The Fire Kimono (2008) Page 4

  “A servant from Tadatoshi’s house came and asked whether anyone at mine had seen my cousin,” the shogun said. “He’d wandered off. But we hadn’t seen him. The next day, a second fire started and came toward the castle. There was so much confusion that we forgot about Tadatoshi. It was days later when we heard he’d never been found.”

  Days later, when the city lay in ruins, the Tokugawa regime had been too busy trying to feed and shelter thousands of homeless people to search for one lost child from a minor branch. Law and order had disintegrated. It had been a good time for somebody to kill Tadatoshi, bury him, and get away with it because he would be presumed a victim of the fire.

  “Who might have wanted him dead?” Sano asked.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  “Is there anyone else around who knew Tadatoshi?” Sano asked. “Perhaps his immediate family?”

  The shogun’s face took on the queasy look that meant he feared being thought stupid. “I don’t know. I have so many relatives, it’s hard to, ahh, keep track of them all. And I see so few people these days.”

  Lord Matsudaira controlled access to the shogun in order to cut him off from people who might tell him what Lord Matsudaira was up to and bully him into doing something about it.

  “But I’ll help you find out about Tadatoshi’s family,” the shogun said, eager to make up for his ignorance. He called, “Yoritomo-san! Come here!”

  When he got no response, the shogun sat up, bristling with needles like a porcupine, and clapped his hands. A manservant appeared in the doorway. The shogun said, “Where is Yoritomo?”

  “He left the castle a while ago.”

  Annoyed, the shogun said, “That boy is never here when I need him. Ahh, well, never mind. Fetch Dazai.”

  The servant hurried off, then soon returned with the shogun’s elderly, longtime valet. The shogun said to him, “Chamberlain Sano wants to know if my cousin Tadatoshi has any family still alive and in Edo.”

  Dazai was a repository of knowledge about his master’s clan. “I’m sorry to say that Tadatoshi’s father was killed in the Great Fire. Most of the people in that unfortunate household were.” The disaster had taken its greatest toll among the commoners but hadn’t spared the privileged classes. “But Tadatoshi’s mother and older sister survived.”

  He gave directions to their home, and the shogun dismissed him. Sano said, “Maybe they can shed some light on Tadatoshi’s character and his disappearance. I’ll speak to them tomorrow.”

  For now Sano had urgent affairs of state to attend to, which he’d neglected for the sake of this investigation. He would probably be up all night working. And he wanted to see how Reiko was faring after this morning’s attack.

  As he left the shogun’s bedchamber, he heard the shogun call to his servants, “Wherever Yoritomo is, find him. I desire his company tonight.”

  A small, obscure Buddhist temple stood outside Shinagawa, a village that lay a few hours’ journey from Edo along the highway leading west. At past midnight, the temple was deserted, and silent except for the wind that rattled the bamboo canes in the gardens and rang the bells attached to the roof tiers of the pagoda. The worship hall, abbot’s residence, and priests’ dormitories were dark, but a light burned in the window of a guest cottage. Along the moonlit gravel path to the cottage, a man dressed in a dark, hooded cloak hurried through the shadows cast by pine trees. He carried a walking stick and wore a heavy pack on his back. The cottage door opened, lantern light spilled onto the path, and a voice called softly from inside, “Who goes there?”

  The man said, “It is I.”

  Yoritomo, the shogun’s lover, threw back his hood and stepped into the light. Framed by the door stood Yanagisawa Yoshiyasu, once the shogun’s chamberlain and second-in-command, now a fugitive in hiding. His head was shaved bald; he wore the saffron robe and brocade stole of a priest. His handsome face shone with pleasure at seeing his son. He quickly let Yoritomo into the cottage and shut the door tight.

  “Did anyone follow you here?” Yanagisawa asked.

  “No, Father, I was careful,” Yoritomo said. “I disguised myself as a religious pilgrim.” He dropped his pack and stick. “I used a false name at the highway checkpoints. Nobody gave me a second look.”

  “Excellent.” Yanagisawa didn’t want the powers that were to notice Yoritomo’s frequent visits to the temple; he didn’t want them to know he was here. Better for them to think he was still out of the picture.

  After defeating his army and ousting him from the regime almost six years ago, Lord Matsudaira had banished Yanagisawa to Hachijo Island. Yanagisawa had immediately begun plotting his return to the political career he’d built on his intimate relationship with the shogun.

  As a young man of great beauty and allure, Yanagisawa had seduced the shogun and become his closest companion and principal adviser. Yanagisawa had thus gained huge authority over the government. For years he’d gotten away with corruption and murder while the shogun remained oblivious. Many people had hated him, but no one had been able to take him down … except Lord Matsudaira.

  Lord Matsudaira also had great influence over the shogun. Furthermore, he had the advantage of Tokugawa blood, which lent him a stature that Yanagisawa could never achieve. When Lord Matsudaira had defeated Yanagisawa, the only thing that had saved Yanagisawa was his emotional hold over the shogun. The shogun had knuckled under to Lord Matsudaira’s wish to get rid of Yanagisawa, but he’d refused to let Lord Matsudaira execute Yanagisawa and had insisted on exile instead. He still cared about Yanagisawa; he’d obviously hoped his dearest friend would someday return.

  Heaven forbid the shogun should be disappointed.

  After four years on Hachijo Island, Yanagisawa had stolen a ship and escaped. He’d found refuge at various temples, where he had friends. Yanagisawa had lived to fight another day, and now he was back with a vengeance.

  “You’ve learned subterfuge well,” Yanagisawa told Yoritomo.

  The young man blushed with happiness at the praise. “I’ve had a good teacher.”

  Yanagisawa hid the tenderness he felt toward Yoritomo. He had four sons and a daughter, all by different mothers, but Yoritomo was his favorite. Yoritomo represented his second chance at gaining permanent power over Japan. He was the illegitimate product of an affair between Yanagisawa and a lady related to the shogun. His Tokugawa blood made him eligible for the succession—although he was low on the list of contenders—and Yanagisawa meant for his son to inherit the dictatorship and to rule Japan through him someday. For now, Yoritomo was his foothold in the regime, his best spy at court, his secret weapon. But Yanagisawa’s attachment to Yoritomo went deeper than politics. Yoritomo was the youthful image of himself, the only person in the world to whom he felt a blood connection.

  He and Yoritomo sat in the small room, which was simply furnished with a tatami floor, a wooden pallet for his bed, a cabinet for his few possessions, and the writing desk where he formulated his schemes. “What brings you here tonight?” Yanagisawa asked as he warmed sake on a charcoal brazier. “We weren’t due to meet for another three days.”

  “I have news for you,” Yoritomo answered.

  “Good news, I hope?”

  A shadow crossed Yoritomo’s face, but it might have been due to the light shifting as a draft flickered the lantern. “I think you’ll be pleased.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense any longer.”

  “Lords Gamo and Kuroda have pledged their support to you,” Yoritomo said.

  “Excellent.” Those lords ruled large provinces, commanded thousands of troops, and possessed much wealth. They were great assets to the force that Yanagisawa needed to regain his position when the time came. He was pleased with Yoritomo, who’d proved skillful at detecting which people were disgruntled with the current regime, ready to cast their lot with an underground renegade. Yoritomo had established himself as the secret rallying point for them. He’d already recruited many powerful m
en to Yanagisawa’s camp. Yet it wasn’t just Yoritomo’s charm, his closeness to the shogun, or his place in the succession that had won Yanagisawa new followers.

  “Lord Gamo defected from Lord Matsudaira,” said Yoritomo. “He’s tired of Lord Matsudaira bleeding money and troops from him to fight your underground partisans. He thinks Lord Matsudaira has become mentally unstable and can’t hold on much longer.

  “Lord Kuroda defected from Chamberlain Sano. He wants a showdown between Sano and Lord Matsudaira, and he sees Sano dragging his feet. He’d rather belong to a side that dares to take a chance.”

  Yanagisawa dared. He had nothing to lose. And even though many people remembered him as a cruel, corrupt, self-aggrandizing official, they were falling in with him. He offered the malcontents an alternative to the status quo.

  “Neither Lord Matsudaira nor Chamberlain Sano know they’ve lost those allies to you,” Yoritomo said. “Lords Gamo and Kuroda are putting on as strong a show of loyalty toward them as ever. They won’t know until they ride into battle and find that not as many soldiers are following them as they anticipated. And it hasn’t gotten out that you escaped from Hachijo Island. The officials there haven’t breathed a word in the reports they’ve sent to Edo. They’re afraid of being punished for letting their most important exile get away. Only your top few people know you’re back.”

  “Good.” Yanagisawa poured sake into cups. “I propose a toast to new alliances.”

  They drank, and Yoritomo said, “Speaking of Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Sano, they’re blaming each other for the attacks on their wives.”

  “That’s just as I planned,” Yanagisawa said.

  He’d sent his troops, disguised with their crests, to ambush Lady Reiko and bomb Lord Matsudaira’s estate. He was also responsible for other attacks that his rivals had attributed to each other. They didn’t know the attacks were part of his plot to aggravate their strife into a blowup. They didn’t suspect that the attacks had anything to do with him. They didn’t think his partisans were capable of such devious, focused strategy, and they were right. Until Yanagisawa had returned, his partisans had been a bunch of badly organized hoodlums who’d struck randomly, hit or miss.

  Yoritomo looked disturbed. “I wish we didn’t have to attack Chamberlain Sano. He’s been a good friend to me.”

  Yanagisawa had gathered that during his absence Sano had taken Yoritomo under his wing. Even though Yanagisawa hated Sano for winning over his son, he knew that had their positions been reversed, he’d have done the same. It was a smart tactic. But he couldn’t afford for Yoritomo to have divided loyalties.

  “I know you like Chamberlain Sano,” Yanagisawa said. “However, he’s not your friend.”

  “But he’s kept your enemies away from me. And what about all the time we’ve spent together talking and practicing martial arts?” Yoritomo said, distressed. “He’s the only person at the castle who really cares about me.”

  “He cares because you’re in a position to help him. He protects you and flatters you; you influence the shogun in his favor. He’s using you.” The hurt he saw in Yoritomo’s eyes pained Yanagisawa. His son was too good and innocent. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way of the world.”

  “Yes.” Downcast, Yoritomo murmured, “I see. But it’s hard to believe that Chamberlain Sano could be so mercenary.”

  “Well, he is. I know him better than you do. Should it suit him to betray you, he will.” Anxious to comfort Yoritomo without softening the harsh lesson, Yanagisawa said, “Now that I’m back, you don’t need Sano anymore.”

  “Yes.” Yoritomo brightened. He looked up at Yanagisawa with a gaze full of faith and hero-worship. “Thank you for dispelling my illusions about Chamberlain Sano.”

  “Don’t let him know your feelings toward him have changed,” Yanagisawa warned.

  “I won’t,” Yoritomo said. “I can keep a secret.”

  Yanagisawa knew he could. After all, he’d kept Yanagisawa’s return a secret from everyone except their most trusted confederates. And he would keep it until Yanagisawa had weakened his enemies and built up his own power base enough to launch his comeback.

  “I have more news,” Yoritomo said. “A skeleton was discovered buried near the Inari Shrine in the hills. It was identified as Tokugawa Tadatoshi, the shogun’s cousin. The shogun has ordered Chamberlain Sano to investigate Tadatoshi’s death.”

  “That’s interesting,” Yanagisawa said, leaning forward, stroking his chin. “Maybe the investigation will prove to be my blessing and Sano’s downfall.”

  Sano was the underdog in the conflict between him and Lord Matsudaira, whom Yanagisawa most needed to defeat if he wanted to climb back on top of the regime. But Sano was still a major obstacle, and he had Yanagisawa’s old post. Furthermore, Yanagisawa and Sano had a bad history.

  The moment Yanagisawa had laid eyes on Sano eleven years ago, he’d known that Sano would be trouble for him. Sano had immediately become his rival for the shogun’s favor. Sano hadn’t needed to seduce the shogun with sex; he’d won the shogun with his cleverness and unstinting service. Sano’s first investigation for the shogun had resulted in one of Yanagisawa’s most humiliating experiences. Since then, Yanagisawa’s fortunes had tended to rise or fall in opposition to Sano’s, as if they were counterweights attached to a pulley. Yanagisawa had become Sano’s biggest detractor and caused Sano as much grief as possible, until a later investigation, in Miyako nine years ago, had led to a truce between them. The truce had been convenient for Yanagisawa as his struggle against Lord Matsudaira began to demand all his attention. But now Yanagisawa hated himself for not crushing Sano when he’d had a chance, for letting Sano live to occupy a critical place on the chessboard that Yanagisawa wanted to dominate.

  The truce was off, even though Sano didn’t know it yet.

  “What has Sano discovered so far?” Yanagisawa asked.

  “I don’t know. I left Edo before he reported to the shogun,” Yoritomo replied. “But he said Tadatoshi’s death smacked of foul play.”

  Glad anticipation filled Yanagisawa. “If this is indeed a case of murder, then so much the better for us.”

  “His murder investigations always land Sano in trouble,” Yoritomo said.

  The suspects Sano identified were often powerful people. His efforts always put him at odds with them while making him a target of the killer.

  “And he always faces the prospect of failure and losing the shogun’s esteem. But he has such a foolhardy dedication to pursuing truth and justice.” Yanagisawa couldn’t understand Sano’s readiness to endanger himself in the name of honor. “He never backs off, even when he’s threatened with demotion, exile, or death for him and his entire family, as he inevitably is. Not that I’m complaining.”

  Sano’s sense of honor had always been Yanagisawa’s best weapon against Sano.

  “What should we do?” Yoritomo said.

  “For now, we wait and watch. Chances are, Sano will dig his own grave.”

  “But if he doesn’t?”

  Yanagisawa smiled. “I’ll think of something.”

  “You always do, Father,” Yoritomo said with admiration.

  Outside, the temple bell tolled the hour of the ox. Yoritomo rose. “I’d better go. The shogun will be wanting me.”

  “You must keep him happy,” Yanagisawa cautioned. He hated pandering his beloved son to the shogun, but he had no choice. Neither had he had a choice when, many years ago, he’d seduced the shogun himself. His intimate relationship with the shogun had been a crucial defense against his enemies. Yoritomo’s would protect him until the day when he and Yanagisawa ruled Japan together. “We can’t afford to have him wonder where you are and put you under surveillance.”

  As he let Yoritomo out the door, Yanagisawa said, “Keep me informed about Sano’s investigation.”

  The flame of the lamp blazed its image into Reiko’s eyes as she stared at it. She knelt in her chamber, hands folded in her lap, the mauve and green pa
tterned silk skirt of her robe fanned out around her like flower petals. Her beautiful face wore a still, intense expression. The cut on her cheek shone black in the dim light. The house was quiet, everyone else in it asleep. But Reiko had suffered from insomnia ever since Masahiro’s abduction, and having him back at home hadn’t ceased her late-night vigils.

  She was keeping watch over the children, asleep in the adjacent chamber, in case an attack should come. She couldn’t bring herself to rely on the guards. She must be alert. As she devised strategies for protecting the children, she looked up to see Sano standing in the doorway.

  “Did you just get home?” she asked with a forced smile.

  “Yes. I had work to do. More emergencies, as usual.” Sano entered the room, knelt opposite her, and studied her with concern. “Are you feeling better?”

  His gaze probed at the calm facade Reiko had donned for him. “I’m fine,” she said. But after almost ten years of marriage, they’d grown so close that they could often read each other’s minds, and she knew that he could see on her face the ill effects of living under strain.

  “Are the children all right?” Sano asked.

  “They’re in bed, fast asleep.”

  He eyed her, unconvinced that all was well. “I suppose you heard about the bombing at Lord Matsudaira’s estate.” When she nodded, Sano said, “Don’t worry. I’ve put extra troops at the gates, in the guard turrets, and on the roofs.” Reiko had seen them. “Nobody who doesn’t belong here can get in.”

  Lord Matsudaira had thought his estate was secure, too, Reiko thought but didn’t say. Sano was doing all he could to protect her and the children. “Has anything interesting happened?” she said, directing the conversation away from the topic that could only make her and Sano feel more ill at ease if pursued.

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Sano told her about Tokugawa Tadatoshi’s skeleton and the examination at the morgue.

  “How fascinating!” Reiko felt a spark of interest brighten her mood.

  “The shogun wants me to find out who killed him,” Sano said. “This is a first for me—a new investigation of a very old murder.”