Authors: Laura Joh Rowland
Ogyu was looking the other way, listening to his men search for her. Before she could muster the energy to move, her attention drew his. He turned. Their gazes met. Panic infused Reiko with strength. She ran down the street while her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her tied hands unbalanced her, and her legs wobbled. In a rampage, Minister Ogyu charged after her, calling his men. She could hear his heavy footfalls and breathing. His presence gained on her, like flames raking her back. Her frantic energy flagged. In a moment she wouldn’t be able to run anymore.
Steel rasped: Minister Ogyu had drawn his sword.
Reiko uttered a cry of despair.
* * *
THE CRY HIT
Sano like an arrow that had flown across countless dimensions, through all obstacles, and pierced deep into his spirit.
He burst into the alley that extended alongside the theater. He turned a corner and raced up the main street, his troops following. He saw a figure running toward him through the darkness, heard footsteps and gasps. Reiko burst into the light cast by his men’s lanterns. She lurched and tripped as she ran. Her eyes were wild with terror, her mouth open, her hands clasped as if in prayer.
“Reiko!” Sano was within twenty paces of her when he spied Minister Ogyu behind her. Ogyu ran clutching his sword. His soft body jiggled. His expression married helplessness with resolve. Desperate, Sano tried to run faster. Exhaustion, dizziness, and pain slowed him. Reiko saw him and shouted his name. She stumbled. Ten paces separated them. Sano saw that her wrists were bound. His troops raced ahead of him, but Ogyu caught up with Reiko first.
Ogyu raised his sword and slashed Reiko down her back.
Reiko screamed. Horror widened her eyes. Her body stiffened; her back arched. Her feet sprang off the ground in one last, futile attempt to escape. She fell forward and crashed flat onto the street. A roar of anguish and rage exploded from Sano.
Minister Ogyu staggered to a halt behind Reiko’s body. His face registered dismay as he noticed Sano and the troops. He called, “Help!” His own men came running.
Sano drew his sword and in the same motion sliced Ogyu across the neck. Ogyu’s face contorted, as if to howl, the instant before his head separated from his body. Blood sprayed. Ogyu’s body crumpled. His head landed beside it. Sano barely noticed. Moaning, he knelt beside Reiko.
She lay with her neck twisted and her cheek against the dirty street. Sano frantically tore at her robes, which Ogyu’s blade had slit down her back. Marume held the lantern over Reiko. Warm blood smeared Sano’s fingers. Reiko’s open eyes were blank, her lips parted. She didn’t move. Sano threw back his head and bellowed, “No!”
It didn’t matter that he’d delivered a murderer to justice, that he’d successfully finished an investigation upon which the peace of Japan depended. He’d let his beloved wife die. A huge sob erupted from the depths of his spirit. He was barely aware of his troops fighting Ogyu’s. Grief consumed him, so vast, raw, and agonizing that he felt as if it were rending his body apart from inside.
Reiko’s back twitched under his hand.
A gasp of shock choked off his sob. Sano looked down at Reiko. Her eyes blinked. Murmuring his name, she struggled to sit up. Her movements stretched the slit in her robes, exposing the wound. It was shallow, minor.
Grief transformed into a joy so brilliant that Sano felt as if dawn had prematurely banished the night. He lifted Reiko, hugged her to him, and wept, heedless of Minister Ogyu’s corpse, of the battle raging around them. Reiko rested against Sano, sighed with relief, then squirmed out of his embrace. She muttered, incoherent and distraught, as she jerked at the ropes around her wrists.
Sano broke the ropes, freeing her. “It’s all right now. You’re safe.”
“The baby!” Reiko clutched her stomach.
Confused, Sano said, “What baby?” He looked around at the battle and the ruins, wondering how there could be an infant mixed up in this.
Sano heard Marume laugh for the first time since Fukida’s death. “I think she’s telling you that she’s with child.”
41
PALE SUNLIGHT FILLED
the reception room in the guesthouse. The shogun sat on the dais, Masahiro behind him. Sano knelt on the shogun’s left, Ienobu on his right. Sliding doors to the veranda stood open. Two days after Sano’s investigation ended, the weather had turned unseasonably warm. Trees in the garden bristled with buds. Below the dais, the Council of Elders sat along one wall; along the opposite wall were General Isogai and his top army officials. Lord Hosokawa and three other
daimyo
knelt before the dais and bowed to the shogun.
“Your Excellency, please allow us to present you with a small gift,” Lord Hosokawa said.
Servants carried in fifty black lacquer chests and stacked them against the back wall. They staggered under the weight of the gold coins in the chests. Sano wondered if the floor would hold it. Everyone except the shogun looked impressed by such a huge sum of cash.
“This is our contribution to repairing the damage caused by the earthquake, and a token of our loyalty to you,” Lord Hosokawa said with solemn reverence.
Sano could tell that the other
daimyo
weren’t pleased about bowing down to the shogun and handing over their wealth. That must have been some scene when Lord Hosokawa told them he wouldn’t join their rebellion and they must help him supply the funds to shore up the Tokugawa regime.
“A million thanks.” The shogun spoke casually, taking the tribute for granted. “You have, ahh, done a great service to me. Much better than some people.” He shot an unfriendly glance at Sano, for being absent too often, for not catering to him enough.
Ienobu scowled at Masahiro. The elders exchanged glances of relief: They knew that paying this tribute had depleted the
daimyos’
coffers so much that they couldn’t afford an insurrection. Sano sensed the elders wondering why the
daimyo
had suddenly fallen into line. General Isogai scratched his bald head. Neither they nor the shogun knew what Sano had done to earn the money the
daimyo
had donated and avert a civil war. Sano and Reiko didn’t intend to tell, and only Sano and Lord Hosokawa had been present at the scene that decided the outcome of the events set in motion by a fatal incense game.
The morning after the debacle in the theater district, Sano returned to Lord Hosokawa’s estate with an oxcart whose cargo was covered with a blanket. When Lord Hosokawa met him at the gate, his troops and driver waited down the street while he said, “Would you like to see who killed your daughters?” Sano dismounted and threw back the blanket. Underneath were the dead bodies of Minister and Lady Ogyu.
“There were two murderers?” Lord Hosokawa said, gazing at them with surprise and concern. “Isn’t that the administrator of the Confucian academy?”
“Yes.”
“Who is the woman?”
“His wife.”
“You killed them?”
Sano nodded, accepting responsibility for both deaths.
“I can see what happened to Minister Ogyu.” Lord Hosokawa contemplated the separation between Ogyu’s bloody neck and body, then turned to Lady Ogyu. Her homely face was pale, distorted. “But what about his wife?”
“She swallowed some of the poison that she and Minister Ogyu used to kill your daughters and Madam Usugumo,” Sano said.
That morning Sano had returned to the academy to find Lady Ogyu dead with her children clinging to her body.
I didn’t know she was going to do it!
his distraught guard had cried. Lady Ogyu must have had a premonition that her husband wouldn’t survive the night. She’d decided to die before she could be forced to reveal his secret to anyone else.
“But why did they poison my daughters?” Lord Hosokawa exclaimed.
“They didn’t mean to,” Sano said. “Madam Usugumo was their intended victim. She was blackmailing Minister Ogyu. I wasn’t able to find out what dirt she had on him.” Sano couldn’t reveal the secret. Having examined Ogyu’s body and confirmed that it was female, he was taking the bodies to Z
ō
j
ō
Temple for immediate, private cremation. If Ogyu’s deception became known, the shogun would lose face and his government would become an object of ridicule. That could weaken it enough that the
daimyo
might be tempted to revive their plan to overthrow it. “But Minister and Lady Ogyu did confess to the murders.” Sano couldn’t let Lord Hosokawa know that the Ogyus had made unwitting tools of his daughters. That would only cause the man more pain.
Lord Hosokawa contemplated the bodies. “I should feel triumph, or at least satisfaction, knowing my daughters have been avenged.” He lifted a bewildered gaze to Sano. “But I don’t feel any better. How can that be?”
“Revenge brings justice,” Sano said, “but it can’t bring back the dead.”
Lord Hosokawa nodded in sad resignation. “Still, I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I will keep my part of our bargain.”
Now Lord Hosokawa and the other
daimyo
bowed to the shogun and the assembly. As they somberly filed out of the room, Lord Hosokawa met Sano’s gaze. His expression said their business was finished. But Sano knew better. He couldn’t trust Lord Hosokawa or let him get away with his extortion. He would have to do something about Lord Hosokawa sooner or later.
“Well, ahh.” The shogun brushed his hands together, as if dispensing with a trivial affair. “Now I have a surprise for all of you.” His eyes twinkled with mischief; he clapped his hands.
Into the room strode Yanagisawa and a young samurai. Yanagisawa surveyed the company with as much aplomb as if he’d never left it. The handsome young samurai, with his athletic build, wide face, and tilted eyes, looked vaguely familiar to Sano. A woman dressed in deep red followed the two men. She was some forty years old, still attractive. She and the young samurai carried themselves with dignity and caution. The trio mounted the dais. Yanagisawa knelt nonchalantly beside Sano. The woman knelt near them. The shogun drew the young samurai down to kneel at his right side.
“It is my pleasure to introduce my son.” The shogun smiled fondly at the young samurai. “My flesh-and-blood son and heir, that I always wanted.”
The assembly gasped in shock. Sano felt a wave of vertigo that wasn’t from his head injury. He’d not had any dizziness, nausea, or much pain today. Elders and army officers whispered furiously among themselves. The shogun preened. Ienobu looked horrified by the youth seated between him and the shogun. In an instant he’d lost his position as heir apparent. Yanagisawa gloated.
“My son’s name is Yoshisato,” the shogun said.
Yoshisato kept his head high and his expression serene while the assembly stared at him. He had considerable poise for someone so young. His name reminded Sano of who he was.
“Forgive me, Your Excellency,” Sano said, “but there must be some mistake. Yoshisato isn’t your son. He’s Yanagisawa’s.”
The other men murmured, disbelieving and amazed. Yanagisawa was passing his son off as the shogun’s! He had plopped Yoshisato into first place in line for the succession, to guarantee that he would be the power behind the next dictator.
The shogun regarded Sano with condescension. “Yoshisato has been raised as Yanagisawa’s son, but it was a, ahh, subterfuge.” He looked to Yanagisawa.
Yanagisawa smiled at the stir that he and his son had created. He indicated the woman, who sat rigidly. “This is Lady Someko. She was once His Excellency’s concubine. Eighteen years ago, she conceived a child. But she didn’t tell His Excellency, because it would have put him in grave peril. The court astronomer had predicted that a son would be born to His Excellency, but the stars said that unless the son was hidden away right after his birth, His Excellency would be killed by an earthquake that would strike Edo in eighteen years.”
Sano leaned forward as astonishment caved in his chest.
“The astronomer brought me the prediction,” Yanagisawa continued. “I gave orders that any pregnancies in the palace women’s quarters were to be reported to me and no one else. When Lady Someko found herself with child, I took her into my home, and when her son was born, I gave him my name. We kept Yoshisato’s real parentage a secret, even from him, for seventeen years. But now the earthquake has come and gone. The danger to His Excellency has passed. Now the truth can be told.”
Never in his life had Sano heard such utter tripe!
Yanagisawa swept a grand gesture toward the young samurai. “Behold Tokugawa Yoshisato, His Excellency’s one true son and heir.”
The shogun stroked Yoshisato’s arm. “The gods have granted my dearest wish at last!”
The elders and General Isogai looked as outraged as Sano was. Even Kato, Yanagisawa’s crony, shook his head. Ienobu looked ready to explode. “But, Honorable Uncle,” he began.
“But what?” The shogun fixed Ienobu with such a baleful stare that Ienobu subsided. The other men didn’t dare object, even though they suspected Yanagisawa was Yoshisato’s real father. The shogun accepted Yoshisato as his son. That was that.
* * *
WHEN SANO LEFT
the guesthouse, Yanagisawa caught up with him and said, “What do you think of the shogun’s new son?”
“He’s astonishing,” Sano said, “but not nearly as much so as his father.”
Yanagisawa chuckled; he knew Sano wasn’t talking about the shogun. His humor turned to menace. “My adopted son will inherit the dictatorship, which will make me as good as the father of the next shogun. But I won’t wait that long to deal with you.” His eyes blazed through tears. Today’s coup hadn’t assuaged his grief for Yoritomo or his rage at Sano. “Your days are numbered.” He looked past Sano. “And so are your son’s.”
Sano turned and saw Masahiro in the garden with Ienobu. Ienobu was jabbing his finger at Masahiro, scolding him in a loud, raspy whisper. Yanagisawa strode back into the guesthouse. Before Sano could join Masahiro and Ienobu and find out what was going on, he saw Priest Ryuko and the shogun’s mother walking toward him.
“Chamberlain Sano!” Lady Keisho-in was all dimples. “Have you met my new grandson? Isn’t he wonderful?”