The Incense Game (34 page)

“Fetch His Excellency’s outdoor clothes,” Masahiro told the other pages.

The pages glowered at him; they didn’t like him giving them orders, but they obeyed. The shogun had granted him authority to tell everyone what to do. The pages dressed the shogun in the mounds of clothes he wore when he went for the brief walk his doctor had recommended. The shogun leaned heavily on Masahiro as they strolled around the garden, where dark green pines, leafless cherry trees, and frozen flower beds circled a pond with a bridge to a little pavilion. The shogun sniffled. Masahiro turned to him. Was he catching a cold? Everyone in Edo Castle feared he would take ill and die. Then Masahiro saw tears on the shogun’s cheek.

“What’s the matter, Your Excellency?” Masahiro asked.

“Ahh, I’m so unhappy.” The shogun sobbed.

“Why?” Masahiro was puzzled. The shogun had everything a person could want.

“Because I feel so lost,” the shogun said. “Life seems like a, ahh, path through darkness and confusion and danger. I don’t know which way to turn. And I’m all alone.”

This was Masahiro’s first inkling that power and wealth didn’t guarantee happiness. “But you’re not alone. You’re always surrounded by people.”

“That’s part of my problem!” The shogun turned to Masahiro. His eyes and nose were red from weeping. “They’re so smart, and so, ahh, sure of themselves. They know what to do.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Masahiro said, mystified. “They can help you figure things out. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“But I wish I could!” the shogun exclaimed. “I wish I were like my ancestor, Tokugawa Ieyasu, who defeated his enemies on the battlefield and founded the regime. He didn’t need anyone to tell him what to do or think. The cosmos would never think
he
was a poor ruler and send an earthquake to warn
him
!”

Masahiro was amazed. He’d thought the shogun liked being dependent and idle. Maybe that was one of the many things the earthquake had changed.

“But I’m too weak and stupid and useless,” the shogun said, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “And everybody thinks so.”

“No, they don’t,” Masahiro hastened to lie. “They respect you.”

“Only because they’re afraid that if they don’t, they’ll be put to death! I know! I’ve seen them sneer and roll their eyes when they think I’m not looking.”

Masahiro had thought the shogun was too dense to notice. He didn’t know what to say.

“And I deserve it.” Dissolving into sobs, the shogun leaned more heavily on Masahiro. “Ahh, how I wish I could be different! But it’s too late. I’ve been a fool all my life. I’ll be one until the day I die!”

Masahiro didn’t know how to console the shogun. He thought about fetching help, but the shogun wouldn’t want anyone else to see him in this condition. And Masahiro felt protective toward his lord. He searched his brain for words.

“It’s not too late. As long as we’re alive, there’s a chance to do the things that are important.” That was what his father had once told Masahiro when he was little, when he’d complained that he wanted to be a great sword-fighter and a great archer but he didn’t have enough time to practice both martial arts. “If you really want to change, you can.”

The shogun regarded Masahiro with eager hope. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes.” Masahiro believed his father.

“But how do I become a great samurai like Tokugawa Ieyasu?”

That was an easy question. “You must study the Way of the Warrior.” Masahiro had had its principles drilled into him, by his tutors and his parents, ever since he could remember. “You must apply it to everything you do.”

“Yes! I will!” Enthusiasm cheered up the shogun. Then his brow wrinkled. “But I’m afraid that people won’t like it if I start, ahh, making decisions and taking actions on my own.”

They wouldn’t, Masahiro thought. The shogun’s men enjoyed running the government themselves. But he said, “You’re the dictator. It’s your right.”

“But I’m afraid I’ll make mistakes.”

Again Masahiro quoted his father: “‘Mistakes are our best teachers.’”

The shogun vacillated. “People will disapprove. They won’t say so, but I’ll be able to tell. I don’t think I can bear it.”

“If you’re doing what you believe is right and honorable, then no one else’s opinion matters. Don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself.” Masahiro had never exactly heard these things said at home, but he had watched his father—and his mother—act accordingly.

“Ahh, you are so wise so young.” The shogun beamed affectionately at Masahiro, patting his arm. “I’m so glad I have you to talk to. I feel much better now.”

As they circled the garden arm in arm, a dark, crooked shadow fell across their path.

*   *   *

USING THE LAST
of his strength, Hirata crawled into the garden behind the guesthouse. Cramps shot pain through every muscle as his veins overflowed with the poisons from burning so much energy during his mad rush. He gasped as he inched along the ground. After such intense exertion, even the strongest, most adept mystic needed to rest. Hirata fought the tide of exhaustion. Pulling himself along, hand then knee, hand then knee, he cleared the trees that bordered the garden. Beyond the pavilion, through the sweat that dripped into his eyes, he saw the shogun strolling with Masahiro. He heard their entire conversation.

He had only an instant to be surprised that while he’d been gone, Masahiro had gained the trust of the shogun. Panic blasted through him. His lord and his master’s son were in the scene that the ghost had ordered him to engineer. This couldn’t be good. Hirata opened his mouth to call out, to warn them to leave, but he couldn’t catch enough breath. Masahiro spied him and frowned, obviously wondering why Hirata was on the ground. Now Hirata saw Ienobu hobbling toward Masahiro and the shogun. Ienobu had shown up promptly at the place where Hirata’s letter had lured him. Hirata could tell that Ienobu had overheard the conversation, too. He was so angry that his face was crimson.

Realization struck Hirata: The ghost wanted Ienobu to witness the scene between the shogun and Masahiro.

“Stop!” Hirata called out to Ienobu. His voice was a barely audible wheeze.

Ienobu hunched in front of Masahiro and the shogun. Startled, they paused. Ienobu demanded, “What’s going on?”

The shogun shrank from his nephew’s angry tone. “We were, ahh, having a little talk.”

“So I see.” Ienobu turned on Masahiro. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?”

Hirata wanted to rush over and put himself between Masahiro and Ienobu, but cramps immobilized him. Masahiro spoke up bravely: “I’m giving His Excellency advice.”

Ienobu’s eyes bulged like those of a carp dunked in boiling water. “I know. I heard you.” His voice trembled with rage. “How dare you presume to tell my uncle what to do? You’re just a child!”

“His Excellency asked.” Masahiro squared his shoulders, held his head high. “It was my duty to answer.”

“Don’t quote Bushido to me, you little upstart,” Ienobu retorted.

“Don’t speak to Masahiro that way,” the shogun piped up timidly. “Yes, he’s a child, but I, ahh, respect his judgment.”

“Honorable Uncle, you should have consulted me before giving this boy such great responsibility.” Ienobu’s ominous tone said he realized how much power Masahiro had gained and he didn’t intend for it to continue. He didn’t want the shogun thinking for himself instead of meekly allowing Ienobu to manipulate him into naming Ienobu as his heir. “What he’s telling you is nonsense. I’ll find you a more suitable head of chambers.” Ienobu turned to Masahiro.

“You’re dismissed. Leave us.”

Masahiro said to the shogun, “I’ll leave if Your Excellency wants me to.”

“I don’t want anybody but Masahiro,” the shogun said in a stronger voice. “And if you keep trying to tell me what to do, Nephew, I will dismiss
you
.”

Shaking with impotent rage, Ienobu glared at Masahiro. “I won’t forget this.” He turned on his heel and shuffled out of the garden. Masahiro looked stunned. The shogun beamed, proud of his own nerve, as he and Masahiro went inside the guesthouse. Hirata lay on the ground, tortured by cramps, horrified by what had happened.

His master’s son had just made an enemy of Ienobu, who was first in line for the succession. Hirata was to blame, no matter that he hadn’t anticipated it and had never intended to jeopardize Masahiro. Ignorance didn’t excuse him. He had put the secret society ahead of his duty to protect Sano and Sano’s kin. Now, after learning the terrible truth about Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi and witnessing the dangerous consequences of his actions, he finally realized what a mistake he’d made.

Hirata pushed up his sleeve and looked at his arm. The ghost’s message was gone.

36

REIKO LISTENED TO
the floor in the old nurse’s house groan under stealthy footsteps. Uneasy, she rose and backed toward the wall, away from the passage that led further into the house’s interior. “There’s someone in the house,” she whispered.

“Nephew, is that you?” Kasane called.

Six samurai marched into the room. The air filled with the raw, animal odor of their horses, the warmth of their bodies. Reiko put her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Were these
r
ō
nin
bandits, come to loot the village? They didn’t notice her; she was outside their line of sight. They loomed over Kasane, who blinked in surprise.

Kasane smiled a toothless, uncertain smile. “Young master?”

Reiko was stunned. The man Kasane had addressed was Minister Ogyu. Reiko recognized the short, pudgy figure and smooth face she’d glimpsed at the Confucian academy. His jaws were clenched, as if with strong emotion he was trying to contain.

“I’d know you anywhere, but dear me, how long it’s been since I last saw you.” Kasane’s voice quavered with guilt because she had just betrayed him. “What brings you here?”

His five comrades waited silently. They had the hard, brutish look of bodyguards. Reiko heard Ogyu’s breath hiss in and out through his teeth. Alarm filled her as she realized what he was working up the courage to do.

He drew his sword with the clumsiness of someone unaccustomed to handling weapons. Reiko’s prediction, fabricated to convince Kasane to reveal his secret, had come true. He’d come to silence the other woman who knew his secret.

He lashed at Kasane. Reiko screamed, “No!” and lunged to restrain him. She was too late. His blade sliced Kasane across the throat.

The old nurse gazed blankly up at him. The gash in her neck splattered Reiko, Minister Ogyu, and the walls. Her mouth overflowed with blood. She crumpled into a heap of bones.

Reiko fell back, horrified by the sudden violence and her failure to save Kasane. Minister Ogyu groaned; his throat muscles jerked. He turned to Reiko. His full lips were white, his complexion greenish. He looked as shocked to see her as she’d been to see him. He frowned, trying to place her. Recognition filled his eyes with dismay.

“Chamberlain Sano’s wife.” His voice was higher than Reiko remembered. “You came to see my wife. You eavesdropped on us. That’s how you found out about Kasane.”

Reiko backed toward the door. Minister Ogyu advanced on her; his men blocked her way. His hand grasped the blood-smeared sword. “What did she tell you?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Reiko feigned innocence. He’d already killed four women; he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. She could easily defeat him in a battle, but not his men. Terrified because it wasn’t only she who was trapped, but also the child she carried, she screamed to her guards, “Help! Help!”

“Shut up!” Minister Ogyu ordered. His voice was so shrill, and his face so lacking virility, that Reiko couldn’t believe she’d ever thought him a man. “You’re lying.”

“No.” She heard her guards muttering outside and their footsteps hurrying. “Kasane refused to tell me anything.”

The footsteps arrived at the front door, then clattered in the entryway. Minister Ogyu’s five men turned in that direction and drew their swords.

“Look out!” Reiko shouted to her guards. “They’re going to attack you!”

Minister Ogyu swatted her face. The blow landed hard against Reiko’s jaw. As she staggered, her four guards burst in, their swords drawn. Minister Ogyu’s men moved with such speed and power that their blades whistled like the wind. Reiko’s guards parried frantically. Lieutenant Tanuma blocked a strike that broke his blade in two. As he groped for his short sword, one of Minister Ogyu’s men ran his blade through the lacings between the armor plates of Tanuma’s tunic. Tanuma shrieked, fell, and lay still.

Although she knew she shouldn’t engage in combat while she was pregnant, Reiko couldn’t let her loyal guardians die while she stood idle. She drew the dagger strapped to her arm under her sleeve. The battle filled the room like a caged tornado. Men sprang, pivoted, and swung. Their blades carved the air. They collided and slammed against the walls; they trampled Kasane’s corpse. Reiko lashed at Minister Ogyu’s guards. Her dagger glanced off armor. Through the storm of whirring blades and hurtling figures, she saw Ogyu pressed flat against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut, his lips moving in prayer.

Reiko was filled with contempt for him. Being a woman was no excuse for cowardice!

One of Minister Ogyu’s men kicked Reiko’s hip, as if she were a puppy he wanted out of the way. She fell on her hands and knees. Blades whistled over her. Crawling on tatami slick with blood, she slashed at the men’s legs. Someone stomped on her hand until she let go of her dagger. He seized her waist and lifted her. As she struggled, he twisted her arms and pinned them behind her back. Suddenly the battle was over.

Seven men lay motionless on the floor. Reiko was aghast to see that all four of her guards, and only three of Minister Ogyu’s, were dead. The man who held her spoke to Minister Ogyu, who still stood against the wall. “What should I do with her?”

Panic skewered through Reiko. Her womb tightened as if to protect the child inside. “Let me go!” The man wrenched her arms harder. Pain choked her voice as she said, “Please!”

Minister Ogyu opened glassy eyes. When he saw all the corpses, he vomited.