Laura Rowland - The Perfumed Sleeve

“Someone who stood to gain by his death,” Yanagisawa said-and looked straight at Lord Matsudaira.

Lord Matsudaira stared back at Yanagisawa, clearly appalled by the implicit accusation, though not surprised: He’d expected suspicion to fall on him the moment he’d heard murder mentioned in connection with Makino’s death.

The two elders allied with Lord Matsudaira sat still as stones. Yanagisawa’s cronies visibly swelled with the advantage they’d gained. Hirata stifled a sharp inhalation. The shogun gazed around in befuddlement. Everyone except him knew that the chamberlain meant to pin Makino’s murder on his rival. And if he succeeded, he and his faction would dominate the shogun and rule Japan unopposed. Sano’s heart beat fast with alarm.

“Before we decide who killed Makino, we need evidence,” Lord Matsudaira said, hastening to parry Yanagisawa’s strike against him. “Sōsakan-sama, what else did you find at the scene of the crime?”

Now Sano found himself Lord Matsudaira’s tool, and he liked it no better than serving Yanagisawa. That each man wanted his support disturbed Sano.

The corrupt chamberlain had parlayed his longtime sexual liaison with the shogun into his current high position and kept himself on top by purging or assassinating rivals. He’d enriched himself by channeling money from the Tokugawa treasury into his own. Yanagisawa had treated Sano as a rival until they’d established a truce some three years ago. But Sano knew their truce would continue only as long as it was convenient for the chamberlain.

Lord Matsudaira was the nobler character of the two rivals, a wise, humane ruler of the citizens in the Tokugawa province he controlled and a crusader against corruption in the bakufu. He had more claim to power than Yanagisawa because he was a Tokugawa clan member. But he lacked the birthright to head the regime, even though he was smarter and stronger than his cousin. And Sano knew that Lord Matsudaira was as ruthlessly ambitious as Yanagisawa. Power wouldn’t improve his nature. Sano hated the thought of bloodshed for nothing more than another corrupt man ruling Japan from behind the scenes.

At the moment, however, honesty compelled Sano to play into Lord Matsudaira’s hands. “I found a woman’s torn sleeve tangled in the senior elder’s bedding.”

“A woman?” Lord Matsudaira’s alert posture bespoke his urgent wish to implicate someone else in the murder. “She was with Makino last night?”

“It would appear that way,” Sano said, though reluctant to cooperate with Lord Matsudaira. “A stain on the sleeve indicated that sex had recently occurred.”

The shogun squinted with his effort to understand the conversation. Chamberlain Yanagisawa scowled at the evidence that diverted suspicion from his rival. Lord Matsudaira relaxed. He said, “Then the woman could have killed Makino.”

“She could have had the opportunity,” Sano clarified.

Questions about Lord Matsudaira surfaced in his mind. Could Lord Matsudaira have been involved in the murder, even if there wasn’t yet any evidence that pointed to him? Perhaps he wasn’t an innocent man defending himself from political attack but a killer trying to escape punishment.

“So this woman is a suspect in the murder.” Chamberlain Yanagisawa addressed Sano, but his glare at Lord Matsudaira presaged another attack. “Can you tell us who she is?”

“I’m sorry to say my inquiries haven’t progressed that far,” Sano replied.

Satisfaction gleamed in Yanagisawa’s eyes. “Then you haven’t determined whether she did kill Makino.”

“That’s correct.” Sano felt the reply detach him from Lord Matsudaira’s camp and place him in Yanagisawa’s. Hirata watched the rivals in fascination, as if he perceived their invisible lines reeling Sano back and forth.

Lord Matsudaira forced a chuckle as he saw the advantage move toward his enemy. “But the sōsakan-sama hasn’t proved that the woman didn’t kill Makino.” Or that I did, said his gaze that encompassed everyone in the room.

Yanagisawa acknowledged his rival’s parry with a faint sneer. “What else did you find at the death scene, Sōsakan Sano?” he said, intent on wringing every last piece of ammunition out of Sano.

Much as Sano loathed to help the chamberlain, he couldn’t withhold important facts. “There were signs that someone broke into the study adjacent to Makino’s bedchamber.”

While he described the scene in the study, he saw Yanagisawa’s sneer turn to gloating exultation and Lord Matsudaira try in vain to hide distress.

“The woman had nothing to do with the murder,” Yanagisawa said, stating opinion as fact. “It’s obvious that Makino was killed by an assassin who sneaked into his estate, then attacked and beat him, on orders from one of his enemies.”

His hostile gaze at Lord Matsudaira conveyed the accusation that he verged on speaking. A thrill of horror shot through Sano. Would his personal quest for truth and honor ignite the war he dreaded? The elders loyal to Yanagisawa shot vindictive glances at their counterparts, who looked anxiously toward Lord Matsudaira. Sweat glistened on his face. He knew, as Sano did, that if the shogun were made to believe he’d had Makino assassinated, and done it to gain power, his status as a Tokugawa branch clan leader wouldn’t protect him from the law. The shogun would execute him to crush the threat to his own supremacy.

But Lord Matsudaira rallied without hesitation. “Have you identified the assassin?” he asked Sano.

“I’m sorry to say I haven’t.”

“What? Do you mean he didn’t leave his name at the murder scene? He didn’t drop a letter ordering him to kill Makino, signed by his employer?” Lord Matsudaira feigned surprise; the sharp blade of his sarcasm lashed out at Yanagisawa. When Sano gave a negative reply, he said, “Then there’s no proof of who the assassin is or who hired him. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Sano said as the invisible line hauled him back toward Lord Matsudaira’s side.

“In fact,” Lord Matsudaira said, “there’s no proof that an assassin did break into the study and kill Makino. Someone already in the house could have killed him. Someone could have planted evidence that an outsider assassinated Makino.”

This was the alternative possibility that Sano had hinted at to Hirata before the meeting.

“Your Excellency, I suggest that the evidence was planted to frame an innocent man who is your own blood kin,” Lord Matsudaira concluded.

His eyes glinted at Yanagisawa. Now came Yanagisawa’s turn to sweat, Sano thought as the chamberlain rolled his tongue in his mouth. If the shogun became convinced that Yanagisawa had framed his cousin for murder, he would execute Yanagisawa for treason against the Tokugawa clan. Their liaison wouldn’t protect Yanagisawa. He and Lord Matsudaira had aimed insinuations like deadly guns at each other. Who would fire the first shot?

“Would somebody please, ahh, tell me what you are, ahh, trying to say?” the shogun burst out. He flapped his hands at Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa. “I order you both to, ahh, talk sense instead of riddles!”

Dread and excitement rose within Sano. He sensed Hirata and the elders breathing in shallow, careful inhalations. Suspense froze even the guards and attendants. Would Yanagisawa explain to the shogun that he accused Lord Matsudaira of political assassination, or Lord Matsudaira explain that he accused Yanagisawa of treason? Would the shogun finally realize that they were fighting for control of his regime?

Would the two rivals escalate their covert maneuvering into fullblown warfare that would determine who ruled Japan?

“We’re discussing the murder, Your Excellency,” Yanagisawa said in a semblance of his usual calm, suave tone.