Laura Rowland - The Perfumed Sleeve

“In addition,” Lord Matsudaira said, “my nephew Daiemon will be appointed premier of the regime. He will oversee the relations between the shogun and his officials.”

Daiemon preened with self-importance. Outrage stunned Yanagisawa. This arrangement would give Lord Matsudaira and Daiemon complete control of the bakufu!

“That’s a very one-sided proposal,” he said sardonically. “What would I get in exchange for agreeing?”

“You would get to keep your position as chamberlain, your residence, and your personal wealth.”

Although Lord Matsudaira spoke as though bestowing a generous gift, Yanagisawa was not prepared to agree to terms that would reduce him to a feeble shadow of himself.

“Your terms are unacceptable,” he spat furiously. “That you would even think I’d consider your proposal is a gross insult to me.”

He surged to his feet. Swords clanked and armor creaked as his entourage stirred behind him. “This discussion is finished,” Yanagisawa announced.

Lord Matsudaira and Daiemon also rose. “Don’t be in such a hurry to reject our deal,” Lord Matsudaira said. All his pretense at conciliation vanished; his manner turned dictatorial. “It’s the best you’re going to get.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Yanagisawa headed for the door.

“You can’t win a war against us,” Daiemon said. Now that his sly barbs had failed to intimidate Yanagisawa, he resorted to outright bluster. “We’ll crush you like an insect.”

Yanagisawa feared that Daiemon was right. He’d never commanded a full-scale war, and his talent for politics didn’t compensate for a lack of military experience. Yet his foes’ eagerness for a truce gave him heart. They’d never fought a war either.

He said, “If you were so sure you can beat me, you wouldn’t have called this meeting.” He locked stares with Daiemon. “And a man in a position as vulnerable as yours should know better than to threaten the man who controls the intelligence service.”

Lord Matsudaira looked puzzled by this remark, but wariness sharpened Daiemon’s features. Yanagisawa smiled as he watched Daiemon recalling that he had dangerous secrets and wondering how much Yanagisawa knew. But instead of showing his hand, Yanagisawa chose to hoard his knowledge for a time when he had even greater need-or better use-for a weapon against Daiemon.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Yanagisawa said, “I’ve more important things to do than listen to nonsense.”

“You won’t get another opportunity to save your neck,” Lord Matsudaira said, his fists clenched and his face dark with anger, “I’ll show no more mercy toward you!”

“Nor will I toward you, when we meet on the battlefield,” Yanagisawa retorted. He now realized that there had never been a possibility that he and Lord Matsudaira could reach a truce on terms acceptable to them both. “May the better man win.”

As he strode from the audience hall, his entourage in tow, Yanagisawa glimpsed Hoshina. The hatred in Hoshina’s eyes told him there had never been any chance that they would reconcile. Yanagisawa experienced an awful sense of embarking on a path toward a fatal destiny.

But he projected regal self-confidence as he walked through the castle grounds to his estate. Inside, he secluded himself in his office and sat at the desk. A mere moment passed before his poise shattered. Tremors wracked his muscles; his lungs expelled harsh gasps as he released pent-up tension. His head throbbed painfully from the pressure of the blood inside his skull. With jittering fingers he massaged his temples. Eventually, his body calmed, but his spirit remained troubled by other problems besides Lord Matsudaira.

The murder investigation could destroy him even before a war began. If Sano were to discover that Yanagisawa had known about Senior Elder Makino’s defection, Yanagisawa could find himself the primary suspect in the crime. Lord Matsudaira would leap to influence the shogun and the entire bakufu against him. He could bid farewell to his plans to bring Japan under his control, place his son Yoritomo in line for the succession, and rule the nation through him.

The very thought raised a tide of nausea in Yanagisawa. How could he protect himself against the evil forces closing in on him? As he pondered, he suddenly noticed his wife standing in the doorway.

“What do you want?” he lashed out at her. She was always hanging around him, always spying on him through peepholes that she thought he didn’t know about. He let her spy because he didn’t care. He tolerated her presence because her adoration had been a balm to his pride after Police Commissioner Hoshina had left him. But now she was a convenient target for his frustrations. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

Her homely face blanched; she shrank from his anger. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “If you don’t want me, I’ll go.” She backed away, her gaze lingering on him, as if wanting to keep him in sight for as long as possible.

Inspiration struck Yanagisawa with a stunning, radiant force. His needs suddenly meshed with the circumstances surrounding him. His scowl relaxed into a smile.

“Wait,”he told her. “Don’t leave. I want you to stay.”

She hesitated, distrusting his change in mood.

“I’m sorry I spoke harshly to you.” Yanagisawa had never before thought to use his charm on his wife, but now he must. “Please forgive me.” Even a devoted slave would balk at what he wanted her to do. To secure her cooperation would require all his persuasive powers. He hastened to her and put his arm around her.

“Come,” he said, leading her into an adjacent chamber comfortably furnished with floor cushions and seascape murals.

He felt her shiver with delight at his touch, and her breathing quickened. As he seated her, she looked up at him, her face dazed, as if unable to believe she was receiving the rare, wonderful gift of his attention. He settled himself opposite her, so close that their knees touched. He poured two cups of wine and placed one in her trembling hands.

“My lord… This is a tremendous honor…” Gasps of awe unsteadied her speech. Her cheeks were flushed.

“It’s no more than you deserve in exchange for your devotion to me,” Yanagisawa said. “And I’m glad we have a chance to talk together.”

She hung on his words, her expression rapt. He drank his wine, and she gulped hers.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good husband,” Yanagisawa said. “I know I’ve neglected you. That was wrong, especially since you’ve been a faithful wife to me.”

As he spoke, her shining gaze told him that he was saying what she’d always longed to hear. She moved her lips, silently repeating his words to herself, committing them to memory.

“And you have so many wonderful qualities.” Yanagisawa hadn’t realized what his wife was capable of until she’d told him about her attacks on Sano’s wife Reiko. “I want to make up for the way I’ve treated you.” He lowered his voice to a husky, pleading tone: “Will you let me?”

“Yes!” Her hands dropped her empty cup. She clasped them to her bosom, so agitated by glee that he thought she would swoon. “Oh, yes!”

“A million thanks,” he said, feigning humbleness. “Your generosity is one of the traits I value most in you.” And he meant to take full advantage of it. “From now on, I’ll try to be a better husband. I’ll also try to be a better father. I’ll pay more attention to Kikuko as well as you.”

She glowed with joyous, complete faith in him. People tended to believe what they wanted to believe, and Yanagisawa had fooled many a wiser person. “You’re being so good to me,” she murmured. “How can I ever repay your kindness?”