The Samurai's Wife Part 28

"Here, let me help." Sano gathered up the fallen blossoms, gratified to see that he'd shaken Jokyoden's composure at last.

"Thank you," she murmured. She inserted the flowers in a new vase and placed it carefully on an altar. Then she stood and faced Sano. "So your wife told you my secret, even though she promised me her discretion? No? But of course, you are clever enough to have guessed." Jokyoden's expression was strained. "Yes, the left minister and I were once lovers."

Then Reiko had known, Sano thought; yet instead of telling him, she'd kept silent. Sano was furious at Reiko, but he welcomed the news of her duplicity, as if it somehow excused his own behavior with Kozeri.

Jokyoden said sadly, "My husband is not the most stimulating companion, and his nature requires me to perform many of his duties. My work brought me into close contact with Left Minister Konoe. He was attractive and unmarried. We had many interests in common. I was lonely. Eventually, friendship led to romance. But the romance did not last."

"Why not?" Sano said, making an effort to forget his personal problems and concentrate on Jokyoden.

"In the beginning, the left minister seemed wonderful. He praised me, brought me gifts, made me feel cherished and important. I fell in love with him. But soon he changed. He lost his temper if I disagreed with him on court policy. He pressured me to put my husband's official seal on doc.u.ments that would give him more authority. When I refused..."Jokyoden blinked, swallowed, then said, "He had other women. And he was always busy with Tomohito, talking to him, supervising his lessons, rehearsing him for ceremonies, and playing games with him, while ignoring me.

"Finally I told the left minister that I wanted to end our liaison. I expected him to object, apologize, and ask for another chance, but he just said he'd never really wanted me; he'd used me to gain more influence over the court. And he didn't need me any longer because he'd won Tomohito's confidence. His affection had been a pure sham. I was terribly hurt and made a hysterical scene."

Abruptly Lady Jokyoden knelt by a tray of covered dishes. She lifted the lids, revealing traditional Obon foods: noodles, rice cooked with lotus petals, dumplings, sweet cakes, pickled eggplant, and fruit. With extreme care, she picked up a pair of chopsticks and divided the food onto small platters made of unglazed red earthenware. Sano thought he saw tears gleam in her eyes.

"So although I once cared very much for the left minister, it would be hypocritical for me to say that I regret his death. After our romance ended, I still had to work with him as usual. His presence was a constant reminder of my own foolishness. I wanted never to see him again." Arranging noodles on a platter, she drew a tremulous breath. "His death granted my wish."

Revenge on a cruel lover was a powerful motive for murder, yet something about Jokyoden's confession bothered Sano. Convincing as it sounded, he couldn't quite imagine her falling for such a transparent scheme, and once again, she'd volunteered information too readily. Dropping the vase had seemed too melodramatic for a woman as poised as Jokyoden. Now Sano wondered whether she and Konoe ever had been lovers, or quarreled. But if not, then why lie and incriminate herself further?

Sano said, "I understand that you manage the affairs of the imperial family. You must have a remarkable talent for business."

"You're too generous. My poor efforts hardly deserve praise." An air of waiting stillness came over Jokyoden, although her hands continued filling dishes.

"So it would be humiliating to fall under the domination of someone less worthy or capable than yourself."

"Humiliation was the ultimate result of my affair with the left minister, yes." Rising, Jokyoden began setting food platters on each altar as offerings to the spirits of the dead. She gave Sano an oblique glance, as if not sure what he was getting at, but sensing a trap.

"And now, with Left Minister Konoe gone, you're free from his interference," Sano said, walking beside Jokyoden. "But how free can you really be, while the Imperial Court is ruled by the bakufu? Do you ever resent its domination?"

"Why resent a circ.u.mstance that is beyond my control?" A note of puzzlement crept into Jokyoden's voice. "That would be a waste of energy."

"Not if you thought you could change your circ.u.mstances," Sano said, handing plates of fruit to Jokyoden. "Do you ever imagine ruling j.a.pan? An entire country would offer a much wider scope for your talent than the small world of the court. Do you ever think you could govern better than the bakufu does?"

Jokyoden turned an acid glare on him and said, "Your mockery of this poor woman shows deplorable manners." Then, as she bent over an altar and set down the plates Sano had handed her, a glimmer of a smile lit her profile. "But perhaps a shift of power is overdue. In less than a century, many problems have plagued j.a.pan: famines, a bad earthquake, the flood that washed away the Sanjo Bridge and drowned hundreds of people, the Great Fire of Meireki that destroyed most of Edo, and two major fires here in Miyako. Such calamities are signs that the government is out of harmony with the cosmos. Only by transferring leadership to a worthier ruler can we avoid future disasters. Who better than a wise, capable member of the Imperial Court?"

Sano had begun to think that nothing Jokyoden said could surprise him anymore, but her declaration stunned him. She'd not only implied that she blamed the Tokugawa for j.a.pan's bad luck, but that she considered herself qualified to take over the government! Was she responsible for the restoration conspiracy? Had she quarreled with Konoe over a love affair gone bad, or because he'd discovered the plot and meant to report her to the metsuke?

Or was this another move in some bizarre game of which she alone knew the objectives?

More baffled than ever, Sano said, "Have you already taken steps toward restoring harmony to the cosmos?"

"Perhaps... perhaps not."

Either she realized she was on dangerous ground, or she sought to confuse him further. Losing patience, Sano ventured a countermove: "It might interest you to know that a certain house in the cloth dyers' district was raided yesterday."

"Why should that concern me?" Jokyoden asked.

Sano couldn't tell whether his news disturbed her, or if she knew what it meant, but the atmosphere in the chapel seethed with Jokyoden's unspoken thoughts. He said, "Would you happen to know what's become of the weapons that were in that house two days ago?"

Jokyoden set the last dish on an altar. Standing, she faced Sano with an enigmatic smile. "Weapons are not always necessary for the overthrow of a regime. The murders in the palace prove that there is a force stronger than any army. You samurai call it kiai and think that you invented it, but the power to take life by an act of will developed before the Way of the Warrior. When your ancestors were primitive tribal chieftains squabbling in the dirt, the Imperial Court had an advanced culture handed down to us by the G.o.ds. We command the magic of the universe, and within the palace walls, ancient traditions continue."

A strange intensity lit Jokyoden's narrow eyes. As she glided out through the open doors, her layered silk robes fluttered in the wind. Curious, Sano followed, not knowing what to expect. An eerie disquiet infused the air. Above the garden, clouds and smoke drifted across the sky. Tiny waves rippled the pond; irises swayed; distant thunder boomed in the hills.

Jokyoden stood perfectly still on the veranda. She closed her eyes; her lips parted.

Moments pa.s.sed. Sano waited, watching Jokyoden. Suddenly the boughs of a nearby pine tree rustled. From them dropped a small gray object, which landed on the gravel path with a soft thud. It was a squirrel with curled claws and a furry tail. For an instant the animal lay motionless. Jokyoden released her breath. The squirrel scrambled up and ran across the garden.

"Never underestimate your adversary's power, sosakan-sama," Lady Jokyoden said.

Sano stared at her. Arms folded, she gave him a triumphant smile. Thoughts jumbled in his mind. Had the force of Jokyoden's will really felled the squirrel? Nature is full of small dramas; wait long enough, and something inevitably happens. Jokyoden's performance reminded Sano of magic tricks that depend on the belief of the audience. But the palace harbored an ancient evil. Suddenly Sano was afraid of Jokyoden. If she did have the power of kiai, she'd already murdered two men. She could kill him in an instant.

Backing into the chapel, away from her, Sano said, "Well, thank you for your time." His instincts warned against staying with Jokyoden a moment longer.

He thought he saw a flicker of relief in her tranquil gaze. As with Right Minister Ichijo, he had the sense of hidden secrets. Once more he wondered whether Chamberlain Yanagisawa had been entirely frank with him.

"Honorable Lady Jokyoden, you've given me a lot of evidence against yourself," Sano said, pausing at the door. "1 could charge you with murder-and treason-on the strength of it."

She just smiled. "But you won't, will you?"

Now Sano understood that she'd accurately read his character, while hers remained a mystery to him. She knew she could play her bizarre, dangerous game with him because he wouldn't make another arrest without solid proof. He'd lost control over the interview at the start.

Exasperated, Sano burst out, "Why are you doing this? To make me think that your candor means you must be innocent? Do you want me to believe that you're guilty and you deliberately helped my wife find evidence against you? Or are you encouraging my suspicion to protect someone else?"

Jokyoden laughed; her humor further mystified Sano. "You are the detective. It is up to you to answer those questions."

27.

Alone in the chapel after the sosakan-sama left her, Lady Jokyoden resumed her preparations for Obon. As she opened a box of incense, her hands began to shake, and she had to set down the box so it wouldn't spill. The tremors spread through her whole body. Her vision darkened around the edges; the room spun in dizzying rhythm. She knelt, buried her face in her trembling hands, and succ.u.mbed to the delayed reaction to Sano's visit.

Jokyoden had known Sano would come to question her regarding the second murder, and she'd employed against him a strategy designed to risk some dangers and avert more serious ones. She'd thought she knew how far she could lead him and still avoid harm, but some of his questions had caught her badly unprepared. Now aware of perils whose existence she'd never suspected, she feared she would regret what she'd told Sano.

Forcing herself to breathe deeply, Jokyoden willed anxiety away. At last the tremors and faintness subsided, but she desperately needed advice on how to prevent the destruction of her son, herself, and the entire court. Jokyoden rose and walked to the main altar, took one of the candles that burned before the Buddha statue, then knelt at an alcove in the corner and placed the candle in a stand on the table there. She opened the door of the butsudan. The little cabinet, made of teak that had darkened with age, contained a wooden tablet bearing characters that read, "Wu Tse-tien."

Wu Tse-tien, who had lived in China almost a millennium before, wasn't an ancestor of the imperial family. However, the women of Jokyoden's clan worshipped her as a patron deity. At age fourteen she'd become a concubine to Emperor T'ai-tsung of the Tang dynasty. When he died, Wu Tse-tien had won the affection of T'ai-tsung's son and heir, Emperor Kao-tsung. He was a weak, lazy fool, she intelligent and ambitious. Empress Wu Tse-tien became the only woman ever to rule China, in defiance of the Confucian code that prohibited female leaders.

Her example offered great inspiration to women who shared Wu Tse-tien's nature.

Staring at the wavering candle flame, Jokyoden concentrated on the hazy brightness that spread across her vision. Soon an image began to form there. First appeared the silhouette of a human head and shoulders; then swirling colors coalesced. It was Empress Wu Tse-tien. Her black hair, piled in a high, elaborate coif, sparkled with jeweled combs. Embroidered gold dragons snarled on her red silk robe. Scarlet rouge and lip paint enhanced the beauty that had seduced two emperors. Wu Tse-tien regarded Jokyoden through sharp, shrewd eyes. Her mouth moved; her voice resounded in Jokyoden's mind: Greetings, my sister. The spirit of Wu Tse-tien spoke in Chinese, but Jokyoden understood every word. Why have you summoned me?

"I need your help," Jokyoden said.

Wu Tse-tien's image had appeared as a girl during Jokyoden's childhood and gotten older through years of visitations. Now the Chinese empress looked to be Jokyoden's own age of thirty-nine. Wu Tse-tien was her closest friend and confidante, as if they'd grown up together, although Wu Tse-tien possessed the wisdom of a lifetime. When Jokyoden described her meeting with Sano, Wu Tse-tien frowned.

It was foolish to provoke him that way. A woman in our position should polish her image until it shines like the sun, not tarnish it by throwing mud upon herself. Instead of compromising your own reputation, you must build it up.

This was exactly what Wu Tse-tien had done. She'd hired Buddhist priests to forge "ancient" doc.u.ments that prophesied the coming of a great female ruler, the reincarnation of a bodhisattva. Then they'd declared Wu Tse-tien to be this ruler, legitimizing her controversial reign. But Jokyoden had troubles propaganda couldn't resolve.

"I had to do it," she said, then explained why she'd practically confessed her guilt to Sano.

Wu Tse-tien nodded. A daring but sensible strategy, she conceded. Your son is key to your success, as my sons were to mine. After Emperor Kao-tsung's death, Wu Tse-tien had placed two of her sons, one after the other, on the throne as her puppets and founded her own Chou dynasty. Emperor Tomohito is a logical focus for the detective's suspicion. To shield him is to shield yourself.

"But I dread what could happen if the sosakan-sama investigates me," Jokyoden said. "There are things I cannot have him discover."

Yes... Wu Tse-tien's expression was fond, though stern. However, you knew the risks when you started on your forbidden path. Now you must prepare to face the consequences, whatever they may be. To labor and fight, then ultimately triumph, is your destiny.

The pursuit of destiny had dominated Jokyoden's life as it had Wu Tse-tien's. She'd been born into the Takatsukasa branch of the Fujiwara clan, from which came many imperial consorts. Other kuge families considered their daughters mere p.a.w.ns for improving their status at court and breeding future emperors, but the Takatsukasa had followed a different tradition. For generations they'd schooled their daughters in reading, mathematics, writing, music, Confucian philosophy, military strategy, astrology, ancient mysticism, and the art of politics-everything an emperor needed to know. Once they'd wanted more than just control over an emperor who shared their blood. They'd sought to oust the current imperial family and found their own court, and they planned to achieve this through a woman who could follow Wu Tse-tien's example.

Fate had thwarted Takatsukasa ambitions, however. Many of the daughters weren't smart or strong enough. Better prospects often lacked the beauty to attract emperors. When the warrior clans had taken over the country five hundred years ago, the Imperial Court lost power, and the Takatsukasa lost hope of founding a dynasty that would rule j.a.pan. Long before Tokugawa domination further diminished the possibility of the court's return to power, the Takatsukasa leaders abandoned as a waste of time the program of training future empresses.

Still, women are often keepers of faith. Jokyoden's female kin continued to pa.s.s on to their daughters the lessons on gaining power. When Jokyoden came along, they rejoiced: Here was the right combination of intelligence, will, and beauty for j.a.pan's first reigning empress. Jokyoden remembered long days of studying, harsh discipline. The lessons infused challenge and excitement into a world that lacked both. From an early age she believed in the destiny predicted for her, and at first her life seemed a direct path toward it, with Wu Tse-tien her guide.

Eliminate the compet.i.tion for the emperor's favor, Wu Tse-tien had told her.

As a new concubine, Jokyoden had identified her chief rival among the other court ladies: her cousin Myobu. A lovely, strong-willed girl, Myobu had been trained in the same manner as Jokyoden and instilled with the same ambitions. They were the emperor's two favorites.

The court is like a beehive with two queens, said Wu Tse-tien. The most ruthless fighter will be the victor.

Wu Tse-tien had eliminated all her own rivals, including Emperor Kao-tsung's mother, whom she'd ordered drowned in a wine vat. To clear the way for her new dynasty, she'd executed several hundred aristocrats and members of the old Tang imperial family. She'd even murdered her own infant daughter, whom she feared might supplant her as empress and fall under the influence of her opponents before Wu Tse-tien could bear a son and secure her position. Now came Jokyoden's turn to show how well she'd learned by example.

One day the palace ladies made a pilgrimage to a mountain temple. Before they left home, Jokyoden sent a note to Myobu, saying she had something private to discuss and asking Myobu to meet her in a secluded pavilion on a cliff above the temple. When Myobu came, Jokyoden was waiting for her. One push, and Myobu fell to her death. Later Jokyoden claimed that Myobu had tried to push her over the cliff, and she'd acted in self-defense. With no witnesses, everyone believed Jokyoden. She became the emperor's official consort.

Use his laziness to your advantage, Wu Tse-tien advised.

Lady Jokyoden gradually took over the emperor's duties. Soon she gave birth to Crown Prince Tomohito.

Before you take the next step, make sure he will live, said Wu Tse-tien. The mother of a dead emperor is nothing.

Jokyoden waited twelve years. Prince Tomohito flourished. She convinced the emperor to abdicate and turn the throne over to their son. The sacred mirror, jewel, and sword of imperial sovereignty pa.s.sed to Tomohito. Jokyoden advanced to the highest rank for a court lady. With Tomohito still a child, she could mold him into a tool to serve her ambitions. However, a serious obstacle blocked her progress.

Through the years, she'd grown aware of the court's diminished circ.u.mstances, its nonexistent influence over the world outside. Tokugawa troops guarded the palace. The bakufu doled out meager sums of money that kept the court alive but dependent. The imperial family had millions of devoted subjects, but no army. Jokyoden had eventually awakened to the fact that she had reached the pinnacle of her world, but there seemed no way to expand her domain. Would all her education, all her scheming, result in nothing more than command over the petty affairs of a few individuals?

Disappointment is the mother of creativity, Wu Tse-tien had counseled. Rea.s.sess your objectives. Circ.u.mvent the problem.

At last Jokyoden found a new direction for her life. It was daring, unwomanly, and violated both tradition and law. She loved it. But unfortunately, her new venture coincided with another circ.u.mstance: Left Minister Konoe's appearance as her suitor.

Never allow yourself to fall under the power of a man! Wu Tse-tien warned. Men are a woman's downfall!

But the left minister had awakened needs that Jokyoden had suppressed in pursuit of her dreams. He made her realize how much she craved affection; his lovemaking taught her that s.e.x had other benefits besides procreation. She'd fallen in love with him. Carried away by romance, she had confided in him, and he had betrayed her.

"You were right," Jokyoden said now to Wu Tse-tien. "I never should have trusted the left minister."

Never waste time on regretting the past, Wu Tse-tien said sternly. Her eyes, the ornaments in her hair, and the dragons on her robe glittered in the flame that surrounded her. Concentrate on the present and the future. Hasn't the death of the left minister solved your problem?

Once Jokyoden had believed that Konoe's murder had saved her from exposure, scandal, and punishment while protecting her great venture. Then Sano had revived the danger. "I thought Konoe had died before he could use the power he held over me, but he was involved in things I never guessed. The sosakan-sama survived the attack, and his investigation continues. I didn't antic.i.p.ate the direction it would take, or the stakes involved." She added regretfully, "I was a fool to help Lady Reiko, but I could not have guessed what would come of taking her to the left minister's secret house."

That was a grave mistake, said Wu Tse-tien. Now there is only one way to protect yourself and your son. You must cease your activities so that the shogun's detective will not discover them. Until he is gone from Miyako, you must have patience.

Wu Tse-tien had shown Jokyoden the value of patience. The Chinese empress had waited forty-one years to found her new dynasty, until Emperor Kao-tsung and her strongest opponents were dead. She'd acc.u.mulated power over a lifetime, gradually replacing the old bureaucracy with men loyal to her. Yet Jokyoden couldn't accept Wu Tse-tien's advice.

"I can't stop now," she said. "This is a critical time. I've invested all my effort and capital and hope in this venture. Unless I move forward, I risk utter failure."

Bitterness hardened Wu Tse-tien's expression, because she had suffered defeat in the end. At eighty-three, she'd been forced to abdicate by one of her sons, who dissolved her regime and reestablished the old Tang dynasty. This was the one example from her mentor's life that Jokyoden must not emulate.

"I shall continue as I began," decided Jokyoden. Then she asked humbly, "May I have your blessing?"

My blessing, yes: my approval, no, Wu Tse-tien said peevishly. Even from the grave she liked to be in control.

"May I ask what the future holds for me?"

The Chinese empress spread her hands in a mocking gesture of resignation. Yours is a perilous path, which you have chosen to walk without my guidance. The future is uncertain; good and evil are equally possible. I wish you luck, because you are on your own now. Good-bye until we meet again in the afterlife.

"Wait," Jokyoden cried. But Wu Tse-tien's image vanished; the candle had burned out. Jokyoden sadly closed the butsudan. The world had changed since Wu Tse-tien's day. Jokyoden must go where Wu Tse-tien couldn't guide her. It was her destiny.

She prayed that her destiny would not lead to execution for murder and treason.

28.

The news came just as Chamberlain Yanagisawa was preparing to attend Yoriki Hoshina's execution.

Hearing a knock at the door of his private quarters at Nijo Castle, Yanagisawa called, "Come in."

The guard captain entered, bowing. "Excuse me, Honorable Chamberlain, but there's a problem that I must bring to your attention. Yoriki Hoshina is gone."

A wave of shock hit Yanagisawa; his heart began to hammer. "What do you mean, gone? Hoshina was locked up at police headquarters. He's supposed to die this morning."

"The sosakan-sama had Hoshina moved last night," the guard captain said. "Two doshin took him to a secret hiding place. They were ordered to guard him, but they're both subordinates and friends of his, and he persuaded them to let him go."

"Why hasn't he been caught?"

"There are troops out looking for him now, but he made the doshin promise to wait until sunrise before reporting his escape. So he's got a head start on us."

Yanagisawa turned away, trying to sort out his emotions. Hoshina's flight enraged him. With his knowledge of Yanagisawa's sabotage against an investigation ordered by the shogun, Hoshina alive and free was a lethal danger. Yet even in the throes of anger and fear, Yanagisawa felt relief. If Hoshina got away, he need not die. Perhaps they would meet again someday. But Yanagisawa wanted Hoshina back now, even if only to see him one last time on the execution ground.

Turning on the guard captain, Yanagisawa said, "I want those doshin executed for dereliction of duty!"

"They're already dead," said the captain. "They just walked into the shoshidai's office, confessed that they'd set Hoshina free, then committed seppuku."