Laura Rowland - The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

“But you can’t just give up everything,” Reiko said, following him in panic. “Please think about Masahiro’s future.” Sano knew the hardship of growing up the son of a rōnin. Surely he wouldn’t want the same for Masahiro.

“I am thinking of it! I won’t have my son trapped in the same impossible circumstances as I!”

A branch of an azalea bush snagged his sleeve. With a cry of rage, Sano drew his sword and began hacking viciously at the bush. Branches and twigs flew at every touch of his blade, while he shouted curses. Reiko shrank away from him in stark, wide-eyed terror. This wasn’t her husband; it was a demon who’d possessed him.

Suddenly Sano halted. With an anguished groan, he flung away his weapon. He sagged to his knees before the mutilated bush, his temper spent. Shudders convulsed him. Reiko’s terror dissolved. She went to Sano and put her arms around him.

Inside his private chamber, Sano sat wrapped in a quilt, drinking a hot herbal infusion that Reiko had given him to restore his spirits, while she knelt watching anxiously.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And he was sorry-for saying deplorable things; for succumbing to emotion and displaying weakness; for destroying the bush in a fit of undignified temper; for scaring Reiko. He hadn’t realized how much bad will had built up inside him. Releasing it had given him an exhilarating sense of freedom; but now, although he felt more peaceful than he had in ages, he was deeply ashamed. And nothing had changed. The shogun still suspected him of murdering Lord Mitsuyoshi; Police Commissioner Hoshina was still determined to incriminate him. If he wanted to survive, Sano mustn’t lose his self-control again.

“Do you really mean to give up your post?” Reiko asked, her manner still troubled.

“No.” Sano’s moment of rebellion had passed. He had nowhere to go, and he couldn’t sacrifice his honor or his family’s future. Nor could he sacrifice the vocation that was his path along the Way of the Warrior, the strict code of duty, obedience, and courage by which samurai lived.

“Then what will you do?” Reiko said.

“I’ll find the real killer, prove my innocence, and regain the shogun’s trust.” Determination and a desire for justice rekindled in Sano. “It will be hard, because all the clues have so far led nowhere, but there’s still hope.”

He and Reiko looked up as Hirata appeared in the doorway. “Sumimasen-excuse me, but there’s bad news.” Visibly distraught, Hirata said, “Magistrate Aoki just convicted Fujio of murdering Lady Wisteria, and Momoko as an accomplice. They’ve been taken to the execution ground.”

Reiko murmured in dismay. Sano had anticipated Fujio’s conviction when he’d heard Magistrate Aoki had convened the trial, but Momoko’s took him by surprise.

“Come in. Sit down and explain,” Sano said to Hirata.

Hirata complied, and Sano marveled that the magistrate had based the verdict on a story he’d invented and couldn’t prove. After Hirata had finished, Sano said, “This seems to be the day for bad news,” then told Hirata what had happened to him.

“All three of our suspects are gone.” Hirata’s face reflected his horror. “That leaves you as the only target for the shogun’s wrath.”

Sano perceived cosmic forces shifting and heard the approaching thunder of doom as the onus settled upon him.

Reiko said, “Maybe Fujio, Momoko, or Treasury Minister Nitta did murder Lord Mitsuyoshi. They’re still good suspects and worth investigating even if they’re no longer alive.”

“We can still look for proof of their guilt,” Hirata said, following up her attempt to look on the bright side.

“And hope that it exists,” Sano said, “because I’m afraid that if we can’t find a witness or some solid evidence that points to someone other than me, the only thing that will convince the shogun I’m innocent is the killer’s confession. Which would be difficult to get from a dead person.”

His companions nodded in glum agreement. Then Hirata spoke hesitantly: “Police Commissioner Hoshina isn’t above falsifying evidence against you. That second pillow book stank of him. He’s sure to invent more ‘proof that you’re a traitor.”

Sano pursed his mouth, aware that Hirata meant they should follow Hoshina’s example and fabricate evidence against Fujio, Momoko, or the treasury minister to save Sano.

Understanding flashed in Reiko’s eyes. “False incrimination is less harmful to a dead person than to a live one,” she said with cautious hope.

That Hirata and Reiko would even consider such dishonesty meant they were at a loss for what else to do. “It’s already occurred to me,” Sano admitted. “But I’m not desperate enough to frame someone who might be innocent, whether the person is alive or dead. Especially since there’s a whole area of inquiry that we haven’t yet explored.”

“What’s left?” Reiko said, puzzled.

“Lord Mitsuyoshi himself,” Sano said.

Hirata frowned. “The shogun forbade you to investigate his background.”

“And I would hate to disobey.” At the very thought of defying his lord, Sano tasted nauseating disgrace. “But Mitsuyoshi represents a direct connection to the killer. Investigating him and his associates should produce new clues. And what are the alternatives?

“We can keep on investigating Fujio, Momoko, and Nitta, and maybe find new evidence on territory we’ve already covered. We can hope for new suspects to emerge, and Wisteria’s lover from Hokkaido to turn up, or Police Commissioner Hoshina to drop dead.” Sano watched Reiko and Hirata shake their heads, doubting the likelihood of these events. “We can pray for a miracle.”

“Investigating Lord Mitsuyoshi does seem the most promising course of action,” Reiko said.

“The shogun will punish you for insubordination,” Hirata reminded Sano.

“I’ll risk that because he’ll put me to death unless I prove my innocence,” Sano said.

“Maybe he’ll forgive you when he realizes you’re not a traitor,” Hirata suggested hopefully.

The odds against Sano outweighed those in his favor. He said, “Maybe we can solve the case without the shogun finding out I’ve disobeyed him-and before Hoshina or our other enemies can cause us any more trouble.”

Lady Yanagisawa stood alone in her chamber, waiting for the only guest she’d ever invited to visit her.

She wrung her cold, perspiring hands and breathed deeply to loosen the knot of anxiety in her stomach. She dreaded receiving a virtual stranger, and the thought of anyone breaching the sanctuary of her room. But the visit must take place here, in the privacy she needed.

Her chief attendant appeared in the doorway. “There’s a girl here to see you.”

Lady Yanagisawa’s heart lurched as she fought the urge to run and hide. “Bring her here,” she said.

Determination fostered courage. She’d already taken a step against Reiko, but the consequences were too uncertain. If Lady Yanagisawa expected to sway the balance of fortune in her favor, she must persevere, despite her regret over her malice toward her friend.

Reiko’s nursemaid O-hana entered the room. She wore a fashionable red kimono printed with a design of snow on black tree branches. Avid curiosity shone through her modest demeanor, belied her hesitant step.

“Welcome,” Lady Yanagisawa murmured. She clasped her trembling hands under her sleeves, intimidated by O-hana’s bold, pretty face.

O-hana knelt and bowed. “It’s a privilege for this insignificant person to be summoned to your presence, Honorable Lady.” Her voice brimmed with eagerness to ingratiate herself with her hostess. “A million thanks for inviting me.”