The Samurai’s Wife

4

Is there anything you need, Honorable Lady Sano?” said the wife of Nijō Manor’s innkeeper.

A middle-aged woman with bright, avid eyes, she hovered in the doorway of a suite inside the inn’s complex of guest chambers. There, enclosed by walls decorated with painted scenes of Mount Mikasa, Reiko peered through the window at the torch-lit courtyard. Since her arrival at Nijō Manor, she’d bathed, changed into a yellow silk dressing gown, dined, and sent her maids to bed. Now she anxiously waited for Sano to come.

“No, thank you,” Reiko told the innkeeper’s wife, who had inundated her with offers of service all evening.

Still, the woman lingered. “You needn’t fear for your safety here,” she said, obviously seeking an excuse to stay and misinterpreting Reiko’s interest in the view. “We have security guards, and the ‘nightingale floors’ in the corridors will squeak to let you know if someone’s coming. And look!” She bustled across the room and opened a panel in the wall. “Here’s a secret door, so you can escape during an attack.”

Nijō Manor, a hybrid between a commoner’s house and a fortified samurai estate, had been established to fill a need for this unique type of accommodation. Tokugawa law forbade the daimyo to have estates here, thus limiting their contact with the Imperial Court; but Nijō Manor gave the feudal lords a safe place to stay while in Miyako. Yet Reiko, who’d heard the history of the manor from the innkeeper’s wife earlier, also craved privacy, which was in short supply.

She realized that she must be the most interesting guest ever to stay at Nijō Manor, at least in the opinion of the women here. The innkeeper’s wife had watched her constantly. The maids had helped unpack her baggage, whispering together as they examined her silk kimonos and exclaiming over the pair of swords she’d brought. Later, Reiko overheard them gossiping:

“I’ve never heard of a lady with swords!”

“What’s she doing here?”

“Let’s find out.”

When Reiko went to the privy and the bathchamber, giggles and stealthy footsteps followed her. She heard furtive noises outside her window. The innkeeper’s wife asked prying questions. Reiko had tried to discourage nosiness by explaining that she’d come to visit Miyako’s famous temples-a dull, respectable reason to travel-but the news about the strange lady from Edo spread through the neighborhood. When Reiko peered out the gate to look for Sano, a crowd of curious peasant women stared back at her.

Now the innkeeper’s wife continued extolling the virtues of Nijō Manor. Through the window Reiko saw the maids in the courtyard. They waved to her, tittering. Reiko fought annoyance as she waved back, then forced herself to smile at the innkeeper’s wife. If there proved to be no part for her in Sano’s investigation, she would be stuck here; she mustn’t antagonize these women, because servants could take their revenge in small, aggravating ways.

The inn’s floors and ceilings creaked as guests settled in for the night, their talk and laughter a continuous background noise. The night’s humid warmth oppressed Reiko’s spirits. Sano had warned her that she might have less freedom in Miyako than in Edo, where she had friends and relatives to visit, things to do, and a certain independence. In Edo, she also had her network to consult during investigations. Here she felt alone and helpless. She would go mad with boredom unless Sano found occupation for her.

At last she heard the voices of Sano and Detectives Marume and Fukida in the corridor. Quickly she said to the innkeeper’s wife, “Please prepare my husband’s bath and dinner.”

The woman hurried off to obey. Sano entered the room, carrying a clothbound ledger. Fatigue shadowed his face, but he smiled at Reiko. Feeling the stir of desire and affection that his presence always evoked, she murmured, “Welcome.”

Sano studied her anxiously. “I’m sorry I had to leave you. Is everything all right?”

That his immediate concern should be for her, even when he had serious business on his mind, filled Reiko with love for him. “Everything is fine,” she said, forbearing to mention her own troubles. “I want to hear all about what happened, as soon as you’ve had time to relax.”

After he’d bathed and dressed in a cool cotton robe, they sat together in their room. The maids brought Sano a meal tray containing clear broth, grilled river fish, pickled radish, and rice. While he ate, he told Reiko the circumstances of Left Minister Konoe’s death.

“So it was murder,” Reiko said, relishing the challenge of a hunt for a killer, “and an actual instance of death by kiai! This is going to be a very interesting case.”

“And a difficult one,” Sano said. He paused, using his chopsticks to pick bones out of the fish. “Hopefully, I’ll soon have some clues, as well as statements from suspects, and we can discuss them. Your ideas will be very helpful.”

A cautious note in his voice set off a warning signal in Reiko’s head. Unhappy comprehension deflated her excitement. “Discussion and ideas-is that all you’re going to allow me to contribute to the investigation?”

“Please don’t get upset,” Sano said, laying down his chopsticks as his troubled gaze met her appalled one. “Let me explain.”

The disappointment was more than Reiko could bear. “But I should help search for clues and interview the suspects and witnesses. To develop any useful ideas about the murder, I need to see the people and places involved.” Tradition forbade a wife to argue with her husband, but Reiko and Sano had a marriage that strained the bounds of convention. “Have I come all this way to sit idle while you toil alone?”

“I brought you here to protect you,” Sano reminded her.

“From Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who is far away in Edo.”

“From grave peril,” Sano said. “And this investigation has great potential for that.”

Yet Reiko preferred peril to boredom. “I’ve worked on murder cases before. This one is no different. I’m not afraid.”

“You should be,” Sano said somberly, “because this case is indeed different. The power of kiai makes this killer more dangerous than an ordinary criminal.”

“The killer is no more dangerous to me than to you,” Reiko said. Exasperation rose in her. With an eleven-year age difference between them, Sano often seemed like an overprotective father. “Your greater size and strength are no defense against a spirit cry.”

“My many years of martial arts training are,” Sano said. “I’ve practiced rituals for strengthening the will. A strong will is the foundation for the power of kiai, and the only weapon against it.”

Reiko lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Do you think that just because I haven’t lived long enough to study as much as you have, it means my will is weak?”

“Not at all,” Sano said with a wry smile.

“Rituals you’ve never had a chance to test won’t guarantee your safety if the killer attacks you,” Reiko retorted. “Nor will your sex or rank. The killer’s victim was male, and the highest official in the Imperial Court.”

Sano picked up his soup bowl, then set it down. “There are also practical reasons I can’t include you in the investigation. You couldn’t go to the crime scene with me today. I can’t take you along on my inquiries tomorrow. For a samurai’s wife to follow him around, involving herself in official business-you know it just isn’t done.” His regretful expression told Reiko that he sympathized with her position, even as he defended his own. “I’m sorry.”

“There must be something I can do,” Reiko persisted. “Are there any witnesses to interview?”

“Not yet.”

“What about suspects?”

“That ledger I brought contains Yoriki Hoshina’s report on the investigation he did before we got here. He’s cleared most of the palace residents of suspicion by confirming their alibis. But there are some people whose whereabouts at the time of the murder remain unknown. One is Emperor Tomohito, and another his cousin Prince Momozono.” Sano explained that they’d discovered the body, then said, “I can’t subject them to questioning by a woman. It would be a gross impropriety.”

Reiko nodded, sadly conceding Sano’s point. She saw the murder case moving farther and farther beyond her grasp. Nevertheless, something that he’d said gave her hope.

“If the emperor is one suspect and the prince is another,” Reiko said, “then it sounds as though there are additional suspects. Who are they?”

“The emperor’s mother, Lady Jokyōden, and his consort, Lady Asagao.”

From the chagrin on his face, Reiko could tell that Sano hadn’t wanted to tell her. “It wouldn’t violate any customs for the wife of the shogun’s representative to call on the women of the Imperial Court,” she said, so delighted by this turn of events that she forgave Sano’s attempt to conceal information. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Even though it’s socially acceptable for you to visit Lady Jokyōden and Lady Asagao, there’s still the threat of danger,” Sano said. “I don’t know of any historical incidences of a woman having the power of kiai, and it seems likely that the murderer is a man, but we can’t yet rule out the possibility that the emperor’s mother or consort killed Left Minister Konoe. For you to go prying into their business is too big a risk.”

“The Imperial Court doesn’t know that I help you with investigations,” Reiko said. “When I visit the women, they’ll think it’s just a social courtesy.”

“If they guess your real purpose, the consequences could be fatal,” Sano said.

The room’s cozy atmosphere chilled and darkened with the memory of a recent time when a killer had seen through Reiko’s false pretenses while investigating the murder of the shogun’s favorite concubine. Stifling a shiver, Reiko involuntarily placed a hand on her abdomen, where a new, fragile life might have just begun. She read in Sano’s eyes his resolve to prevent another disaster.

“I’ve learned a lot since then,” she said. “I won’t let the emperor’s mother and consort guess that I know they’re suspects. Besides, women speak more frankly to one another than to men. Court ladies are probably unaccustomed to meeting samurai officials. I have a better chance of getting the information you need.”

Sano nodded in reluctant agreement, then frowned, placing his chopsticks together across the center of his rice bowl and contemplating the equally divided contents.

Reiko sensed in him the struggle between love and duty, between caution and the need to employ every possible method to solve the case. Taking Sano’s strong, hard hands in her small, slender ones, she said, “When we married, our lives and our honor were joined forever. I want to deliver the killer to justice as much as you do. For good or bad, I share your fate. Shouldn’t I do everything in my power to bring us success?”

They shared a long look. Then Sano clasped Reiko’s hands, expelled a breath, and nodded, his misgivings obvious. But triumph filled Reiko. She had enough faith in their partnership for both of them.

At Nijō Castle, a servant entered the White Parlor, bowed, and said to Chamberlain Yanagisawa, “Your visitor has arrived.”

“Good. I’ll receive him in the Grand Audience Hall.” Yanagisawa turned to Aisu. "I’ll handle this alone.”

Disapproval flickered in Aisu’s eyes. “But how can you be sure he’s trustworthy?” Yanagisawa had been communicating with his chief Miyako agent via written messages; they’d never actually met. But now, with operations under way, face-to-face contact was necessary. “You need protection.”

Aisu hated being excluded from important business, Yanagisawa knew; he feared that someone else would steal his master’s favor. However, as a general precaution, Yanagisawa never shared all the details of a scheme with anyone, lest too much knowledge give other men power over him. Thus, he didn’t want Aisu at this secret meeting between himself and the man through whom he would achieve his purpose.

“No one would dare attack me here,” Yanagisawa said. “You’re dismissed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, master.” Aisu bowed resentfully.

In the Grand Audience Hall, a mural of gnarled pine trees on a gilt background decorated the wall behind the dais. Carved peacocks graced transoms; on the coffered ceiling, painted flowers glittered in the flames of many lanterns. Doors with ornate tassels marked rooms where guards stood watch. Exterior sliding walls were open to a garden landscaped entirely without trees, so that falling leaves could not evoke thoughts about the transience of life or political power. Indian lilac sent a smoky perfume into the castle.

Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat upon the dais. An attendant opened the door at the distant opposite end of the room and announced, “The Honorable Hoshina Sogoru, senior police commander of Miyako.”

Toward Yanagisawa strode the tall samurai, clad in a dark cobalt kimono. As Yoriki Hoshina neared the dais, the sight of his powerful build and handsome, angular face caused a flash of sexual desire in Yanagisawa. Hoshina’s heavy-lidded eyes regarded Yanagisawa with speculative interest. Then his full lips curved in a brief, bold smile. Yanagisawa instinctively recognized Hoshina as a man who liked men-and shared his attraction.

“Welcome,” Yanagisawa said, marveling that written words conveyed so little of the writer’s person. The yoriki’s businesslike letters describing the circumstances of Left Minister Konoe’s death and the results of his preliminary inquiries hadn’t prepared Yanagisawa for meeting Hoshina in the flesh.

Hoshina knelt before the dais and bowed. “Thank you, Honorable Chamberlain. It’s a privilege to serve you.”

“Did anyone see you enter the castle?”

Contemplating the yoriki, Yanagisawa admired the sculpted muscles of Hoshina’s arms and chest. He’d spent the past nine months trying to forget his dead lover Shichisaburō, but although he’d gone through scores of partners, male and female, none had banished the memory of losing the only person who had ever loved him. Now, however, Hoshina might prove to be a welcome diversion. Still, Yanagisawa sensed danger in their attraction.

“I don’t think so,” Hoshina said. “I came alone, through the back gate, as you ordered.” A glimmer of mischief brightened his somber gaze, as if he’d read Yanagisawa’s thoughts.

He had a good opinion of himself, Yanagisawa thought, but not unjustifiably. Hoshina had first come to Yanagisawa’s attention three years ago. Local metsuke spies had recommended the yoriki as a man of talent whose job put him in a good position to monitor the activities of Miyako’s citizens. Since then, Hoshina had reported on these in regular dispatches to Edo. Yanagisawa had been impressed with the quality of the information Hoshina sent; routine double checks always proved it reliable. Hoshina was also a competent detective, but it remained to be seen whether he was capable of more difficult, complex work.

“Tell me what happened with Sano today,” Yanagisawa said.

“I took him and his detectives to the Imperial Palace to see where Left Minister Konoe died.”

Hoshina lowered his eyes respectfully, but Yanagisawa could feel the yoriki taking measure of him. No doubt Hoshina knew all about the enmity between himself and Sano. Yanagisawa guessed that the yoriki had also done some research on him. He noted Hoshina’s immaculately knotted and oiled hair, and the elegant silk kimono patterned with silver trees and rivers: Hoshina had groomed himself for this occasion.

“Did you win Sano’s trust?” Even as Yanagisawa recognized Hoshina’s ploy as one he himself had used on the shogun, he admired the yoriki’s daring.

“As much as possible,” said Hoshina. A note of pride, veiled with modesty, echoed in his voice. “He clearly knows better than to trust a man he’s just met, but he requested my particular assistance. He didn’t seem to suspect that I’m anything besides a policeman who wants to advance his career.”

“Excellent. I need someone to keep me informed on Sano’s progress.” Yanagisawa also needed the benefit of Sano’s expertise to help him solve the case. “What did Sano deduce from the crime scene?”

“He decided that the sound heard on the night of Left Minister Konoe’s death was a spirit cry,” Hoshina said. A faint, derisive smile twisted his lips. “But I don’t believe that a spirit cry killed Konoe, because kiai is just superstition, and I told Sano as much.”

The idea of kiai seemed like superstition to Yanagisawa, too. Still, nothing else could explain the condition of the corpse, and he couldn’t encourage Hoshina’s disturbing tendency to take the initiative and assert himself. “You shouldn’t have disagreed with Sano,” he said. “I don’t want you to antagonize him. From now on, keep your opinions to yourself.”

Bowing his head, Hoshina said, “Yes, Honorable Chamberlain. Please forgive me.”

“Very well,” Yanagisawa said, mollified. He mused, “I’m sure there will be some circumstance of the case that I can use as a weapon against Sano. What did you tell him about the murder?”

“I said I’d done a preliminary investigation and identified Emperor Tomohito, Prince Momozono, Lady Jokyōden, and Lady Asagao as suspects,” Hoshina said, “just as your message ordered. He knows there was a cover-up by the Imperial Court, and that Konoe banned everyone from the Pond Garden that night.”

Yanagisawa nodded his approval. “Much as I dislike making things easy for Sano, you had to convince him that you’re competent and honest by giving him useful information that will stand up to any checking he may do. But you didn’t tell him about your other findings, did you?”

“No, and I’m sure he doesn’t even suspect that there are any.”

Yanagisawa smiled. The withheld information, which he deemed more valuable than what Hoshina had revealed to Sano, gave him an advantage over his enemy. “What else happened?”

“Sano interviewed the Konoe household,” Hoshina said.

“And?” Although Hoshina had made discreet inquiries among the victim’s associates before Sano arrived in Miyako, it was possible that Sano had turned up clues that Yanagisawa wouldn’t want him to have.

“It was a waste of time.”

“I suppose Sano inspected Konoe’s chambers.” Yanagisawa had sent Aisu to search Konoe’s house and remove everything of potential interest prior to Sano’s visit. Several chests of papers were now in Yanagisawa’s possession. “He didn’t find anything important, did he?”

Hoshina hesitated, then said, “Actually, he may have.” Seeing Yanagisawa’s frown, the yoriki hastened to add, “There were things hidden in places that would have been overlooked, had Sano not searched as thoroughly as he did. It’s understandable that your man missed them.”

The news of yet another mistake by the formerly reliable Aisu infuriated Yanagisawa. He couldn’t afford to tolerate errors, and he must find a new chief retainer soon.

“Sano found some letters in a secret compartment,” Hoshina said. “They were written by Left Minister Konoe to his former wife, Kozeri.”

“Kozeri. Ah. Yes.” Yanagisawa recognized the name from Konoe’s metsuke dossier. “What did the letters say?”

Hoshina described the passages that Sano had read aloud. “Unfortunately, Sano took the letters, and I was afraid he would get suspicious if I objected.”

Perceiving a possible connection between Kozeri and the murder, Yanagisawa fumed at the thought of such valuable information in Sano’s hands.

“I pointed out reasons he should consider Kozeri irrelevant to the case,” Hoshina said. “He won’t ignore her, but I managed to convince him to put off following up on her until after he interviews the suspects.”

“Good,” Yanagisawa said. Perhaps Hoshina’s initiative was an asset rather than a liability; his quick thinking had bought Yanagisawa time to send someone to investigate Kozeri before Sano could. Admiration for Hoshina increased Yanagisawa’s desire, although another man’s wits had never attracted him before. His past lovers had been young maidens, adolescent boys, or frail, older men like the shogun-all physically smaller and weaker than himself, and intellectually inferior. The unexpected departure from habit troubled Yanagisawa.

“What else did Sano find?” he asked Hoshina.

The yoriki reached into the pouch at his waist and removed a small object. Yanagisawa extended his open palm; Hoshina reached up and placed a coin in it. Their hands touched. The warm contact of flesh against flesh startled Yanagisawa; he stifled a gasp. For an instant, their gazes held. Hoshina smiled uncertainly, his boldness vanished. Something incomprehensible passed between them. To hide his confusion, Yanagisawa examined the fern-leaf design on the coin.

Hoshina sat back on his heels. “There were three of those hidden in Konoe’s cloak.” Rapid, audible breaths punctuated his speech. “Sano’s detectives have the others. When Sano told them to find out what the coins are and whether they have any relevance to the murder, I said I would make some inquiries too. My contacts in the city should give me an advantage over Marume and Fukida.”

“Whatever you learn, report it to me, not Sano.” Recovering his composure, Yanagisawa said, “What are Sano’s plans for tomorrow?”

“I’m taking him to the palace to interview Emperor Tomohito, Prince Momozono, Lady Jokyōden, and Lady Asagao,” Hoshina said, his voice steady now. They regarded each other coolly, master and servant again-at least on the surface. “In the evening, we’ll attend the shoshidai’s banquet.”

Yanagisawa mentally arranged his plans around these events, then said, “Have you located a site that meets the criteria I specified in my message to you yesterday?”

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” Hoshina described a certain house and its location.

“That sounds just right,” said Yanagisawa. They finalized plans for Yanagisawa to pursue the major lead in the case, while Sano investigated the minor ones for him, with Hoshina as his eyes and ears. “Be ready to report everything to me tomorrow night. I’ll let you know the time and place.”

Then a thought occurred to Yanagisawa. “What has Lady Reiko been doing?”

“Staying in Nijō Manor. The innkeeper’s wife is my informer, and I’ve ordered her to watch Lady Reiko. So far, she hasn’t done anything of interest.”

However, Yanagisawa knew enough about Reiko to doubt that Sano had brought her all this way just to keep him company. “I want to know where she goes, whom she sees, and what she does.”

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.”

Their business was finished, but Yanagisawa didn’t utter the command to dismiss Hoshina. Outside, a distant temple bell tolled the hour of the boar. Hoshina waited, watching Yanagisawa. Neither moved nor spoke, but their silence clamored with questions, expectancy, and the inaudible, accelerating pulse of blood.

Then Hoshina said, “Honorable Chamberlain… If there’s anything else you wish of me…” His voice was quiet, his expression somber yet highly charged. “I would be more than happy to provide it.”

The sexual innuendo inflamed Yanagisawa, but Hoshina’s nerve affronted him. How dare Hoshina make the first move toward a personal relationship? That was Yanagisawa’s prerogative.

“Would you?” Yanagisawa said sharply. “And what do you expect in return? Wealth? Property? A position on my staff?”

Though he guessed that Hoshina wanted all those things, the yoriki spread his hands and said nonchalantly, “Just a chance to prove I’m worthy to serve you.” Then he leaned forward, staring at Yanagisawa with unmistakable intent. “And the honor of your company.”

In the past, Yanagisawa had shunned ambitious lovers who sought to use him for personal gain, but Hoshina’s bold proposition tempted him strongly. He rose, stepped down from the dais, and stood over Hoshina.

The yoriki, still kneeling, gazed up at him, muscles tense, eyes feverish with need and ambition.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yanagisawa said abruptly, then strode toward the door without a backward glance. But he felt Hoshina’s gaze on him, and the ache of frustrated desire. Despite the fear of treachery, he looked forward to their next meeting.