The Perfumed Sleeve (30 page)

An astounded look came over Lady Yanagisawa. She sat rigid, her mouth open, gazing blankly at Reiko. Either the woman had forgotten her attempts at murder, or she’d never admitted them to herself.

“Well, here’s what I meant to tell you,” Reiko said, carried along by the tide of her emotions. “We’re not friends. We never have been. I’ve put up with you and your attacks on me only because I was afraid you would do even worse if I didn’t. But now I’ve had enough of you.” Reiko surged to her feet. “Get out of my house, you evil, jealous madwoman!” she shouted. “Take your husband’s request and throw it back in his face. Never come near me or my family again!”

Lady Yanagisawa blenched as though Reiko had slapped her. Her flushed cheeks turned pale with shock. Tears brimmed in her eyes. She rose, groping as though blinded. Reiko felt a pity that spoiled her pleasure at finally speaking her mind to Lady Yanagisawa. Her harsh words had clearly hurt the woman by shattering her illusions about their relationship.

Then a strange, internal energy transformed Lady Yanagisawa. The hectic color returned to her complexion. Her body seemed to swell and undulate, like a serpent readying to strike. The eyes that she now focused on Reiko blazed with hatred and rage. She looked as if all the madness and evil hidden deep inside her had come to the surface.

“I am sorry that you feel so badly toward me,” Lady Yanagisawa said. Her gruff voice had a vindictive, threatening undertone. An eerie smile hovered upon her lips. “But you must do as my husband wishes.”

“I already told you I won’t,” Reiko said, although suddenly frightened by Lady Yanagisawa.

“If you don’t,” said Lady Yanagisawa, “I will tell your husband everything that happened between you and the Dragon King.”

“What?” Confusion unbalanced Reiko.

“I’ll tell him that you fell in love with the Dragon King,” Lady Yanagisawa said. “I’ll tell him that I saw you and the Dragon King making passionate love together in the palace.”

“But you didn’t see that.” Reiko’s confusion turned to disbelief. “It didn’t happen.”

Lady Yanagisawa’s eerie smile stayed fixed in place. “Who is there besides you to say that it didn’t? The Dragon King is dead. Your husband can’t know what happened on that island because he wasn’t there. But I was.”

Now Reiko understood Lady Yanagisawa’s intention. “You’re trying to bend me to the chamberlain’s will by threatening to tell my husband lies about me,” Reiko said. Complete revulsion toward Lady Yanagisawa increased Reiko’s determination to stand firm. “Well, don’t waste your breath. It won’t work. My husband knows I’ve always been faithful to him.”

A rusty, unpleasant laugh issued from Lady Yanagisawa. “Are you so sure? Would you risk your wonderful marriage on the chance that he would believe you instead of listening to me?”

“Of course he would believe me.”

But horror dawned as a shard of doubt lodged in Reiko’s heart. She’d never told Sano what had happened between her and the Dragon King. He’d hinted several times that he wanted to know, but she’d always evaded answering. She’d been so loath to relive that awful time, and to confess the things she’d done in an attempt to win her liberty, that she’d left Sano free to imagine whatever he chose. Now she wished she’d told him the whole story, because it was nowhere near as bad as the one Lady Yanagisawa proposed to tell. Reiko’s secrecy had bred suspicions in Sano’s mind, which malicious slander from Lady Yanagisawa would feed.

“I think I could persuade your husband to believe me,” Lady Yanagisawa said. “Men are possessive and jealous. They don’t like to think that their woman has given her favors to someone else. And they’re suspicious. One hint of infidelity can break their trust. But we needn’t argue about whether you’re right or I am. I’ll just tell your husband my story about you and the Dragon King, and we’ll see what happens.”

Aghast, Reiko blurted, “You stay away from my husband!”

Lady Yanagisawa laughed again. “Perhaps you’re not so sure of him after all. Do you think he’ll be so angry that he’ll divorce you for cheating on him? Do you fear that he’ll throw you out of the house and you’ll never see your son again?”

Reiko did. Although Sano was a reasonable man, she couldn’t predict how he would react to Lady Yanagisawa’s claims. He knew Reiko was hiding something about her experiences at the Dragon King’s palace. There was no one besides herself to refute Lady Yanagisawa. Midori and Lady Keisho-in hadn’t seen what had happened between Reiko and their kidnapper. The Dragon King’s henchmen, who’d witnessed much of it, were dead. And Sano’s trust of Reiko’s fidelity had never been tried before. He might be quick to suspect and retaliate. Even if he didn’t, their marriage would never be the same. Reiko vowed never to keep a secret from Sano again. But her vow came too late to help her now.

“I’ll take the chance that my husband will listen to you and punish me,” Reiko said, pretending confidence. She folded her arms across her chest. “I won’t coax him into conspiring with the chamberlain. I won’t assassinate Lord Matsudaira, not even to protect my marriage.”

“Why not?” Lady Yanagisawa’s gaze, alight with madness, burned into Reiko. “Lord Matsudaira seeks to usurp power from the shogun. He is a traitor to his own cousin. He deserves to die. Isn’t your marriage worth his life?”

“Nothing is worth manipulating my husband or killing in cold blood,” Reiko said.

Yet as she floundered amid this nightmare, a voice deep inside her mind whispered that Lord Matsudaira’s life as well as his clan’s good name were but small prices to pay for protecting her marriage. She didn’t know the man, or care about him. Her own attitude horrified Reiko. But a primitive, selfish part of her would sacrifice almost anyone or anything to keep the husband she loved. It reasoned that Lady Yanagisawa was right, and Japan would be better off without Lord Matsudaira; it inclined her toward believing that she should do the shogun a favor by killing his overambitious cousin. It argued that Lord Matsudaira’s death would prevent a big civil war and save many lives. Reiko pictured herself disguised in the gaudy clothes of an army camp whore, stealing into Lord Matsudaira’s tent, a dagger clutched in her hand.

Lady Yanagisawa smiled a sly, nasty smile. “You’re smart enough to assassinate Lord Matsudaira and not get caught. Your husband will never have to know. The chamberlain will never tell. Nor will I.”

The moral, rational part of herself told Reiko that if she did kill Lord Matsudaira, she must always live with the knowledge that she was guilty of murder even if she got away with it. And killing a member of a Tokugawa branch clan was treason even if Lord Matsudaira could be considered a traitor himself. Furthermore, Reiko knew better than to trust Lady Yanagisawa or the chamberlain. Bowing to blackmail would only put her under their power for the next time they wanted a favor.

“I won’t obey. Leave my house at once,” Reiko said.

Her voice lacked force and conviction. Lady Yanagisawa greeted her wavering with a look that was almost affectionate. “I’ll go now and give you some time to think things over,” Lady Yanagisawa said. “I’ll expect your decision by tonight.”

Clearly, she believed that Reiko would capitulate. Shaken and terrified, Reiko faced the choice between committing murder and treason or losing everything that mattered most to her. “But even if I should decide to give in to you, my husband will resist pinning Senior Elder Makino’s murder on Daiemon. How am I supposed to persuade him?”

“That’s your problem, not mine.” With a triumphant smile, Lady Yanagisawa turned and walked out the door.

29

Lady Yanagisawa arrived, breathless and excited, outside her husband’s office. Her heart throbbed wildly; exhilaration dizzied her. She flung open the door and staggered across the threshold. The chamberlain, seated at his desk, and some eight or ten officials kneeling around him, all stared with disapproval at her. But then the ire on her husband’s face gave way to anticipation. He quickly dismissed the officials, shut the door behind them, and turned to her.

“Have you something to tell me?” he said.

“I did it,” Lady Yanagisawa said, gasping. “I did everything you asked.”

His keen, luminous eyes inspected her for signs of falsehood. Then a deep breath seemed to replenish his spirit and release a flood of anxiety from him. “I now have a foothold in the future,” he said. “And my control over the present is strengthened.” His face relaxed into a gloating, exultant smile. “The advantage is mine. Victory is possible.”

Lady Yanagisawa savored his pleasure. With giddy, almost unbearable expectation, she waited for her reward.

Sudden doubt shadowed the chamberlain’s features. “But are you sure that Lady Reiko will cooperate?”

“I’m sure,” Lady Yanagisawa said, for she believed that a wife who loved her husband would do whatever was necessary to keep his love. Reiko would soon forget her objections and assassinate Lord Matsudaira. The
sōsakan-sama
would declare Daiemon a traitor and murderer. Lady Yanagisawa would share in the chamberlain’s triumph. That made worthwhile everything that had happened to her.

Lady Yanagisawa had suffered agonies of doubt and misery before her visit to Reiko. She’d known that by forcing Reiko to do something so wrong she would lose Reiko’s friendship. How alone she would feel without Reiko! Her nerve had almost failed her. Then Reiko had said such terrible things to her. Hatred had gained ascendancy over Lady Yanagisawa’s love for her friend. Reiko deserved to suffer.

“Very good,” the chamberlain said, reassured. “All I need do is wait for events to take their course.”

His gaze drifted away from Lady Yanagisawa, as if he were looking at the future when he would rule Japan. “Was there something else you wanted?”

He’d forgotten her reward, Lady Yanagisawa realized with dismay. “You said that if I…” she stammered. “You promised me that you would...”

“Ah. What a good memory you have.” Irritation showed on the chamberlain’s face. Lady Yanagisawa sensed him thinking about all the things he had to do that were more important than spending time with her. “Very well,” he said. “A promise is a promise. You deserve your little treat. Come along.”

Lady Yanagisawa was too desperate to quibble with his attitude. As desire swelled hot and urgent in her, she followed her husband to his bedchamber. It was dim and cold, but Lady Yanagisawa barely noticed. She watched, trembling in a torment of eagerness, while the chamberlain opened a cabinet, hauled out his futon, and threw it open on the floor beside her. Facing her, he stroked her cheek, her lips, her neck. Lady Yanagisawa didn’t mind that his caresses seemed perfunctory. Her lips swelled and her skin tingled at his touch. As the desire flowed its heavy, liquid weight through her breasts and loins, she moaned.

The chamberlain loosened her robes and dropped them from her. The cold raised bumps on her skin. Heat rising within her steamed from her pores while his hands moved over her. “Please,” she whispered, clutching at him.

He let her untie his sash and stroke his bare, smooth, muscular chest. With fumbling hands she removed his loincloth. His manhood hung flaccid. His obvious lack of desire for her didn’t discourage Lady Yanagisawa. She sank to her knees. She fondled and sucked his manhood. As it curved erect, she relished its velvet-skinned hardness that pulsated under her tongue and fingers. The chamberlain groaned, and pleasure lowered his eyelids. He let her worship him until she fell back on the futon, gasping with need, her arms outstretched for him. He straddled her and caressed her shoulders; he tongued her nipples; his fingers rubbed hot, wet circles between her legs.

Inarticulate cries arose from Lady Yanagisawa as he raised her toward the heights of sensation that she’d approached with him two days ago. She went mad with pleasure. Her gaze devoured him; her hands frantically roved his body in an attempt to experience him to the full. To her delight, she saw her need reflected in his eyes, although they didn’t meet hers; she heard his breathing quicken. She eagerly spread her legs wide. He lowered himself, held her, and entered.

The tight, slick friction when he slid into her! The feel of him moving inside her for the first time in the ten years since they’d conceived Kikuko! Sobbing with rapture, Lady Yanagisawa heaved and writhed under him. Through her tears she saw his face. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back as he thrust. She understood that he didn’t want to look at her and thereby spoil his enjoyment. But her hurt quickly faded. Her insides were melting and unfurling in a blossom of flames, blood, and desire. Her pleasure reached its zenith. Violent waves of ecstasy pulsed through her. She screamed with a joy and release she’d never thought possible. Afloat in a world of fulfillment, she sobbed in gratitude and embraced her husband.

“Come to me,” she murmured, craving his release as much as she had her own. “Come to me now.”

He thrust harder and faster, his jaws clenched, every muscle strain ing. Suddenly he reared back on his knees. His manhood whipped out of Lady Yanagisawa. He moaned, arched his back, and spurted hot, wet semen onto her stomach. As he shuddered and gasped, Lady Yanagisawa realized why he’d withdrawn before his climax: He didn’t want to breed another idiot child.

Happiness yielded to humiliation. The room seemed cold now, as the heat from their coupling dissipated and her bodily sensations waned. Lady Yanagisawa felt slighted by her husband. She regretted the friendship she’d ruined for his sake. Now she couldn’t even turn to Reiko for comfort. And the bloody stain of her guilt would never go away. To please this man who treated her so deplorably, she had doomed her soul to burn forever in the fires of the netherworld.

Then the chamberlain lay down beside her. Propping himself on his elbow, he smiled into her eyes. “That was good,” he said, and she knew that he meant the service she’d rendered him as well as the sex they’d just had. He whispered, “I love you.”

Those words compensated Lady Yanagisawa for all the pain he’d caused her. Now she wept for joy. At last she’d won his love! All the evils she’d done seemed worthwhile; all she’d risked or lost was nothing. A radiant future beckoned. The chamberlain would become a real husband to her and a real father to their daughter, just as he’d promised. He would rule Japan; she would help him whenever possible and necessary.

At this moment, not even Reiko could boast such good fortune as Lady Yanagisawa enjoyed.

The Kanda district verged upon the northeast boundary of Edo Castle. It was convenient to the seat of political power, yet a world away, and mostly populated by merchants who’d come from central Japan to seek their fortunes. Dyers, blacksmiths, carpenters, plasterers, swordsmiths, and candle makers inhabited various quarters in Kanda, but not all the residents engaged in profitable or legal commerce. Along the bank of the Kanda River were hovels for beggars and outcasts, and a field known as a haunt of the lowest class of prostitutes, the itinerant “nighthawks.” Here, a nobleman could find a haven from the Tokugawa court; he could exist anonymously among people beneath his class and too occupied with the struggle for survival to pay him much notice.

Sano arrived with Hirata, a squadron of detectives, Otani, Ibe, and their men, in Tsukegi Street. The street was named for the product sold there—charms against fire, Edo’s worst natural hazard. Shops displayed the little figurines made from wood and sulfur. Above the shops were living quarters. These had latticed windows and rickety balconies sheltered by overhanging eaves. Sano and his companions dismounted and secured their horses outside the middle building on the west side of the street, where Daiemon had maintained a secret establishment.

Its entrance was located in an alley festooned with laundry on clotheslines. Sano and Hirata climbed a creaky wooden staircase to Daiemon’s quarters while the other men waited below. Although Hirata had determined the house to be unoccupied, Sano knocked on the door because Ibe and Otani were watching and he must act as if he knew nothing about the house or who might be there. Nobody answered. Sano tried the door and found it locked, but when he and Hirata shoved hard against it, the catch gave way. Ibe and Otani hastened up the stairs and followed them into the house.

The first room was a kitchen furnished with a hearth and a few dishes and utensils. “Whoever lives here doesn’t do much cooking,” Ibe remarked.

They passed beyond a sliding partition, into a chamber that contained a
tatami
floor, built-in cabinets, and an elaborately carved black wooden chest. Charcoal braziers filled with ash stood about the room; a red lacquer table held a porcelain sake decanter and cups. A silk cushion sat before a writing desk made of black lacquer and decorated with floral gold inlays. In one corner, a screen decorated with a painting of a waterfall enclosed a metal tub large enough for a man to bathe in. Such luxurious decor seemed out of place in humble Tsukegi Street.

“He makes himself comfortable,” Otani said as he opened a cabinet to reveal folded silk bedding and robes.

Ibe examined the screen. “This wasn’t cheap. He has money.”

Sano wondered uneasily whether Ibe and Otani would discover whose house this was and what would happen if they did. But Daiemon seemed not to have left any obvious clues to his identity. Sano and Hirata found two smaller rooms, both unfurnished. They returned to the main chamber, where Otani had opened the chest. This held a pair of swords on a rack.

“Whoever he is, he’s a samurai,” Ibe said.

Otani lifted out the long sword and frowned in puzzlement. “This dragon design on the hilt looks familiar,” he said. “I’m sure I’ve seen it someplace before… but where?”

Sano gave Hirata a look that said they’d better finish inspecting the house before Otani recalled that he’d seen his lord’s nephew wearing the sword. While Hirata began searching the cabinet, Sano opened the lid of the desk. Inside he found writing supplies and a pile of gold coins alongside a stack of white rice paper. Sano riffled the sheets and found them all blank except the last, which bore scrawled black writing.

“What’s that?” Ibe said, leaning over Sano’s shoulder.

The paper read:

Makino

One hundred
koban
beforehand

One hundred afterward

Final payment the next day, at the Floating Teahouse

Elation vied with apprehension inside Sano. “Unless I’m mistaken, this means that somebody hired somebody else to assassinate Senior Elder Makino,” he said.

And if Sano was correct, the person who’d hired the assassin had to be Daiemon. Yet Sano was less pleased with the thought that he’d solved the crime than concerned about the consequences of the solution. If he exposed Daiemon as the person responsible for Makino’s death, what then? Chamberlain Yanagisawa would be delighted to have the Matsudaira clan disgraced. Lord Matsudaira would come raging after Sano’s blood... if Sano first survived defying his watchdogs’ orders against investigating Daiemon or involving their lords in the crime.