Samurai's Wife (4 page)

Sano had a different interpretation for the scream, which confirmed his suspicions. "Left Minister Konoe must have been a victim of murder by kiai," he said. Combat without physical contact; the ultimate expression of the martial arts. "The scream was a `spirit cry'-a burst of pure mental energy, concentrated in the voice of the killer."
Hoshina and the detectives stared at Sano in astonishment. That few samurai ever attained the ability to kill without weapons, by force of will alone, had made the practitioners of kiaijutsu the rarest, most fearsome and deadly warriors throughout history. The killer's presence, mighty and monstrous, seemed to darken the tranquil garden, and Sano knew his companions sensed it too.
Then Yoriki Hoshina chuckled. "I've never heard of anyone actually killed by a scream. That theory sounds like superstition to me," he said, expressing the modern skepticism that relegated amazing feats of martial arts to the realm of myth.
Sano had suspected that Hoshina might not be as compliant as he'd first seemed. Now he knew that Hoshina had a mind of his own; he wouldn't automatically accept the judgment of a superior. Sano wondered if the locals knew of the circumstances that had brought him here, and whether Hoshina might take advantage of Sano's shaky position in the bakufu. Many men rose to power by attacking vulnerable superiors, and while Sano had no particular reason to distrust Hoshina, he knew better than to think that Miyako politics were any different than Edo's. Aware that he must assert his authority, Sano rose to Hoshina's challenge.
"Toyotomi Hideyoshi's tea master, Sen-no-Rikyu, averted an attack from the great General Kato Kiyomasa with a single glance that took away his strength," Sano said. He himself had once thought kiaijutsu a lost art, but the murder of Left Minister Konoe had revived his belief that myths were based on fact. "Yagyu Matajuro, tutor of Tokugawa Ieyasu, could knock men unconscious with a shout."
"I've always thought those legends were invented by charlatans wishing to bolster their reputations." Hoshina's tone was deferential, but the fact that he dared to argue told Sano he liked to be right and wasn't afraid to take chances. "Certainly, there haven't been any recent, documented cases of death by kiai".
"The general level of combat skill has declined; there are fewer great martial arts masters today," Sano admitted. "But Miyako is a city with strong ties to the past. Someone here has apparently rediscovered the secret of kiaijutsu. The scream and the condition of the corpse indicate that Left Minister Konoe was indeed a victim of a spirit cry."
Pronounced by the shogun's highest representative, Sano's opinion became the official cause of death. Rather than pursue the discussion and risk censure, Hoshina nodded and said respectfully, "Yes, Sosakan-sama." Sano observed that he knew when to yield for the sake of self-preservation.
"Who discovered the remains?" Sano said, moving on to the next important topic.
"When the palace residents heard the scream, they rushed to see what it was," Hoshina said. "Emperor Tomohito and his cousin Prince Momozono were first on the scene. They found Konoe alone, lying in a pool of blood."
So the case involved at least two important members of the Imperial Court, Sano thought. "What time did this happen?"
"Around midnight," said Hoshina.
"What was Left Minister Konoe doing out here so late?"
"No one admits to knowing."
"You've questioned the palace residents, then?"
"Yes, I conducted a preliminary investigation," Hoshina said, "to save you some trouble. The results are detailed in a report which I'll give you later, but I'll summarize them now. All the guards, servants, attendants, and courtiers were elsewhere at the time of Left Minister Konoe's death. He'd ordered everyone to stay out of the garden."
"Excellent work," Sano said, noting the raw edge of pride and ambition behind the yoriki's modest demeanor: Hoshina enjoyed showing off, and he anticipated rewards for pleasing the shogun's sosakan-sama. That their interests coincided inclined Sano to trust the helpful Hoshina.
"Were there any visitors or other outsiders present in the compound that night?" Sano asked.
"No," Hoshina said, "and there was no sign of forced entry, so it's unlikely that an intruder killed Left Minister Konoe."
Sano said, "Was everyone else in the court accounted for around the time of the murder?"
"I thought it best to wait until your arrival before questioning the imperial family," Hoshina said. "However, I've made discreet inquiries. There are some people whose whereabouts I haven't been able to establish. Emperor Tomohito and Prince Momozono weren't in their quarters as usual. Neither were the emperor's chief consort, Lady Asagao, or his mother, Lady Jokyoden."
Four potential murder suspects; all members of Japan's sacred imperial family. Sano contemplated the politically volatile nature of the case. By probing into palace affairs, he was bound to violate social and religious convention, thereby damaging relations between the bakufu and the institution that sanctioned its right to rule. Nevertheless, the killer must be caught, or others might die.
Looking upward, Sano saw the hills darkening in murky twilight. He couldn't call on the imperial family so late, on such short notice, without offending them. "I'll interview the emperor, his mother, cousin, and consort tomorrow morning."
"Of course," Yoriki Hoshina said. "I'll arrange appointments for you. Shall I take you to your lodgings at Nijo Manor now?"
The offer tempted Sano, who was hungry and tired, caked with sweat and grime; he needed food, a bath, and sleep. He also wanted to discuss the case with Reiko, but he hadn't finished the day's work at the palace. "Before we go, I'd like to inspect Left Minister Konoe's residence and question the household."

Sano, Yoriki Hoshina, Marume, and Fukida walked west along a passage that bisected the palace compound, through the district of the kuge, court nobles who were hereditary retainers to the imperial family. Fences bounded some hundred estates packed side by side, where buildings clustered with scarcely a gap between roofs. As the dinner hour approached, charcoal smoke billowed from many chimneys; the noise of activity and conversation made a constant, muted din. Through the passages strolled courtiers dressed in the old-fashioned short jackets and black hats of imperial tradition. Everyone bowed to Sano and his party.
At the Konoe estate, near the northern wall of the imperial enclosure, black mourning drapery decorated the lattice fence and double-roofed gate. Hoshina rang a bell that dangled from the portal. After a moment, the gate swung open to reveal a courtier, who looked startled by the unexpected arrival of four samurai, then bowed politely.
"Greetings, Honorable Masters. How may I serve you?"
Hoshina introduced Sano and said, "The sosakan-sama is investigating the death of Left Minister Konoe. You shall assemble the family for questioning and show us the left minister's quarters."
The courtier led Sano's party along a flagstone path through a garden landscaped with pines. Within a gravel courtyard stood a mansion built in the same style as the palace. Wooden rain doors were raised to admit the mild evening breeze. Walking behind the courtier down hallways floored in polished cypress, Sano and his companions passed spacious parlors where cultured voices murmured and a samisen played behind paper partitions.
In the reception hall, screens decorated with forest scenes formed an enclosure; lanterns cast a soft glow.
The courtier invited the four samurai to sit on the dais, then left. Presently he returned, announcing, "I present the honorable Konoe clan."
Sano watched in amazement as a long parade of people, young and old, filed into the room to kneel before the dais. The courtier introduced siblings, cousins, and other relatives of the dead man. Sano had known that court families were large but hadn't expected quite so many people living under the same roof. The men wore traditional court costume. The women were dressed in multilayered pastel robes with voluminous sleeves and narrow brocade sashes; long hair flowed down to their waists. Sano recalled that Tokugawa Ieyasu had established "Laws Pertaining to the Emperor's Retainers," which consigned the noble class to the practice of scholarship and arts rather than politics. Isolated from the world during the seventy-six years that had followed, these people fulfilled little purpose except to preserve their obsolete way of life. They were virtual prisoners of the bakufu, which financially supported them along with the imperial family. Now they comprised a huge pool of potential witnesses.
"My detectives will question the servants," Sano said to the courtier. "Is there a place where I can interview the family one at a time, in private?"
Evening immersed Miyako in tropical darkness. In the Market of the Dead, brightly lit stalls turned the streets into lines of multicolored fire where shoppers browsed among Obon supplies. Gongs rang, calling dead souls back to earth. On hillsides and along the Kamo River, bonfires burned, lighting the way for the spirits' journey. Pine torches blazed at the thresholds of houses; incense smoked on windowsills. Citizens bearing lanterns converged on the cemeteries to visit ancestors' graves. The air resounded with the clatter of wooden soles. On the boulevards fluttered the curtains of shops closed for the night, stirred by the wind... or passing ghosts.
In the city center stood the great bulk of Nijo Castle, built by Tokugawa Ieyasu eighty-nine years ago with funds levied from vanquished warlords. Its stone walls and five-storied keep loomed high above the surrounding houses. Gold Tokugawa crests crowned the curved roofs. No shogun had visited Miyako in more than five decades; since then, Nijo Castle had been occupied by a minimal staff of caretakers. A few sentries manned the gates and guard turrets above the wide moat. From the outside, the castle seemed an inert historical relic.
But deep inside its dark complex of barracks, gardens, and palace buildings, lights burned in the White Parlor, residence of visiting shoguns. There, in an austere room decorated with murals depicting winter landscapes, sat Chamberlain Yanagisawa and his chief retainer, Aisu.
Yanagisawa inhaled on his tobacco pipe, then expelled smoke in an impatient gust. Although circumstances required his present state of waiting, he hungered for action. Worry and anticipation consumed him.
"Are you sure Sano doesn't know I'm here?" he said.
"Oh, yes, master," said Aisu, who'd just returned from making covert inquiries on Yanagisawa's behalf. "No one in Miyako knows, except your local agents. They received your message from Edo in plenty of time to carry out your orders. They told Shoshidai Matsudaira that the shogun had issued orders to renovate Nijo Castle, then brought in laborers and supplies as if it were true, not just a ploy to keep Sano away. No one else suspects anything. My spies have been watching Sano since he left Edo, and he's completely oblivious. Oh, yes, the plan is working fine so far."
Aisu's nervous grin begged Yanagisawa to appreciate his efficiency, to see how much he deserved to keep his job despite the failed bombing. Yanagisawa had given him one more chance to prove his worth before dismissing him. Thus, Aisu's fate, as well as Yanagisawa's hopes, depended on the success of the plan.
"See that the operation proceeds along its present satisfactory course," Yanagisawa said, then murmured to himself: "The results had better justify the trouble this venture may cause me."
When the shogun had ordered Sano to investigate Left Minister Konoe's death, Yanagisawa had recognized a perfect opportunity to rid himself of his enemy and permanently secure his position in Tokugawa Tsunayoshi's graces. He'd decided that he, too, must go to Miyako. Hence, he'd waited until the meeting with Sano ended and he was alone with the shogun, then proposed that he should go to Omi Province-where Miyako happened to be located-on a top-secret mission to investigate corruption among local officials. The shogun had vacillated, demurred, and finally been persuaded.
Yanagisawa spent the rest of that night conferring with Aisu and his other top retainers, issuing orders, collating secret records, and drafting communications to be sent by express messenger to Miyako, while servants packed his baggage. Before dawn the next day, Yanagisawa rode out of the castle, accompanied only by Aisu and a few attendants and bodyguards instead of his usual huge entourage. They'd worn plain clothing without Tokugawa crests, and gained passage through highway check-points with documents that identified them by false names. Riding fast, stopping rarely, and sleeping a mere few hours each night, they'd reached Miyako two days ahead of Sano. Yanagisawa's agents had sneaked them into Nijo Castle disguised as carpenters. Yanagisawa and Aisu had made the necessary preliminary arrangements before Sano's arrival, yet the fact that everything had worked out so far didn't negate the inherent dangers of the plan.
Leaving the seat of power, even for a short time, was a perilous move for Yanagisawa. He'd impressed upon the shogun the confidential nature of his mission in Omi Province and the need for only the two of them to know about his absence from Edo, yet he didn't trust the dull-witted Tsunayoshi to keep a secret. He'd sworn his staff to secrecy, threatening them with death should they fail to cover his absence, but what if people discovered he was gone? Yanagisawa pictured subordinates robbing his treasury, his spies taking a holiday from gathering the information he needed, rivals usurping his authority and turning Tsunayoshi against him. And what if the shogun learned that Yanagisawa had lied to him about the reason for this trip? The shogun cherished a deluded belief in his officials' honesty; he wouldn't forgive being tricked. When Yanagisawa got back, he might find himself in utter disgrace, stripped of his rank and wealth, and sentenced to death.
Still, the potential advantages of the move justified the risks. In Miyako, Sano was in a vulnerable position, without his political allies or detective corps to assist and protect him. He wouldn't know to beware of sabotage by Yanagisawa. And operating in secret, away from the shogun and all the spies who scrutinized his every move in Edo, gave Yanagisawa the freedom he needed. Now he brooded, wishing he felt more comfortable with his choice. The smoke from his pipe hung in the stagnant air; ghostly moths flitted around the lanterns. Gongs rang in the distance; the incessant whine of insects came through the open doors. Yanagisawa shifted uncomfortably inside his sweat-drenched clothes. He hated Miyako and its awful heat. He longed to be back in Edo, secure in victory.
"Solving the mystery of Left Minister Konoe's death from behind the scenes won't be easy," he said. "The need to stay hidden until the critical moment presents complications."
However, secrecy wasn't the only problem. Reports from Yanagisawa's Miyako agents indicated that Konoe had been the victim of a bizarre murder. Yanagisawa had never investigated a crime, and he felt handicapped by his inexperience. But he'd set his scheme in motion, and he must follow it through to the end. He must apprehend the killer before Sano did, in a manner that created the impression that he'd happened along during the course of his inquiries in Omi Province, observed that Sano was making poor progress, and stepped in to solve the case. No one must guess that Yanagisawa had come here specifically to beat Sano at his own game, or think he'd won by underhanded means, because he didn't want it publicly known that he'd resorted to such desperate tactics. By the time he was finished, Sano's reputation as a great detective would be his.
"Let's drink a toast for good luck," Aisu said.
He clapped his hands. Female bodyguards-the only attendants allowed in this most private chamber-silently entered the room. On Aisu's orders, they served wine, then silently departed.
Aisu raised his cup and said, "Here's to your victory and the sosakan-sama's downfall."
Yanagisawa and Aisu drank. From the street drifted the laughter and shouts of the Obon crowds; more gongs clanged. The tart, refreshing liquor invigorated Yanagisawa; he smiled.
Refilling the cups, Aisu proposed another toast: "May you capture Left Minister Konoe's killer the way you did the Lion."
Malice hardened Yanagisawa's smile. "No," he said, "not quite like the Lion. Remember, this time, Sano won't get another chance to redeem himself."
Aisu's hooded eyes glistened; his sinuous body squirmed with anticipation. "How shall Sano die?"
"I don't know yet," Yanagisawa admitted reluctantly. "Nor can I predict the exact outcome of the investigation."
He leapt to his feet and paced the room in a fever of impatient energy. "Everything depends on the case itself. I must see what happens and use whatever opportunities arise. I don't have enough information to take the next step. However, that problem should be remedied very soon." Yanagisawa halted by the door and gazed out at the dark, lush garden, listening for sounds that would herald the arrival of the news he awaited.
"Then I'll decide what to do."
Several long, unproductive hours later, Sano finished interviewing the Konoe clan members. They'd been shocked to learn that the left minister had been murdered, instead of dying from a mysterious disease as they'd thought. They hadn't known he was a metsuke spy, and claimed no knowledge about which of the suspects might have killed him. All Sano managed to learn were two stray facts.
A cousin of Konoe's said he'd heard on several occasions a much less powerful version of the spirit cry. Afterward, dead birds had been found in the garden. This confirmed Sano's belief that someone in the palace did indeed have the power of kiai. Had he-or she-been practicing for the murder?
Fifteen years ago, Konoe's secretary, a young man named Ryozen, had been stabbed to death. This was presumably the crime that the bakufu had covered up in order to force Konoe to spy for the metsuke, but Sano found no apparent connection between the incident and Konoe's murder. Nor did Detectives Marume and Fukida glean any clues from the servants.
Now Sano, Hoshina, and the detectives stood outside Konoe's private chambers, which occupied two adjoining rooms in an inner section of the house. Mullioned paper walls enclosed the space, affording greater privacy than the open plan of classic imperial architecture.
"Has anything in there been disturbed since Left Minister Konoe's death?" Sano asked the courtier who'd admitted him to the estate.
"The rooms have been cleaned, but his possessions are still there," the courtier said. "That's his office. This is his bedchamber." He opened the door, and a musty smell rushed out. After lighting a lantern in the room, he bowed and left.
Sano entered and swept his gaze around the room. The tatami floor was bare; sets of lacquered tables and silk cushions were neatly stacked. Sano saw no personal articles. Presumably, these were inside the built-in storage cabinet and wardrobe.
"Search this room," Sano told his detectives.
"What are we looking for?" Marume asked.
"Anything that can tell us about Konoe's life, what kind of person he was, or his relationships."
Marume began opening drawers in the cabinet. Fukida started on the closet. Sano and Hoshina moved through the connecting door to the office. There, an alcove contained a desk and built-in shelves of ledgers and books. Across the desk, open scrolls covered with calligraphy lay amid writing supplies. The doors of a cabinet stood ajar, revealing compartments full of clutter. A large wicker basket held paper scraps; fireproof iron chests stood three high.
While Hoshina watched, Sano scanned the scrolls on the desk. They concerned repairs to the palace walls. In the drawers Sano discovered Konoe's jade seal and a tobacco pipe and pouch, but no diary. Sano took a ledger off a shelf. It bore the title, "Proceedings of the Imperial Council, Teikyo Year 3." Although Sano doubted that the court archives contained what he was looking for, he examined each ledger for the sake of thoroughness. What a lot of words the imperial bureaucracy generated! Next, Sano went through the cabinet. He found official memoranda from the left minister's colleagues, pronouncements issued by emperors, and long documents describing imperial law and protocol. The trash basket contained scribbled notes about the palace budget.