The Iris Fan (36 page)

But if the message hadn’t gotten through, if Manabe didn’t come, there went Sano’s chance to get to the bottom of the attack on the shogun, Lord Ienobu’s secrets, and Hirata’s business, and prevent the war. Moments passed slowly. Sano and Marume tensed at the sound of trotting hooves. They stepped out of the gate to see Manabe, clad in full armor, ride up the street. Manabe reined in his horse and leaned back in the saddle.

“It was you who sent that note.” Manabe seemed less surprised to learn it was a trick than angered and puzzled by the fact that Sano was behind it. “What the hell do you want?”

“Just a chat about Lord Ienobu’s meeting with the Dutch four years ago.”

Manabe kept his face expressionless, but his horse skittered, sensing its rider’s unease. Now Sano knew he was right—something illicit, and serious, had happened at that meeting. Manabe chuckled. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you two came after me?” He put his fingers to his lips and whistled, a loud, shrill sound. Nothing happened. The smugness on his face turned to consternation.

Sano pointed behind Manabe. Manabe turned to see Yoshisato walk up the street with his two gangsters. Each man dragged an inert human body. “Look who we found sneaking around,” Yoshisato called. He and the gangsters dumped the bodies in front of Manabe.

The bodies were Setsubara, Ono, and Kuzawa. Manabe jumped off his mount, crouched by his friends, shook them, and shouted their names. They lay motionless. Blood from fatal wounds on their heads oozed onto the muddy snow.

“They helped you kidnap me,” Yoshisato said. “I had fun getting reacquainted.”

“The note said to come alone,” Sano said. “You should have.”

Manabe stood up, his eyes hot with fury, and reached for his sword. Sano, Marume, and Yoshisato drew theirs, and the gangsters their daggers and spiked clubs. Marume said, “Five against one. Are you that stupid?”

“Drop your weapon,” Sano said.

Manabe realized he was beaten, yanked both swords from his waist, and threw them on the ground. “I should have known.” He shook his head, disgusted with himself. “There’s no traitor in Lord Ienobu’s camp. This is just you and Yoshisato getting revenge.”

“You’re wrong,” Sano said. “There is a traitor. It’s you.”

*   *   *

“WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN
Lord Ienobu and the Dutch?” Sano asked.

He and Marume, Yoshisato, and the gangsters surrounded Manabe in the cellar where Yanagisawa had hidden Madam Chizuru’s granddaughter. Manabe knelt, naked except for his loincloth, in front of a wooden post that supported the low ceiling, his wrists and ankles tied behind him around the post. The air was cold and dank, fetid from the wet filth in the corner where the girl had relieved herself. Sano had never wanted to set foot again in this place of suffering. He wouldn’t have brought Manabe here if he’d had an alternative.

“I won’t tell you anything,” Manabe said.

“Yes, you will. It’s only a matter of time.” Not much time, Sano hoped. When the two hours were up, Yanagisawa would attack Edo Castle. If Sano wasn’t back yet, he would be left behind, unable to go after Lord Ienobu or return to the Mori estate to protect Reiko and Akiko. “You might as well talk now and spare yourself some pain.”

Manabe glared. “I thought you didn’t approve of torture.”

Sano glanced at Yoshisato and the gangsters; their robes were stained with blood. “I’m outnumbered.”

“Do your worst. I’ll never betray Lord Ienobu.” Tethered and shivering, Manabe said, “You might as well kill me now.”

Sano mentally crossed the line he’d never thought he would cross. His heart shrank to a chip of ice. He nodded to the gangsters. One struck Manabe on the ribs with his spiked club. Manabe jerked and swallowed a yell as bone cracked.

“What happened at the meeting?” Sano said.

“Rot in hell,” Manabe whispered between clenched teeth; his eyes leaked tears.

The other gangster thumped his club against Manabe’s crotch. Sano’s own genitals contracted. A squeal like a pig burst from Manabe. His body strained forward to curl over his injured testicles. The ropes binding him held up upright. He vomited violently.

“Had enough?” Marume asked.

His big face was pale in the light from the lantern hung on the wall. Sano felt ready to be sick himself. Yoshisato and the gangsters acted as if this were all in a dull day’s work for them. Retching and wheezing, Manabe shook his bowed head. One of the gangsters brandished a rusty cleaver while his comrade untied Manabe’s wrists and held his right hand against a chopping block. Manabe gasped at the sight of his hand laid out like meat to be butchered. Terror shone in his eyes. For a samurai proud of his swordsmanship, an injury to his primary hand was disastrous.

Yoshisato held up the little finger of his own right hand. Sano balled his hands into fists and swallowed a protest. The gangster brought down the cleaver. Manabe roared as the blade whacked and blood poured from severed flesh and bone. The finger sat on the block, a dead relic. Sano’s gorge rose. He’d inflicted worse injuries before, but always in defense of himself or someone else, not in a deliberate effort to cause pain.

“Give up,” Marume said, “or they’ll keep cutting off your fingers until you won’t be able to wipe your behind, let alone pick up a sword again.” But he, too, looked repulsed.

“All right, I’ll talk!” Manabe wept with pain, shame, and relief. “Just stop!”

The victory didn’t taste as rotten as Sano had expected. He had the strange sense that Manabe had intended to confess all along. That was why he’d surrendered after his friends were killed—not because he was outnumbered, but because he wanted to talk. He’d held out longer than most men could, in order that no one could fault him for caving in. Sano wondered why, but he needed other questions answered first.

“Tell me what happened at the meeting,” he said as the gangsters bandaged Manabe’s hand.

“Lord Ienobu made a secret deal with the Dutch,” Manabe said between gasps.

“What was the deal?” Sano asked.

“Lord Ienobu agreed that when he became shogun, he would let the Dutch trade all over Japan and sell whatever they wanted and move about as they pleased instead of being confined to Deshima. They would even be able to settle here if they chose.”

Sano was shocked. “Lord Ienobu means to overturn the isolation policy?”

The isolation policy had been instituted about seventy years ago, after the most serious bloodshed in the history of the Tokugawa regime. On the Shimabara Peninsula near Nagasaki, thirty-seven thousand Christian peasants, joined by many
r
ō
nin
, had rebelled against corrupt local government and bad economic conditions. It had taken three months and a hundred thousand troops to put down the rebellion. Almost all the rebels, and thousands of troops, had been killed. The regime had purged the country of the evils they blamed for the rebellion—Christianity and the barbarians who’d brought it to Japan. Japanese were forbidden to go abroad, on penalty of death. These measures prevented the current shogun’s worst nightmare—that the powerful
daimyo
clans would collude with the barbarians to overthrow the Tokugawa regime. And now Lord Ienobu meant to reopen the door to the outside world.

“What was Lord Ienobu getting in exchange?” Sano asked.

“A fleet of battleships with modern weapons, and experts to teach our navy how to operate them.”

“What for? Did Lord Ienobu want them to keep his enemies under control?” The Tokugawa army and navy, with their ships and weapons, seemed adequate to Sano.

“No.” A spark of amused condescension lit Manabe’s teary eyes. “Lord Ienobu is planning to conquer the world.”

Sano was angry because he thought Manabe was joking. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

Marume laughed in disgust. “Not even Lord Ienobu is that grandiose.”

“Cut off another finger,” Yoshisato said. “That will make him tell the truth.”

“It is the truth!” Manabe cradled his maimed hand and talked fast. “Lord Ienobu is going to start by invading Korea, taking it over, then moving on to China. He’s ordered a hundred thousand guns from the gun makers. He’s stockpiled lumber and stone in Kyushu, to build a new naval base for the troops and ships that will cross the Tsushima Strait to Korea. The ground’s already been surveyed and the plans drawn up. The morning after the shogun was stabbed, he ordered me to send two messages—one to Kyushu, telling the engineers to start building the base, the other to Nagasaki to alert the Dutch that he’ll be shogun soon and they should send him the battleships.”

This plethora of details took the wind out of all protest. Convinced, stunned, and dumbfounded, Sano, Marume, and Yoshisato stared at one another. Then Sano said, “Doesn’t Lord Ienobu know that’s been tried before?”

“Oh, yes.” Manabe grinned with morose pleasure at their reaction. “General Toyotomi Hideyoshi, about a hundred years ago.”

Hideyoshi was a famous warrior of the civil war era. Born a peasant, he’d started as a foot soldier in the army of Oda Nobunaga, a powerful warlord, and risen to the top rank. When Oda died, Hideyoshi succeeded him and eventually controlled most of Japan. He in turn was succeeded by Tokugawa Ieyasu, who’d defeated his rival warlords at the Battle of Sekigahara and united the entire country under his new regime.

“Hideyoshi sent a quarter of a million troops to Korea,” Manabe said. “They took the Koreans by surprise. Within months they’d taken the capital and spread through most of the country. Lord Ienobu has studied the campaign thoroughly.”

“Then he knows what happened,” Sano said. “The Koreans started fighting back. Hideyoshi’s troops suffered from diseases and the severe winter. By the next year, a third of them were dead. The Chinese Emperor sent his army to help Korea. Six years after the invasion, Hideyoshi died, and what was left of his army came limping home. And Lord Ienobu wants to try it anyway?” Incredulous, Sano spread his hands. “
Why?
”

Manabe bristled at the implication that his master was foolish. “He’s not small-minded like everybody else. He’s not content just to rule Japan. He has a bigger vision.”

“A vision?” Marume guffawed. “Is that what he sees with those bug-eyes of his—Lord Ienobu, emperor of the world?”

“If he were, you wouldn’t dare mock him.”

At last Sano understood the reason for Lord Ienobu’s ambition. Lord Ienobu wanted to compensate himself for being deformed and ugly. Ruling the world would show everyone who’d mocked him behind his back and to his face all his life. Sano could pity Lord Ienobu but not condone the means by which he meant to prove his worth.

“He’s blind to the lessons of Hideyoshi’s campaign against Korea,” Yoshisato said with contempt. “It’s hard to win a war so far from home. How do you feed and shelter your troops in enemy territory? And the Chinese and the Europeans have better weapons than we do.” He’d obviously learned his history. “And as far as timing goes, we’re at as much of a disadvantage as Hideyoshi was. He invaded Korea after years of civil war. We’re still recovering from the earthquakes, the tsunami, and the Mount Fuji eruption.”

“Even with a fleet of Dutch ships, Lord Ienobu is sure to lose. Why does he think he can succeed where Hideyoshi failed?” Sano studied Manabe. “I think you know better. It’s your duty to set him straight. Why didn’t you?”

Indignant that Sano would accuse him of shirking his duty, Manabe said, “I’ve tried! Lord Ienobu won’t listen.” He added forlornly, “He thinks he has the gods on his side.”

“Ha!” Marume said. “Now I’ve heard everything!”

Sano wanted to laugh and cry because he’d discovered the last piece of a baffling puzzle, the connection between Lord Ienobu becoming shogun and the destruction of the Tokugawa regime.

Manabe rushed to explain. “Lord Ienobu has had some lucky breaks. Two of his enemies conveniently dropped dead.” Sano remembered the men Toda had told him about. “And there’s been money left on his doorstep, as if by a ghost.”

If he only knew, Sano thought. Hirata had puffed Lord Ienobu up with superstition and hubris and surely brought him the money. Sano deplored Hirata’s actions all the more. Hirata had manipulated Lord Ienobu to do bigger, worse evils. The ghost’s purpose became clear.

“Lord Ienobu probably has no idea how big the world is,” Yoshisato said. “He’s never been outside of Edo. But I can thank him for giving me a broader perspective. While I was on the run from him, I traveled all over Japan. One of the places I went was Kyushu. The Tsushima Strait is so wide you can’t see Korea on the opposite shore. I’ve also been to Nagasaki and seen the barbarian ships.”

“So have I.” Sano recalled how shocked he’d been by that hint of the magnitude and complexity of the world outside Japan. “I’ve seen the foreign maps. Japan is tiny on them compared to China and Europe. I expect they’re more accurate than ours. The barbarians sail all over the world. Nobody in Japan ever leaves. Lord Ienobu’s not to blame for his ignorance.”

The memory of his years as a prisoner and fugitive darkened Yoshisato’s eyes. “He’s to blame for plenty of other things.”

Sano realized that Lord Ienobu was to blame for less than he’d originally thought. Lord Ienobu had contrived the murder of the shogun’s daughter, but he hadn’t murdered Yoshisato. He’d humiliated Sano but not done him or his family any physical harm. And if Lord Ienobu attempted to conquer the world, the consequences—Japan defeated, occupied, and plundered by foreigners—wouldn’t be entirely his fault. The real villain in that picture was Hirata. If not for Hirata’s meddling, Lord Ienobu might never have lifted a finger to make his dream of ruling the world come true. But there was one crime that Sano couldn’t yet lay on Hirata. Lord Ienobu was still Sano’s favorite suspect in the attack on the shogun.

“What should we do with him?” Marume pointed to Manabe.

“Kill me or let me commit
seppuku,
” Manabe said with a dignity admirable in a naked, shivering, battered man. “It’s the only way I can restore my honor after betraying my master.”