The Shogun's Daughter

24

In the heir’s residence, Yoshisato prepared for bed. For most of his life he’d liked daytime best, preferring sunlight to darkness, but since he’d come to court, late night was his favorite time. Nobody made demands on him. He didn’t have to play up to the shogun or worry about people thinking he was a fraud. Best of all, he didn’t have to deal with Yanagisawa.

Now it was near midnight. Fresh from a hot bath, dressed in a cotton robe, Yoshisato sat on the floor of his chamber and did stretching exercises. When his muscles released their tension, he could sleep before facing another day as the future dictator of Japan. Yoshisato pretended he was back in his old home, with nothing more difficult to look forward to in the morning than martial arts lessons. He yearned for the peace he would probably never have again.

A light tapping rattled the door. It slid open. Yoshisato frowned at Lady Someko, who stood at the threshold. “Mother. What are you doing here?”

Lady Someko glided into the room. Her face wore the expression that it usually did when she looked at him-fond, worried. “I wanted to see if you were all right.”

“I’m fine,” Yoshisato said curtly as he stretched his arms over his head and leaned sideways. “I’m just about to go to bed.”

Instead of taking the hint, she knelt near him. “It’s been a long time since we had a chance to talk, just the two of us.”

Yoshisato loved her dearly, but he hated having his only private time interrupted. “What do you want?”

She gathered the folds of her brown cloak around her red-orange kimono. She looked anxious and unhappy. Yoshisato recalled the day when he’d been eight years old and he’d begged her to ask his father to come to his first sword-fighting tournament. She’d had to tell him that Yanagisawa wouldn’t come. Her manner was the same now.

“I want you to stop pretending to be the shogun’s son,” she said.

Yoshisato was astonished, and not just because she was asking the impossible. “I thought you thought it was a good idea.”

“I did when Yanagisawa proposed it. He said it was the only way to save your life.”

Five months ago, Ienobu had devised a scheme to have Yoshisato put to death. Yanagisawa had countered by passing Yoshisato off as the shogun’s son. Yoshisato said, “It worked, didn’t it?”

Lady Someko shook her head. The ornaments in her hair jangled. “He convinced me that it would give you a chance to become as important as you deserve to be.” Her eyes shone with her hope and love for Yoshisato. “You would rule Japan someday! Of course I went along with him.”

“Of course. You always do.” Yoshisato tasted bitter rancor. “You hate him, but you make love to him. How can you let him touch you?”

They’d never discussed her relationship with Yanagisawa. Shame clouded Lady Someko’s face as she realized that Yoshisato had heard her with Yanagisawa, during the time they’d all lived together in the palace guesthouse. Yoshisato had been glad to escape the sound of their passionate, violent sex.

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped, pulling the cloak tighter around herself. “Don’t change the subject.”

“All right.” Yoshisato didn’t really want to talk about her and his father. He hated the fact that she and Yanagisawa had come together again, after seventeen years, because of him. He told himself that if she let Yanagisawa degrade her, it was her own fault. But he couldn’t help thinking that if he’d never been born, she wouldn’t be a slave to Yanagisawa. “Why have you changed your mind about me pretending to be the shogun’s son?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“You knew that at the start. Yanagisawa warned us that there were people who wouldn’t believe the shogun was my father.”

“I didn’t know anybody was going to die!”

“Do you mean Tsuruhime? She died of smallpox. She would have, even if Yanagisawa had never thought up his idea, even if I’d never come to court.”

Lady Someko regarded him with disbelief. After a moment’s pause she said, “You never told me you went to visit Tsuruhime.”

A trickle of fear chilled Yoshisato’s heart. Sano wasn’t the only person who suspected him of murdering the shogun’s daughter. His own mother apparently did, too. “Why should I have? I don’t tell you everything.”

“But you used to.” She smiled, sorrowfully nostalgic for their small, private world.

“I’m grown up now.” Yoshisato hid his fear behind impatience. “Things are different.”

Leaning closer, Lady Someko said, “What do you and Yanagisawa talk about, during all those hours you spend alone together? What has he been teaching you?”

“He hasn’t been teaching me to murder people. Nor convincing me that I should get rid of anyone who might interfere with my becoming the next shogun.” Yoshisato spoke sarcastically, concealing the fact that Yanagisawa’s tutelage had covered those very topics.

Her stricken expression said that Lady Someko saw through his lies. “I knew he would be a bad influence. Damn him! I wish he’d never come back!”

“Oh, Mother,” Yoshisato said, irritated because she thought he was so malleable. “Just because he has a spell on you, doesn’t mean he has one on me.”

Lady Someko averted her gaze. “Why did you go to visit Tsuruhime?”

“To pay my respects to my half sister. How do you know I went?”

“Lady Reiko told me.”

Yoshisato started. “You talked to her? Why?”

“I heard that her husband is investigating Tsuruhime’s death. I had to find out what he’s discovered. Nobody I know can tell me anything except rumors.”

“Yanagisawa won’t like it.” Yoshisato was glad she’d defied him in at least this one matter, yet dismayed. “He doesn’t want you speaking to anyone, let alone Sano’s wife.”

“What can he do to me? Kill me?” Lady Someko said scornfully. “No, he needs me alive, to say I slept with the shogun and conceived you.”

“He’ll punish you some other way.” Yoshisato had seen bruises on her, after her nights with Yanagisawa.

“That’s my problem. Why didn’t you tell me you went to see Tsuruhime?”

Yoshisato could see how badly she wanted him to convince her that he wasn’t responsible for Tsuruhime’s death. “I didn’t think it was important. I probably wouldn’t have kept up an acquaintance with her. I forgot about it until Sano mentioned it.”

With each reason, Lady Someko looked less convinced and more despairing. “If I were Sano, I wouldn’t believe your feeble excuses.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not him! I seem to have a better chance of convincing my enemies than my own mother!” Yoshisato rose and glared down at her. “Do you really think I’m capable of murder?”

She stood; her anger matched his. “I don’t know. I don’t know you anymore!”

“Well, I’m not,” he said, hurt by her lack of faith in him. “I didn’t infect Tsuruhime with smallpox. I’m telling you, and I’ve already told Sano. What more can I do?”

“Quit pretending. Tell the shogun you’re not his son.” She was breathless with urgency. “I’ll say that I made a mistake, that I got the dates wrong, that you were conceived before I slept with him. He’ll disinherit you.”

Yoshisato stared, flabbergasted. “What good is that supposed to do?”

“You won’t be a target for Yanagisawa’s enemies.” Lady Someko eagerly grabbed his arm. “Sano will leave you alone. Don’t you see?”

“I see that you’re not thinking straight,” Yoshisato said as he shook off her hand. She didn’t understand Sano any better than Yanagisawa did. “If Sano thinks I killed the shogun’s daughter, he’ll never let it go. And what do you think the shogun will do if you say you made a mistake about my being his son? He’ll say, ‘Fine, good-bye and, ahh, good riddance’?” Yoshisato laughed in derision. “No-he’ll be furious. All these years he’s been wishing for an heir, and you give him one, and then you take him away? It won’t matter then whether I’m innocent or guilty of murdering Tsuruhime. The shogun will put me to death, and you, too!”

Lady Someko listened with stunned comprehension. “You don’t want to quit. You want to be the next shogun and rule Japan, no matter what the risk or the cost.” She backed away from him, hobbling as if he’d dealt her a physical blow. “You are like Yanagisawa.”

“No!” Yoshisato shouted. “Never say that!”

He involuntarily raised his hand. She gasped, burst into tears, and rushed out of the room.

Guilty and ashamed because she’d thought he was going to strike her-and he almost had-Yoshisato staggered to the bed. He lay on his back, arms and legs spread, buffeted by a storm of tumultuous feelings. He hated Yanagisawa, didn’t want to be like him. Yanagisawa had hurt his mother, belittled Yoshisato himself. His father was a corrupt, dishonorable man. And yet …

Saving his life wasn’t the only reason Yoshisato had agreed to the audacious plot to take over the regime. For as long as he could remember, his father’s absence had felt like a big, raw hole in his spirit. His father had visited him exactly once, soon after his birth, his mother had said. It was strange that he could miss someone he couldn’t remember, but he did. As a lonely child he’d dreamed that someday his father would come for him, and they would have wonderful adventures together. He’d eventually learned, by listening to his guards talk, that Yanagisawa was a powerful politician, feared for his cruelty. He’d realized that Yanagisawa didn’t care about him and wasn’t coming. He’d decided to hate Yanagisawa. But when Yanagisawa had unexpectedly shown up many years later, Yoshisato discovered that the hole had never healed. Although he constantly rebelled against Yanagisawa, punishing him for his neglect, Yoshisato loved him and craved his approval.

If he became the next shogun, maybe his father would love him in return.

But as Yoshisato reflected on his own motives, he knew they weren’t as pure as a son’s wish to please his father. He wanted to be shogun. He wanted to try his hand at ruling Japan. And he wouldn’t say no to the power of life and death over everyone.

Maybe he was like Yanagisawa.

The idea terrified him. The stress of carrying on a charade, of bracing for attacks from his enemies, of resisting Yanagisawa’s influence, seemed unbearable. But it was too late to quit. And although he wanted to kill Yanagisawa for hurting his mother and belittling himself, he couldn’t. Yanagisawa was right-they needed each other. They were locked in a bond of love, hatred, and conspiracy.

Yoshisato prayed that he could build the coalition he’d mentioned to Sano. It was his only hope of countering Yanagisawa, of living long enough to become shogun and of keeping the regime under his control when he did. Such a fragile straw to grasp! Yoshisato wanted to curl up under the quilt and cry; he felt so young and helpless and alone.

Instead he laid his hands on his diaphragm, closed his eyes, and began a deep-breathing meditation. After a lengthy struggle to banish his troubling thoughts, he began to feel calmer, drowsy.

Sudden noises jarred him. His eyes snapped open. He heard stealthy footsteps and muffled cries from outside.

* * *

Wind swirled around the black hulk of Edo Castle. Jagged clouds raced across the night sky, sliced the moon. The trees around the heir’s residence swayed and rustled. Under the building, smoke wafted out from the lattice that enclosed the foundations. The diamond-shaped spaces between the lattice’s wooden slats glowed orange with firelight. Footsteps pelted the ground as a shadowy figure fled into the darkness.