Laura Rowland - The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

Soon, Hirata and a squadron of detectives were seated in a teahouse in Nihonbashi. Lord Niu entered with his guards and his chief retainer, Okita.

“Greetings,” Hirata said, bowing to Lord Niu. “Thank you for coming.”

“Your invitation said you were ready to discuss a surrender.” Lord Niu regarded Hirata with contempt. “Does this mean you’ve come to your senses?”

“Indeed it does,” Hirata said politely.

Lord Niu and his men sat. Hirata beckoned a maid, who poured cups of sake for everyone.

“It’s high time you realized that your campaign against me is futile,” Lord Niu said.

“Your clan is far more powerful than mine,” Hirata said, feigning meekness. “And you’re too clever for me to conquer by treachery.”

Gloating satisfaction swelled the daimyo’s countenance. “How right you are.”

“It was especially clever of you to write those pages about Lady Wisteria and her lover from Hokkaido, then hire the following horse to sell them to me as the missing pillow book,” Hirata said.

He and Sano had tracked the one remaining loose end in the investigation to Lord Niu. After Lady Wisteria had admitted her authorship of the book that had almost framed Sano for Lord Mitsuyoshi’s murder, Sano and Hirata had recognized the other book as a forgery. Hirata had recalled that the pages had been delivered straight into his hands-and not, he realized, by chance. Someone had intended for him to take possession of the forgery and pursue the false clues in it. Furthermore, Hirata knew only one person who hated him enough to lead him astray and had threatened him with ruin.

Lord Niu laughed heartily. “I had you running all over town, looking for a man who doesn’t exist!”

“Then you admit you wrote the story?” Hirata wanted absolute confirmation that the daimyo had done it, so he could turn the deception to his advantage. “And you gave the pages to Gorobei, with orders to watch for a chance to pass them to me and lie about how he found them?”

“Oh, yes,” Lord Niu said with a proud smile that lifted the left side of his mouth. “What a good joke on you.”

“And I fell for it.” Hirata hid his delight by pretending chagrin. When he’d told Midori what her father had done, she’d been horrified, but Hirata had explained what a unique opportunity Lord Niu had inadvertently given them. “I suppose you meant for me to disgrace myself and be executed.”

Lord Niu nodded smugly. “My daughter couldn’t marry a dead man. When I heard the sōsakan-sama had solved the case in spite of me, I planned other schemes to destroy you. But now that you’ve decided to surrender, I’ll spare your life.”

“No,” Hirata said. “It is I who shall spare your life, and you who shall surrender.”

Frowning in surprise and confusion, Lord Niu cocked his head. “What nonsense are you talking?”

“Midori-san!” Hirata called.

She emerged, hesitant and frightened, from the back room of the teahouse and edged over to Hirata. He took her hand, and she knelt beside him.

“What’s going on here?” Lord Niu demanded. Furious, he surged to his feet and addressed Midori: “I told you to stay away from him. Get out!”

Hirata held tight to Midori’s hand. “We’re going to discuss the terms of your surrender.”

“Never!”

“You’ve just confessed to planting a false clue in the sōsakan-sama’s murder investigation,” Hirata said. “That was sabotage against the shogun’s quest for justice for his heir.”

Shock stiffened Lord Niu and blanched his crooked face: He’d obviously never thought of his scheme in this light.

“If I tell His Excellency what you did,” Hirata said, “he’ll confiscate your lands and strip you of your title. You’ll lose your retainers, your subjects, and your wealth. Your family will live as paupers. I’ll marry Midori, and you’ll be powerless to stop me.”

Realization, then outrage, dawned in Lord Niu’s eyes. “You tricked me!” he roared.

“One good turn deserves another,” Hirata said, pitying the daimyo not at all. Midori whimpered, and Hirata said, “But I would rather not destroy the father of the woman I love. And I won’t-if you’ll agree to a deal.”

“I won’t stoop to deal with the likes of you.” Lord Niu trembled with indignation, his face twitching.

Hirata continued calmly: “You will go to my father, apologize for insulting him, and swear on your honor to form an alliance with our clan. Then you will give your approval to a marriage between Midori-san and me.”

“No!” Lord Niu shouted. He clenched his fists and advanced on Hirata.

“In exchange, I’ll forget your sabotage,” Hirata said. “The shogun will never know about it.”

“I’ll kill you!”

Lord Niu reached for his sword, but his guards grabbed and restrained him. As he struggled and yelled curses, Okita said, “I advise you to accept his terms. Your daughter’s hand is a small price to pay to preserve your rank and estate.”

“I won’t lose face by bowing down to him!”

Yet Hirata sensed the daimyo blustering, weakening. “The spirits of your ancestors will repudiate you for throwing away your heritage,” he said.

The daimyo gave one last bellow, tore free of his men, then dropped to his knees. He panted with frustrated rage, broken by defeat. “Agreed,” he muttered.

He and Hirata bowed to each other, then drank their sake. Hirata tasted triumph as Midori gave him a radiant, admiring smile. He saw murder in Lord Niu’s eyes, and shuddered to think of life with a mad father-in-law who despised him. But come what might, he and Midori would be married, and their child born in wedlock. That was cause enough for joy.

Reiko had never imagined she would ever set foot inside the residence of Chamberlain Yanagisawa, but important business had brought her here. As guards led her and her escorts along tree-lined paths through the fortified compound, Reiko’s serene face betrayed no sign of the anger seething within her.

Lady Yanagisawa received her in a private chamber hidden deep inside the estate. They knelt opposite each other, in a silence thick and turbulent with the memory of their last encounter. Lady Yanagisawa’s cheeks were flushed, her features marked by distress, her hands clasped tight under her bosom; she bowed her head as though expecting punishment. As Reiko contemplated her hostess, hatred stoked her anger into a firestorm she could barely contain. She drew a deep breath, willing calmness.

“I’m sorry for being rude to you at my pond the other day,” Reiko said in a stiff, formal tone. “I was upset, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. Please forgive me.”

The words tasted foul in her mouth. The injustice of having to apologize to the woman who’d almost caused Masahiro to die outraged Reiko. But political considerations forced her to abase herself to Lady Yanagisawa. The chamberlain was Sano’s superior, and any offense Reiko gave his wife extended to him. When Reiko had told Sano what Lady Yanagisawa had done, he’d been shocked and horrified, but he hadn’t needed to tell her what she must do. Reiko understood her duty. Therefore, she had come, against her will but of her own volition, to mend the breach between her and Lady Yanagisawa.

Lady Yanagisawa lifted to Reiko a gaze filled with relief; she spoke in breathless rushes: “There’s nothing to forgive… You had every right to be upset… It was a terrible thing that happened.”

“Thank you for your understanding and generosity.” That Reiko must protect Sano was all that kept her from tearing Lady Yanagisawa apart with her bare hands.

“Is Masahiro-chan all right?” Lady Yanagisawa asked.

Guilt lurked behind her concern, tainted her voice, wafted from her like a bad smell. Reiko could tell that Lady Yanagisawa knew she knew the truth about Masahiro’s “accident.” She said, “He was a little shaken, but he’s fine now.”