Laura Rowland - The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

“Your Excellency, may I speak?” Hoshina said.

The shogun nodded indifferently as the doctors massaged pressure points on his limbs.

“Perhaps the sōsakan-sama has a particular reason for conducting his investigation in such a questionable fashion.” Hoshina’s eyes sighted on Sano like gun barrels. “Perhaps he would cast suspicion on the Tokugawa clan to protect himself.”

“That’s a lie,” Sano burst out, shocked and infuriated that Hoshina had virtually accused him of the murder. The room had gone still, the faces turned to him frozen in surprise. Goaded into blunt speech, Sano said, “Perhaps you wish to sabotage me so that I won’t discover that you were involved in the crime.”

Hoshina’s mouth curved in a satisfied smile, though he must know how dangerous was the game he played. Turning to Yanagisawa, he said, “Honorable Chamberlain, what do you think?”

Horror flooded Sano as he saw that Hoshina intended to break the truce between Sano and Yanagisawa by manipulating the chamberlain into taking sides in his war against Sano. A suspenseful hush quieted the room while the chamberlain pondered Sano and Hoshina, his expression unreadable.

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi suddenly clutched his chest and moaned, “I think I shall die unless my cousin’s death is soon avenged!”

Dull-witted and self-absorbed, he’d missed the meaning of Sano and Hoshina’s interchange. Spasms racked his body as the doctors laid him down on the bed. Hoshina frowned, his ploy thwarted; but Sano exhaled in gratitude for the distraction. The elders conversed in low, urgent tones.

“What if His Excellency does die?” “With the heir apparent dead, we can expect conflict over the succession.” “If the bakufu and the daimyo form factions, there will be a battle.” The elders turned in unison to Sano, their unspoken meaning clear: He had better avenge Lord Mitsuyoshi’s death soon, or take the blame for the shogun’s death and civil war.

Chamberlain Yanagisawa rose and calmly announced, “I think this meeting is over.”

But Sano knew that his troubles had only begun.

Reiko sat in her parlor, wrapped in a quilt that spread over the square frame of a charcoal brazier. The chilly mansion creaked; distant temple bells heralded midnight. The servants had retired for the evening, and Reiko had put Masahiro to bed long ago. Now she waited, alone and anxious, in the light of the lantern she kept burning for Sano. Perhaps this was too soon after the Black Lotus case to ask him for a part in an investigation, and he would justify his refusal by mentioning her past faults. If another quarrel arose, reconciliation might be impossible this time.

The front door opened, and Reiko heard clattering in the entryway as Sano hung his swords on racks. Hastily she threw off the quilt and rose, her heartbeat accelerating. His footsteps padded down the corridor, and he entered the parlor.

“Hello,” he said. Exhaustion shadowed his face; his proud posture seemed burdened by worry. “You didn’t need to wait up for me.”

“Yes, well. I wanted to.” Reiko moved forward and helped him remove his cloak. Her smile felt stiff. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to be back.”

They embraced tentatively, the way they did nowadays-as though they considered each other too fragile to withstand much affection. “You’re cold,” Reiko said, feeling the winter on him. “Sit down. I’ll make you warm.”

He sat, and she wrapped him in the quilt, then draped it over the brazier. “That’s better,” Sano said. “Thank you.”

Reiko wished she could as easily thaw the spiritual coldness that surrounded them. “Are you hungry? Would you like dinner?”

“Yes. Please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

This was typical of their interactions during the last three months. They were so polite to each other, so careful not to impose nor offend. Even their lovemaking was cautious, without joy. Sadness swelled in Reiko as she recalled their past intimate companionship. She went to the kitchen to warm the miso soup and rice she’d prepared for Sano, then carried the food and a pot of tea on a tray into the parlor, where she heated sake and cooked fish on a brazier.

Sano courteously thanked her for the meal. As he ate, she knelt opposite him. Neither of them acknowledged the fact that she’d never cooked for him until after the Black Lotus case. Reiko had always disliked domestic chores, but they were a way to placate Sano.

“How is Masahiro?” Sano said.

“He’s fine. He’s in bed, asleep.”

Nights were the most difficult, because during the day, Masahiro filled the empty space once occupied by their work. They seemed to have nothing left in common except their son, and therefore nothing to share when he was absent.

“What did you do today?” Sano said.

Reiko could tell that his mind was on the events of his own day, and she wanted to ask about the investigation, but fear held her back. “Lady Keisho-in had a party. I met Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s wife and daughter there.”

“Did you?” Sano regarded her with scant but genuine curiosity. “What are they like?”

Describing Lady Yanagisawa and Kikuko, and her encounter with them, Reiko experienced more misgivings about her new friendship. “Do you think I should have tried to discourage Lady Yanagisawa?” she said.

She’d always done as she pleased, and enjoyed her independence, but now she was always seeking approval from Sano. He frowned, and she dreaded a reprimand. Then Sano’s frown dissolved into a weary, harassed expression, as though he lacked the energy for another problem besides the ones he had.

“It would have been worse to snub Lady Yanagisawa,” he said, “and you couldn’t have refused to let her visit you without giving offense. And we mustn’t offend a member of the chamberlain’s family just now.

“Oh? Why not now, in particular?” Reiko said.

Sano told her about the crime scene, his inquiries in Yoshiwara, and the two suspects. Reiko listened eagerly, welcoming the start of renewed communication. How much she longed for a part in this challenging case! Still, she hesitated to ask. Then Sano described how Police Commissioner Hoshina had interfered with his investigation and threatened his truce with Chamberlain Yanagisawa.

“The shogun threatened to punish me, and die himself, if I don’t solve this case fast enough,” Sano finished.

“How unfortunate.” Yet although Reiko was truly appalled, her hope flared. That things were this bad meant Sano needed all the assistance he could get. Opportunity beckoned. She drew a deep breath of courage, but Sano spoke before she could.

“Perhaps you would make a few inquiries for me?” He regarded her with somber caution.

The last thing Reiko had expected was for Sano to ask for her help, and glad surprise stunned her. But contradictory emotions forestalled the agreement she longed to give him. She wanted to restore the partnership that had been a cornerstone of their marriage, but she was terrified that she would make a mistake and cause Sano more trouble.

Now she saw disappointment, and guilt, in Sano’s eyes. Averting his gaze, he stacked empty dishes on his tray. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t involve you in this bad business. After what happened to you at the Black Lotus Temple, I won’t blame you if you want to give up detecting for good.”

He thought the experience had scared her off detective work, Reiko realized. He thought her a coward! Anxious to correct his misperception, Reiko said, “I’m not afraid of what will happen to me. I’m afraid of what I might do!”

As Reiko poured out her fears and explanations, Sano saw how much their reticence had hidden from each other. They’d sworn to put the Black Lotus case behind them, but Reiko hadn’t been able to do so any better than he had. Self-recrimination had eroded her spirit, and though she protested that danger didn’t scare her, Sano believed that facing death at the temple had undermined his wife’s valiant courage.