The Cloud Pavilion Page 31

  “Who are they?” Reiko asked.

  “The elder is Lady Oden, a former concubine of the shogun,” Sano said. “The younger is Tsuruhime, his daughter by Oden.”

  A sudden thought struck him. Masahiro hadn’t been the only witness to their meeting with Yanagisawa. The spy Toda Ikkyu had been there, too.

  Reiko gasped. “Yanagisawa wants to marry the shogun’s daughter to Yoritomo!”

  “Yes, because if that happens, it will move Yoritomo way up in the succession,” Sano said, enlightened at last. “That’s how he plans to seize power.” His plan explained why Yanagisawa had stopped embezzling from the Tokugawa treasury: He thought the money would be all his someday. “He had to get Lady Nobuko’s permission for the match because she’s in charge of all business concerning Tsuruhime, her stepdaughter.”

  “But the shogun’s wife told Yanagisawa no,” Masahiro said, pleased by his parents’ reaction to his news even though Sano doubted he understood its significance. “He said he could get a divorce. But she said it would be incest.”

  Sano recalled Masahiro asking him what those words meant. Now he knew why. He also knew why Lady Nobuko had refused Yanagisawa’s proposal. “Tsuruhime is already married, to a member of a Tokugawa branch clan. They don’t have any children, so Yanagisawa must have thought a second marriage for her would be acceptable to everyone. But a divorce apparently couldn’t remove all Lady Nobuko’s objections to remarrying her stepdaughter to Yoritomo, who is her father’s lover.”

  “I suppose that could be called incest,” Hirata said.

  “Yanagisawa was very angry,” Masahiro said.

  And Yanagisawa never let anyone who crossed him go unpunished. Sano saw a dreadful picture taking shape, a horrifying answer to questions in his mind.

  “What are you going to do?” Reiko asked.

  “I’m going to have a talk with Yanagisawa,” Sano said, “and not just about his marriage scheme.”

  But Yanagisawa wasn’t the only person Sano meant to confront. Sano also intended to get an explanation from Toda Ikkyu.

  If he lived long enough.

  Sano had his chance at Yanagisawa and Toda four days later. During those days, an upheaval rocked the government’s highest echelon and altered the circumstances of Sano and everyone close to him. And although he’d suffered drastic losses, he and his family were alive, and he was thankful.

  Now he, Marume, and Fukida stood among a huge crowd gathered in the grounds of Joju’s temple to witness the punishment of the famous exorcist.

  The chief official from the Ministry of Temples announced, “Joju has been found guilty of nyobon.” That was the offense termed “woman crime,” which meant fornication and breaking a vow of celibacy. “He has been sentenced to inu-barai.”

  “That’s a harsh punishment,” Marume said as a rumble of awe swept the audience.

  “Not as harsh as he deserves,” Sano said, “but it was the best I could do under the circumstances.”

  Joju hadn’t actually kidnapped anyone, and although he’d raped the nun and the other old woman, that wasn’t a crime under Tokugawa law. Sex in an illegal brothel was a minor offense, as he’d told Sano. And he hadn’t actually murdered the nun. Duty-bound to observe the law of the regime, Sano had turned Joju over to the Ministry of Temples, which was responsible for disciplining wayward clergy. Due to testimony from Sano, the ministry had found the priest guilty of the two offenses and imposed the harshest sentence possible.

  The exorcist emerged from the hall where he’d once conducted rituals. He was naked, crawling on his hands and knees, with a dead fish crammed in his mouth. Two soldiers led Joju by a rope tied around his neck. They dragged him around the temple grounds three times. Gagging on the rotten fish, hooted at by the mob, he passed Sano without acknowledging his presence. At the temple’s gate, the soldiers yanked Joju to his feet; they untied the rope. He spat out the fish and wiped his mouth on his hand. Now his eyes found Sano. They were black with bitter hostility.

  The chief ministry official flung a gray hemp robe at Joju and said, “You are hereby expelled from the religious order. You are also banished from Edo.”

  Joju put on the humble robe. Head bowed, he limped out the gate. The jeering crowd followed him. One woman lingered. It was the beggar named Okitsu. She sidled up to Sano.

  “That was worth waiting to see.” An impish grin brightened her dirty face.

  “It wouldn’t have been possible if not for you,” Sano said.

  Okitsu nodded as though she understood. Then she ambled off. Fate worked in strange ways, Sano thought. Okitsu had gotten her revenge.

  A group of male commoners loitered near Sano’s party. Four were talking about the scene they’d just witnessed. The fifth hovered at the group’s edge. A breeze flapped the wicker hat he wore. When he put up his hand to hold it on his head, Sano saw a large, irregularly shaped brown freckle on his wrist.

  “Well, if it isn’t Toda Ikkyu,” Sano said.

  Toda started. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve learned a few things from my son.” Sano smiled, watching Toda wonder what feature of his Masahiro had noticed and mentioned to Sano. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but you’ve been pretty scarce lately.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Toda said.

  Sano knew Toda had been avoiding him, with good reason. “You knew who they were.”

  “What are you talking about?” Toda was all innocence.

  “The three women you saw meeting with Yanagisawa,” Sano said. “They were Lady Nobuko, the shogun’s daughter Tsuruhime, and his former concubine Oden.”

  The bland expression Toda wore didn’t hide his shock. “How did you find out?”

  “You said you didn’t know who they were. But you did. You know everybody associated with the shogun. You must have recognized them instantly. You lied.”

  Comprehension glinted in Toda’s eyes. “It was Masahiro again. I suppose you also know what became of Yanagisawa’s scheme to marry his son to Tsuruhime, ensure that Yoritomo would be the next shogun, and secure his own future?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your son has a talent for espionage,” Toda said wryly. “If you’ll give him to me, I’ll teach him to be the best spy who ever lived.”

  “My son will never work under a man who double-crossed his father,” Sano said.

  Toda smiled. “I warned you that I work for both you and Yanagisawa. I try to play fair. I told you about his secret meeting, but I didn’t tell you who the women were. I let him know that I was spying on him for you, but I didn’t tell him I witnessed his three meetings.”

  Three meetings? Sano frowned because he’d thought there had been only two. Neither Toda nor Masahiro had mentioned a third. Toda had lied again, by omission. And so had Masahiro.

  “So I’m even with you and Yanagisawa,” Toda said. “You shouldn’t bear me any grudge.”

  “What you mean is that even if I do bear a grudge, I can’t kill you, because someday I may need your services,” Sano said. “But next time I’ll have a better idea of how far to trust you.”

  Toda shrugged, his confident superiority restored: He’d successfully navigated another battlefield between two rivals. “That’s politics.”

  He turned and shuffled off, looking for all the world like a peasant to everyone except Sano.

  “Don’t look now,” Marume said, “but here comes another sorry bastard.”

  The sight of Yanagisawa striding toward him filled Sano with the anger that enflamed his blood every time he thought of what Yanagisawa had done.

  “Greetings,” Yanagisawa said, smiling as if nothing were amiss.

  He’d completely escaped the responsibility the shogun had once placed on him for the disappearance of Lady Nobuko. While Sano had been busy trying to rescue her, Yoritomo had talked the shogun into forgiving Yanagisawa and heaping all the punishment on Sano. The shogun had demoted Sano to his former post of principal investigator. Sano h
ad moved back to his old estate, while Yanagisawa had reclaimed the compound he’d lived in before he’d been exiled. Yanagisawa was now the shogun’s only second-in-command, Japan’s only chamberlain, once more. That was a crushing blow to Sano, but he knew things could have been worse.

  His allies had persuaded the shogun to spare Sano and demote him instead of executing him and his family. They didn’t want Yanagisawa in charge of the regime now or in the future. They needed someone to check his power, and Sano was the only man around who had the potential.

  “I’m surprised to see you,” Sano said evenly. Toda wasn’t the only one who’d been avoiding him.

  “I had to see this spectacle. Joju wasn’t my favorite person in the world.”

  “I don’t suppose he was.” Sano knew Yanagisawa didn’t like anyone who had strong influence over the shogun. Which was why he’d finally delivered the blow Sano had been expecting.

  “Having Joju humiliated and banished was a risky move on your part, since he was still the shogun’s favorite exorcist the last I heard,” Yanagisawa said. “Does the shogun know?”

  “Not yet,” Sano said. “In some cases it’s better to ask forgiveness after the fact than to ask permission beforehand.”

  Since he was already in trouble, he’d decided he might as well deliver Joju to justice. That, plus the fact that Ogita, Nanbu, and the oxcart drivers had gotten their comeuppance, was something of a consolation prize.

  “That’s what I always say.” Yanagisawa continued, “I heard about the massacre in the paupers’ cemetery. The official word is that Nanbu and Ogita were murdered by bandits. But we both know that the official word isn’t always the truth, don’t we?”

  Sano made no comment. He would never reveal what had actually happened. Neither would Chiyo, Fumiko, Jirocho and his gang, or Reiko and her bodyguards. And all the other witnesses were dead.

  “No matter,” Yanagisawa said. “Your investigation was a success. Everyone responsible for kidnapping and raping your cousin and those other women has been punished.”

  “Not everyone.” Sano leveled a hard gaze on Yanagisawa.

  Yanagisawa raised his eyebrows. “You’ve accused me of many things in the past, but come now; you can’t think I’m to blame this time.”

  “I don’t just think. I know.” Sano tried to control his temper. Losing it would only give Yanagisawa more advantage than he already had. “The oxcart drivers didn’t kidnap the shogun’s wife. Nanbu, Joju, and Ogita didn’t rape her. What happened to her was your doing.”

  “Mine?” Pointing at his own chest, Yanagisawa laughed. “I never touched Lady Nobuko.”

  “Not personally. You have people to do your dirty work.”

  Yanagisawa regarded Sano with annoyance, caution, and pity, the kind of look that one gives a madman. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because it was the perfect way to sabotage me. You staged Lady Nobuko’s kidnapping to look as if it were one in the series I was investigating. You hoped the shogun would blame me. Which he did. Which put me out of his favor.” Sano’s indignation mounted higher with each consequence of Yanagisawa’s scheme he named. “Which is just what you wanted.”

  “How can you think that? Maybe in the past I would have done it, but since I came back I’ve done nothing but cooperate with you. Everything that’s happened to you was just your bad luck.” Shaking his head, Yanagisawa said, “I’m ready to let bygones be bygones.”

  “You never met a bygone that you could forget,” Sano retorted. “Here’s another reason you had Lady Nobuko kidnapped and raped: When you tried to marry your son to the shogun’s daughter, Lady Nobuko stood in your way.”

  He watched shock wipe the condescension off Yanagisawa’s face. Sano could feel Yanagisawa’s impulse to ask how Sano knew about the marriage scheme and who’d thwarted it. In the moment before Yanagisawa regained his usual sardonic expression, Sano knew Yanagisawa was guilty as charged.

  “You had an innocent woman kidnapped and raped because she crossed you!” Sano said, letting loose his outrage. This time Yanagisawa had outdone himself in terms of nerve, selfish disregard for human life, and sheer cruelty. “And she’s your lord’s wife!”

  Yanagisawa smiled, his brazen confidence restored. “Let’s suppose—just suppose—that I did have Lady Nobuko kidnapped and raped. You have no proof.”

  “I’m reinvestigating her case. Something will turn up eventually,” Sano said, even though he’d been combing the city for four days and no evidence or witnesses had surfaced yet. Yanagisawa had taken pains to cover his tracks.

  “Don’t count on any help from Lady Nobuko.” Yanagisawa’s gaze said he knew Sano had asked for an interview with her and she’d refused. Even if Lady Nobuko could recognize the men who’d kidnapped and raped her—which she probably couldn’t, because they’d probably given her the same drug that the oxcart drivers had used on their victims—she would never incriminate Yanagisawa. If it was her word against Yanagisawa’s, who would the shogun believe?

  Probably Yanagisawa.

  Furthermore, Lady Nobuko must be aware that no matter how well guarded she was, Yanagisawa could get to her again.

  “You won’t get away with it,” Sano persisted.

  “Who’s going to stop me? You?” Scorn colored Yanagisawa’s voice. “Remember, you have less authority than you once did. I happen to know that His Excellency refuses to speak to you. Meanwhile, my allies are telling him that you’re a liability to the Tokugawa regime. When you’re gone, I’ll still be here.”

  The genial mask that Yanagisawa had worn for more than a year dropped. At last his face showed his hatred for Sano and his ambition to rule Japan. His dark, liquid eyes shimmered as if with reflections from steel blades.

  “Your plan to marry Yoritomo to the shogun’s daughter won’t work,” Sano said. “Try it again, and you’ll meet with a lot of resistance.”

  Sano had told Tsuruhime’s husband and his own allies about Yanagisawa’s scheme. They’d agreed to block the divorce and remarriage, with military force if need be.

  Yanagisawa chuckled. “That’s a case of showing up for a battle at the wrong field. Even if I had aimed to wed Yoritomo to the shogun’s daughter—which I’m not saying I did—that’s not my plan now. I’m exploring other options.”

  He gestured to a group of samurai who were apparently waiting for him. Sano recognized several Tokugawa clan members among them. Yanagisawa hadn’t wasted any time pursuing new, politically advantageous matches for his son.

  His son, who’d been his full partner in everything he’d done. Yoritomo had spoken against Sano to the shogun with Yanagisawa’s connivance and blessing, whether Yanagisawa ever admitted it or not.

  “I won’t be out of the shogun’s favor forever,” Sano said, “and you won’t always be in it. As you’ve learned in the past.”

  Yanagisawa contemplated Sano. “Here’s some friendly advice.” He spoke as if he were so confident he’d beaten Sano, he could afford to be magnanimous. “The game has changed. It’s not just about the shogun anymore. This concerns the future, after he’s gone. There’s no point in squabbling with each other, vying for his good grace.” Yanagisawa’s tone expressed contempt for such past tactics. “The victor will be the one who insinuates himself into the Tokugawa clan and secures a place in the next regime. And even though I might have failed once, I have a head start on you.”

  A mischievous smile gleamed on Yanagisawa’s face. “I have four sons and a daughter of marriageable age. It’s too bad for you that your children are so young.” As he strode off to join his allies, he said over his shoulder, “Whatever you think happened, I’ve won this round.”

  For four days Hirata had been riding through the city, trying to lure his enemy to him. For four days he’d had no luck. Now, as the twilight descended upon Edo, he found himself in the fish market by the Nihonbashi Bridge.

  The stalls were vacant. The orange rays of the setting sun cast long black shadows over the empty aisle
s. Rats and stray dogs scavenged through heaps of seashells. Hirata climbed off his horse and stood in the center of the market. He projected his senses outward, searching.

  Once again he failed to detect his enemy’s presence.

  Hirata breathed his own desperation, which smelled as rotten as the fish market. He was weak, light-headed, and ill from the fatigue born of sleepless nights and constant anxiety. The old wound in his leg ached. He felt as if the enemy had used his own body and mind as weapons against him, had conquered him without a battle.

  That was the strategy of the top martial artists in history. Perhaps it had been his enemy’s all along.

  Other troubles contributed to Hirata’s sorry mental and physical state. Before his death, Ogita had told the shogun that Hirata had killed his servant. The shogun, already upset because Hirata had killed too many other men in duels, had decided that Hirata was too dangerous to be allowed near him. Even if Hirata hadn’t had to give up his estate to Sano, he’d have had to move out of Edo Castle. Now he and his family lived in a small estate across the river, banished and disgraced.

  But Hirata was determined to make amends and regain his good standing. He meant to fight the enemy face-to-face. If he lost, he would at least see his conqueror and know his name before he died.

  “Here I am!” he called. “Come and get me. Or are you afraid?”

  His taunt echoed across the deserted market. Hirata listened, then froze alert at the sound of footsteps. They approached from every direction, like a multitude converging on Hirata, but they all had the same stealthy, measured gait; they belonged to one lone man. With them came the unmistakable pulse of the enemy’s shield.

  Even though the familiar panic surged through Hirata, he didn’t turn in circles in a futile attempt to locate the man; he resisted the urge to strike out blindly; he didn’t waste his strength. He stood still, looked straight ahead down the aisle of stalls, and simply waited.

  A man glided into view at the end of the aisle perhaps a hundred paces from Hirata. By some trick of light or sleight of mind he appeared closer, his size formidably magnified. With the sun’s orange glow behind him, Hirata couldn’t see his features. He was a tall, black silhouette, his topknot a bulge above his shaved crown, his two swords jutting at his waist.