Laura Rowland - The Samurai’s Wife

Lagging behind in an alley, Yanagisawa watched the right minister march around the structure. It was crowned by a stone monument shaped like a squat pagoda. Lights from below illuminated characters engraved there. Reading them, Yanagisawa recognized the structure as the Ear Mound. This was the monument to Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s war on Korea more than a century ago. Although the invasion had failed, Hideyoshi’s forces had slain many defenders. Distance had prevented his army from following the usual practice of presenting the severed heads of their defeated enemies to their commander. Therefore, the ears of some forty thousand Korean soldiers had been pickled in brine, shipped to Japan, and entombed in the Ear Mound.

A bridge spanned the north side of the moat. Ichijo stepped onto it. Yanagisawa hid in the entry way of a house directly opposite the bridge, which led to stone steps in the Ear Mound’s foundation. Above these, beyond an iron gate and the trees, more steps climbed to the base of the mound, where an altar held flowers, burning lamps, and a smoking incense vat. Ichijo walked to the first set of steps. He eased himself down, laid his cane across his lap, and wiped his brow. Then he folded his hands and sat motionless.

Time passed. Yanagisawa grew impatient. Then he heard rapidly approaching hoofbeats. The right minister raised his head. He was meeting the outlaws here, Yanagisawa guessed. Ichijo was too crafty to go to the rebels’ den and risk leading spies there. A meeting in a public place could pass for a chance encounter. Anticipation and fear gripped Yanagisawa. He wanted to see the outlaws, learn their plans. But if they should discover him here in this lonely place, they would most certainly kill him.

From an alley to his right emerged two samurai on horseback. They cast furtive glances around the Ear Mound. Ichijo waved. Yanagisawa peered through the bamboo lattice that screened his hiding place. The two samurai dismounted at the bridge, tied their horses to the posts, and walked toward Ichijo, who rose to meet them. A round of bows ensued, and greetings inaudible to Yanagisawa. Then the three men settled on the steps, their figures haloed by the light of the lamps on the altar behind them.

Yanagisawa slipped out of the entryway. Sidling past buildings and across alleys, he circled the Ear Mound until he was behind it. He tiptoed to the edge of the moat. Now he distinguished three voices speaking in turn-one gruff, one a high whine, and Ichijo’s.

“… took you long enough to get here,” Ichijo was saying. “You were supposed to be waiting for me.”

“We came as soon as we could,” said Gruff Voice.

“With the trouble we’ve had, you should be glad we made it at all,” whined the other man.

“I hired you to handle trouble,” Ichijo said coldly. “I hired you to obey my orders, and I expect to get the service you promised.”

“Well, we expect to be treated better than slaves.” Belligerence harshened Gruff Voice’s tone. “After all, we’re risking our lives to do your dirty work.”

“You knew the duties the job entailed. You knew the danger,” Ichijo retorted. “If you’re too lazy and cowardly to go on, then I’ve no use for you. I can’t afford to leave such important matters in the hands of unreliable men. Unless you fulfill your part of the bargain, you won’t reap the rewards.”

Yanagisawa’s heart began to race. The two samurai were rōnin, possibly the ones from Lord Ibe’s house. If “trouble” meant the hasty relocation of troops and weapons, then “important matters” referred to the imperial restoration, and “rewards” to the spoils of war.

“All right, all right; we’re sorry we were late,” the Whiner said quickly.

Gruff Voice said, “This place makes me nervous. Let’s hurry up so we can get out of here.”

There was a brief silence. Then Ichijo said, “How are they?”

“Safe and well,” said Gruff Voice.

Ichijo’s allies, Yanagisawa thought; secure in their positions, waiting for the command to march.

“Has my merchandise arrived?”

“Yes. The last of it came twelve days ago.”

The guns and ammunition, manufactured illegally and smuggled into Miyako a little at a time?

“Well, then.” An odd sadness tinged Ichijo’s tone. “I suppose you’d best be on your way.”

There was a clink of gold coins.

“Is this all?” Gruff Voice said with disapproval.

Ichijo said, “You’ll get more later.”

When the emperor rules Japan and the Imperial Court commandeers the nation’s wealth? A thrill shot through Yanagisawa. He was sure he’d just witnessed Ichijo advancing payment for mounting a war against the Tokugawa. With great relish Yanagisawa looked forward to arresting Ichijo. He could hardly wait to see the look on Sano’s face when he…

A familiar sensation, like invisible hands on his skin, disturbed Yanagisawa: Someone was watching him. Instinctively he crouched, scanning the alleys and rooftops. In the darkness, he couldn’t see anyone, but the menacing hidden presence revived the terror of the attack in the Imperial Palace. Was the killer stalking him again?

But that was impossible, with the killer sitting just around the curve of the Ear Mound. Yanagisawa heard Ichijo and the samurai talking, although his panic reduced their words to gibberish. Could there be more than one killer? Was it Hoshina? Yanagisawa wanted to learn more about the conspirators’ plans, but he had to get away, fast.

Then he heard Ichijo say, “Farewell. We shall meet again soon. Until then, I place my faith in you.”

Footsteps tapped across the bridge. The horses’ bridles clanked as the samurai untied them. Yanagisawa guessed that Ichijo’s parting words to the mercenaries meant that he planned to launch the revolt in the near future. He was entrusting them to deploy the troops and weapons, while he carried on his normal existence until the battle. Yanagisawa’s samurai instinct, for so long buried beneath personal ambitions and torments, now challenged his fear for his own safety. A forgotten sense of duty spurred his determination to catch the traitors. Peering around the Ear Mound, he saw the two samurai ride off down an alley. He sprang up to follow.

But old habit persisted. Yanagisawa thought of the hidden watcher. Only a fool tracks outlaws to their den alone! warned his inner voice.

Hesitation cost him his chance. By the time he raced after the two samurai, there was no sign of them. He could hear their horses’ hoofbeats receding into the distance, but although he spent hours looking for the outlaws, they’d vanished into the night.

I’m going out now,” Sano said to Reiko the next morning. When they’d returned to Nijō Manor last night, he’d found a message from Detective Fukida, alerting him to a matter that required action today. “Will you be all right?”

“Yes.” Seated by the window of their room in Nijō Manor, Reiko was immaculately dressed and groomed, her face pale and drawn but composed. She did not look at Sano.

“Are you sure?”

Last night he’d caught her as she ran from Gion Shrine, wild-eyed and breathless. He hurried her back to Nijō Manor, where she’d calmed down enough to tell him that Kozeri had admitted being in the Pond Garden during Left Minister Konoe’s murder, but claimed that she’d seen Right Minister Ichijo afterward. Sano didn’t know whether to believe it, but he guessed that more had transpired than Reiko would say. In bed, she’d lain rigid and silent beside him, and this morning he’d awakened to find her brooding by the window. He desperately wanted to know what had happened between her and Kozeri, yet he was afraid to ask.

Now Reiko said, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”