The Shogun's Daughter (27 page)

“No!” Sano shouted in desperation. “It’s not how it looks!”

“It looks to me as if you killed my son!” The shogun’s voice was shrill with hysteria. Clutching the metal basket, he clambered to his feet, fell off the dais, then staggered over to Sano. “Why? Why did you do it?”

The shogun had wrongly accused Sano of many evils but never something as serious as this. Sano spoke with urgent passion. “I did not set that fire. Your Excellency has known me for fourteen years. You know in your heart that I would never do such a heinous thing!”

“Don’t believe him!” Yanagisawa shouted. “Sano was envious of Yoshisato. He wants to rule Japan himself. Yoshisato was in the way. Sano got rid of him by killing him in cold blood!”

“Murderer! Traitor!” The shogun swung the basket at Sano. Its sharp metal corner gouged Sano’s temple. “A curse on you!” He struck Sano again and again.

Blows hit Sano’s cheekbones, nose, and mouth. Sano remembered striking Hirata, who’d stood there unresisting. Now Sano endured the abuse and pain while the shogun beat his back and chest. It was Sano’s duty to take the punishment, no matter how undeserved, without striking back. Through the blood that ran into his eyes Sano saw Yanagisawa watching him with avid glee. The Way of the Warrior demanded courage while under attack. Sano would not shame himself by pleading for mercy.

Finally the shogun backed away from Sano. He dropped the basket, crawled onto the dais, and sat, gasping and spent. Sano’s head throbbed. The skin on his face felt numb, stretched across the pain underneath, as if his whole face were one big blister. The elders’ alarmed faces were like mirrors that told him how bad he looked. Yanagisawa gloated over Sano’s injuries but seemed disappointed that the shogun had quit so soon.

The shogun flicked his hand at Sano. “Get this piece of, ahh, garbage out of my sight.”

Something broke inside Sano. It was the dam that held in his most private thoughts and feelings. Now they came pouring out in a poisonous black flood. He’d often been angry at the shogun’s foolishness, selfishness, unfairness, and weakness, but that anger paled beside the fury that Sano felt now. He’d often disliked the shogun for insulting, threatening, and mistreating him. But now his wounded body rebelled against all the punishments that his mind had forced him to accept for the sake of Bushido. All his compassion toward the shogun vanished as he was finally pushed beyond the point where he could endure the constant testing of his honor or justify the shogun’s violence toward him. A savage hatred fought to explode out of Sano, like a wild animal from a cage.

“I’ll take Sano to the execution ground.” Yanagisawa sounded exultant that after so many years he’d finally bested his enemy, yet regretful that there was nothing more he could do to Sano except deny him an honorable death by ritual suicide. He rose, beckoning to the troops. “I’ll have him decapitated and his head mounted by the Nihonbashi Bridge.”

Sano knew this was his last chance to defend himself, but he couldn’t. He was too consumed by his hatred of the shogun, which was magnitudes greater than what he felt toward Yanagisawa. Yanagisawa had mightily abused Sano but only gotten away with it because the shogun let him. If Sano spoke, he wouldn’t say something brilliant that would exonerate him. His mutinous body would seize control of the tongue that his mind had always managed to hold. He would say exactly what he thought of the shogun.

You limp little man, waving your limp little hand to condemn your innocent, loyal retainer and send other people to do your dirty work!

The troops started toward Sano. Their usually impassive faces twitched with excitement. They knew this was a historic event and were thrilled to take part in it. The shogun watched, his mouth open and eyes vacant. Sano knew what that look meant: The shogun suspected that something was amiss, but he didn’t want to deal with it and so decided not to understand. Sano gazed at him with bitter loathing.

You’re not really that stupid! You choose to be stupid! It’s easier than exerting yourself instead of letting Yanagisawa usurp your power!

“Wait,” said one of the elders. It was Kato Kinhide. He had a flat, leathery, masklike face, the eyes and mouth like slits cut in it. The troops paused. “Let’s not be too hasty.”

“How could we be too hasty to punish the criminal who killed the shogun’s heir?” Yanagisawa sounded outraged that his crony would try to postpone his victory over Sano.

“We need to be sure Sano-
san
is guilty,” Kato said.

“Merciful gods, I caught him with the evidence.”

Another elder spoke up. “Did anyone actually see him set the fire?”

“I know he did it,” Yanagisawa said angrily. “How dare you go against me?”

Sano knew he should jump at the chance of turning the elders into his allies, but his attention focused on the mute, seemingly oblivious shogun.
Wake up, you lazy excuse for a dictator!

“We’re not going against you,” a third elder hurried to say. “We just think you should exercise a little caution.”

“‘Caution’?” Yanagisawa spoke as if it were a foreign, dirty word. “Why?”

“Later,” Kato said with a warning glance at the shogun.

Sano knew that the elders didn’t want to talk political strategy in the shogun’s presence. The shogun chose that moment to burst into a fresh spate of weeping. His sobs drowned out the conversational undertones he didn’t want to hear. Sano didn’t care that the elders were afraid that Yoshisato’s death could shift the balance of power in his favor and that was surely why they hesitated to take action against him. He was too embroiled in his contempt for the shogun. His loyalty toward the shogun crumbled. Up from its ruins surged a compulsion bred in his samurai blood, the passion for vengeance.

“I want to execute Sano now!” Yanagisawa thumped his fists on the dais.

Not even the immediate prospect of his own death could distract Sano from his desire to redress the wrongs the shogun had done him. His right hand clenched under his leather cape. His fingers itched for the sword he’d left at home.

“We’re overruling you,” Kato said. He and the other elders looked scared but determined.

Sano also knew that the elders were threatening to break their allegiance to Yanagisawa unless he cooperated with them. He ignored another opportunity to win them over to his side as he gauged the distance between himself and the dais. Could he get to the shogun before the guards stopped him?

Yanagisawa shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He flung up his hands. “What would you have me do?”

“Follow standard procedure,” Kato said, and the other elders nodded. “Put Sano on trial, just like any other accused criminal.”

It wouldn’t take much effort to strangle the shogun. Sano’s fingers flexed. He could almost feel the withered flesh of the shogun’s neck, its fragile bones snapping.

Yanagisawa stared at the elders, his eyes fierce. “Damn you.” He looked torn between his need to retain his friends and his need to shed Sano’s blood right now. He said to the troops, “Put him under house arrest.”

Samurai charged with crimes were imprisoned at home instead of at Edo Jail, a privilege of their class. Sano couldn’t appreciate the reprieve, the chance to save his life. As the troops led him from the room, he realized how blasphemous his thinking was. If he murdered his lord, he would no longer deserve to be called a samurai. Honor could never be reclaimed after such a violation of Bushido. Yet the raging creature that was his body still lusted for vengeance.

He looked backward at the shogun, who wept with loud, oblivious abandon. Two soldiers held Sano’s arms in such a tight grip that their fingers dug painfully into his flesh. Sano was glad of the restraint. It was the only thing keeping him from killing the shogun.

27

AT SANO’S MANSION,
Reiko stood on the veranda with Masahiro and Detective Marume. They’d been waiting there for hours since Masahiro and Marume had brought her the news that Yoshisato had died in the fire and Sano had been arrested. Now the temple bells tolled noon. Reiko watched the rain drip from the eaves and puddles spread in the courtyard. She clasped her arms around her belly, protecting the child within, and shivered.

“You should go in the house, Mother,” Masahiro said.

“No, I’m all right.” Praying for Sano to come home, Reiko felt her terror increase with every moment that passed. She knew he hadn’t done this terrible thing, but would anyone else believe he was innocent? Had he already been put to death? Reiko tried to calm down for the baby’s sake, but her heart beat so fast that she felt dizzy and faint.

“Your husband will get out of this,” Marume said uncertainly.

Masahiro said, for the tenth time, “I’ll go out to the street and see if he’s coming.” He ran through the rain, splashing across puddles.

Akiko came out onto the veranda. “Mama, what are you doing?”

“Waiting for your father,” Reiko said.

“Why?”

“To greet him when he comes back.” Reiko didn’t want to upset Akiko.

“Where is he?”

“He’s working,” Marume said cheerfully, rumpling Akiko’s hair. “Young lady, you ask too many questions.”

Reiko had a sudden terrible vision of Sano’s dead body being carried to the house. “Akiko, go inside.”

“Mother!” Masahiro came running, his expression filled with anguish.

Reiko’s breath caught; her heart seized. Five soldiers marched after Masahiro. They accompanied a man dressed in a grimy leather fire cape, whom she at first didn’t recognize as Sano. Her relief at seeing him alive immediately gave way to horror. His face was a mass of welts, darkening bruises, and blood. His eyes were swollen shut. Two soldiers held his arms while he hobbled. Akiko screamed.

Reiko grabbed Akiko and called to Masahiro, “Take your sister to her room!”

Masahiro dragged the screaming, crying little girl into the house. Reiko rushed to Sano, heedless of the rain that drenched her. “Merciful gods, what happened?”

Sano turned his head toward her. He didn’t speak. The soldiers shoved him at Reiko. He stumbled. His weight unbalanced her. Marume caught her and Sano.

One of the soldiers said, “He’s been charged with murdering Yoshisato. He’s under house arrest until his trial.”

Most trials ended in convictions, and because the victim was the shogun’s heir, this one surely would. Reiko forbade herself to think about that. Tending to Sano was her first concern.

“Let’s go inside,” she said in the gentle, calm voice she used when the children were sick and she was worried and trying to hide it. Sano leaned against her. She could feel his body shaking. She and Marume had to help him up the stairs; he couldn’t see.

“Get lost,” Marume told the soldiers.

Some accompanied Reiko, Marume, and Sano into the house. The leader said, “Guard him. Make sure he doesn’t run away. Lock up his troops. Confiscate all the weapons and money.” Troops swarmed the estate, herded Sano’s men toward the barracks.

Marume glared at their captors as he and Reiko led Sano down the passage. Servants gaped at their injured master. Reiko called to them, “Lay out our bed. Bring hot water and clean cloths. Fetch the physician.”

They rushed to obey. In the bedchamber, Reiko and Marume eased Sano onto the futon. She told Marume, “Go keep an eye on those soldiers.”

Marume left. Reiko said to Sano, “Who did this to you?”

Sano didn’t answer. He sat there, shaking violently.

Reiko’s anxiety spiked higher. “Where else are you hurt? Take off your clothes so I can see.”

He began to undress, but his hands shook so much that Reiko had to help him. She was glad to see only minor bruises on his shoulders and torso. The leather fire cape had protected him. But his trembling rattled the house. His breath came in gasps.

“Is something else the matter?” Reiko’s voice quavered with fear that his injuries had affected his mind. “Can’t you speak?”

Sano mumbled through cut, bleeding lips, “The shogun. Did this.” Tremors jolted the words out of him. “To me.”

Reiko’s relief plunged into horror.

A maid came to the door and said, “Excuse me, I’m sorry, the physician won’t come.”

The news about Sano was already spreading, Reiko understood; the physician didn’t want to help an accused traitor. At least she had the experience of watching him treat Sano after other battles. She bathed the cuts on Sano’s head, applied healing balm, and fastened cotton bandages over the worst—one on his left cheek, the other on his brow. She gently pulled up his eyelids.

“Can you see?”

Shaking, Sano nodded.

Reiko held up three fingers. “How many?”

“… Three.”

“What’s your name and rank? Who am I? Name your children?”

Sano gave the correct answers, punctuated with tremors. His brain didn’t seem injured. Reiko asked, “Why are you shaking?”

He didn’t answer. It must be a reaction to the trauma. Reiko made him lie down with a pillow under his neck, covered him with a quilt, and put herbal poultices over his swollen eyes. His situation was far worse than his injuries.

The shogun, who abhorred violence, had savagely beaten Sano. He must believe Sano had murdered his heir.

Reiko knelt beside Sano. “What happened?” She had to know everything, no matter how terrible it was.

Sano haltingly told the story. Reiko listened, outraged by the false accusation, distraught about Sano’s predicament. The only ray of hope came from the elders’ insistence on following legal procedure before executing Sano.

“We have a chance to save you,” Reiko said. “Let’s figure out what we’re going to do.” Sano relapsed into muteness. She seized his hand. “I know you’re hurt, but we must think of something fast! Yanagisawa will hurry up the investigation. We’ve no time to lose!”

“I hate him.” Sano spoke with a rabid vehemence that Reiko had never heard in his voice. Now she realized why he was shaking. It was from anger and the effort to control it.

“I know. I hate Yanagisawa, too.” All her own fury toward their enemy rose up in Reiko like a hot bile. “After all these years of attacking us, he’s finally got us where he wants us.”