and a woman who doesn’t,” Reiko said, “which describes the relationship between the left minister and Kozeri.”

“That’s what I thought at first. But what if he’s describing a different kind of struggle, at a real place? ‘Forces of defense and desire’ could mean the Tokugawa army and the rebels who want to take over Japan.” Another inspiration struck Sano. “Didn’t you say that Konoe had asked Kozeri to meet him at the palace to celebrate a ‘special occasion?’ ”

Reiko nodded; comprehension sparkled in her eyes. “He asked her six days after he wrote the letter, and one day before his death. Maybe he was hinting in the letter that he’d discovered the rebels’ strategy-”

“And where they planned to launch the attack,” Sano said.

“The ’special occasion’ was the revolt, which would fail because Konoe was going to report it to the bakufu in time for the army to-”

“Head off the siege of Miyako. Then the bakufu would-”

“Reward Konoe by granting his request to shut down the Kodai Temple convent and force Kozeri to go back to him,” Reiko finished triumphantly.

Exhilarated by their shared reasoning, they laughed together. “I found the clue on our first day in Miyako, but 1 didn’t recognize its significance,” Sano said. "Now we just have to figure out where this place is.”

“Lofty, sacred heights,” Reiko mused. “Maybe Konoe was talking about a mountain, but if so, which one?”

“Spires could mean a temple,” Sano said, “though there must be as many of those as there are mountains in the Miyako area.”

“Drifting feathers and clear water?” Reiko shook her head.

“That part doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“I’ve read something like that before, in writings about Miyako…” Sano thought hard, but couldn’t grasp the memory. “My knowledge of the city is limited, but a local citizen might recognize the reference.”

He rushed out the door and found the innkeeper’s wife kneeling in the corridor, her ear to the wall. She gasped in alarm and said, “Hello, master.”

“Please come in,” Sano said, hurrying her into the room. He read her the passage from the letter. “Does that suggest anything to you?”

The woman smiled, obviously relieved because he didn’t scold her for eavesdropping. “Oh, of course. It means Kiyomizu Temple-the Clear-Water Temple on Sound-of-Feathers Mountain. A very beautiful place. You must see it while you’re in Miyako.”

“I expect I will. Many thanks for your help.”

Now Sano recalled what he’d read. Kiyomizu Temple, strategically situated on high ground, had been for centuries a favored spot for mobilizing troops and a secret rendezvous site of spies and rebels. He and Reiko exchanged jubilant smiles, but immediately sobered as their gazes moved to the window. It was nearly dusk.

There wasn’t much time to head off the rebels’ attack.