Laura Rowland - The Concubine’s Tattoo

“Jealous concubines, rude guards,” lamented Keisho-in. “Dreadful! Sōsakan-sama, you must find and punish whoever killed my sweet little Harume and save us all from this evil, dangerous person.”

“I’ll need to have my detectives search the Large Interior and speak with the residents,” Sano said. “May I have your permission?”

“Of course, of course.” Lady Keisho-in nodded vigorously. Then, with a grunt, she pushed herself upright and beckoned Madam Chizuru to help her stand. “It’s time for my prayers. But please come and see me again.” She dimpled at Hirata. “You, too, young man.”

They made their farewells. Hirata almost ran from the room. Sano followed, wondering about his retainer’s uncharacteristic bashfulness and looking ahead to all the work they must do. Yet as they left the palace, he was glad that the hour was too late to begin calling on suspects or witnesses, and that they needn’t meet with the shogun until tomorrow. At home, Reiko waited. This was their wedding night.

Servants greeted Sano in the entryway of his mansion when he arrived home. They relieved him of his cloak and swords and ushered him into the parlor, where charcoal braziers and lanterns burned, and wall murals depicted a serene mountain landscape. Resting upon silk floor cushions, Sano felt the tensions of the day dissolve and happy anticipation swell within him. Hirata had gone to give orders to the detective corps and secure the estate for the night. Sano’s time was his own, until tomorrow. His marriage could begin.

“Would you like a meal?” the chief manservant asked.

Sano nodded, then said, “Where is… my wife?” The phrase felt strange on his lips, but as satisfying as a drink of water after a long, dry journey.

“She has been told that you’re home, and she’s coming right away.” The servant bowed and left the room.

As Sano waited, his heart beat faster; his stomach tightened. Then the door slid open. Sano sat up straight. Into the room walked Reiko. Dressed in a dull orange silk kimono printed with golden asters, her long hair pinned up, his bride carried a porcelain sake decanter and two cups on a tray. Eyes demurely lowered, she glided over to Sano, knelt before him, set down the tray, and bowed.

“Honorable Husband,” she murmured. “May I serve you?”

“Yes. Please,” Sano said, admiring her youthful beauty.

The pouring of liquor smoothed the awkward moment-someone must have instructed Reiko on what to do when alone with her husband for the first time-but her hands trembled when she passed the cup to Sano. Sympathy eased his own nervousness. This was his domain. It was up to him to make Reiko feel comfortable here.

“I hope you’re feeling well?” he said, filling the other cup with sake and offering it to her.

Cautiously, as if afraid to touch his hand, Reiko took the cup. “Yes, Honorable Husband.”

They drank, and Sano saw that her teeth had been dyed black. An unexpected surge of warmth flooded his groin. He’d never given much thought to this familiar custom of married women; now, seeing Reiko thus transformed awakened his desire. It reminded him that she was his in body as well as spirit.

“Are your rooms satisfactory?” Sano tasted liquor and arousal. Reiko’s upswept hair accentuated her graceful neck and sloping shoulders. More than a year had passed since he’d been with a woman… “Have you gotten settled?”

“Yes, thank you.”

A tentative smile encouraged Sano: beneath the placid demeanor of a well-bred lady, she was not without feeling for him. Just then, a servant entered, gave Sano a hot, damp cloth for wiping his hands, and set before him a lacquer meal tray. When he and Reiko were alone again, she quickly removed the lids from his dishes of sashimi, steamed trout, and vegetables, then poured his tea. She would have eaten earlier, the better to serve him. Her wifely subservience delighted Sano.

“I hope you’ll be happy here,” he said. “If there’s anything you want, just ask.”

Reiko lifted an eager, shining face to him. “Perhaps-perhaps I could help you investigate the death of the shogun’s concubine,” she blurted.

“What?” The morsel of fish Sano had lifted to his mouth fell from his chopsticks as he stared in surprise.

Gone were his bride’s self-effacing pose and appealing shyness. Head high, back straight, she looked Sano directly in the face. Her eyes flashed with nervous daring. “Your work interests me very much. I’ve heard rumors that Lady Harume was murdered. If it’s true, I want to help catch the killer.” She gulped, then continued in a rush: “You said that if there was anything I wanted, I should ask.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Dismay jolted Sano. From deep within his memory rose scenes from his childhood: his mother cooking, cleaning, and sewing at home while his father ventured out into the world to earn their living. Experience had formed Sano’s notion of a proper marriage. A host of additional reasons forbade him to grant Reiko’s request. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I appreciate your offer, but a murder investigation is no place for a wife.”

He expected her to accept his decision, as his mother had all of his father’s. But Reiko said, “My father told me you’d think that, and he agrees. But I want to work, to be useful. And I can help you.”

“But how?” Sano asked, increasingly bewildered as his dream of conjugal felicity evaporated around him. Who was this strange, obstinate girl he’d married? “What could you possibly do?”

“I’m educated; I can read and write as well as any man. For ten years I’ve watched my father’s trials in the Court of Justice.” Reiko’s dainty chin trembled, but she didn’t yield before Sano’s disapproval. “I understand the law, and criminals. I can help figure out who killed Lady Harume.”

Growing up in Magistrate Ueda’s mansion, Reiko must have seen more criminals than Sano himself! Ashamed to be outdone by his young bride, Sano also hated to imagine what spectacles of violence and human depravity she’d witnessed. Worse, he hated the thought of allowing these elements of his work to intrude on his private life. How could home be a haven if Reiko shared his knowledge of the world’s evils?

“Please… calm down and let me explain,” Sano said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Detective work is dangerous. You could get hurt-or even killed.” This had happened to many other people during his past cases. His protective instincts rallied in protest against letting his own wife fall victim to his search for justice. “It would be wrong for me to let you have anything to do with the murder investigation.” With an air of finality, Sano resumed eating.

“You think I’m weak and stupid because I’m a woman,” Reiko persisted, “but I know how to fight. I can defend myself.” Ardor lit her lovely, petal-shaped eyes. “And since I am a woman, I can go places where you can’t. I can learn things from people who would never talk to you. Just give me a chance, and you’ll see!”

Now Sano grew angry. He recalled his docile mother cooking the foods her husband preferred, managing the household to accommodate his needs without ever asking anything for herself. In a samurai’s world of unstinting duty to the Tokugawa regime, his own home was the only domain under his absolute control. Now Sano felt this precious control slipping, his manly authority weakening in the face of Reiko’s challenge. Fatigue strained his patience. Although the last thing he wanted was a quarrel on his wedding night, his temper snapped.

“How dare you contradict your husband?” Sano demanded, throwing down his chopsticks. “How dare you even suggest that you, a silly, headstrong girl, can do anything better than I can?”