The Samurai’s Wife

36

The day before Sano left Miyako, he and Chamberlain Yanagisawa bid official farewell to the Imperial Court. Obon had ended, and a fresh wind had swept away the bonfire smoke. Clouds diffused the sun’s glare and cast shifting shadows upon the courtyard outside the Purple Dragon Hall. Nobles lined the yard, kneeling still while drums beat a slow, ritual cadence. On this morning two days after the Tokugawa army had quelled the revolt, the Imperial Palace basked in serenity. To Sano, walking behind Yanagisawa as guards, palace functionaries, and Shoshidai Matsudaira escorted them across the courtyard, the scene had the quality of an ancient painting: eternal, untouched by the hand of fortune. Yet Sano knew better.

The procession mounted the steps to the hall, whose raised doors revealed the imperial throne room. Inside, Emperor Tomohito sat in his canopied pavilion. Sano and Yanagisawa knelt on the veranda opposite him, with their escorts flanking them. They bowed in solemn reverence.

Shoshidai Matsudaira said, “The honorable chamberlain and sōsakan-sama have come to take their leave of the Imperial Court.” His voice trembled; he looked ill. Yanagisawa had reprimanded him for allowing a conspiracy to foment right under his nose. Soon he would be demoted and another Tokugawa relative put in charge of Miyako.

From his place below the emperor’s throne, Right Minister Ichijo addressed Yanagisawa and Sano: “We thank you for coming and solving the difficult problems of our capital.”

Beneath his courteous manner Sano detected a combination of relief at seeing them go, and suppressed elation. Rumor said that Ichijo’s promotion to the rank of prime minister would soon be announced. He’d achieved his lifelong goal.

“We thank you for your cooperation,” said Yanagisawa, “and regret that we must depart so soon.”

Sano offered his own thanks and regrets, but he guessed that their polite speeches fooled no one.

“I grant you my blessing for a safe journey back to Edo,” said Emperor Tomohito.

All the arrogance had deserted him; his chastened expression lent him a new maturity. Sano predicted a long, peaceful reign for the young sovereign, who had finally learned his place in the world.

While priests chanted an invocation, Sano perceived a vacancy in the palace; there was a quietude formerly broken by hoots, yelps, and frenetic motion. The air seemed charged with the absence of Prince Momozono. Yesterday Sano had issued orders for the prince’s cremation and burial. Perhaps his spirit would find peace at last.

The ceremony drew to a close, and Sano pondered the most dramatic effect wrought by the murder case: the change in Chamberlain Yanagisawa. Yanagisawa had offered no explanation for saving Sano’s life, but Sano hadn’t needed one. The chamberlain had brought Yoriki Hoshina with him when he’d rescued Sano. While Yanagisawa had described the discovery that had sped him to the temple, joy had lit his face as if he’d swallowed the sun. The investigation had made a detective out of him; the battle had turned him into a samurai. Love had redeemed his spirit.

Now the procession exited the courtyard. As Sano and Yanagisawa walked through the narrow streets of the kuge district for the last time, Right Minister Ichijo joined them.

“A private word, if I may?” Ichijo said.

Sano and Yanagisawa dropped behind their entourage and walked with the right minister. Ichijo said, “We all know that your investigation is not quite complete.”

“True,” said Yanagisawa.

“I will explain what you saw when you followed me to the Ear Mound,” said Ichijo, “if you will keep the information confidential.”

Yanagisawa raised an eyebrow at Sano, who smiled. Some things never changed. Ichijo was still a consummate politician. Loath to tarry in Miyako, Yanagisawa and Sano had agreed that they would return to Edo, leaving Detective Fukida behind to tie up loose ends. But perhaps Fukida needn’t worry about this one.

“Very well,” Yanagisawa said.

“I have a secret mistress and daughter in the village of Kusatsu,” Ichijo said quietly. “I visit them whenever I can. I also send them money through intermediaries. That’s what I was doing at the Ear Mound. I hired those two rōnin to protect my family from bandit raids and convey cash to them.”

Sano said, “That’s not illegal. Why the need for secrecy?”

“The woman is a peasant,” Ichijo said. “For a man in my position, an affair outside the noble class is unseemly. It would have damaged my career. I was passing through the Pond Garden on my way to Kusatsu when Left Minister Konoe was murdered. I didn’t want to be caught at the scene, so I continued on my trip.” He added, “Konoe knew my secret. He was blackmailing me.”

The procession reached the palace gate. “Thank you for the information,” Sano said, glad to have a mystery solved.

“If you will kindly excuse me, I have business to attend to,” Ichijo said, bowing.

“As have I.” A bemused expression, tinged with worry, came over Yanagisawa’s face.

“And I,” Sano said, as foreboding stirred in him.

At the Palace of the Abdicated Emperor, Reiko sat on a veranda with Lady Jokyōden. They gazed at the sunlit park, where courtiers and noblewomen strolled. Wind chimes tinkled; dragonflies hovered over fragrant flowers.

“Everything looks the same,” Reiko said. “It’s as if nothing had happened to disturb the peace of this world.”

“I must devote more effort to preserving that peace,” Jokyōden said, “and more attention to His Majesty the Emperor.”

This was the only reference they made to the revolt. Reiko contemplated Jokyōden’s hint that she would keep her son under stricter control. Men dominated politics and waged wars, but a woman working behind the scenes could accomplish much. Reiko doubted if the emperor would dare defy his mother and misbehave again, and the Tokugawa regime was indebted to Jokyōden.

“Many thanks for your help,” Reiko said, bowing.

With dignified grace, Jokyōden also bowed. “I am honored to have been of service.”

“I wonder-” Reiko paused, eager to satisfy curiosity, yet hesitant about broaching a personal question. “May I ask why you decided to help me, when your interests opposed mine?”

“I saw myself in you,” Jokyōden said with a wry smile. “Besides that, another woman aided me many times during my life. She is beyond my assistance, so I repaid her favor by helping you.” As if to herself, Jokyōden murmured, “May that deed compensate for those less virtuous.”

A chill passed over Reiko. By now she’d read the metsuke dossiers that Chamberlain Yanagisawa had sent Sano. She’d learned of Jokyōden’s rivalry with another court lady whose fatal fall over a cliff might not have been accidental. Even if Jokyōden hadn’t murdered Left Minister Konoe or Aisu, even if she didn’t have the power of kiai, she was still dangerous.

Lady Jokyōden gave Reiko a faint smile. As though aware of Reiko’s thoughts all along, she said, “Women are generally considered helpless, yet under the right circumstances, we are capable of great harm as well as good.”

Reiko realized with an unpleasant shock that she herself was a dangerous woman. As the wife of the shogun’s sōsakan-sama, she had more power than ordinary women, and she’d played a role in incriminating the innocent Lady Asagao. Would she, too, someday have sins to regret?

There was another reason for this visit besides bidding good-bye to her friend: Sano had asked her to solve a minor puzzle in the case. Knowing that Jokyōden would see through any subterfuge she tried, Reiko said bluntly, “I’d like to know what is your connection with the Daikoku Bank.”

Jokyōden looked surprised, then recovered her composure and nodded. “I trusted your discretion once, and you did not fail me, so I shall tell you. As you may know, the imperial family has financial problems. I sold my valuable kimonos and used the money to establish the Daikoku Bank. Through my agents, I issue loans and speculate on commodities. The profits supplement the court’s income.”

“Astonishing,” Reiko murmured. Surely Jokyōden was history’s first noblewoman banker.

“I made the mistake of telling Left Minister Konoe,” said Jokyōden. “He demanded a share of my profits in exchange for not revealing that I had crossed the boundaries of womanly behavior and trespassed on the purview of the merchant class.”

“I’m sure that if I tell my husband about your business, he’ll agree to ignore it because you’re doing no harm and you led us to the conspiracy,” Reiko said.

“I would much appreciate his generosity,” said Jokyōden.

Reiko suspected that Jokyōden had chosen to reveal her secret because she’d predicted this outcome. The world of women wasn’t so different from the world of men, Reiko observed. Favors were the common currency, and she owed Jokyōden a greater debt than she’d repaid. Perhaps she could pass along the favor by helping other women in need, and use her power to do good.

They rose and made their final bows of farewell.

“It may be that we shall meet again someday,” Jokyōden said.

In spite of the distance from Miyako to Edo, Reiko had hopes that they might. So many unimaginable things had already happened: the discovery of a man with the power of kiai; Sano’s return from the dead; a war averted. Anything seemed possible.

“Perhaps we shall,” she said.

As her palanquin carried her out of the Imperial Palace, her thoughts turned toward another impending event-one more commonplace than her recent experiences, yet just as miraculous, and now a certainty. Soon she must tell Sano.

At Nijō Castle, troops and servants prepared for the trip to Edo, packing clothes and supplies, readying the horses. Chamberlain Yanagisawa paced the veranda of the private chamber. He inhaled on his tobacco pipe, hoping the smoke would calm his nerves. Hearing footsteps behind him, he stopped, turned, and saw Yoriki Hoshina standing at the far end of the veranda.

“You sent for me.” The hesitancy in Hoshina’s voice made it almost a question. Yes…

Slowly they walked toward each other and stood at the railing, looking out at the stark, treeless garden. “So you’re leaving tomorrow,” Hoshina said.

Yanagisawa nodded. His spirit and body came alive with the exhilaration that Hoshina’s presence inspired. After leading the victorious army back to Miyako and returning Emperor Tomohito to the palace, they’d spent much time celebrating their reunion with violent, physical passion. Yet so much had happened that neither had dared mention the future.

“There’s something I want to talk about,” Yanagisawa said, at the same moment Hoshina said, “I suppose this is our last day together.” An uncomfortable silence ensued. Then, with a sense of leaping off a cliff, Yanagisawa spoke in a voice barely above a whisper: “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What did you say?” Hope battled disbelief in Hoshina’s face.

Now Yanagisawa’s voice came out clear and strong: “I want you to come to Edo with me.”

That Hoshina also wanted it was apparent in his shining eyes and trembling mouth, but he didn’t speak.

“I’ll make you my new chief retainer,” Yanagisawa said.

“You would do that? After I betrayed you?” Incredulity strained Hoshina’s voice.

“After you proved your loyalty, yes, I would.” Yanagisawa spoke with full knowledge of the danger of fostering a potential rival.

“If you’d proposed this a few days ago, I would have jumped at the chance. But now…” Hoshina smiled wryly. “Instead of planning my brilliant future, I’m thinking about how having me around could hurt you. I served you well this time. But later… what if I turn out to be the same man who once meant to take advantage of your generosity? How can you trust me?”

“Perhaps I’m still the same man who condemned you to death for disappointing me,” Yanagisawa said. “If you trust me, I’ll trust you.”

They exchanged a long, questioning gaze. Then, with somber smiles, they nodded.

“You’d better settle your business in Miyako and start packing,” Yanagisawa said. “We leave at daybreak.”

Sano rode through Miyako, down streets now bare of the stalls that had sold Obon supplies, past houses no longer decorated with lanterns or incense burners. The city teemed with gay, bright life, and along the Kamo River, only piles of ash remained from the Festival of the Dead, but as Sano reached Kodai Temple, his mind was uneasy. Reiko had willingly agreed that he should pay a last courtesy visit to Kozeri, and knowing what he now did about the nun, he thought he could resist her… but he wasn’t quite certain.

Wind stirred the pines that rose above the temple walls; clouds obscured the sun. Walking along stone paths, through tranquil gardens, Sano hoped to conclude his business with Kozeri in a businesslike manner, as Reiko trusted him to do.

In the courtyard waited a palanquin and four bearers. Down the steps of the nunnery came a woman dressed in a blue cotton kimono; she carried a cloth bundle. With a white drape covering her shaved head, Sano almost didn’t recognize Kozeri.

She spied him, and her steps faltered. Eyes downcast, she walked to the palanquin, where Sano joined her.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Kozeri gave him a shy glance from beneath lowered lids. “I’m leaving the nunnery.”

“Why?” Even as Sano spoke, he guessed the answer: He had diverted Kozeri from her spiritual calling. Preoccupied with his own troubles, he hadn’t thought about how their encounters might have affected her. Guilt stabbed him. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said.

A fleeting smile crossed Kozeri’s averted face. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Meeting you only forced me to admit what I’ve known all along: I’m not suited to be a nun. Now that the left minister is gone, there’s no reason to stay here.”

She raised her head and looked directly at Sano. Desire flared between them even though he’d braced himself against her. He realized that sometimes an attraction arises between a man and woman regardless of their wishes, even without magic spells. He also knew he had better leave before he succumbed.

He said hurriedly, “The reason I came is to apologize for any trouble my investigation has caused you.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Kozeri murmured. “I shouldn’t have deceived you. Please forgive me.”

Her meekness irritated Sano. He discovered that he didn’t really like Kozeri. Cloaked in passive martyrdom, she inspired not his admiration or respect, but his pity. She’d never breached the part of his spirit where his love lor Reiko dwelled. While castigating himself tor his weakness, he’d overlooked the fact that he had withstood temptation, and he could again. But what of Kozeri, at whose expense he’d learned his lesson?

“Where will you go?” Sano asked her.

“For now, I’ll live in my family’s summer villa. We agreed on that when I visited them a few days ago and told them I wanted to leave the nunnery. Perhaps someday a new marriage can be arranged for me.”

In her eyes Sano read Kozeri’s hope for a good husband to love, a child to replace the one she’d lost. Now she opened the door of the palanquin and stowed her bundle inside.

“Goodbye, sōsakan-sama,” Kozeri said. “I wish you well.”

“And I the same to you,” Sano said.

With mutual relief, they smiled and bowed. Then they departed Kodai Temple, she in the palanquin and he on horseback, traveling in opposite directions.

The sun rose crimson over the misty hills above Miyako. While the imperial capital still slumbered, a procession of foot soldiers, mounted samurai, servants, and a single palanquin filed out the city gates, heading east along the Tōkaidō highway between lush green fields. The rhythm of hoofbeats and marching feet mingled with the waking cries of birds. Humid heat steamed from the earth, yet a hint of coolness in the air presaged autumn.

Riding beside Sano, Detective Marume said, “That was some adventure, but I will be truly glad to get back to Edo.”

Detective Fukida recited:

“My native city- longing recalls

The winding streets, the castle on the hill.”

Chamberlain Yanagisawa dropped back from his place near the head of the procession to ride alongside Sano. “Shall we congratulate ourselves on a job well done, sōsakan-sama?”

“You deserve much of the credit,” Sano said.

“That’s true,” Yanagisawa said complacently.

“May I look forward to a continuation of our partnership when we reach home?” Sano asked.

The chamberlain favored him with a long, unreadable gaze that boded an uncertain future. Who could tell how long their truce might last?

Yoriki Hoshina joined Yanagisawa. Looking at them, Sano felt a qualm of unease. Where he’d previously had one enemy, would he now have two?

Yanagisawa’s faint smile said he knew exactly what Sano was thinking. Then he and Hoshina rode ahead, leaving Sano to wonder.