The Shogun's Daughter (7 page)

“Take it off!” yelled the audience, comprised of other samurai and young women.

Giggling, the woman dropped her robe. She flaunted her naked breasts and shaved pubis. The audience roared. The usual penalty for missing a shot during
hanetsuki
was an ink mark on the face, but this couple had perverted the innocent game: Their penalty was removal of an item of clothing.

“It looks like they’re getting near the end of the game,” Marume said. “All that’s left to go is her socks and his loincloth.”

The male player hooted and pumped his fist in the air. The female didn’t seem to mind exposing herself. Her shaved pubis identified her as a prostitute; she was probably accustomed to such bawdy entertainment.

Sano cleared his throat and said, “Lord Kii Tsunanori?”

The audience quieted. The male player turned. Sano recognized Lord Tsunanori; they’d met a few times. Lord Tsunanori’s arrogant stance bespoke his pride in himself. Sano knew he was an excellent swordsman who often competed in, and won, tournaments. But his head didn’t match his strong physique. It had a squat shape with a roll of fat at the back of his neck. His regular features had an odd slackness. The skin drooped around his large, bold eyes.

“Chamberlain Sano?” Lord Tsunanori’s mouth was loose, as if the muscles didn’t have enough tone to hold the full lips closed. They gaped now, in dismay, because Sano had caught him in behavior inappropriate for a widower on the morning after his wife’s death. He pretended that the scene Sano had just witnessed had never happened. “Welcome. Let’s go inside.”

Sano didn’t tell Lord Tsunanori about his demotion. He let Lord Tsunanori think he was still the shogun’s second-in-command, backed by the full authority of the government. Lord Tsunanori led Sano and Marume toward the mansion. The naked woman tossed him his robe, and he put it on. It was heavy silk, printed in clashing red, orange, and purple, typical for rich, fashionable
daimyo.
Sano smelled sweat, alcohol, and wintergreen hair oil on him. They went into a reception room. A funeral altar held offerings of fruit, flowers, and wine, and a portrait of Tsuruhime. She’d been a plain woman; she had the shogun’s weak chin. She looked lonely.

Sano introduced Detective Marume, then said, “We’ve come to offer you our condolences.”

“Not many other people have come.” Lord Tsunanori sounded resentful. “They’re afraid to set foot here, and we’re not having the usual funeral rites.” Those included a wake, with the body present in a closed coffin. “The remains were cremated last night.” Corpses of smallpox victims were burned immediately, to prevent contagion.

Lord Tsunanori glanced at a tray stand that held decanters and cups. “I’ve forgotten my manners. Sorry. Would you like a drink?”

Sano and Marume politely refused. Lord Tsunanori said, “Of course. Nobody wants to drink or eat anything here. I guess I’ll just have one by myself.” Lord Tsunanori knelt, poured a cup of sake, and downed it. Sano noticed his flushed face and awkward movements; he was already drunk. “Customs have gone out the window because Tsuruhime died of smallpox.”

Sano saw an opening to begin his inquiries. “How did she get smallpox? It’s not that common.” It mostly afflicted the poorer classes, who lived in crowded, unsanitary conditions.

“There’s all kinds of diseases going around everywhere since the earthquake,” Lord Tsunanori said. “I hear there’s smallpox in the tent camps. She must have brushed up against somebody in town.”

“Had she been out of the house much during the days before she became ill?” Sano couldn’t believe she had; ladies had mostly stayed home since the earthquake. Conditions in Edo were unpleasant due to the debris and construction work, and crime had increased because impoverished, desperate citizens had resorted to attacking and robbing the rich.

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her servants.”

Sano planned to. “Has anyone else in the household come down with smallpox?”

“No, thank the gods.”

“Why only Tsuruhime?”

“She was just unlucky, I guess,” Lord Tsunanori said. “As soon as she broke out in sores, I had her isolated.”

“Who took care of her?” Sano asked.

“Her nurse.”

“Why didn’t she get smallpox?”

“She had it when she was young.”

People who’d survived smallpox were safe from a recurrence. “Who had access to Tsuruhime’s room?”

“Her ladies-in-waiting, the servants.”

“Could anyone else have handled her things?”

“Handled, how?” Lord Tsunanori looked puzzled, then alarmed. “Do you mean, put something in with them that was contaminated with smallpox?”

Sano and Marume shared a surprised glance. How quickly Lord Tsunanori had jumped to the notion that his wife had contracted smallpox from a contaminated item placed among her possessions. “I just wondered,” Sano said. “I’ve heard it’s possible to get smallpox from touching things used by someone who had the disease.”

“Are you suggesting that somebody deliberately tried to make my wife sick?” Lord Tsunanori demanded.

How quickly he’d jumped to the idea that her death had involved foul play. “Assassination is always a possibility when an important person dies suddenly from an unusual cause,” Sano said. “Do you think someone killed your wife?”

“Do I think someone killed my wife?” Lord Tsunanori spoke in a hushed tone. He frowned, stammered, then said, “No. I never thought of it at all.” His loose mouth dropped. “You think
I
infected her with smallpox. That’s what you’re getting at.”

“Did you?” Sano asked.

Lord Tsunanori reacted with the same tone, frown, and stammers as before. “No! I would never! What gave you that ridiculous idea?”

Behind his back, Marume held up one finger, then two, then three, counting the denials. Sano noted how quickly Lord Tsunanori had interpreted his question as an accusation. Keeping his pact with Lady Nobuko confidential, Sano started to say he’d heard a rumor.

Lord Tsunanori cut him off with an angry exclamation. “It must have been Lady Nobuko.”

“Why do you think it was her?” Sano said, startled.

“She hates me. She thought I was a bad husband.” Lord Tsunanori’s voice took on a whiny, aggrieved note. “I gave my wife every luxury she could have wanted. But Lady Nobuko expected me to worship the ground Tsuruhime walked on. Lady Nobuko was always criticizing me. To please her, I would have had to rub my nose against Tsuruhime’s behind, just to show how grateful I was to be married to the shogun’s daughter.”

“It sounds as if you weren’t grateful at all,” Sano said.

“No man in his right mind would have been. I paid dearly for the privilege. I had to give huge tributes to the government.” Lord Tsunanori quaffed another drink, wiped his mouth on his sleeve. His eyes had a glassy look. “After the earthquake, I was the first
daimyo
that the shogun came to for money to fix Edo.” He held out his palm, which was calloused from sword-fighting practice, and wiggled his fingers. “Because I was his son-in-law.”

Disturbed by what he was hearing, Sano said, “Didn’t Tsuruhime bring you a big dowry?”

“It was chicken dung compared to what I’ve spent on account of her. Things didn’t turn out the way I expected when I agreed to the marriage. Tsuruhime was supposed to bear me the shogun’s grandson. I was supposed to have a chance to be the father of the next shogun. But she never conceived. After a few years of trying, I quit sleeping with her. The bitch!”

Sano was shocked to hear even a garrulous drunk malign his dead wife so crudely. He pitied Tsuruhime, even though she was beyond caring. “It wasn’t her fault that you lost money on her.” Or that she hadn’t borne him a child. Sano knew that Lord Tsunanori had no illegitimate offspring, despite the fact that he had concubines. The wife usually took the blame for infertility. The husband didn’t want to admit he was responsible. It was the same with the shogun. His failure to produce an heir had been blamed on his wife, his concubines, his preference for men, and sins committed in a past life, but woe betide anyone who suggested that his seed was defective. Sano had had a hell of a time discrediting Yoshisato, partly because the shogun welcomed Yoshisato as proof of his virility.

“Tsuruhime made the situation worse,” Lord Tsunanori said. “She treated me like dirt. And she wasn’t even pretty.” Anger at her turned to disgust. “Lady Nobuko spoiled Tsuruhime. She taught her that because she was the shogun’s daughter, she should expect people to treat her like a goddess and punish them if they didn’t. Her servants were afraid of her. She beat them with a hairbrush. I had to pay them exorbitant wages to work for her. Hell,
I
was afraid of her. She kept threatening to tell her father that I was a bad husband. The shogun could have granted her a divorce, but you’d better believe he’d have charged me a fortune to get rid of her!”

“Thanks to the smallpox, you got rid of her for free,” Marume said.

“Hey, I don’t like your attitude.” Then Lord Tsunanori realized that his own wasn’t so respectable. “I shouldn’t speak ill of Tsuruhime. But I’m glad not to be married to her anymore.”

“Did Lady Nobuko know how you felt about Tsuruhime?” Sano asked.

“Yes. Whenever she lectured me about what I owed Tsuruhime for the honor of being her husband, I gave her a piece of my mind.”

Sano expelled his breath in consternation. He’d come to prove Yanagisawa was responsible for Tsuruhime’s death, but here was another suspect. And Lady Nobuko knew Lord Tsunanori had strong reason for killing Tsuruhime, but she’d kept quiet about it. She’d set Sano on a dangerous campaign against Yanagisawa while aware that he could be innocent and that if Sano pursued the investigation he might run afoul of Lord Tsunanori, who was a powerful
daimyo
and the shogun’s son-in-law. But Sano couldn’t stop the investigation just because it might not incriminate Yanagisawa or because it would make him new enemies.

“I’d like to talk to the members of your household,” Sano said.

Surprised by the change of subject, Lord Tsunanori drew back from Sano with appalled realization. “You didn’t come here to offer condolences, did you? That was just a pretense. You think Tsuruhime was murdered, and you’re out to get me for it!”

“You’ve given me reason to think you’re guilty.” Sano could easily imagine Lord Tsunanori getting fed up with Tsuruhime and feeling driven to kill her as a last resort. “I’ve no choice but to investigate.” He had a duty to obtain justice for his lord’s daughter, no matter if it wasn’t Yanagisawa he brought down. Sano rose; so did Marume. “I’m going to talk to your household members. I’m also going to inspect Tsuruhime’s room.”

Lord Tsunanori stood, swayed, pointed his finger at Sano, and shouted, “Get out of my house, or I’ll throw you out.”

His men rushed in. Gathering around him, they glared at Sano and Marume. Sano smelled nerves burning alcohol out of them. Lord Tsunanori’s face flushed and muscles engorged with combat lust. Samurai instinct urged Sano to fight, but a brawl with Lord Tsunanori was too dangerous for another reason besides the fact that he had a huge army at his disposal. The other
daimyo
already resented the government for draining their treasuries to pay for rebuilding Edo. Sano had barely managed to stave off one rebellion since the earthquake. The
daimyo
might seize on his clash with Lord Tsunanori as a pretext to launch another.

To defuse the conflict, Sano spoke in a mild tone. “If you’re innocent, you should be glad to cooperate with my investigation. If you don’t cooperate, that would mean you have something to hide.”

Lord Tsunanori shifted his weight as contradictory emotions pulled at him. His eyes flashed with anger because Sano had saddled him with a dilemma, but he wasn’t drunk enough or stupid enough not to foresee the serious consequences of violence against a government official. The cash-strapped regime would welcome the excuse to confiscate his wealth.

“Very well.” Glad to avoid a fight while saving face in front of his men, Lord Tsunanori gestured as if tossing garbage at Sano’s feet. “Interrogate my household. Search my wife’s room. You won’t find any evidence against me.” He spoke with such confidence that Sano wondered if he was really innocent or really sure he’d covered his tracks. He told his men, “Go collect everybody for Chamberlain Sano to talk to.”

They departed. Aggression flared in Lord Tsunanori’s eyes again. “If you go around saying my wife was murdered and I’m under suspicion, you’ll be sorry.” He wasn’t drunk or stupid enough not to recognize how dangerous the suspicion could be to him, or not to know the trouble that he and the other
daimyo
could cause Sano and the Tokugawa regime.

“Good enough.” Sano pretended grudging concession, hid his relief that he could count on Lord Tsunanori to keep quiet about the investigation.

It was the only bright spot in his investigation, which was already going wrong, leading away from Yanagisawa.

7

THE SHOGUN’S HEIR’S
residence was isolated in the western fortress of Edo Castle, on the tier of the hill just below the palace. Enclosed by stone walls topped by covered corridors and a guard tower, the residence was a miniature version of the palace. Damage from the earthquake had been repaired. The residence was a safe nest from which the new dictator of Japan would eventually hatch.

Yanagisawa strode through the chambers, sliding open the partitions between them, admiring the gilded landscape murals, smelling the fresh, sweetly scented tatami, and exulting in the territory he’d won in this round of his battle for power.

“I’ve done it. We’re here at last, set to rule Japan!”

At the opposite end of the building, Yoshisato stood in his new room. He rearranged books and clothes that the servants had unpacked. “What do you mean,
we
?
I’m
the one who will inherit the dictatorship.”

Stung by his ungraciousness, Yanagisawa said, “You couldn’t have gotten here by yourself.” He moved toward Yoshisato. “Whose idea was it to pass you off as the shogun’s son?”