The Shogun's Daughter: A Novel of Feudal Japan (Sano Ichiro Mysteries) Page 16

  Her mother and Reiko looked surprised. “What was it?” Sano and Masahiro asked together.

  “Don’t encourage her!” Midori snapped. “She’ll think she can get away with doing whatever she likes.”

  “I need to know,” Sano said in a stern voice. “This investigation is important to our families. If Taeko has learned something that could help it, she must be allowed to tell us.” Midori reluctantly nodded. Sano said to Taeko, “Go ahead.”

  Shy yet pleased to be taken seriously by him, Taeko said, “Lady Tsuruhime sent Emi to buy something at a pharmacy shop. It was supposed to be a secret. But Lady Tsuruhime got sick and died before Emi could give it to her. So she gave it to me.” Taeko reached inside her kimono and pulled out the cloth pouch. “Here it is.”

  “This could be an important clue,” Reiko said, taking the pouch from Taeko. She opened the drawstring and displayed the dried leaves, flowers, wood chips, and root fragments inside.

  “We need to find out what they are,” Sano said. “Masahiro, go get a physician.”

  Masahiro gave Taeko a dirty look as he left. He hadn’t forgiven her. Instead he seemed upset because she’d found the clue and he hadn’t.

  “I’m going to give you a bath, then feed you, then put you to bed,” Midori said, and pushed Taeko out of the room.

  * * *

  REIKO AND SANO looked at each other, stunned by the turn of events. All that Reiko could immediately think of to say was, “Are you hungry?”

  Sano began eating the dinner Midori hadn’t touched. “I had a skirmish with Yanagisawa. He knows about the murder investigation.”

  “Oh, no.” A knot of fear tightened around the baby inside Reiko.

  After eating in silence for a moment, Sano said, “The good news is, we don’t need to hide the investigation from him any longer. Which meant that I was able to question Yoshisato.”

  Reiko sensed he wasn’t telling her everything that had happened with Yanagisawa. Not much relieved, she said, “What did you find out?”

  “That Yoshisato protected me from Yanagisawa. That’s why Yanagisawa hasn’t killed me. I have Yoshisato to thank for my life.”

  Now Reiko was even more astounded. “What else?”

  “That Yoshisato is an excellent swordfighter, but I can hold my own against him, at least when we’re not really trying to kill each other.” Sano described the tournament. “That he did visit Tsuruhime, but he claims he didn’t infect her with smallpox.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  Sano nodded; he ate an oyster out of its shell.

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s not what I expected. I still think he’s Yanagisawa’s son, but he’s a far better person.” Sano chuckled, as if at a joke on himself. “He wants to form a coalition to improve the government. He asked me to be in it, as his ally.”

  Reiko sat back in astonishment. “What did you tell him?”

  “I promised to think about it.”

  “How could you?” Reiko couldn’t imagine Sano allying with Yanagisawa’s son, the boy who stood to inherit the dictatorship by fraud. “To protect our family?”

  Conflict shadowed Sano’s features. “That’s the biggest reason, yes. But he has the makings of a good shogun.”

  How ironic that a fake should be better qualified to be dictator than the current shogun, Reiko thought.

  Masahiro came back with the physician, a nice old man who wore the dark blue coat of his profession. Sano gave him the pouch and said, “Can you tell us what these are?”

  The physician poured the herbs onto his palm and examined them. “Pennyroyal, cotton root bark, and dong quai.” He frowned at Reiko. “You haven’t taken this, have you?”

  “No,” Reiko said.

  “Good,” the physician said. “It causes the womb to contract and the opening to relax. You shouldn’t take it unless you want to induce an abortion.”

  Reiko felt suddenly faint. The musty smell of the herbs nauseated her. Abortion was legal and common, but she couldn’t bear thinking about it. “Get it away from me, please!”

  Sano sent Masahiro to lock the herbs in the safe in his office. The physician left. As her faintness and sickness abated, Reiko recognized the implications of the herbs. “Tsuruhime wanted medicine that causes abortions. That means she must have been pregnant.”

  Sano nodded. “With a child she didn’t want.”

  They were both silent, shocked by their discovery. Had she not died, the shogun’s daughter could have borne a child and complicated the battle over the succession.

  “It couldn’t have been Lord Tsunanori’s,” Sano said. “Not if he was telling the truth when he said he hadn’t slept with her in years, and I think he was.”

  “Then who was the father?” Reiko asked.

  Masahiro returned. “It must be Jinnosuke the soldier. I saw him today. He said he and Tsuruhime were, uh, lovers.” Masahiro blushed as he described his talk with Jinnosuke.

  Reiko smiled. He was shy about sex, at least when discussing it with his parents. She was proud of him for interviewing a witness all by himself and finding a clue. “Suppose Jinnosuke was the father. Maybe Tsuruhime was afraid her husband would be angry because he would know the baby wasn’t his.” That seemed a logical reason for her to want an abortion.

  Sano shook his head. “Lord Tsunanori might have been angry at her for committing adultery, but not necessarily about the baby, especially if it was male. He wanted to be the father of the shogun’s grandson. He’d have been glad to claim it. Even if it was female, he could have used it to make a marriage alliance with another powerful clan.”

  “Tsuruhime must have known that if she didn’t want the child, she couldn’t let Lord Tsunanori find out about it,” Reiko said. “That must be why she swore Emi to secrecy.”

  “Jinnosuke thinks Lord Tsunanori knows about him and Tsuruhime,” Masahiro said. “He’s afraid Lord Tsunanori will kill him. Maybe Tsuruhime wanted to protect him by getting rid of the baby.”

  Reiko was disturbed because Masahiro was learning about adultery, illegitimate pregnancies, and abortions at such a young age, but she was proud of his skill at reasoning. “That seems a likely explanation.”

  “It seems likely that Tsuruhime was infected with smallpox because she was pregnant,” Sano said.

  “And if Lord Tsunanori didn’t do it, then we’re back where we started,” Reiko said.

  “With Yanagisawa as the best suspect,” Sano agreed.

  “Along with Yoshisato,” Reiko said.

  Sano nodded, looking troubled. “I hope it’s not Yoshisato.”

  “You’re always telling me to be objective during investigations,” Reiko reminded Sano. “You warn me against favoring suspects who are people I like.”

  “I know.” Sano seemed irritated because she’d thrown his own words back at him, and uncomfortable because he wasn’t following his own rule. “Yanagisawa may be responsible for Tsuruhime’s death, but I don’t think Yoshisato was in on the crime.”

  “If Yoshisato was, you can’t let him off the hook,” Masahiro said.

  “I won’t.” Now Sano sounded on edge because his son thought he might be so unfair.

  Reiko felt an anxiety that verged on panic. At times she and Sano had disagreed during investigations. She prayed that this wasn’t one of those times. They had enough problems already.

  “I have to obtain justice for the shogun’s daughter,” Sano said curtly. “I will, no matter who the killer is.” He headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Reiko asked.

  “To see Lady Nobuko. I want to hear what she has to say about this latest development.”

  * * *

  SANO WALKED UPHILL along the stone-walled passage that led to the palace. Chilly night steeped Edo Castle in darkness relieved only by the lanterns at checkpoints and torches carried by patrol guards. Only scattered, distant footsteps, the rattle of night soil carts heading out of the city, and occasional voices calling inter
rupted the quiet. Sano welcomed privacy and peace. Tension from the acrimonious day seeped from his muscles, but his mind was still on edge. He needed to adjust to the news of Tsuruhime’s pregnancy and its implications. He also had to consider Yoshisato’s proposition. How could he balance his need to protect his family with his responsibility to protect a youth who was associated with his worst enemy yet might be innocent of the murder? He loved his wife and son, but right now he couldn’t listen to them challenging his judgment. Sano walked slowly, wanting time alone to think.

  The palace was deserted except for the sentries at the entrances. Stars glittered above the curved peaks and gables of its roof. Flames flickering in stone lanterns lit Sano’s way to a separate wing of the women’s quarters. There Lady Nobuko lived in a little house attached to the main building by a covered corridor and surrounded by a narrow garden whose earthen wall and bamboo thickets excluded noise. Korika, her lady-in-waiting, opened the door.

  “I want to see Lady Nobuko,” Sano said.

  A worried expression came over Korika’s broad, pleasant face. “I’m sorry, but Lady Nobuko has gone to bed. She had a bad day.”

  Sano was about to make it worse. “Wake her up. This is important.”

  “Very well.” Korika ushered him into a small parlor, lit a lantern, and left.

  Sano knelt. He waited for a long while before she returned with Lady Nobuko.

  “You had better have a good reason for calling at this hour.” Lady Nobuko wore her usual drab, dignified robes, but her silver-streaked hair hung in a thin braid, and she hadn’t put on any makeup. Deep wrinkles on her face, usually filled in with thick white rice powder, made the muscle spasm around her right eye even more apparent.

  “I do. I just learned that Tsuruhime was pregnant.”

  Lady Nobuko’s muscle spasm tightened, wrenching her face diagonally. Korika put her hands to her full cheeks. Moaning in pain, Lady Nobuko curled up on the floor.

  “You didn’t know, then.” Sano’s statement confirmed the obvious.

  “She didn’t tell me,” Lady Nobuko said weakly, while Korika massaged her temples. “She confided in me about everything … except that.”

  “Merciful gods,” Korika whispered. “The grandchild the shogun had always hoped for. It died with our poor Tsuruhime.”

  Lady Nobuko looked up at Sano, angling her neck and moving her eyes carefully to avoid worse pain. “How do you know she was pregnant?”

  Sano told her about the maid, the herbs, and Tsuruhime’s romance with the soldier.

  Lady Nobuko closed her eyes; tears spilled. “I had no idea about this affair. But I do know that Tsuruhime was terribly afraid of childbirth. When she was eight, her nursemaid became pregnant out of wedlock. The maid hid her condition until she went into labor in the room where she slept beside Tsuruhime’s bed. Tsuruhime was awakened by screams in the night. The maid’s bed was drenched with blood. The servants took Tsuruhime away, but not before she’d seen the baby’s arm sticking out from between the maid’s legs. The baby was dead. The physician cut it out of the maid. She screamed all the while. Then she bled to death. The story was all over the women’s quarters the next day. Little girls have big ears.”

  Sano could only imagine the horror of what Tsuruhime had seen. It was indeed a reason for her to have wanted to avoid having a baby, regardless of who the father was, no matter that it was the grandchild of the shogun.

  Recovered from her shock, Lady Nobuko pushed herself upright. “As much as your news hurts me, I see some good in it. Tsuruhime’s pregnancy is evidence that Yanagisawa murdered her. He would have wanted to prevent her from bearing the child, to ensure that the shogun wouldn’t choose it as his heir instead of Yoshisato. Killing her was the only way.”

  “If he knew about her pregnancy,” Sano said. “I haven’t had a chance to determine whether he did.”

  “Oh, he must have known. Once you prove it, you can destroy him.” Lady Nobuko’s eyes shone with unholy glee. “But destroying Yanagisawa isn’t enough. You must destroy his bastard, too.” Her hatred of Yanagisawa spilled over onto Yoshisato. “You have to prove they both murdered Tsuruhime.”

  Conflict wrenched Sano’s innards. His new liking for Yoshisato vied with his obligation to Lady Nobuko. “If they’re both guilty, I’ll prove it and make them pay.” Before he’d met Yoshisato he’d looked forward to destroying Yanagisawa’s pawn. Now he said, “If Yoshisato isn’t guilty, I won’t take him down along with Yanagisawa.”

  “You must!” Lady Nobuko clutched Sano’s arm. Her hand was a gnarled claw that dug into his flesh. “I don’t want Yanagisawa’s bastard inheriting the regime.” She was so intent on taking revenge on Yanagisawa that she didn’t care whether an innocent young man suffered.

  “When I agreed to investigate Tsuruhime’s death, I told you that I would be looking for the truth. If the truth is that Yoshisato is innocent, then he shouldn’t be punished for the murder.” Sano firmly withdrew from her grasp.

  “But if Yoshisato lives to become the next shogun, Yanagisawa will win!” The spasm in Lady Nobuko’s face tightened. Groaning in pain, she lay down again.

  That was a dilemma for Sano. Meeting Yoshisato hadn’t only put him at odds with Reiko, Masahiro, and Lady Nobuko; it was interfering with his quest for revenge on Yanagisawa.

  “Please, you’d better go,” Korika said to Sano.

  As he stepped off the veranda stairs into the fresh air and darkness of the garden, Korika came running after him, calling, “Wait!”

  She stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light within. “Can’t you give Lady Nobuko what she wants?” Her voice was pleading, anxious. “She’s an old, sick woman. It would mean so much to her.”

  “I understand,” Sano said with honest sympathy. “And I commend your devotion to her.” Korika seemed to love her mistress even though waiting on Lady Nobuko must be a chore. “But I can’t frame someone who’s innocent.”

  “Yoshisato doesn’t deserve to be shogun!” Korika wrung her hands. “He’s a fraud!”

  Sano remembered Yoshisato asking him to join a coalition for the good of Japan. “I won’t destroy him just to make Lady Nobuko happy.”

  Or to fulfill his own duty to prevent a fraud from inheriting the regime.

  Meeting Yoshisato had also put Sano at odds with his own honor.

  Korika’s plump bosom swelled, then deflated as she sighed. She turned and went into the house. Before the door closed, the light gilded her profile. Her expression was so hard that for a moment Sano thought he was looking at a stranger.

  20

  THE SUN ROSE over Zōjō Temple like a red pearl dissolving in milk. Crimson light bled onto the roofs of worship halls, shrines, and pagodas. Hammering and sawing announced the day’s construction work. The temple was no haven from the rebuilding boom. Gongs tolled. Monks, priests, and nuns headed for town, a parade of people with heads shaved and begging bowls in hands, the nuns and monks in plain hemp robes, the priests in brilliant saffron.

  Hirata crouched under the bridge that spanned the Sakuragawa Canal. The parade crossed the bridge with a soft thunder of straw sandals on wood planks. When the echo of the last footstep faded, he scrambled up the bank and followed the parade. Far ahead, up the highway that ran between wooded hills, Deguchi walked with his brethren. His aura made him as obvious to Hirata as if a giant red arrow were pointing down at him. Hirata hoped Deguchi wouldn’t notice he was being followed, recognize Hirata, and perceive his intentions.

  Hirata meant to kill Deguchi.

  Everything in him abhorred the idea. Murder was against his code of honor. He didn’t want to be a slave to a ghost. But unless he did General Otani’s bidding, Otani would kill him the next time the secret society forced him into a trance. And Hirata had promised Sano that he would make things right. The only way he could think of to dissolve the secret society was to kill the other members. He might as well start with Deguchi.

  The nuns, monks, and priests entered the Nihon
bashi merchant district. They fanned out through the alleys, begging alms at the shops that were open, at the market stalls. Deguchi walked east, alone. Hirata kept a safe distance from him and watched for an opportunity to kill him. It had to be someplace where no one would see. It had to be fast. One try was all Hirata would get.

  Deguchi kept to the main streets, which were filled with people. He looked straight ahead; he didn’t seem to notice that he was being followed. He didn’t stop to beg. Hirata wondered where he was going.

  They reached the Sumida River. The water was leaden beneath an overcast sky. Deguchi climbed into a ferryboat. Hirata stood on the embankment until Deguchi was halfway across the river. Then he hired another ferryman to row him to the opposite shore. There, he tracked Deguchi’s aura through the crowds in the Honjo entertainment district. Deguchi hurried through the quarter where townspeople were building new houses along canals. His aura crackled with impatient energy. Hirata caught up with him in an enclave where samurai officials lived in suburban villas. Deguchi slowed his pace, holding out his begging bowl to officials in palanquins and troops on horseback. Hirata followed him past estates under construction. Deguchi came to one that appeared to be finished. He circled the estate twice, not looking directly at it. The second time he neared the gate, he crossed the street. The villa there was enclosed by two-story barracks, its gate open. Trees overhung the repaired buildings to the left of the gate. Carpenters were installing new roof beams on the barracks to the right. Deguchi strolled in through the gate. Hirata waited a few moments, then followed.

  Inside the estate, more carpenters were busy at work on a villa. Hirata hid behind a pile of timber and watched Deguchi stroll up to the barracks. Deguchi stood gazing up at the rooftop near the gate. Its eaves were at least twice as high as he was tall. He set his bowl on the ground, raised his arms, flexed his knees, and jumped. His fingers caught the eaves. He pulled himself up, climbed the slope of the roof, and disappeared into the trees. Hirata ran alongside the barracks and stopped some twenty paces past the spot where Deguchi had jumped. He performed the same move, less expertly. As he pulled himself onto the roof, he made loud, scuffling sounds. Crawling up it, he kicked a tile loose. It fell and shattered. Hammering covered the noise. When he was safe under the tree branches, he knelt and looked to his left.