Laura Rowland - The Perfumed Sleeve

“You asked the guards if they saw or heard anything unusual last night?”

Hirata swallowed tea and nodded. “They say they didn’t. But it’s possible that someone who knew their patrol routine climbed over the wall when they weren’t looking, then sneaked across the roofs to Makino’s private quarters.”

“Did you examine the roofs?” Sano said.

“Yes,” Hirata said. “The tiles were clean and unbroken. If someone did cross them, he was careful.”

Sano pondered as they finished their soup. “There’s another possibility.”

Hirata nodded in comprehension.

“We’d better go, or we’ll be late for our meeting with the shogun.” As Sano rose, he added, “Good work, Hirata-san.”

But his praise didn’t clear the anxiety from Hirata’s face. They both understood that Hirata needed to do much more to regain Sano’s complete trust and their close friendship.

The shogun’s palace occupied the innermost precinct of Edo Castle, at the top of the hill. Sano and Hirata walked through the dusk toward the palace, along paths that crossed formal gardens. Autumn had stripped most of the leaves from the oaks and maples; only the pines flourished green. Guards patrolled outside interconnected buildings with many-gabled tile roofs, white plaster walls, and dark cypress beams, shutters, and doors. Inside, sentries admitted Sano and Hirata to the audience hall. They crossed the long room, where guards stood and attendants knelt along the walls. From the far end of the room, six men watched Sano and Hirata.

The shogun sat upon the dais, in front of a mural of a snowy landscape. He wore the cylindrical black cap of his rank and a quilt wrapped around him despite the profusion of charcoal braziers that overheated the room. The six other men sat below the dais, on the upper of the floor’s two levels.

“I hope you, ahh, have a good reason for requesting this audience, Sano-san,” the shogun said. His frail body, mild, aristocratic features, and hesitant manner compromised the authority expected of Japan ’s supreme dictator. At age forty-eight, he seemed elderly. “I feel a cold coming on.”

Sano and Hirata knelt on the lower floor level and bowed. “A million apologies, Your Excellency,” Sano said, “but I have an important announcement to make.”

On the upper level, Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat in the place of honor at the shogun’s right. Tall, proud, and slender of figure, he wore lavish, multicolored silk robes. His handsome face was serene, his luminous eyes watchful.

“And what is this important announcement?” he said in his suave voice.

“Do tell us, Sōsakan-sama.” Lord Matsudaira, rival of Chamberlain Yanagisawa and leader of the opposing faction, knelt at the shogun’s left. He was the same age as his cousin the shogun, with similar features, but his physique was robust, his expression intelligent. Formally dressed in black robes adorned with gold crests, Lord Matsudaira projected the authority that the shogun lacked. In recent months, he’d insinuated himself into court business. “You have our undivided attention.”

He and Yanagisawa ignored each other, but Sano sensed their antagonism, like war drums throbbing. Also on the upper floor level sat four members of the Council of Elders, in two rows facing one another. Nearest Yanagisawa sat the pair of elders loyal to him. Opposite them, and nearest Lord Matsudaira, were his two cronies on the council. Senior Elder Makino’s place closest to the dais was conspicuously empty. His colleagues, all men in their sixties, regarded Sano with wary anticipation.

Sano felt like a warrior setting off a bomb that he hoped wouldn’t blow up in his face. He said, “I regret to inform you that Senior Elder Makino is dead.”

The bomb exploded in perfect silence. No one moved, but Sano sensed shock waves reverberating and saw consternation on the elders’ faces. Chamberlain Yanagisawa stared at the place once occupied by Makino. He couldn’t control the dismay that registered in his eyes as he comprehended that he’d lost a major ally and the Council of Elders was now evenly divided between his faction and his rival’s. Lord Matsudaira watched Yanagisawa with the gaze of a falcon ready to swoop down on its prey.

A sob burst from the shogun. “Ahh, my dear old friend Makino-san is gone!” Tears welled in his eyes.

Sano knew that Tokugawa Tsunayoshi was oblivious of the battle for power that raged under his nose. Since he rarely left the palace, he hadn’t noticed the troops massing. He didn’t know the two factions existed, because no one wanted to tell him. Now, Sano observed, the shogun didn’t realize that the balance of power had just tipped.

“When did Makino die?” Chamberlain Yanagisawa asked Sano in a voice that sounded dazed, as though he couldn’t believe the misfortune that had befallen him.

“Sometime last night,” Sano said.

“That long ago? Why wasn’t I notified at once?” Yanagisawa demanded. His face darkened with anger; he seemed ready to punish Sano for his bad luck.

“How did you come to learn the news first?” Lord Matsudaira said, enjoying Yanagisawa’s discomfiture even while his tone chastised Sano for delaying the announcement. “Why have you kept it to yourself all day?”

“I needed time to honor a posthumous request from Senior Elder Makino,” said Sano. “Before he died, he ordered his valet to deliver this letter to me in the event of his death.”

Frowns of confusion marked the faces turned to Sano as he passed Makino’s letter up the line of elders to the shogun.

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi read the letter, silently mouthing the words, then looked up from the page. “Makino-san feared that he would be, ahh, assassinated. Therefore, he asked that the sōsakan-sama investigate his death.”

Chamberlain Yanagisawa snatched the letter from the shogun’s hand. While he read, Sano saw his face acquire the glow of a man who has found light amid darkness.

“Let me see the letter,” commanded Lord Matsudaira. He looked as though he’d just stepped from high, solid ground into quicksand.

With mock courtesy, Yanagisawa handed over the letter. Lord Matsudaira read, his expression deliberately blank. Sano sensed his mind racing to chart a safe path through the dangers that the letter posed for him.

“Have you begun investigating Makino-san’s death as he wished?” Yanagisawa asked Sano.

“Yes,” Sano said.

“And what has your investigation revealed?”

Sano gave a carefully edited summary: “At first it appeared that Makino died in his sleep. But I discovered that his elbow joints had been broken so he could lie flat. And there were bruises on him from a savage beating.”

Sano didn’t mention the anal injury, which wouldn’t have been noticeable from casual observation. He hoped no one would ask exactly how-or where-the broken joints and bruises had been discovered. To his relief, no one did.

“Aah, my poor, dear friend,” moaned the shogun.

Yanagisawa greeted the news with an air of satisfaction. The discomposure on Lord Matsudaira’s face deepened. The elders watched the pair, more concerned about present developments than interested in what had happened to their colleague.

“Did you conclude that Makino was a victim of foul play?” Yanagisawa asked Sano.

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.”

“And who murdered him?”

“That remains to be discovered.” Sano saw Yanagisawa’s thin smile, and his heart sank because he realized that the chamberlain intended to use him as a tool in a scheme against Lord Matsudaira.

Tears and puzzlement blurred the shogun’s features. “But everyone respected and loved Makino-san.” Everyone else in the room looked at the floor. “Who would want to kill him?”