Dragon's King Palace (24 page)

Although Reiko had learned the futility of expecting the answers she wanted from him, she said, “What will happen to us?”

“That depends on the shogun. For now, you will stay here with me. We might as well enjoy this time we have together.”

He crept close behind her. His feverish warmth and odor of incense engulfed Reiko; his breaths rasped loudly. An urge to flee almost launched Reiko to her feet, but she saw Ota hovering in the doorway and the men on the veranda, all watching. The Dragon King’s fingers tangled in her hair, fumbling and stroking. Reiko felt her skin ripple with revulsion.

No man except her husband had ever touched her in such an intimate manner. She wanted no man except Sano. She would have turned on the Dragon King, grabbed for his sword, and fought him off, but if she did, Keisho-in, Lady Yanagisawa, and Midori would pay.

The Dragon King brushed her hair to one side. His hot, moist breath fanned the back of her neck, that erotic, intimate zone of the female body. His fingertips grazed her nape. Reiko went rigid with terror of ravishment—the worst injury, short of death, that a man could inflict upon a woman.

“The dragon lifts his spiny tail,” he whispered. “His majestic body swells and pulsates. Steam bursts from between his glittering scales. His flaming breath ignites passion.”

Reiko shuddered at this obscene parody of a love poem. She gagged on bile as she anticipated the agonizing ravishment, and the terrible disgrace.

“An ocean of desire envelops the princess in the underwater palace. Her ivory skin flushes scarlet. She parts her rosy coral lips. Her will drowns in his power. She must surrender.”

His moving lips touched Reiko’s ear. His hand quivered while he stroked her neck. “Surrender to me now, Anemone, my beautiful drowned princess,” he muttered. “Reward me for the justice I will bring you.”

Now Reiko comprehended with horror that he wasn’t just playing a game. He had such a tenuous grip on reality that he kept forgetting who she was and actually believing she was the woman he called Anemone. He wasn’t merely eccentric and irrational—he was insane. What sense could she hope to make of a madman’s purpose?

Indecision paralyzed Reiko. If she resisted him, her friends might lose their lives, but enduring his advances might not guarantee their survival. Must she submit to him? Should she fight instead? If she fought, would he or his men kill her?

“You’re trembling,” the Dragon King said. “You recoil from my touch. Why do you seem not to want me?”

Hurt and confusion echoed in his words. Reiko dared not move or speak. His hand continued stroking her. Then he said, “Ah,” in a glad tone of enlightenment. “My haste has offended your feminine sensibility. You would prefer that we delay our lovemaking until we become reacquainted. And your wish is my privilege to honor. Waiting will enhance our pleasure.”

The Dragon King’s hand dropped from her neck. He stood and called to his men: “Take her back to the keep.”

Such overwhelming relief swept through Reiko that her muscles went weak and a sigh gushed from her. Yet even as she silently thanked the gods, she knew the reprieve was only temporary.

The men entered the room and surrounded Reiko. The Dragon King gazed upon her, his eyes burning and face dark with lust. “Good-bye until next time, my dearest Anemone,” he said.

As the men led her away, Reiko prayed for a miracle to save her before the next time came.

18

The route to Izu branched southwest off the Tōkaidō and wound through mountainous, sparsely populated landscape. While Hirata and the detectives galloped along the road, the clouds dispersed, revealing brilliant blue sky, and the afternoon grew warm. Sunlight and shadow painted the cypress forests in vivid shades of green. Steam issued from cracks in the cliffs; hot springs bubbled across the rocky terrain; volcanoes breathed wisps of smoke. Tiny villages, clinging to hillsides, flashed past Hirata as his horse’s hooves thrummed under him. The wind roaring in his ears, the tumultuous speed, and the certainty that he was following the path to Midori, elated his spirit. Now he and Marume and Fukida brought their horses to a skittering halt at the junction between the main road and a narrower track that extended west and east into wilderness.

In the sudden quiet stillness, Hirata heard birds singing. He saw, on the west side of the road, a niche carved into a cliff. The niche held a little stone statue of Jizo, the Shinto patron god of travelers.

“There’s the shrine Goro mentioned,” said Fukida.

“The kidnappers sent away the porters because they didn’t want anyone to see where they went from here,” Marume deduced. “They carried the chests themselves, down that crossroad. Which way do you think they went?”

Eerie vibrations in the clear, bright air aroused Hirata’s instincts. He peered along the crossroad in one direction, then the other. An internal compass pointed him toward Midori. “This way,” he said, and rode ahead of his comrades down the westbound track.

The track climbed a slope, then gradually descended and leveled. Cypress, pine, and oak forest narrowed the track and darkened the sunlight. Leading his comrades in single file, Hirata spied dung and trampled leaves on the ground ahead.

“Someone recently brought horses this way,” he said. Moments later he glimpsed deep footprints in a stretch of bare, damp earth. “And someone carried a heavy object through here.” His heart beat fast with the increasing conviction that this road would take him to Midori and the other women, and that he would fulfill his duty to Sano and the shogun.

After perhaps an hour’s ride, a blaze of sunshine through the trees heralded a clearing in the forest. Hirata, Fukida, and Marume dismounted and walked from cool shadow into warm daylight, blinking as their eyes adjusted. The track extended down a short incline, where tree roots protruded through grass and soil, and ended at a dock built of planks. Beyond this spread a marsh-rimmed lake. A breeze rippled the water, which gleamed like an alloy of gold, copper, and quicksilver. In the middle of the lake, some hundred paces distant from where Hirata and his men stood at the forest’s edge, was an island. From its shore jutted another dock surrounded by three small boats. Nearby rose what appeared to be a fortress comprised of white buildings with curved tile roofs, a stone wall, and guard towers, amid woods.

Hirata, Marume, and Fukida gazed across the lake, their mouths agape and hands shading their eyes from the sun.

“A castle on an island in the middle of nowhere?” Fukida said in a tone that expressed their disbelief.

“It must be left over from the civil wars,” Marume said. “The forest and lake would protect the castle from attack.”

“And it’s perfect for a prison,” Hirata said. A smile cracked the rigid mask of misery that had overlain his face since he’d heard the news of Midori’s abduction. New strength infused him, and his cold even seemed to abate, because his search had finally paid off. “This must be where the kidnappers took Midori, Reiko, Lady Keisho-in, and Lady Yanagisawa.”

As he and his men beheld the castle, they saw no sign of the women, but a thin smoke plume drifted up from the rooftops. “The place is inhabited,” Marume said.

Out the castle gate strode four samurai, armed with swords, bows, and quivers. Hirata, Marume, and Fukida quickly hid in the forest. They watched from behind trees as the samurai divided in pairs that marched in opposite directions along the island’s shore.

“They’re patrolling,” Fukida said.

“Maybe they don’t know that the wars are over,” Marume said, “but I bet they’re guarding the castle because they’ve got the shogun’s mother in there and they don’t want anybody trespassing.”

Hirata, Fukida, and Marume looked at one another. They whooped with jubilation, threw playful punches, and danced in a circle—quietly, so the kidnappers wouldn’t hear them. Hirata rejoiced that Midori was so near.

“We have to tell the
sōsakan-sama
that we’ve found the kidnappers’ hideout,” said Marume. “Shall we head for home?”

The idea collided against a barrier of resistance within Hirata. He turned away from the detectives and gazed through the trees, toward the island. He sensed Midori’s spirit calling to him from that mysterious castle. The irresistible summons, and his overwhelming desire to stay near his wife, rooted him where he stood.

“We’re not leaving,” he said, facing Marume and Fukida.

They regarded him with surprise. Marume said, “But the
sōsakan-sama
ordered us to report our discoveries to him.”

Concern sharpened Fukida’s expression as he looked toward the castle, then back at Hirata. “You’re not thinking of going over there… are you?”

Hirata clenched and unclenched his jaw. Beset by opposing motives, he balanced his weight on one foot, then the other.

“We aren’t supposed to approach the kidnappers,” Fukida minded him.

“I know.” Hirata also knew that their duty to their master superseded all other considerations.

“You wouldn’t go against his orders?” Marume said, clearly shocked that Hirata could even think of such heresy.

A terrible, sick shame coursed through Hirata. Disobedience was the worst sin against
Bushido
. And defying Sano would not only compromise Hirata’s honor but also betray the trust of the man who was his closest friend as well as his master.

“We can’t just leave,” he said. “By the time we reach Edo, the kidnappers might have moved the women elsewhere. We might never find them again.”

Marume and Fukida nodded, acknowledging his rationale, but they exchanged troubled glances.

“If the
sōsakan-sama
knew the situation, he would change his orders,” Hirata said, convincing himself that this was so. “He’d want us to move in on the castle and attempt a rescue.”

“We can’t know what he would want. Besides, the kidnappers said in their letter to the shogun that if anyone pursues them, they’ll kill the women.” Marume’s hesitant manner conveyed reluctance to disagree with Hirata, who outranked him.

“They won’t see us coming,” Hirata said. “We’re only the three of us, not an army that would attract their notice.”

“Three of us might not be enough,” Fukida said. He picked at his fingernails—his habit when nervous—but he spoke with the conviction of a samurai who recognized his duty to voice unpleasant truths to a superior. “We don’t know how many kidnappers there are. They survived a battle against the Tokugawa troops in Lady Keisho-in’s entourage, which means they’re good fighters. Suppose we get caught on the island. If we’re killed, we can’t rescue the women, or even tell the
sōsakan-sama
where they are.”

“He’s right,” Marume said.

The two detectives stood ranged together against Hirata. “We won’t get caught,” he said. Angry at himself for defying
Bushido
, he grew angry at them for defying him. “Do you think I’m not capable of leading a successful raid?” The fact that he had his own doubts about their chances of success made him even more furious. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

“No, it’s not that,” Fukida hastened to say, although his expression belied his words.

“Don’t you want to save the women?” Hirata demanded.

“Of course we do,” Marume said. “We don’t want to slink back to Edo any more than you do.” His face, and Fukida’s, reflected the same hunger for action that burned in Hirata. “But we can’t disobey the
sōsakan-sama
.”

“Our honor is at stake,” Fukida said.

The worst thing Hirata could do to his comrades was force them to break their samurai loyalty to Sano. He hated to cause Marume and Fukida such disgrace. But he feared that unless they helped him raid the island, all was lost. Even if Lord Niu had ordered the kidnapping, and his only intention was to separate Midori from Hirata, that didn’t mean she was safe. That the violent, unpredictable
daimyo
had never killed a family member didn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t, and the kidnappers had already proved themselves murderers during the ambush. Hirata couldn’t allow a delay that could cost the lives of Midori and their child. And he didn’t believe Sano would want him to abandon Reiko or the other women to the kidnappers.

“The
sōsakan-sama
put me in charge of this mission,” Hirata said. “Aslong as we’re away from him, you must obey me. I order you to help me invade the island and rescue the women. I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens.”

Again Fukida and Marume looked at each other. Wordless communication passed between them. When they finally nodded to Hirata, he saw that they were relieved to have matters settled for them, and eager to begin the rescue expedition, if still not entirely convinced about the wisdom of it. He exhaled, feeling his own relief and gratitude.

“How are we going to get across the lake?” Marume said.

“We could swim,” Fukida said, his gaze measuring the distance over the water. “But we’ll need a way to transport the women to safety.”

“What about those boats?” Marume pointed at the far dock.

“I don’t think we should depend on them,” Hirata said. “If the worst happens and the kidnappers discover that we’re on the island before we can get the women off, they’ll guard the boats. We would all have to swim, and Midori can’t, especially in her condition.”

“I wouldn’t gamble that the other women can swim, either,” Fukida said. “We could tow them, but that would slow down our escape and give the kidnappers a chance to spot us.”

A vision of the three of them struggling to pull four women through the water, while the kidnappers fired arrows at them and chased them in the boats, momentarily quieted Hirata, Marume, and Fukida. No one speculated aloud about what hazards they might have to brave while locating the women, removing them from wherever they were imprisoned, and getting them as far as the shore.

“We need our own boat that we can hide on the island and use to carry away the women,” Hirata said, concentrating on the problem at hand. He would worry about other obstacles later. He would also postpone worrying about what Sano would think when he found out Hirata had disobeyed his orders.