Laura Rowland: The Concubine’s Tattoo

“A diary?” Hirata asked.

“It looks like it.” Since the reign of the Heian emperors five hundred years ago, court ladies had often recorded their experiences and thoughts in books like this. Sano tucked the diary under his sash for later perusal, then said quietly to Hirata, “I’m taking the sake, lamp oil, incense, tools, and ink to Dr. Ito at Edo Morgue-perhaps he can identify the poison, if it’s there.” He carefully bundled the articles in the garment that had contained the diary.”While I’m gone, please supervise the removal and transport of Lady Harume’s body; see that no one tampers with it.”

From outside the room, Sano heard the priests’ muttered conversation, the chatter and weeping of women in nearby chambers. Lowering his voice even more, he continued, “For now, the official cause of death is illness, with an epidemic still a possibility. Have our men distribute the news to everyone who lives in the castle, instructing them to stay in their quarters or at their posts until the danger has passed.” Over the past year, Sano’s personal staff had grown into a team of one hundred detectives, soldiers, and clerks, enough to handle this large task. He added, “That should help prevent rumors from spreading.”

Hirata nodded.”If Lady Harume died of a contagious disease, we need to know what she did, where she went, and whom she saw just before she died, so we can trace the sickness and quarantine her contacts. I’ll set up appointments with the chief lady palace official, and His Excellency’s Honorable Mother.”

The shogun’s wife was a reclusive invalid who kept to her bed, her privacy and health guarded by a few trusted physicians and attendants. Therefore Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s mother, Lady Keisho-in, his constant companion and frequent adviser, ruled the Large Interior.

“But if it was murder,” Hirata continued in a lower voice, “we’ll need information about Lady Harume’s relations with the people around her. I’ll make discreet inquiries.”

“Good.” Sano knew he could trust Hirata, who had demonstrated impressive competence and unswerving loyalty during their association. In Nagasaki, the young retainer had helped solve a difficult case-and saved Sano’s life.

“And sōsakan-sama? I’m sorry about the wedding banquet.” They left the room, and Hirata bowed.”My congratulations on your marriage. It will be a privilege to extend my service to the Honorable Lady Reiko.”

“Thank you, Hirata-san.” Sano also bowed. He appreciated Hirata’s friendship, which had supported him through a lonely period of his life. One of the hardest things about his job had been learning to share responsibility and risk, but Hirata had taught him the necessity-and honor-of both. They were united in the ancient samurai tradition of master and servant, absolute and eternal. Glad to leave matters in trustworthy hands, Sano left the palace, bound for Edo Morgue.

The gate to Sano’s mansion in the Edo Castle Official Quarter stood open to the bright autumn afternoon. Up the street, past the estates of other high bakufu officials, porters carried wedding gifts from prominent citizens hoping to win favor with the shogun’s sōsakan. Servants transferred the bundles across the paved courtyard, through the wooden inner fence, and into the tile-roofed, half-timbered house. There maids unpacked; cooks labored in the kitchen; the housekeeper supervised last-minute preparations for the newlyweds’ residency. Members of the sōsakan’s elite detective corps passed among the surrounding barracks, the stables, and the house’s front offices, and through the gate, carrying on business in their master’s absence.

Isolated from this clamor of purposeful activity, Ueda Reiko, still wearing her white bridal kimono, knelt in her chamber in the mansion’s private living quarters, amid chests filled with personal belongings brought from Magistrate Ueda’s house. The newly decorated room smelled sweetly of fresh tatami. A colorful mural of birds in a forest adorned the wall. A black lacquer dressing table with matching screen and cabinet, inlaid with gold butterflies, stood ready for Reiko’s use. Afternoon sunlight shone through latticed paper windows; outside, birds sang in the garden. Yet the pleasant surroundings, and even the fact that she was now living at Edo Castle -the goal of all ladies of her class-failed to lift the unhappiness that weighed upon Reiko’s spirit.

“There you are, young mistress!”

Into the room hurried O-sugi, Reiko’s childhood nurse and companion, who had moved to the castle with her. Plump and smiling, O-sugi regarded Reiko with affectionate exasperation.”Daydreaming, as usual.”

“What else is there to do?” Reiko asked sadly.”The banquet was canceled. Everyone is gone. And you said not to unpack, because there are servants to wait on me, and it would make a bad impression if I did anything for myself.”

Reiko had counted on the festivities to take her mind off her homesickness and fears. The death of the shogun’s concubine and the possibility of an epidemic seemed trivial in comparison with these. How could she, who had never left her father’s house for more than a few days, live here, forever, with a man who was a stranger to her? Although Sano’s absence delayed the scary plunge into the unknown future, Reiko had nothing to do but worry.

The nurse clucked her tongue.”Well, you could change your clothes. No use hanging about in bridal kimono, now that the wedding is over.”

With O-sugi’s assistance, off came the white robe and red under-kimono; on went an expensive kimono from Reiko’s trousseau, printed with burgundy maple leaves on a background of brown woodgrain, yet dull and somber compared to her customary gay, bright maiden’s clothing. Its sleeves reached only to her hips-unlike the floor-length ones she had worn until today-suitable for a married woman. O-sugi pinned Reiko’s long hair atop her head in a new, mature style. As Reiko stood before the mirror, watching the trappings of her youth disappear and her reflection age, her unhappiness deepened.

Was she doomed to a secluded existence within this house, a mere vessel for her husband’s children, a slave to his authority? Must all her dreams die on the first day of her adult life?

Reiko’s unusual girlhood had disinclined her for marriage. She was Magistrate Ueda’s only child; her mother had died when she was a baby, and he had never married again. He could have ignored his daughter, consigning her to the complete care of servants, as other men in his situation might have, but Magistrate Ueda had valued Reiko as all that remained of the beloved wife he’d lost. Her intelligence had secured his affection.

At age four, she would toddle into his study and peer at the reports he wrote.”What does this say?” she would ask, pointing to one character after another.

Once the magistrate taught her a word, she never forgot. Soon she could read simple sentences. She still remembered the joy of discovering that each character had its own meaning, and that a column of them expressed an idea. Abandoning her dolls, she spent hours inking her own words on large sheets of paper. Magistrate Ueda had encouraged Reiko’s interest. He’d employed tutors to instruct her in reading, calligraphy, history, mathematics, philosophy, and the Chinese classics: subjects that a son would have been taught. When he’d found his six-year-old daughter wielding his sword against an imaginary foe, he’d hired martial arts masters to instruct her in kenjutsu and unarmed combat.

“A samurai woman must know how to defend herself in case of war,” Magistrate Ueda had told the two sensei, who’d been reluctant to teach a girl.

Reiko recalled their disdainful treatment of her, and the lessons intended to dissuade her from this manly pursuit. They’d brought bigger, stronger boys to serve as her opponents in practice matches. But Reiko’s proud spirit refused to break. Hair disheveled, white uniform stained with sweat and blood, she’d battered at her opponent with her wooden sword until he went down under a storm of blows. She’d wrestled to the floor a boy twice her size. Her reward was the respect she saw in the teachers’ eyes-and the real, steel swords her father had given her, replacing each pair with longer ones every year as she grew. She loved stories of historical battles, envisioning herself as the great warriors Minamoto Yoritomo or Tokugawa Ieyasu. Reiko’s playmates were the sons of her father’s retainers; she scorned other girls as weak, frivolous creatures. She was sure that, as her father’s only child, she would one day inherit his position as magistrate of Edo, and she must be ready.