The Iris Fan (21 page)

“Not just like that.” Sarcasm permeated Masahiro’s voice. “Father convinced the shogun to give Lord Ienobu a stay of execution.”

“
Why?
” Reiko spread her hands as she stared up at Sano. “Have you lost your mind?”

A breath gusted from Sano as he crouched opposite her. “Madam Chizuru’s confession stank like rotten fish. She doesn’t know that the shogun was stabbed four times or that the fan has irises painted on it. Those are details the attacker would know.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Masahiro shouted. “She said she stabbed him! She fingered Lord Ienobu. That’s exactly what we wanted!” He said to Reiko, “We’d have had him, except Father wouldn’t let it go!”

Now Reiko understood the full meaning of the argument she’d overheard: Sano had disputed the confession rather than allow Madam Chizuru—and Lord Ienobu—take the consequences. That was just like Sano, but Reiko was shocked nonetheless. “You’ve been trying to defeat Lord Ienobu for four years, and now—” She remembered what she’d heard Masahiro say. “You had a chance to get rid of him forever, and you threw it away!”

Sano hastened to defend himself. “It was only fair. Someone put Madam Chizuru up to incriminating Lord Ienobu. I’m certain.”

“
He
hasn’t been fair to
us!
” Masahiro said. “Why should you be fair to him?”

“It comes down to honor,” Sano said. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t give Ienobu the same chance I would give anybody that I thought had been framed.”

It always came down to honor with Sano. The argument Reiko could never win reared its armor-plated head again. She rose to it anyway. “Lord Ienobu is guilty of conspiring to murder the shogun’s daughter. What difference does it make if he’s been framed this time? Why defend him when he’s already a criminal and a traitor?”

Masahiro eagerly followed her line of reasoning. “Lord Ienobu deserves to die.” He crouched beside Sano and hollered into his ear as if he were deaf. “By defending him, you’re standing in the way of justice!”

“Justice for whom?” Sano demanded, wincing at the noise. “So I wasn’t able to deliver Ienobu to justice for murdering Tsuruhime or Yoshisato. I tried, I failed, I’m sorry. But the issue now is justice for the shogun. If Ienobu and Madam Chizuru are put to death, and they aren’t really guilty, then the real culprit will go free. Is that what you want?”

Reiko and Masahiro fell silent. Sano said to Reiko, “You learned justice in your father’s court. You’ve been helping me fight for it since the day we married. Are you turning your back on all that now?” He addressed Masahiro. “When you were little, you wanted to help me defeat bad people and protect innocent ones. And now you don’t?” He knelt, his knees hitting the floor with a thump. “Maybe I’ve lost my mind, but the two of you seem to have lost your principles!”

Reiko glanced at Masahiro. He looked as defeated as she felt. They both knew Sano’s accusation was valid, but it didn’t make her any less angry about what Sano had done. It also did nothing to restore their family harmony. Sano looked more regretful than glad about his victory over them, but he said, “I think Yanagisawa is responsible for Madam Chizuru’s confession.”

“You haven’t proven it,” Masahiro said.

Frustrated yet unwilling to concede, Sano said, “Yanagisawa and Yoshisato stand to gain the most from Lord Ienobu’s downfall.” As if a sudden thought had occurred to him, he asked Reiko, “What did Lady Nobuko have to say?”

“That she’s innocent. Her lady-in-waiting is her alibi.” Reiko couldn’t bear to admit that Lady Nobuko had upset her so much that she’d been unable to get anything else out of the old woman and she still had the gnawing sense that she’d missed something during her search.

“Well,” Sano said, “that doesn’t exactly help decide the issue of Lord Ienobu’s guilt.” Reiko felt even worse, because she’d contributed so little to this most crucial investigation. “But one thing is certain: Whether Lord Ienobu comes out on top or Yanagisawa does, it’s bad for us. Neither one will let us live long.”

“What do we do?” Masahiro suddenly sounded more like the boy he’d been, looking to his father for guidance, but there was a dubious note in his voice: He no longer believed Sano had all the answers.

“We do what we’ve always done,” Sano said with too much confidence. “We find the truth.”

And hope it somehow straightens everything out, Reiko thought. The plan sounded like one whose time had come and gone years ago.

*   *   *

IN THE PARLOR
, Taeko sat eating dinner with her chaperone, her mother, and the children. She heard Sano, Reiko, and Masahiro arguing, and although she couldn’t discern what they were saying because of the children’s noisy chatter, their angry voices upset her. Nausea struck. She dropped her chopsticks on her tray table of food, covered her mouth with her napkin, and spat out partially chewed noodles. Midori and Umeko glanced at her as they ate. Did they suspect?

Masahiro stepped into the room. Hope and anxiety replaced nausea. She needed to tell him why they had to elope, but she was terrified that he would say no. He looked tired, troubled by his argument with his parents.

Midori clambered to her feet like a mother bear ready to protect her young. “Don’t come near Taeko.”

Masahiro held up his hands. “I’m not going to touch her.”

“If I were to leave you alone with her, those hands would be all over her,” Midori retorted. Umeko and the children watched with interest, like an audience at a Kabuki play.

“I just want to talk to her.”

Midori folded her arms. “There’s nothing you should be saying to her that you can’t say in front of me.”

“We’ll stand over there.” Masahiro pointed to the corner. “We won’t leave your sight.”

Midori shook her head.

“Please, Mother!” Taeko cried in desperation.

“Get out! And if I ever catch you with her again, I’ll kill you!” Midori ran to Masahiro and beat him with her fists.

Umeko clapped her hands in delight. “Get him!”

“Hey, stop!” Masahiro tried to fend off Midori without hitting her back.

She tore at his hair, clawed his arms, and screamed. Taeko was alarmed because something was different about her mother. She was even angrier and less able to control her temper than yesterday. Taeko jumped up and tried to pull her mother away from Masahiro. Akiko came to her aid, saying, “Stop beating up my brother!” Umeko laughed gleefully. Tatsuo and Chiyoko started to cry.

“Go!” Midori shoved Masahiro toward the door.

He gave Taeko a defeated, helpless look, then slunk out.

“You showed him,” Umeko said to Midori.

Midori flounced back to her tray table, plopped down on the cushion, and glared at everyone. The children shrank from her, frightened. Taeko said, “Mother, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Midori’s chin trembled; her eyes were shiny with tears. “Just shut up and eat.”

*   *   *

AFTER A TENSE
, silent dinner with Reiko and Masahiro, Sano thought of going out to investigate Madam Chizuru’s confession, but he was so tired that as he walked down the passage he felt as if he were wading through mud. He hadn’t slept in two days. Drowsiness engulfed his brain in a numbing fog. He desperately needed a few hours’ rest.

In the bath chamber he stripped, scrubbed, then soaked in the hot water and almost fell asleep before he hauled himself out. Clean and dry, swathed in a towel, he went to the bedchamber and found Reiko undressing. She quickly turned away as she put on her night robe. She never wanted him to see her naked. Sano smiled without humor. If she knew how tired he was, she wouldn’t worry about him making advances. He turned his back on her while he stripped off the towel and donned his own night robe, sparing her the sight of his body. She didn’t speak. Neither did Sano.

It was safer not to say anything. What a terrible blunder he’d made when he’d asked her whether she would want to be told that her child she thought was dead was really alive! Fatigue and temper had made him careless. He hadn’t realized how bad it sounded until too late. He’d hurt Reiko, so much that she hadn’t let him apologize when he’d tried.

Reiko tucked herself in bed. Sano blew out the flame in the lantern and crawled under the quilt. They lay side by side in the chilly darkness, facing away from each other. As tired as Sano was, he couldn’t fall asleep. His muscles stiffened; his old battle wounds ached. He turned, trying to find a comfortable position. Reiko was restless, too. The atmosphere buzzed with echoes of their argument. His defenses weakened by exhaustion, Sano felt Reiko’s doubts about his judgment seep into him like an infection penetrating broken skin. Had he gone too far for honor? Would it be so bad to quit his crusade for truth and justice? If it brought his family peace, why not? Nobody but himself would fault him. Weren’t his twenty years of fighting enough? These blasphemous ideas were palatable when combined with fatigue.

“What should Masahiro and I do tomorrow?” Reiko asked.

Sano was glad she’d spoken, encouraged because she was still apparently willing to work with him. Troubled by his new doubts, he had to cudgel his tired brain to come up with an answer to her question. “Masahiro should talk to the shogun’s boy again. Maybe he’s remembered something else. You talk to Madam Chizuru. After a night in jail, maybe she’ll be ready to tell the truth.”

“All right,” Reiko said.

Sano realized, too late, that it wasn’t the best idea to employ his wife and son on his quest for the truth about the confession; they were hardly objective. But Sano couldn’t tell Reiko he’d changed his mind and put him at further odds with her and Masahiro, and he had to admit that he was just as biased.

“What are you going to do?” Reiko asked.

Sano heard the accusation in her words:
What other trouble are you going to get us into?
She probably wanted to work with him only to counteract what she saw as his wrong thinking and actions. His hope for a reconciliation waned. “I’ll go back to the Large Interior and try to figure out who, if anybody, got to Madam Chizuru.”

“Yanagisawa?”

“Him in particular. I forgot to tell you, I caught one of his men trying to smuggle blood into the Large Interior. But not just him.”

Reiko was silent a moment, thinking. “Yanagisawa isn’t the only person who would like Madam Chizuru to take the blame for the stabbing. There are the other suspects—Lady Nobuko, and Tomoe and her cousin Lord Yoshimune.”

The quickness of her mind, and the interest in her voice, lifted Sano’s low spirits. Maybe she hadn’t entirely changed. Hope was a stubborn creature that refused to die. Glad that for once they were talking without arguing, Sano said, “Yes. Madam Chizuru’s confession lets them off the hook.”

“How could they have forced her to confess if she’s innocent?” Reiko sounded reluctant to believe it possible.

“By the same means as Yanagisawa. Money, power, and cunning. Lady Nobuko and Lord Yoshimune have all those things.” The fog of drowsiness thickened. Sano yawned; he roused himself to say, “Maybe Lord Ienobu wasn’t meant to figure into the confession. If someone did force Madam Chizuru to confess, maybe whoever it was didn’t care whether Lord Ienobu was incriminated. Maybe all that he—or she—wanted was a good scapegoat.”

He heard Reiko’s hair rustle against her pillow as she nodded. “Madam Chizuru is the only commoner among the suspects. She has no powerful connections to protect her. But why would she say Ienobu told her to kill the shogun if it’s not true? How could anybody make her say it?”

Sleep was irresistible. Sano mumbled, “Those are good questions. Maybe we’ll find out the answers tomorrow.”

He turned his head toward Reiko. Before his eyes closed, he saw her lying wide awake, facing him. Did he sense a fragile truce spreading across the cold space between them, like thin ice? Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Sano teetered on the brink of sleep, then fell into its dark embrace.

22

THE NEXT MORNING
Sano, Marume, and Masahiro rode to Edo Castle. The sun shone in a brilliant blue sky, and the snow on the street and rooftops sparkled, but the air was colder than yesterday, with an edge that bit Sano’s face. At the main gate, troops from the night watch streamed out while troops arriving for day duty streamed in. Masahiro headed to the palace to see the shogun’s boy while Sano and Marume went to army headquarters, located in a watchtower high on the hill. From among the troops reporting for duty Sano chose ten soldiers he’d known when he was chamberlain, who’d had good reputations then. They accompanied Sano and Marume to the palace. The physician came out, medicine chest in hand.

“How is the shogun?” Sano asked.

“Worse, I’m sorry to say. He can’t keep down any food or water or medicine, and he passed bloody stools last night. There’s internal hemorrhaging. I’m going to mix up some medicine for it. I pray it works.”

So did Sano. He took little comfort from the fact that Lord Ienobu was no longer the shogun’s heir. If the shogun died, Yoshisato and Yanagisawa’s grip on the regime would become permanent. He took Marume and the soldiers to the Large Interior. The women were dressing and breakfasting; maids lugged bedding outside to air. The chatter was subdued by the news of the shogun’s condition. Guards loitered in the passages. Sano accosted Lieutenant Arai, the man who’d been watching Madam Chizuru yesterday.

“Who else is assigned to guard Madam Chizuru?” Sano asked.

“Lieutenant Fujisawa. He just went off night duty.”

“Go bring him back. And bring everybody else who had any contact with Madam Chizuru while she was locked in her room. I want to talk to all of you outside.”

Soon the two guards and two maids were gathered on the veranda. The soldiers stood aside while Sano and Marume eyed the lineup. Arai and the other guard were strong men in their forties. One of the maids was a girl with a round, bland face, the other an older, surly-looking woman. They shivered in the cold and clasped their hands under the sleeves of their blue cotton kimonos. They looked puzzled and nervous, the guards stoic.