Bundori: A Novel of Japan (19 page)

“Do you own a palanquin with a dragon design on it?” he asked.

“No. I use the castle’s.” These bore no ornamentation except the Tokugawa crest.

“Have you ever hired a mercenary swordsman?”

This time, one corner of Chūgo’s mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “If I wanted to kill someone, I’d do it myself.”

“What would you say if I told you a witness saw you outside the castle last night?” Sano bluffed.

Chūgo chewed, swallowed, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “That you’re lying. Or your witness is.”

Sano’s frustration mounted. Chūgo had betrayed neither concern, nor knowledge of the witness’s gender.

Finishing his meal, Chūgo said, “Enough false accusations,
sōsakan-sama
. Time for you to go.”

He rose and strode to the door. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted for his lieutenants in a voice that could have carried across a battlefield. Suddenly the two men were dragging Sano out of the command post while Chūgo returned to his work.

“Let go!” Sano shouted. He managed to shake his captors loose, but more men came to their aid. They hoisted him onto their shoulders, carried him across the compound, and dumped him, stomach down, upon his horse. Someone slapped its rump. Sano barely managed to sit upright in the saddle before his mount bolted. The entire command provided a resounding send-off of cheers, hoots, and laughter.

Fuming, Sano rode away, plotting the revenge he would take by seeing Chūgo arrested, convicted, and executed for the Bundori Murders. The captain’s character, swordsmanship skill, and knowledge of war rituals all warranted more suspicion than his alibi could dispel. But for now, Sano turned his horse toward the Official Quarter. He had no time to waste on thoughts of personal retribution. If he didn’t hurry, he would be late for his
miai
.

In the passageway, he stopped a castle messenger. From his sash he took the letter he’d written in a stationer’s shop on Suruga Hill. It detailed his plan for tonight, a course of action he’d hoped would be unnecessary, but now deemed crucial-especially because it could eliminate the need for investigating Chamberlain Yanagisawa. He gave the letter to the messenger, along with a generous tip to ensure quick delivery.

“Take this to
doshin
Hirata at the police compound immediately,” Sano said.

Then he hurried home to prepare for his
miai
.

Kannei Temple, located in the hilly, rural Ueno district north of the castle, was one of Edo ’s most popular sites for viewing cherry blossoms. Every spring, citizens flocked there to enjoy the lovely scenery while contemplating the transience of life, so poignantly symbolized by the short-lived flowers. Across the temple’s grassy slopes, the luxuriant leafless blossom clusters hovered in masses of pink cloud beneath the pale sky. Petals fell like snowflakes upon the paths and grass, the heads of the strolling crowds, and wafted toward Shinobazu Pond’s pine-fringed silver expanse.

Sano, having left his horse outside the temple’s wall, barely noticed his surroundings as he hurried along the gravel paths, past halls, pagoda, and pavilions, and wove through the crowds. He was very late for his
miai
. He ignored the cries of Ueno’s famous crows as they circled overhead, and the colorfully dressed picnickers: beautiful women; playing children; drunken men who danced, sang, and cavorted on the lawns. The pressures of his work and this all-important social rite drained all pleasure from the outing that so many others were enjoying.

At last the Kiyomizu Hall came into view, a stately structure painted bright red, with a blue tile roof and a balcony overlooking Shinobazu Pond. Sano followed the wide promenade along the lake. Muttering apologies, he squeezed past a procession of chattering women carrying identical green and white paper parasols. He dodged more pleasure seekers and sprinted down the promenade, then came to an abrupt stop at the grassy hill that sloped upward to the hall. He winced at the social gaffe he’d committed.

According to plan, he should have arrived early, joining his mother and Noguchi for a seemingly casual stroll along the promenade, then meeting Magistrate Ueda and his daughter as if by accident. The charade would have allowed both parties to pretend that a
miai
had never taken place, thus saving face, should the marriage negotiations fail. Sano’s tardiness had made all pretense impossible.

Everyone had already assembled at the designated meeting place on the promenade, beneath the famous Moon Pine, named for the branch that looped in a perfect circle: His mother, leaning on her maid Hana’s arm; Noguchi; Magistrate Ueda, a stout, middle-aged samurai dressed in black ceremonial robes decorated with gold family crests. And a slender young lady with silky black hair that fell to her knees, dressed in a lavish red and white kimono and accompanied by two female attendants: Ueda Reiko, the prospective bride. All of them, despite their natural poise, must be suffering agonies of embarrassment on Sano’s account.

Arriving sweaty and breathless, Sano said, “Please excuse my late arrival. I meant no offense, and I’m sorry for any inconvenience you’ve suffered.” He bowed to those he knew. “Noguchi-
san
. Mother. Hana.”

His mother smiled a gentle rebuke. She looked thinner and weaker, but more placid than when he’d last seen her. Noguchi’s frown-wrinkles slid up his scalp as he said with false joviality, “Well, you’re here now, and that’s what counts.” He turned to the other man. “Magistrate Ueda, may I present Sano Ichirō, His Excellency’s
sōsakan-sama
.”

Magistrate Ueda’s gaze took careful measure of Sano as he bowed. He had abundant gray hair, broad features, and a ruddy, youthful complexion. Heavy lids shadowed eyes bright with intelligence. The lines around his mouth suggested that he smiled often, though he didn’t now.

“The honor is all mine,
Sano-san
,” he said in response to Sano’s professions of respect and gratitude. His voice was low but confident, that of a man with no need to flaunt his power. “And this is my daughter, Reiko.”

Sano bowed, courteously not looking too hard or too long. And she, a proper young lady, kept her head inclined, the lower part of her face covered with her fan. He glimpsed only her long-lashed eyelids and white forehead with its high, thin, painted brows.

“Well,” Noguchi said, rubbing his hands together in exaggerated enthusiasm. “Let’s walk around Kiyomizu Hall, shall we? The cherry blossoms there are particularly fine.”

They ascended the hill. Sano knew he should impress his prospective father-in-law with his intelligence and wit, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Coming in the midst of his troubles, this ritual seemed unreal. Would he survive to marry?

Noguchi initiated the conversation with a poem appropriate for the occasion:

“
They bloom only a short time
-

Ah, this life of ours
… ”

Thankful for his friend’s intervention, Sano recited the rest of the poem.

“
But when four days have passed, where

Are the cherry blossoms
?”

He quoted other similar poems to display his literary education, and inquired about the Ueda family’s journey to the temple. But he couldn’t hold up his end of the conversation. The poems reminded him of his deadline. Was his hope of success as ephemeral as the dying cherry blossoms?

Breaking an uncomfortable silence, Magistrate Ueda spoke. “Might I have a private word with you, Sano-
san
?”

Sano looked at him in uncomfortable surprise. Convention called for the two families to converse as a group. Before he could reply, Noguchi answered for him.

“Why, yes, of course, Honorable Magistrate,” he said, obviously anxious to make amends for Sano’s deplorable rudeness. “Go ahead. I will chaperone the ladies.” Making shooing motions at Sano, he joined Sano’s mother, Reiko, and the attendants.

Sano walked on ahead with Magistrate Ueda. Fearing that his earlier apologies had been inadequate, he said, “There was no excuse for my tardiness. I beg your forgiveness, and your daughter’s, even though I have no right to expect it.”

“No need for apologies, Sano-
san
. Magistrate Ueda’s tone was grave, but not unkind. “The responsibility given you by the shogun must and should consume the major part of your time and attention. No, I have other concerns besides your late arrival. If I may speak frankly?”

Warily Sano nodded.

“My sources tell me you’ve somehow offended Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who has turned the shogun against you.” As the path wound beneath more cherry trees around a small hollow, Magistrate Ueda contemplated a merry group of men toasting one another with sake. “And that if you don’t solve the murder case, you’ll be exiled to Sado Island. Is this true?”

Sano, familiar with the upper-class custom of employing investigators to check on prospective in-laws, had feared that Magistrate Ueda would learn he’d lost the shogun’s favor before he could reclaim it. Now he owed an honest disclosure to this man who had entered negotiations for his daughter’s hand in good faith.

“Yes,” Sano said reluctantly. “It’s true.”

“Ah.” Magistrate Ueda nodded, seeming disappointed but not surprised.

“But my investigation is progressing,” Sano hastened to add, not wanting to lose this chance at the marriage his father had wanted for him. He summarized his findings, ending with: “I’ve identified four suspects, and one of them is the Bundori Killer.”

The magistrate didn’t reply immediately. In silence, they skirted a bevy of shrieking children. “I must say I’ve also heard much good about you, Sano-
san
,” he said at last. “You’ve acquired a reputation for courage, intelligence, and an impressive dedication to truth and justice. What you’ve just told me confirms it. There are also rumours of a valuable service you performed for His Excellency.”

Sano regretted that his pact with the shogun prevented his answering the magistrate’s unspoken question, and perhaps forestalling what he knew would come next.

“Because of these favorable reports-and Noguchi’s recommendation,” Magistrate Ueda said, “I agreed to this
miai
. And, I must admit, because of my daughter.”

An affectionate smile touched his lips as he glanced over his shoulder. Sano, following his gaze, saw that Reiko had abandoned her prim reserve to laugh at something Noguchi was saying. Her eyes met Sano’s for a moment. Before she again hid her face behind her fan, Sano saw that her beauty was different from Aoi’s: delicate and classic. But she was a more suitable match…

“Reiko overheard Noguchi telling me about you,” Magistrate Ueda continued. “She’s never before expressed interest in any marriage proposal, but she insisted on meeting you, despite my reservations. Sometimes she displays a most unfeminine strength of will.”

The pride in his voice softened his critical words. Then the smile left his face. “I love my daughter, Sano-
san
. She’s my only child, and the very image of my deceased wife. Her happiness means much to me. For that reason, I consented to the
miai
and gave you a chance to speak for yourself. But I can’t allow the marriage and let Reiko share your uncertain fate. I’m sorry, Sano-
san
.”

That Sano had anticipated rejection didn’t lessen his shame and disappointment. Suddenly he could no longer bear the beauty of the landscape, the laughter of happy revelers. Would the failure of his investigation follow this one?

Woodenly he said, “I understand, Magistrate Ueda.”

He found that he regretted more than the lost hope of an advantageous marriage with an attractive lady. He knew Magistrate Ueda’s reputation for fairness, which his willingness to hear both sides of a story had just proved. He meted out harsh sentences to the criminals he convicted, but showed mercy in extenuating circumstances; his mention of both the good and bad reports, as well as his considerate rejection, demonstrated his compassion. He was above bribery, untouched by scandal, and apparently incorruptible. Sano would have felt honored to deserve a family connection with a man of such character.

To hide his humiliation, he focused on his surroundings. They’d made a complete circuit of Kiyomizu Hall and reached the side overlooking the lake. And they’d gotten far ahead of Noguchi and the women.

Magistrate Ueda put a hand on Sano’s arm. “I wish you success in your investigation, and the best of luck in the future.”

The words were spoken with genuine sincerity, but Sano barely heard them. For just then, a familiar figure, standing on the hall’s balcony, caught his eye.

Dressed in brilliant robes, Chamberlain Yanagisawa contemplated the blossoming cherry trees below him. As Sano watched, he turned and spoke to a group of similarly attired men beside him. Among them Sano recognized several important officials: This was a combination business meeting and pleasure jaunt. As Sano gazed at Yanagisawa’s vivid figure, his muscles tightened and his mouth went dry.

Sooner or later he must confront Yanagisawa, if not to establish the chamberlain’s guilt or innocence, then to settle their differences. He tried to rationalize his reluctance by listing the reasons Yanagisawa couldn’t be the Bundori Killer. Despite his ancestry, character flaws, and attempts to halt Sano’s progress, the chamberlain was Tsunayoshi’s second-in-command, a respected
bakufu
official, and surely too occupied with government affairs to care about an ancient feud. But thoroughness, as well as Sano’s desire for the truth, dictated that he treat Yanagisawa as a suspect until cleared, no matter how much he wished otherwise. And if the chamberlain wasn’t the killer, Sano must propitiate him. Even if he solved the murder case and avoided exile, his future success depended on Yanagisawa.

“I’ll wait for our party here,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Perhaps you’d like to walk awhile?”

The magistrate was kindly allowing him time to recover from rejection before joining the others as if nothing had happened. Seeing Yanagisawa leave the veranda and disappear into the hall, Sano realized that this might be his only chance to speak with the chamberlain, who might refuse him a formal private audience.

“Thank you, Honorable Magistrate,” Sano said. No longer able to avoid the task that filled him with dread, he wandered down the path and waited.

Soon Yanagisawa came out of the hall and sailed down the steps. Leisurely he descended the hill and strode along the promenade. Sano followed him onto the narrow strip of land that extended into Shinobazu Pond. Yanagisawa walked between the teahouses that bordered it, toward the small island where the shrine to Benten, goddess of water, stood. With sinking heart and dragging footsteps, Sano trailed after him.

Chamberlain Yanagisawa reached the island and passed through the shrine’s torii gate. Inside, a small pine grove sheltered the outer precinct, which was momentarily deserted. Sano caught up and drew a deep breath.

“Honorable Chamberlain Yanagisawa,” he blurted. “May I speak with you?”

Yanagisawa turned. His half-smile vanished when he recognized Sano. His eyes began to smolder; hostility emanated from him in almost visible waves.

“I have nothing to say to you,
sōsakan
.” Venom seeped through his suave tone. “How dare you intrude on my privacy in this brazen manner? Leave me at once!”

Sano’s courage waned, but he held his ground. Dropping to his knees, he said in a rush. “Honorable Chamberlain, please tell me what I’ve done to offend you. Whatever it was, it was unintentional. And I want to make amends.” If he did, then perhaps the chamberlain would agree to an interview that would undoubtedly clear him of all suspicion.

Instead of replying, Yanagisawa shot out his foot in a vicious kick. His thick-soled wooden sandal struck Sano’s shoulder. Sano sprawled backward, uttering a cry of pained surprise. Anger erupted within him; he longed to take his sword to this man whom Bushido dictated that he revere as his lord’s representative., He wished he could prove Yanagisawa the Bundori Killer… almost.

Yanagisawa stood over him, fists clenched at his sides. White lines of rage tightened the flesh around his mouth. “There is nothing you can say or do to compensate for trying to frame me for murder.”

“I’m not trying to frame you,” Sano protested, still shocked by the chamberlain’s uncharacteristic display of temper. Away from the shogun, he apparently felt no need to maintain his suave poise. Sano stumbled to his feet, realizing that the castle spies must have told Yanagisawa about Noguchi’s search for General Fujiwara’s descendants. “I was only investigating a lead. I had no way of knowing that your ancestry connected you to the murders. Any inquiries I make about you will be strictly formalities, for the sake of a thorough investigation. I haven’t told anyone that you’re a suspect, or tried to incriminate you. Because I can’t believe you’re the Bundori Killer.”