The Iris Fan (43 page)

Lady Yanagisawa raised the red, dripping knife and slashed her own throat.

*   *   *

ALONE IN HER
bed, Taeko came to a reckoning with reality. The baby would be born in a few months, and she had to plan for its future even though she didn’t want to face her own. The knowledge strengthened a will she hadn’t known she possessed. She sat up and dried her tears on the sleeve of her robe, surprised to learn that this was what it meant to be grown up—putting her child’s needs first.

Taeko dragged herself out of bed, shivering in the cold, and trudged down the corridor. The fireworks sounded far away. Somewhere in the house a woman was shrieking. Taeko wasn’t curious enough to find out who or why. She had to apologize to Masahiro and ask him to take her back. She would be his concubine so that she and the baby would have a place to live and he would support them. She would put aside her pride for the baby’s sake … and because she was still in love with Masahiro and wanted to be with him no matter what the conditions were.

What if Masahiro and Kikuko were making love? She would wait patiently until they were finished, and she would pretend not to care. She would throw herself on his mercy.

She reached the section of the guest quarters where the Yanagisawa family lived. Through an open door she saw the shrieking woman. It was Lady Someko, kneeling and rocking back and forth. Midori and Magistrate Ueda stood outside a nearby room. Midori was leaning over, her hand to her head, as if fainting, while Magistrate Ueda supported her. They saw Taeko.

Midori cried, “Don’t look in there!” Magistrate Ueda put out his hand to stop Taeko, but she was determined to go through with her decision. She pushed past him and her mother into the room.

Masahiro wasn’t there. Kikuko lay on her back; her eyes gazed up at the ceiling; her mouth was open in an expression of frightened surprise. Her complexion was as white as ice, a shocking contrast to the bright red and pink kimono she wore and the bright red ribbon around her neck. Her head rested on a long, thick, gray and dark red pillow. Taeko frowned, puzzled by the strange sight. Then she saw the ribbon around Kikuko’s neck drip thick red droplets into a red puddle that covered the tatami. She smelled the sweet, salty, iron smell, and her stomach flipped. The puddle was blood. So was the red pattern on Kikuko’s clothes. The ribbon was a gash across Kikuko’s throat. The pillow was a woman wearing a bloodstained gray kimono—Lady Yanagisawa. Her face was white, too, her throat also cut, her eyes blank and filmy. The blood puddle framed her head. Beside her hand lay a knife covered with her blood and her daughter’s.

Masahiro’s wife is dead.

Taeko couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t really wanted Masahiro’s wife to die. But she had wished it, and her wish had come horribly true. Taeko screamed and screamed and screamed.

42

EDO AT NIGHT
rested in an uneasy state of cease-fire. The army, swelled by troops newly arrived from the provinces, occupied the city. The rebel
daimyo
and their armies had retreated into their estates. The rain had stopped, and the fog dissipated, but smoke from bonfires veiled the sky. Soldiers loaded corpses onto oxcarts that rolled through the deserted city toward the temple districts and the crematoriums.

Inside Lord Mori’s estate, a sick ward had been set up in the barracks. Physicians ministered to wounded soldiers who lay on beds in rows on the floor. Maids brought tea, gruel, and fresh bandages and removed soiled dressings and basins of blood-tinted water. The atmosphere was thick with heat from charcoal braziers and the smell of medicine.

“I have to get back to the castle.” Detective Marume, wearing a bandage wrapped around his left shoulder and back, sat up in his bed. “Sano-
san
is up there alone!”

“You have to rest.” Kneeling beside him, her bandaged arm in a sling, Reiko sponged his face. She’d found him lying unconscious outside the palace. “You’re badly hurt.”

“It’s just a flesh wound. Sano-
san
needs me.”

“He can take care of himself.” But Reiko was worried about Sano, too. Some twelve hours had passed since they’d left Sano at the castle, and they’d had no word of what was happening there.

A physician said to Marume, “Rest or you won’t heal. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He glanced at Reiko. “So have you. Go to bed or infection could set in. You could lose your arm.”

Marume reluctantly lay down. Reiko walked on shaky legs to the guest quarters. She feared that even if Sano survived, their marriage wouldn’t. She’d realized how much she loved him, but maybe it was too late.

*   *   *

INSIDE THE PALACE
reception chamber, Lord Ienobu sat on the dais. Sano, his hand stitched and bandaged, knelt at Ienobu’s right. On the floor below them, the Council of Elders sat in a row apart from the Tokugawa branch clan leaders, who included Lord Yoshimune. Sano had briefed them on the extraordinary events in the shogun’s bedchamber. They looked as shocked as Sano still was.

Sano still couldn’t believe Yanagisawa was dead. He felt strangely unbalanced, as if a part of him was gone and he hadn’t yet adjusted to the missing weight. Although he’d seen Yanagisawa’s body carried out of the palace, and he knew Yoshisato had gone to the Mori estate to break the news to Yanagisawa’s family, the reality of Yanagisawa’s death wouldn’t sink in until he’d checked the whole city and made sure his enemy wasn’t lurking someplace.

But he couldn’t leave the castle yet. Masahiro had taken Reiko and Akiko, the paralyzed Hirata, and the wounded Marume to the Mori estate, while Sano stayed behind to deal with the aftermath of the war. A messenger had brought Sano the news that Lady Yanagisawa had killed herself and Kikuko. Heaven only knew when Sano would see his family again or what else would happen. Sano gazed down at the assembly gathered to figure out what the government should do.

“Call the meeting to order,” Sano said.

“I call the meeting to order,” Lord Ienobu said.

The senior elder, a bald, pugnacious man named Ogita, scrutinized Lord Ienobu. “Is his mental condition permanent?”

“It’s impossible to tell,” Sano said.

“He’s otherwise normal?”

“Apparently. His physician has examined him.” Sano added, “He can eat and attend to his personal needs and read and write, but he doesn’t seem to remember anything at all.”

“And he won’t do or say anything unless you tell him to.”

“That seems to be the case.”

Lord Matsudaira, spokesman for the
daimyo
, glared down his long nose at Sano. “For all practical purposes you’re in control of the shogun, the regime, and the whole country.”

Sano was still shocked by this reversal of his fate.

“This is an untenable situation,” Senior Elder Ogita protested. “We can’t have a shogun who’s unable to think for himself!”

A chagrined silence ensued as everyone recalled the dead shogun, his body hastily cremated because of the measles.

“Lord Ienobu has an extreme case of mental impairment,” Lord Matsudaira said. “He shouldn’t be shogun.” Other
daimyo
nodded. Yoshimune was silent, perhaps chastened by the knowledge that he might have been convicted and put to death for the old shogun’s murder if Lady Nobuko hadn’t confessed.

Although he’d not asked for the opportunity to rule Japan through the new shogun, Sano was reluctant to let it slip away. Yanagisawa would die of envy. Sano had to remind himself that Yanagisawa was dead. “I could tell Lord Ienobu to step down, and he would do it, but then who would be shogun?”

“I understand Yoshisato has given up his claim to the dictatorship,” Lord Matsudaira said.

“That’s correct,” Sano said. Yoshisato had told him so.

“Lord Ienobu’s son is next in line for the succession,” Senior Elder Ogita said. “He’s only two years old, but a regent could be appointed to rule on his behalf until he comes of age.”

“Lord Ienobu wouldn’t have wanted to be shunted aside,” Sano said. A big responsibility accompanied his stroke of good fortune: It was now his duty to look out for the interests of Lord Ienobu, who was helpless to look after them himself. And it was a chance for Sano to try his hand at ruling Japan as well as to control his own destiny.

Maybe he’d absorbed some ambition from Yanagisawa at the moment he’d taken his life. The thought was disconcerting.

“What he would have wanted in the past is irrelevant. He obviously hasn’t any objection now.” Senior Elder Ogita eyed the placid, silent Lord Ienobu.

“How would we explain to the world why he was stepping down?” Sano asked.

“We could say he was seriously injured during the battle. Which would be true.”

“If his son becomes shogun, the government will be in virtually the same situation as it is now—with a dictator who’s unfit to rule. It’ll just be someone other than me in charge.”

Lord Matsudaira smirked. “Precisely.” The other
daimyo
, except for Yoshimune, nodded.

“Who would be the regent?” Sano asked.

Each
daimyo
except Yoshimune volunteered for the job. The elders chimed in to support their favorites. During the loud, heated argument about who was most qualified or deserving, Sano said to Lord Ienobu, “Tell them to stop.”

“Stop!” ordered Lord Ienobu.

The argument fizzled. Sano said, “You’re already fighting about who’ll control the dictatorship. What makes you think it will be one of you?” The men looked startled. “A regime with a child at its head and his clansmen squabbling over control of it—that’s a ripe apple for picking. Remember, many of the other
daimyo
revolted today. They could start a full-scale civil war, and if they win, that’ll be the end of the Tokugawa regime.”

Sano was disturbed to hear another voice in his head, speaking the same words—Yanagisawa’s. How long would it be until he stopped hearing that voice? How long until he could speak or act and not wonder if it was what Yanagisawa would have said or done?

“Sano-
san
has a point,” Senior Elder Ogita said reluctantly.

“He’s just trying to hang on to the power that his influence over Lord Ienobu gives him,” Lord Matsudaira said. “If we let him,
he’ll
pick the apple!”

The very idea amazed Sano. So did the fact that although he’d once done his best to keep Lord Ienobu from rising to the top of the regime, now he was trying to keep him there. “The regime will be more stable with an adult as shogun, and the other
daimyo
respect Lord Ienobu even if they don’t like him.”

Outraged and incredulous, Lord Matsudaira said, “He’s your puppet!”

“Not a word of what’s happened to Lord Ienobu will appear in the official record,” Sano improvised. “Only a few people know. We’ll swear them to secrecy.”

“He never went out much,” Senior Elder Ogita admitted. “If he stays out of sight, no one will suspect the reason.” The other elders nodded.

“You can’t hide him all the time,” Lord Matsudaira said. “He’ll have to hold audiences.”

“I’ll make sure he behaves properly,” Sano said. “And Manabe will look after him when I’m not with him.” Sano and Manabe had made a deal: Manabe would take care of Ienobu, keep quiet about his condition, and not make trouble for Sano; Sano wouldn’t punish Manabe for kidnapping Yoshisato and deceiving the old shogun. It went without saying that Ienobu had gotten his comeuppance for those offenses.

“But he’ll be even less in charge than the previous shogun was, which is to say not at all! You’ll be as good as ruling Japan!”

“I did it while I was chamberlain to the previous shogun,” Sano pointed out. “I’ll be Lord Ienobu’s chamberlain and do it again.”

“I won’t bow to your authority!”

Yoshimune spoke up. “Give Sano-
san
a chance. So he’s a puppeteer—if you don’t like how his show is going, then you can cancel it and make Lord Ienobu’s son shogun.”

There were murmurs of agreement. Yoshimune still had a commanding air about him. Lord Matsudaira, overruled and disgruntled, said to Sano, “All right, here’s your first test: How do you propose to handle the men from Yanagisawa’s faction?”

Sano turned to Lord Ienobu. “Pardon them all.”

“I pardon them all,” Lord Ienobu said.

An uproar broke out. Senior Elder Ogita said, “Pardon the enemy? Are you serious? It’s never happened in all of history.”

“A lot has happened today that’s never happened in all of history. Pardon them, put the whole blame on Yanagisawa, and the regime will hold together. Charge them big fines. But if you try to confiscate domains and hand out death sentences, you’ll start that civil war you don’t want.” Sano thought of Yoshisato’s plan for a coalition to improve the government. He added, “I don’t intend to run Lord Ienobu’s government by myself. I welcome your advice. Somebody else might not be so willing to cooperate for the good of Japan.”

“I suppose you’ll be purging your enemies and putting your relatives and friends in high positions,” Lord Matsudaira said.

“My son, Masahiro, will have my old post as chief investigator. I may make some other changes. Anyone who doesn’t perform to my satisfaction had better improve or watch out.”

“What are you going to do with Lady Nobuko?” Senior Elder Ogita asked. “Don’t forget she murdered the shogun.”

“It wouldn’t do to let the world know,” Sano said. “A regime that let its dictator be stabbed by his crazy wife? We’ll go down in history as the biggest laughingstock of all time. His official cause of death will be measles. I’ll have Lady Nobuko put in a convent and kept quiet.”

Everybody seemed willing to let that matter lie. Everybody also seemed willing to give Sano his chance to run the government—rope to hang himself. “Next he’ll be pardoning all the criminals in Edo Jail,” Lord Matsudaira grumbled.