The Concubine's Tattoo Read online

  “Bamboo-ash tea, to soothe your stomach.”

  “You. Come here!” Beckoning a servant, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi commanded, “Taste this, and, ahh, make sure there’s no poison.”

  “But I prepared it with my own hands,” Dr. Kitano said. “It’s perfectly safe.”

  “With a poisoner loose in Edo Castle, one cannot be too careful,” the shogun said darkly.

  The servant drank. When he remained alive and well after several moments, the shogun finished the tea. Attendants ushered in the masseur, a bald, blind man. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi pointed at the jar of oil the masseur carried. “Try that out on, ahh, someone else first.”

  A guard smeared the oil on his arm. More guards brought caged birds to detect noxious fumes; servants tasted cakes for the shogun. He obviously didn’t care about Lady Harume. It was his own vulnerability that worried him, with good reason: Assassination was a time-honored method by which ambitious warriors overturned regimes and seized power.

  “The poison that killed Lady Harume was in a bottle of ink marked with her name,” Sano said. “She was clearly the murderer’s target—not you, Your Excellency.”

  “That makes no, ahh, difference.” The shogun grunted as his attendants stripped off his robe, exposing sagging white flesh. A loincloth covered his sex and cleaved the withered buttocks. Lying facedown, he said, “The poisoning was an indirect attack on me. The murderer will not stop at killing a worthless concubine. I am in, ahh, grave danger.”

  The masseur’s hands kneaded his back. Servants fed him cakes and tea, while guards placed the birdcages around the room. Sano didn’t agree with Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s self-centered view of the murder, but at this stage could not completely dismiss the shogun’s fears. Political intrigue was a possible motive behind the crime. Sano gave the results of his interview with Lady Keisho-in and Madam Chizuru and outlined his plans to question Lady Ichiteru and Lieutenant Kushida. He mentioned that Lady Harume’s pillow book indicated an additional suspect, whose identity he would determine.

  An abrupt stillness fell over the room. Servants and guards ceased their activities; the masseur’s hands froze on Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s body. Hirata inhaled sharply. Sano’s nape prickled in response to the same inaudible signal that had alerted the others. He turned toward the door.

  There stood Chamberlain Yanagisawa, regal in brilliant robes, an enigmatic smile on his handsome face. Servants, guards, attendants, and masseur prostrated themselves in obeisance. Behind Sano’s calm façade, his heart seized. Yanagisawa must have been listening next door, and come to obstruct this investigation as he had others.

  “Ahh, Yanagisawa-san. Welcome.” Tokugawa Tsuna-yoshi smiled affectionately at his former protégé and longtime lover. “Sōsakan Sano has just reported on his inquiry into Lady Harume’s murder. We would appreciate your advice.”

  Viewing Sano as a rival for Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s favor, for power over the weak lord and thus the entire nation, Chamberlain Yanagisawa had in the recent past deployed assassins to kill Sano and spies to unearth information to use against him. Yanagisawa had spread vicious rumors about Sano and ordered officials not to cooperate with his inquiries. He’d sent Sano to Nagasaki, hoping he would get in enough trouble there to destroy him forever. And Sano knew that Chamberlain Yanagisawa was furious because the ploy hadn’t worked.

  Upon Sano’s return, the shogun and many high officials had gathered at the palace to welcome him. As he passed down the receiving line, Chamberlain Yanagisawa had flashed him a look that evoked images of spears, guns, and swords, all aimed straight at him.

  Now Sano braced himself for a new attack while Yanagisawa crossed the room and knelt beside him. He felt Hirata stiffen, alert to the threat. His trained senses absorbed the chamberlain’s scent of wintergreen hair oil, tobacco smoke, and the distinctive, bitter undertone of corruption.

  “It seems as though Sōsakan Sano has matters admirably under control,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said.

  Sano waited for the jabs at his character, thinly disguised as praise; ridicule masquerading as solicitude; hints at his negligence or disloyalty—all designed to manipulate the shogun into doubting Sano, while saying nothing he could openly refute. Neither by word nor gesture had Sano ever indicated a desire to steal Yanagisawa’s power. Why couldn’t they coexist peacefully? Anger shot fire through Sano’s blood, preparing him for a battle he always lost.

  However, Yanagisawa smiled at Sano, enhancing his masculine beauty. “If there’s any way in which I can be of assistance, please let me know. We must cooperate to eliminate the potential threat to His Excellency.”

  Sano regarded the chamberlain with suspicion. Yet he saw no malice in Yanagisawa’s dark, liquid gaze, only an apparently genuine friendliness.

  “Ahh, that is what I like to see—my best men working together for my benefit,” the shogun declared, flopping over so the masseur could work on his chest. “Especially since I was beginning to get the idea that you two did not, ahh, get along. How silly of me.” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi chuckled.

  Throughout Yanagisawa’s war on Sano, their lord had remained blithely oblivious. Yanagisawa didn’t want his quest for power exposed. For Sano to speak against the shogun’s chief representative was tantamount to speaking against the shogun himself: treason, the ultimate disgrace, punishable by death. Now Sano wondered what new strategy Yanagisawa had devised for his ruin.

  “I am glad for your protection,” the shogun continued, “because the murder of Lady Harume signals a dire threat to my whole, ahh, regime. By killing one of my favorite concubines, someone wants to ensure that I never beget an heir, thereby leaving the succession uncertain and allowing the opportunity for a rebellion.”

  Chamberlain Yanagisawa said, “That’s a very insightful interpretation of the crime.”

  The shogun beamed, flattered by the praise. When Yanagisawa exchanged with Sano a veiled glance of mutual surprise at their lord’s unexpected perspicacity, Sano’s suspicion grew. This was the first time any hint of comradeship had arisen between them. Hope rose in Sano despite their troubled history. Could the chamberlain have changed?

  “I have been continually thwarted in my, ahh, quest for a son,” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi lamented. “My wife is a barren invalid. Two hundred concubines have failed to produce any children either. Priests chant prayers night and day; I’ve given a fortune in offerings to the gods. On my honorable mother’s advice, I issued the Dog Protection Edicts.”

  Priest Ryuko had convinced Lady Keisho-in that in order for the shogun to father a son, he must atone for the sins of his ancestors. Since he’d been born in the year of the dog, he must do this by protecting dogs. Now any person who injured one was imprisoned; anyone who killed a dog was executed. The situation illustrated Ryuko’s influence over Keisho-in, and hers over the shogun, both of which had strengthened despite his continued failure to beget an heir.

  “But all my efforts have been fruitless.” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s head lolled as the masseur kneaded his shoulders. “Perhaps the concubines are all as inadequate as my wife, or my ancestors’ sins were too great for me to, ahh, overcome.”

  Sano privately thought that the trouble was neither the women nor ancestral misdeeds, but Tsunayoshi’s preference for manly love. He kept a harem of young peasant boys, samurai, priests, and actors with whom he spent much of his leisure time. Was he even capable of impregnating the concubines? However, since it wasn’t Sano’s place to contradict his lord, he remained silent, as did Yanagisawa.

  A cold touch of foreboding disturbed Sano as he saw how Yanagisawa stood to gain by the shogun’s lack of a successor. Without one, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi couldn’t retire; control of the bakufu couldn’t pass from the chamberlain to a new regime. Had Yanagisawa ordered Lady Harume’s murder to extend the duration of his supremacy? Was this the reason for whatever scheme he was now deploying? Remembering the Bundori Murder case, in which Yanagisawa had been a suspect, Sano dreaded a repeat of the scenario that had almost cost him his l
ife and honor. How he longed to believe Yanagisawa had reformed!

  “My past troubles with begetting an heir can be attributed to fate,” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi whined. “But the poisoning of Lady Harume was an act of human evil—an intolerable outrage! She was young, strong, and healthy; I had great hopes that she would succeed where my other women had, ahh, let me down. Sōsakan Sano, you must catch her murderer quickly and deliver him to justice.”

  “Yes, you must,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said. “Rumors of conspiracies are circulating around the castle. There will be serious trouble if the murder case isn’t resolved soon.”

  Here it comes, thought Sano, wincing inwardly as he prepared to combat another of Yanagisawa’s attempts to make him look incompetent. Then the chamberlain turned to him and said, “My suggestion is to trace the route of the ink jar from its origin to Lady Harume, and determine when and where the poison was introduced.”

  This logical strategy had already occurred to Sano, who watched his enemy in growing amazement as Yanagisawa continued, “If you need help, I shall be glad to make my staff available to you.”

  Even more suspicious, Sano replied, “Thank you, Honorable Chamberlain. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

  Yanagisawa rose and bowed his farewells to the shogun, then to Sano and Hirata, who also took their leave. “Spare no effort or expense in catching Lady Harume’s murderer,” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi commanded between grunts and gasps as the masseur pummeled his chest. “I am counting on you to save me and my regime from destruction!”

  Outside the palace, Hirata said, “Why is Chamberlain Yanagisawa acting so nice? He must be up to something. You’re not going to accept his help, are you?”

  Sano winced at his blunt-spoken retainer’s mention of a sensitive issue. Caution and wishful thinking pulled him in opposite directions. He knew Yanagisawa, and didn’t trust him. Yet how much easier his work would be with the chamberlain’s cooperation!

  “Maybe he’s decided to call a truce,” Sano said as they walked through the garden.

  “Sumimasen—excuse me, but I can’t believe that!”

  Caution won out. Sano said, “Nor can I. I’ll send out spies to check up on him. Now, in the interest of saving time, we’d better split up to interview Lieutenant Kushida and Lady Ichiteru. Which one do you want?”

  Hirata’s expression turned pensive. “My great-grandfather and Kushida’s fought in the Battle of Sekigahara together. Our families still visit on New Year’s Day. I’m not close to Kushida—he’s fourteen years older than I am—but I’ve known him as long as I can remember.”

  “Then you’d better take Lady Ichiteru,” Sano said, “so your lack of objectivity won’t affect the investigation.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Hirata nodded.

  “Is everything all right?” Sano asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Hirata said quickly. “I’ll speak to Lady Ichiteru right away.”

  Sano dismissed his misgivings. Hirata had never let him down before. “One of Ichiteru’s attendants is a girl named Midori,” Sano said. “I know her from my first murder case.”

  Midori, a daughter of Lord Niu of Satsuma Province, had helped Sano identify her sister’s killer, an act that had resulted in her banishment to a distant nunnery. Sano had used his influence to bring her back to Edo and secured her a post as an Edo Castle lady-in-waiting, a desirable situation for girls from prominent families. He hadn’t seen Midori again, but she’d sent a letter expressing the desire to repay his kindness.

  After explaining this to Hirata, Sano said, “Be sure to talk to Midori, and tell her you’re working for me. Perhaps she can provide some useful information about affairs in the Large Interior.”

  They separated, Hirata bound for the women’s quarters to see Lady Ichiteru and Midori, and Sano to locate Lieutenant Kushida, the palace guard who had threatened to kill Lady Harume.

  9

  Sano rode his horse through the narrow streets of the Nihonbashi merchant district, past commoners’ houses and open storefronts that sold sake, oil, pottery, soy sauce, and other products. Merchants haggled with customers. Laborers, craftsmen, and housewives thronged lanes patrolled by troops. Sano crossed a bridge that led over a willow-edged canal to a greengrocer’s shop, a stationer’s store, and several food stalls. Pedestrians called friendly greetings to him: by a not entirely surprising happenstance, his quest for Lieutenant Kushida had led him to his own home territory.

  When he’d questioned the palace guard commander regarding Kushida’s whereabouts, the man had said, “Lieutenant Kushida has been reinstated to his post, but he doesn’t go back on duty until tomorrow. However, I’ve heard that since he was suspended, he’s been hanging around the Sano Martial Arts Academy.”

  This was the school founded by Sano’s deceased father. Sano had once taught there and had planned to run it after his father’s retirement, but when he’d joined the police force, his father had turned the academy over to an apprentice. Yet Sano had never lost his love for the place where he’d learned the art of swordsmanship. His mother, who didn’t want to move to Edo Castle, still lived in quarters behind the school. Upon Sano’s promotion to the post of Sōsakan-sama, he’d spent some of his large stipend on improving the academy. Now, as he dismounted outside the long, low building, he proudly surveyed the results.

  The leaky, sagging tile roof had been replaced, and the façade given a coat of fresh white plaster. A new, larger sign announced the academy’s name. The space had also expanded to fill two adjacent houses. Sano entered. Inside, rows of samurai dressed in white cotton uniforms wielded wooden practice swords, staffs, and spears in simulated combat. Shouts and stamps echoed in a thunderous cacophony, the background noise of Sano’s childhood. The familiar reek of sweat and hair oil permeated the air. However, the enrollment had increased from a handful of students to over three hundred, and the teaching staff from one to twenty.

  “Sano-saw! Welcome!” Toward Sano walked Aoki Koemon, once his childhood playmate and his father’s apprentice, now proprietor and chief sensei. He bowed, then shouted to the class: “Attention! Our patron is here!”

  Combat ceased. In perfect silence, everyone bowed to Sano, who was embarrassed yet gratified. His own reputation had enhanced the academy’s status. Once only ronin and low-class retainers of minor clans had studied here. Now Tokugawa vassals and samurai from the great daimyo families came, hoping to curry favor with Sano and acquire his famous fighting skills in the classes he sometimes taught.

  “Continue as you were,” Sano ordered, sad that his rank set him above the place of his childhood, yet pleased to honor his father’s spirit by sharing his success with the academy.

  Activity and noise resumed. “What brings you here today?” said Koemon, a stocky, pleasant-faced man.

  “I’m looking for Kushida Matsutatsu.”

  Koemon pointed toward the back of the room, where a group of students was taking a lesson in naginatajutsu—the art of the spear—from a short, thin samurai. His bamboo practice weapon had a narrow, curved wooden blade padded with cotton. “That’s Kushida,” Koemon said. “He’s one of our best students, and often acts as instructor.”

  As Sano moved closer to watch, Lieutenant Kushida demonstrated strokes to the class. He appeared about thirty-five years of age, and wore ordinary white practice clothes. His face was creased like a monkey’s, with glowering eyes beneath a low forehead. A jutting jaw, long arms and torso, and short legs increased his simian appearance. He seemed an incongruous suitor for a beautiful young woman like Lady Harume.

  Kushida arranged his twelve students in two parallel lines. Then he crouched, spear held in both hands. “Attack!” he shouted.

  With blood-curdling yells, the students rushed him, spears outthrust. Originally used by warrior monks, the naginata had been adopted some five hundred years ago by military clans such as the Minamoto. Spearmen had scattered armies during Japan’s civil wars; until Tokugawa law restricted dueling, bands of enthusiasts h
ad roamed the land, training with different masters and challenging rivals. Now, as Lieutenant Kushida sprang into action, Sano gained a new appreciation for the power of the naginata and a respect for this man who wielded it.

  In a dizzyingly fast circular dance, Kushida whirled amid his attackers, his spear carving the air. He used every part of his weapon, parrying blows with the haft, slicing opponents with the padded blade, jabbing the blunt end into chests and stomachs. As bodies thudded to the floor around him, Kushida seemed to gain stature; his monkey face acquired a blazing ferocity. The students cried out in pain. But Kushida continued fighting, as if for his life. Sano glimpsed in Kushida the type of samurai who kept his emotions under tight control and found release at times like this. By now he must know about Lady Harume’s death. Was this brutality his way of showing grief? Or the expression of murderous tendencies that had led him to kill her?

  Within moments, every student lay defeated, groaning and rubbing their bruises. “Weaklings! Lazy oafs!” Kushida berated them. He was breathing hard; sweat dripped off his shaved crown. “If this had been a real battle, you would all be dead now. You must practice harder.”

  Then he caught sight of Sano. His body tensed and he raised his spear, as though preparing for another battle. Glowering, he said, “Sōsakan-sama. It didn’t take you long to find me, did it?” His normal speaking voice was quiet and tight. “Who told you about me? That cow, Madam Chizuru?”

  “If you know why I’m here, then wouldn’t you rather go outside where we can talk in privacy?” Sano said with a pointed glance at the curious students.

  Shrugging, Kushida stalked to the door. He moved with a taut, wiry grace; the muscles in his thin arms and legs were like steel cords. From a wooden bucket he dipped a cup of water. Sano followed him onto the veranda, where they sat. A continuous parade of peasants and mounted samurai filled the street.

  “Tell me what happened between you and Lady Harume,” Sano said.