The Shogun's Daughter si-17 Read online

  “This is our chance to take Yanagisawa down!” Masahiro exclaimed.

  “Evidence that he murdered the shogun’s daughter would be a perfect weapon against him,” Reiko agreed.

  “Your wife and son are as intelligent as I’ve heard.” The undistorted side of Lady Nobuko’s mouth smiled. “They realize that our interests coincide, Honorable Chamberlain Sano. Or should I say, ‘Honorable Chief Rebuilding Magistrate’?”

  “So you know what happened today,” Sano said, disconcerted.

  “Yes. I employ people to keep me informed about what goes on at court. I also know that my husband has installed Yanagisawa’s so-called adopted son as his heir and successor, and that you are far from pleased.”

  “That’s right.” Sano was tempted to leap at the opportunity to bring about Yanagisawa’s downfall. Despite his hunger for vengeance, he tried to keep a level head. “But let’s not get carried away before we examine your theory. Why would Yanagisawa want Tsuruhime dead?”

  “Yanagisawa has fought an uphill battle to put Yoshisato in line to rule Japan,” Lady Nobuko said. “Too many people aren’t convinced he’s the shogun’s son. Yanagisawa can’t keep down all the dissent forever. The last thing he needs is competition for Yoshisato. My husband isn’t likely to father any more children.” Lady Nobuko evidently knew his character despite the fact that their marriage was a political alliance between clans rather than an intimate union, and Sano knew they rarely even spoke. “If Tsuruhime had lived, she could have borne a son who would have been an undisputed descendant of the shogun.”

  No one had ever challenged her pedigree.

  “A son of hers would have supplied a rallying point for people who don’t think Yoshisato is a true Tokugawa and don’t want Yanagisawa dominating the government for another term,” Lady Nobuko went on. “Were that the case, what would happen after the shogun dies? Yanagisawa’s opponents would start a war against Yoshisato, on behalf of Tsuruhime’s son, and possibly seize control of the dictatorship. Yanagisawa understood that. He had Tsuruhime killed because she was a potential threat to his future.”

  “That’s a strong reason for murder,” Reiko said. Sano had to nod. “And Yanagisawa is ruthless enough to have had Tsuruhime murdered.”

  “She enjoyed perfect health all her life,” Lady Nobuko said. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that she should contract smallpox a few months after Yoshisato made his appearance at court?”

  Sano agreed but continued challenging the theory. “It could be a coincidence.”

  Reiko nodded reluctantly, but disdain twisted Lady Nobuko’s mouth.

  “Are you sure you’re not reading too much into the situation because of what Yanagisawa did to you?” Sano asked. “Might you be snatching at a faint hope of revenge?”

  “I was kidnapped and violated.” Lady Nobuko’s face grew pinched with anger at the memory of the suffering she’d endured. “I can’t prove that Yanagisawa ordered it, but I know he did. I’m not imagining things this time, either.”

  Sano wondered if Yanagisawa’s actions had pushed her to the point where she would invent a murder and frame Yanagisawa for it. He turned to her lady-in-waiting. “You’re very devoted to Lady Nobuko, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Korika said proudly. “I’ve served her for twenty-eight years.”

  “Did you really see a sheet soiled with blood and pus?”

  Korika’s broad face fell at his suggestion that she’d made up the whole story. Lady Nobuko said indignantly, “She wouldn’t lie in order to please me.”

  “All right,” Sano said, still reserving judgment. “But the sheet wouldn’t necessarily have been Yanagisawa’s doing. Who else might have wanted to kill Tsuruhime?”

  “No one,” Lady Nobuko said. “She was a sweet, harmless young woman. No one would have profited from her death except Yanagisawa.”

  “There’s Yoshisato,” Masahiro said.

  Sano was proud of his son’s astuteness. “With Tsuruhime dead, Yoshisato no longer needs to worry about a son of hers pushing him out of line for the succession.”

  “Yoshisato could have been an accomplice in the murder, but Yanagisawa was the instigator,” Lady Nobuko declared.

  “Father…” Masahiro seemed hesitant to voice a theory about which he didn’t feel confident. “Even if Yanagisawa did kill Tsuruhime and you prove it, maybe he won’t get in trouble. The shogun said that now that he has Yoshisato, he doesn’t need her anymore. Would he care if she was murdered? Would he punish Yanagisawa for killing her?”

  “You’re a clever boy, but you don’t know my husband as well as I do,” Lady Nobuko said. “He doesn’t care about Tsuruhime, but he will not tolerate anyone hurting anyone or anything that belongs to him.” She said to Sano, “Your mother is proof of that.”

  Sano’s mother had been accused of killing the shogun’s cousin during Edo’s other famous natural disaster, the Great Fire. The shogun had almost put her to death, even though he’d barely known his cousin, had assumed he’d died in the fire, and hadn’t given him a thought until his remains turned up more than forty years later. Only a fluke of circumstance had saved her life.

  “The shogun wouldn’t let Yanagisawa or Yoshisato get away with killing his own daughter,” Sano agreed. “If he were convinced they did it, he would disown Yoshisato and put them both to death.”

  “So,” Lady Nobuko said, “are you going to investigate Tsuruhime’s death or not?”

  Sano felt as if he’d spent fifteen years trudging over the same terrain of his feud with Yanagisawa, and suddenly he’d happened on a new path. Maybe it would take him to vengeance, triumph, and a future without Yoshisato as shogun and Yanagisawa ruling Japan through him. But the path was as dark and fraught with hazards as a jungle at midnight.

  “An investigation could be dangerous if Yanagisawa hears of it,” Sano said.

  “I trust you to be discreet,” Lady Nobuko said.

  “Other inquiries of mine have become public despite my best efforts. And while you think your spies are good, they’re nothing to Yanagisawa’s. Should he learn that I’m investigating Tsuruhime’s death and he’s a murder suspect, he’ll strike back without mercy.”

  Surprise lifted the brow over Lady Nobuko’s good eye. “I thought you were the one man in Japan who’s not afraid to stand up to Yanagisawa.”

  Sano frowned at her suggestion that he was a coward, the worst insult anyone could throw at a samurai. “It’s not myself I’m worried about.” He looked at Reiko and Masahiro. His family was more valuable to him than life itself. He would risk his own safety but not theirs.

  “I’m not afraid,” Masahiro said with the courage of a boy who’d already fought battles like a man, lived to tell, and thought he was immortal. “I want you to investigate. Don’t you, Mother?”

  “Yes,” Reiko said. “This may be the only chance for you both to regain your posts and destroy Yanagisawa. After he’s gone, it should be easy to disqualify Yoshisato and keep him from becoming shogun.” But Sano could tell she was remembering that Yanagisawa had already halved his income and decimated his army today. They were in no shape for a war with Yanagisawa. They didn’t even have adequate troops to guard the estate. Sano saw Reiko’s fear for Masahiro and Akiko. Her hand clasped her pregnant belly.

  “An investigation would be dangerous for you, too, if Yanagisawa finds out that you instigated it,” Sano told Lady Nobuko.

  “For a woman there’s nothing worse than what he’s already done to me.” She donned the tragic air of a martyr. “And my life is so filled with suffering that I would gladly risk death for a chance to destroy Yanagisawa.”

  The force of his own hunger for revenge pushed Sano toward taking the first step on the dangerous path. But he said, “The evidence that Tsuruhime’s death was murder is flimsy. A soiled sheet that was seen by one witness before it disappeared, that can’t be traced to Yanagisawa. An investigation could endanger us all for nothing.”

  “I think it was murder. And I know
you’ll find evidence.” Reiko’s eyes shone with faith in Sano.

  “I may find evidence that leads somewhere else than to Yanagisawa,” Sano said. “If I do, I won’t frame him and let the real killer go free.”

  “I am aware of your reputation for seeking truth and justice,” Lady Nobuko said. “I won’t ask you to compromise your honor. I want the truth about Tsuruhime’s death. I want justice for her even if Yanagisawa comes out smelling like flowers.”

  “Very well.” Sano didn’t believe her. He thought her desire for revenge was blinding her to the possibility that someone other than Yanagisawa might be guilty. But Sano realized that he’d decided to conduct the investigation as soon as he’d heard her suspicion that the shogun’s daughter had been murdered by Yanagisawa. He had additional reason besides keeping Yoshisato from inheriting the regime and securing his own family’s future. He must avenge his friends whose lives Yanagisawa had destroyed. “I’ll begin my inquiries at once.”

  Lady Nobuko looked satisfied, as if she’d never doubted Sano would cooperate. Korika smiled in relief. “Will you keep me informed as to your progress?” Lady Nobuko said as she and her lady-in-waiting rose.

  “Yes.” Sano wondered if he would regret his decision. Circumstances were pushing him along a dangerous course. “Remember, everyone: This must be kept strictly confidential.”

  But he was already committed to the investigation, and there was no turning back.

  4

  The first post station on the Tōkaidō-the main highway leading to points west-was situated at the edge of Edo. There, a long line of travelers on foot, horseback, and riding in ox-drawn carts or palanquins and basket chairs carried by bearers inched toward a small building. From inside a window in the building, four officials questioned the travelers one by one.

  “Name? Place of residence? Why are you coming to Edo?”

  The officials recorded the information in ledgers. Clerks searched the travelers, their baggage, and their vehicles for hidden weapons, secret messages, and other contraband.

  Hirata sat astride his horse, twentieth in line. Coarse dark stubble covered his face and his shaved crown. His wrinkled clothes were dirty. His fetid odor of sweat, urine, oily hair, and bad breath disgusted him. His skin itched from flea bites.

  During his four months’ absence from Edo, he’d been staying in cheap inns and camping in the woods. He hadn’t bathed in days. He looked like the fugitive he was, and he felt the same anxiety, suspicion, and fear as every other man on the run.

  Surveying the people ahead of him, Hirata saw four women decked out in gaudy kimonos and makeup. They flirted with the men near them-peasants driving oxcarts owned by the government and laden with wood, stone, and tiles, and the mounted army troops guarding the carts. Behind Hirata, peasants carried knapsacks; samurai bodyguards escorted merchants accompanied by porters lugging goods and cash boxes. Refugees from the villages destroyed by the tsunami numbered among the people flocking to Edo from all over Japan to make their fortune on the rebuilding boom. Edo was like an open sack, and people were stuffing it full of themselves, their muscle, their wealth, their ambitions, their diseases, and their vices. Hirata didn’t see anyone he recognized. He cast his gaze over the surrounding area.

  Beyond the post station rose the arched framework of a new bridge spanning the Nihonbashi River; the old bridge had collapsed during the earthquake. There, carpenters were busy at work. Ferrymen in small boats rowed passengers across the river. A new stable sheltered horses for rent. Porters, palanquin bearers, and basket chair carriers for hire sat in a campground, awaiting customers. New inns were under construction amid tents that served as temporary housing for travelers. When Hirata had left Edo, this area had been a complete ruin. Amazed at the progress made in a short time, he uneasily wondered what else had changed.

  He concentrated his attention on the auras of the million people in the city, the energy that all living things emitted. His mystical powers allowed him to perceive the unique aura that each human possessed, that signaled his or her personality, health, and emotions. The landscape of Hirata’s brain vibrated and sizzled with auras. Some belonged to people he knew. His mind shied away from those of his family and his master, whom he’d left on bad terms. Uncertain of his welcome, he yearned for them but dreaded seeing them again. He searched for one particular aura-the conjoined energy of the three men he’d fled Edo to escape.

  He didn’t find Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano. But that didn’t mean they weren’t near. They, unlike most creatures, could turn their aura on and off at will.

  The line moved forward. The gaudy women ahead of Hirata reached the post station. They told the officials, “We’re maids looking for work.”

  It was obvious that they were prostitutes. The officials fondled them and made lewd remarks while searching them, then let them pass. Edo needed prostitutes to keep the merchants and workers happy.

  Now came Hirata’s turn. When he dismounted outside the window, he recognized the samurai official. “Arai?” It was his chief retainer. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hirata-san!” Arai was just as surprised to see Hirata. “I work here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hirata said, dismayed as well as puzzled. He hadn’t wanted to meet anyone he knew while he was so dirty and ill-groomed. “Didn’t I put you in charge of my detective corps before I left town?”

  “Yes. But a lot of things have happened since then.” Arai looked as if he hated to be the bearer of bad news. “The shogun got mad because you weren’t around when he wanted you. He took away your post. You’re not his sōsakan-sama anymore.”

  Hirata was horrified, even though he’d expected it and knew it was no worse than he deserved. “What am I?”

  “You’re still Chamberlain Sano’s chief retainer. Except that Sano isn’t chamberlain anymore. Yanagisawa is. He got the shogun to name Yoshisato as his heir. And he demoted a lot of other people besides Sano.”

  “When was this?” Hirata said, appalled.

  “Today.”

  “What happened to Sano?”

  “He’s Chief Rebuilding Magistrate,” Arai said.

  “And my detective corps?”

  “Disbanded. Your stipend was revoked, and there was no money to support us. A friend of mine got me this post. Other men weren’t so lucky. There are many government positions open because people died during the earthquake, but the regime can’t afford to fill them all. Some of our men are working as laborers and living in the tent camps.”

  “Why didn’t they stay at my estate?”

  “Your estate was taken away, too.”

  Panic seized Hirata. “Where are my wife and children?”

  “Sano-san took them in,” Arai said.

  Guilt increased Hirata’s dread of seeing his family and Sano. Midori was probably furious because he’d left her and the children homeless. And Hirata had not only forsaken his duty to Sano, he’d stuck Sano with the responsibility for his family. Hirata was tempted to turn around and leave town again, but he couldn’t. Along with scores to settle, he had apologies and amends to make. He might as well start now.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to Arai. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” Arai said with prompt sincerity.

  Hirata could see that although Arai was unhappy with the situation, he bore Hirata no grudge. A master could do whatever he liked, and his retainers must accept it without complaint. That was Bushido. Hirata felt even guiltier: Arai was a better samurai than he.

  “May I ask where you’ve been?” Arai asked.

  “Traveling around the country.” Hirata couldn’t say, I’ve been running from three men who pretended to be my friends. I discovered they were thieves and murderers. Wherever I went, Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano tracked my aura and followed me. I’ve barely managed to stay one step ahead of them. And I’m terrified because their combat skills are better than mine and I know they’ll find me sooner or
later.

  Arai frowned, puzzled. “Why did you leave?”

  Hirata couldn’t say, Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano tricked me into joining their secret society. They’d sworn him to secrecy about it. They said its purpose was to do magic rituals and fulfill a cosmic destiny for the world. But they lied. Our rituals evoked the ghost of a warlord who promised us supernatural powers. The price we pay for them is helping him destroy his enemy. And his enemy is the Tokugawa regime. I ran away rather than commit treason with Tahara, Deguchi, Kitano, and the ghost. The penalty for treason was death for the traitor, his family, and all his close associates. And Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano would kill Hirata, his family, and Sano if he talked, or if he opposed them. They wanted to bring him back into the fold, against his will.

  “I had business to attend to,” Hirata said.

  After an uncomfortable silence, Arai said, “I apologize for prying.” Bushido decreed that a master didn’t owe his retainers explanations, but Hirata saw that Arai was hurt by his evasiveness. “Well,” Arai said, “I’d better not keep the other people waiting.” He dipped his writing brush in ink and wrote Hirata’s name in his ledger. The precious bond between master and retainer was severed during that moment. “Why are you coming to Edo?”

  Because nowhere is safe from Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano. There’s no use running anymore. It’s time to face the consequences of what I’ve done and make things right with my master. “Official business,” Hirata said.

  Arai wrote the answer in his ledger and started to gesture Hirata toward a gate built across the highway, where guards eyed the travelers who passed through the open portals into town. “Wait. I just remembered. A samurai who came through yesterday asked about you. His name was-” Arai paged backward through his ledger. “Tahara.”

  Dread mounted so high and fast in Hirata that it dizzied him. Tahara was already here. Deguchi and Kitano couldn’t be far away. “Oh? What did this Tahara say?” Hirata asked, trying to sound casual, as if he didn’t know the man.