The Samurai's Wife Read online

  “Since you obviously doubt that she killed the left minister, it is unnecessary and cruel to encourage her sick fantasies,” Lady Jokyden reproached Sano.

  But expectancy charged the atmosphere in the room. Emperor Tomohito fixed his consort with a curious, fearful gaze. Interest animated the guards’ usually stoic faces. Under everyone’s scrutiny, Lady Asagao shrank into herself.

  “Well, Your Highness?” Sano said. “I’m waiting.”

  “But I might hurt someone,” Asagao protested weakly.

  Sano rose, walked across the room, and slid open a wall panel. Outside, in the lush green garden, blackbirds perched on a fence. “You needn’t use the full force of kiai. Just knock those birds unconscious.”

  Asagao squirmed, looking frightened. “It won’t work. Not with everyone watching.”

  “You can’t utter a spirit cry, can you?” Sano said, closing the wall panel. “Not now; not ever. And you didn’t on the night Left Minister Konoe died.”

  “Of course she didn’t,” Ichijo said, his voice sharpened by desperation. “Tell the truth, daughter, before it’s too late!”

  She said defiantly, “I admit I killed the left minister. Isn’t that enough?”

  It was enough to convict her, because a confession was legal proof of guilt, and Sano was duty-bound to observe the law whether or not he believed she’d committed any crime. With great reluctance, he said, “If you stand by your confession, then I must arrest you.”

  He nodded to the soldiers, who advanced on Lady Asagao.

  “No!” The harsh objection burst from Ichijo, while Jokyden and the nobles stared, aghast.

  Emperor Tomohito leapt to his feet and off the dais. He stood, arms spread, between the soldiers and Lady Asagao. “You stay away from her!” Though he’d repudiated his consort, he apparently didn’t want to give her up.

  “Please stand aside, Your Majesty,” Sano said, dreading a scene.

  “I won’t. You can’t have her. You’ll have to kill me first!” Childish rage contorted Tomohito’s face.

  The soldiers looked to Sano for guidance. He walked over and reached out a hand to the emperor.

  “It’s the law, Your Majesty. She chose to confess. Now she must go.”

  He hadn’t touched Emperor Tomohito, but the young man sprang away as if Sano had struck him, yelling, “How dare you try to lay hands on me?” He stumbled backward and fell on his buttocks.

  The nobles exclaimed in outrage: “Blasphemy!” “Sacrilege!” Tradition prohibited the emperor’s body from touching the ground where ordinary people walked. Horror assailed Sano. He was responsible for Reiko’s search of Lady Asagao’s room, and now this worse insult to the Imperial Court. Instead of regaining the shogun’s favor, he would be reviled for his poor handling of the investigation. Yet his orders compelled him to proceed.

  “Take her,” he told the troops.

  When they grasped Lady Asagao by the arms, a look of sheer terror came over her face, as though she finally understood the consequences of her actions. Kicking and thrashing, she screamed in high-pitched bursts. The soldiers hauled her toward the door. Jokyden, Ichijo, and the nobles surrounded Sano.

  “You shall not commit this atrocity,” Jokyden said.

  Ichijo commanded, “Release my daughter at once!”

  Did their efforts to help Lady Asagao hide a desire to see her blamed for the murder and themselves exonerated? Sano wondered.

  “Father!” shrilled Asagao. “Don’t let them take me!”

  The emperor set upon the troops, trying to pry their hands off Asagao. “Somebody help me!”

  Loud hoots signaled the arrival of Prince Momozono, who must have been listening outside. He lurched into the room and hurled himself at Sano, crying. “Y-you can’t h-have His M-majesty’s consort!”

  Sano flung up his hands to repel the prince’s wild blows. The nobles hurried to their sovereign’s aid. A melee of pushing, shouting, and grabbing erupted, with the shrieking Lady Asagao at the center. Fearing that a riot might spread throughout the palace, Sano drew his sword. The crowd fell back amid cries of fear. Lady Asagao and the emperor broke into hysterical tears. With many doubts and no sense of victory, Sano led his men and their prisoner out of the room.

  “Where are you taking her?” Right Minister Ichijo demanded, following them down the corridor. “A woman of her position doesn’t belong in the city jail.”

  “Lady Asagao will be kept in a safe, comfortable place for a while,” Sano said. He needed time to investigate her story.

  “And then?”

  “I’ll take her to Edo for her trial.”

  Unless he found justification for his misgivings about Lady Asagao’s confession.

  13

  It was evening by the time Sano rode his horse up to the gate of Nij Manor. Above the plaster walls and spreading tile roof of the inn, an ocher residue of daylight stained the western rim of the soot-colored sky. Lanterns burned in the windows of surrounding houses. Noisy crowds streamed toward the shrines, temples, cemeteries, and pleasure quarter for Obon celebrations. When Sano entered the courtyard of Nij Manor, he found it filled with newly arrived travelers. He got a stableboy to take charge of his horse. As he walked down the corridor to his rooms, he looked forward to Reiko’s company, yet he also felt a strong desire for solitude.

  A long day of inquiries hadn’t resolved his problems with Lady Asagao’s confession. Mentally and physically exhausted, Sano needed to relax for a while. Reiko would be waiting to hear about everything, but Sano wasn’t ready to face her questions, her youthful energy, her eagerness for debate. Besides, he had another reason for not wanting to see Reiko.

  The subject of Left Minister Konoe’s former wife hadn’t yet come up between them, but eventually Reiko would remember that Sano had gone to Kodai Temple. She would ask about Kozeri. Usually Sano enjoyed the intuitive understanding between him and his wife, but he didn’t want Reiko to guess how Kozeri had affected him.

  Servants hauling baggage down the corridor momentarily blocked the door to Sano’s suite. He welcomed the chance to compose himself. Then he entered the room.

  Reiko was there, fresh and pretty in her yellow dressing gown. When she saw him, she leapt up from her seat by the window, eyes bright with anticipation. “What happened?” she cried.

  Sano experienced the usual gladness and affection at the sight of Reiko, followed by guilt. “We have a solution to the case,” he said, “but I’m not exactly happy about it.”

  He placed his swords in a wall rack, then lay down on the floor, resting his head on a cushion. Relief permeated his muscles, but his nerves remained on edge.

  “You’re tired. I should let you rest instead of bombarding you with questions,” Reiko said contritely.

  Kneeling beside him, she spread a damp, cool cloth on his forehead. She poured a cup of water for him. Her solicitude increased Sano’s guilt. “That’s all right,” he said, and described Lady Asagao’s confession and arrest.

  Reiko exclaimed in amazement. “I can’t believe she confessed. Nor can I believe she’s guilty. Have you checked her story?”

  “Yes, I have.” For some reason, Sano resented her implication that he would accept Asagao’s statement at face value. He said, “After the arrest, I went back to Left Minister Konoe’s mansion and interviewed his personal attendants. They admitted to knowing about his affair with Lady Asagao. They also delivered the message asking Asagao to meet Konoe in the Pond Garden on the night he died. When I asked why they hadn’t mentioned this when I questioned them the first time, they said they’d kept quiet to prevent a scandal, but since Asagao had confessed, they could tell the truth. So there was an affair, and a strong motive for Asagao to want Konoe dead.”

  “But what about the means and opportunity to kill?” Reiko asked.

  “As I’ve said, Asagao wouldn’t—or couldn’t—demonstrate a spirit cry. But she apparently did have the opportunity to murder Konoe.” Sano drank water from his cup, swallowing hi
s irritation at Reiko. Did she think he’d forgotten the basics of detective work? “I questioned the ladies-in-waiting you met yesterday. They admitted they’d lied to you when they said Asagao was with them during the murder. She’d left her chambers shortly before midnight—to meet someone. The women didn’t know who it was, or where she was going, but she’d been sneaking out often for the past few months. Their story is indirect confirmation of the affair, and it breaks Asagao’s alibi.”

  Reiko sat mulling over the information, innocently oblivious to Sano’s mood. “Granted, Asagao isn’t very smart, but she must have known the danger involved in taking a lover. How could she risk losing her position? And for a man old enough to be her father!”

  Though the age difference between himself and Reiko was less than a generation, Sano thought she should understand that love wasn’t confined to couples similar in age. “Some women like older men, who often have a sophistication that young men lack,” he said with controlled impatience. “And didn’t Asagao complain to you that life in the palace is dull? Perhaps she couldn’t resist the excitement of an illicit romance.”

  Reiko must have perceived antagonism in Sano’s voice, because a puzzled frown marred her smooth brow. “But you might not have learned about the affair if she hadn’t told you. It would have been better for her just to keep quiet.” Then Reiko’s eyes lit with inspiration. “What if the emperor found out about the affair, but he loves Asagao too much to hurt her? Instead, he kills Konoe, pretends to discover the body, and thinks that’s the end of his problems. But then you come to investigate the murder.

  “The emperor panics, because if he’s charged with a serious crime, at the very least, he’ll lose his throne, and at worst, his life. He asks Prince Momozono to give him an alibi, but he’s afraid that’s not enough. So he tells Right Minister Ichijo and Lady Jokyden what he’s done and begs them to help him. They decide that Lady Asagao should sacrifice herself to save the emperor.”

  “And that happens between yesterday, when you left her after the Kabuki play, and this morning, when she walked in on you searching her room,” Sano said.

  Reiko nodded. “It would explain why she was so frightened and unhappy, and why her confession sounded so unconvincing. She lied—all the while knowing what would happen to her.”

  “What about the bloodstained robes?” Sano asked.

  After some thought, Reiko said, “Left Minister Konoe thought he was meeting Asagao in the Pond Garden, but what if the emperor intercepted the message? His Majesty went to the rendezvous. It was dark, and he wore Asagao’s clothes, so that if anyone saw him, they would think he was Asagao. It was he who stepped in Konoe’s blood. He took off the clothes and hid them; later, he or Lady Jokyden put them in Asagao’s room.”

  “That’s pretty far-fetched,” Sano said. “However, I did consider the possibility that Asagao was forced into confessing.” Sano thought Reiko should have given him credit for that much intelligence. “I went to see her. She’s at police headquarters, in a special cell.” Samurai charged with crimes usually awaited trial under house arrest, and peasants in public jails, but because of the number of travelers who visited Miyako, other accommodations for high-ranking citizens were available. “I thought that if I spoke to Asagao alone, she might be more likely to tell the truth, but we’ve gone over and over her story, and it never changed. I tried to persuade her that if she’s innocent, she shouldn’t take the blame for the murder. Asagao still swears by her confession.”

  “But you don’t believe she’s guilty any more than I do,” Reiko said.

  “No,” Sano admitted. “I’ve felt there was something wrong about this case all along, and the feeling is even stronger now. This is a false confession. I know it.”

  “Yet you arrested Lady Asagao anyway,” Reiko said.

  “Because I had to,” Sano said defensively. “She’s guilty by law. For me to let a confessed murderer go free would be to forsake my duty to the shogun and the public. I would be subject to official censure for failing to uphold the power of the bakufu—as if I don’t have enough troubles already.”

  “What about Lady Asagao’s troubles?” Reiko said. “Would you let her die for a crime she didn’t commit, and have the real killer go free? Don’t you want to discover the truth anymore?”

  “Of course I do!” Now Sano’s temper snapped. That Reiko should accuse him of compromising his personal principles for the sake of a quick solution to the case! He sat up and turned on his wife. “You just don’t understand the stakes involved. One more mishap after the fiasco over the Lion, and I’ll be expelled from my post, or even put to death. Shall I make you a widow who shares my disgrace? Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not.” Anger and bewilderment clouded Reiko’s eyes. “And I do understand what’s at stake. What I don’t understand is why you’re so angry with me.”

  “I’m not. Why must you take every disagreement so personally?”

  “If you’re not angry, then why are you shouting?”

  As they glared at each other, Sano realized that he was angry at himself for desiring Kozeri, and taking it out on Reiko. He had a frightening premonition that this case would destroy his marriage along with everything else that mattered to him. Forcing a smile, he took Reiko’s hand. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I’m irritable. Forgive me.”

  Reiko sat wary and unrelenting for a moment; then she smiled back, and her hand clasped Sano’s. “I do know why you arrested Lady Asagao, and I shouldn’t have spoken so strongly. You were right to be angry. I’m sorry, too.”

  Her honest apology only fed Sano’s guilt.

  “It’s just that I feel responsible for what happens to Lady Asagao,” Reiko continued in a worried voice. “I was the one who searched her room. I found the clothes and gave them to you.”

  “You didn’t make her confess,” Sano said. “It was my decision to have you investigate the palace women, and your duty to turn whatever you found over to me.”

  “I know,” Reiko said unhappily, “but still…”

  Sano couldn’t offer any absolution, because he shared her sense of responsibility for Lady Asagao. They sat for a moment, holding hands, joined in dread of the future.

  “What shall we do?” Reiko asked. “Find the real killer?”

  “Or try to,” Sano said. “There’s not much time. Delaying Asagao’s trial will give me a bad reputation that could spread to Edo and have me thrown out of the bakufu before I can solve the case. Someone else will take over my job, and Asagao will die.”

  “But we won’t give up yet,” Reiko declared.

  “No, we won’t,” Sano said, heartened by his wife’s determination. “Tomorrow I’ll restart the investigation. If there are any clues or suspects Yoriki Hoshina missed, I’ll find them.”

  “Speaking of other suspects,” Reiko said, “I forgot to ask if you saw the left minister’s former wife.”

  Suddenly the space around Sano seemed a landscape of quicksand, deep holes, and sharp-edged rocks. He withdrew his hand from Reiko’s, lest she feel his nervousness, and said, “Yes, I did.” Then, in as neutral a voice as he could manage, he recited the dry facts from his interview with Kozeri.

  “So Konoe was a constant problem for his wife since she left him,” Reiko mused. To Sano’s relief, she didn’t seem to suspect anything amiss. “Kozeri belongs to a peaceful Buddhist order that shuns violence and doesn’t practice the martial arts. Still, I find it hard to believe she bore no ill will toward Konoe. I wonder if she told you the whole story. She might be more frank with another woman. Maybe I should go see her.”

  “No!” The word burst from Sano. Reiko looked at him, obviously perplexed by his vehemence. “I mean, I think Kozeri is a less likely suspect or witness than the members of the Imperial Court.”

  He had to keep Reiko and Kozeri apart. If Reiko saw Kozeri, she might guess how he’d felt toward the beautiful nun. Also, if the investigation required another interview with Kozeri, he wanted to
be the one who went, because he wanted to see her again. The knowledge filled Sano with fresh guilt.

  “But she’s the only lead I can follow,” Reiko said, disappointed. “Now that the Imperial Court knows I spied for you, there’s no use in my going back to the palace; the women won’t tell me anything. It would be better for me to talk to Kozeri than just sit here and do nothing while time runs out for you—and Lady Asagao.”

  A knock at the door spared Sano the necessity of answering. “Come in,” he called, grateful for the reprieve.

  Detectives Marume and Fukida entered the room. They bowed to Sano and Reiko. Marume said, “Please excuse the interruption, ssakan-sama, but just as we arrived at the inn, an imperial messenger came asking for you.”

  “He brought you this,” Fukida said, holding out a cylindrical black lacquer scroll case decorated with gold chrysanthemums.

  Sano opened the case and unrolled the document inside. He scanned the message written in bold, black calligraphy and inspected the signature seal. “It’s from the emperor,” he said. “His Majesty demands that I come to see him immediately.”

  “What for?” Reiko said.

  “He doesn’t say, but I’m guessing that he wants to persuade me to free Lady Asagao.” Sano’s heart sank at the prospect of another clash with the Imperial Court. “Still, I can’t ignore an order from the emperor. I have to go.”

  With a sense of leaving one dangerous situation for another, Sano rose and donned his swords. “Marume-san, Fukida-san, come with me.” To Reiko, he said, “We will finish our conversation later.”

  14

  Sano, Marume, and Fukida rode up to the Imperial Palace just as the temple bells signaled half past the hour of the dog. Outside the palace gate, two sentries—one a Tokugawa soldier, the other an imperial watchman—stood guard.

  Dismounting, Sano introduced himself and said, “I’m here to see the emperor, at his request.”

  “Yes, ssakan-sama.” The Tokugawa soldier bowed, then turned to the watchman. “Go and fetch the imperial escort.”