Laura Rowland: The Iris Fan

“Why do you think it’s these men who killed the shogun’s son?” Marume asked.

“Yoshisato wasn’t the shogun’s son,” Sano reminded him.

“I know. It’s just easier to call him ‘the shogun’s son’ than ‘the cuckoo’s egg that Chamberlain Yanagisawa foisted off on the shogun.’”

Six years ago, Yanagisawa had put Yoshisato, his own son, in line to inherit the dictatorship by proclaiming that Yoshisato was really the shogun’s secret, long-lost son and he himself was only Yoshisato’s adoptive father. Sano had tried to debunk the story and failed. The shogun believed it. So did enough top government officials and daimyo -the feudal lords who ruled the provinces. The shogun had named Yoshisato as his successor, and Yanagisawa had been set to rule Japan through him and gain absolute power. But two years later, a fire set in the heir’s residence had killed Yoshisato.

Sano began the answer to Marume’s question. “Yoshisato’s death cleared the way for Lord Ienobu to succeed the shogun, and we know Ienobu is responsible for the arson.”

“The woman who set the fire said he put her up to it, but she died right after confessing.” Marume watched Manabe puff on his pipe. “You think he helped Lord Ienobu set up Yoshisato’s murder?”

“Yes. My informer says that shortly before the fire started, Manabe and the other three left Ienobu’s estate. They didn’t come back until the next day. They’re the only people from the estate who were unaccounted for at the time of the murder.”

“But what part did they play in it?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out. And then we’ll have proof that Lord Ienobu is guilty of at least one murder.”

Sano already knew that Ienobu was responsible for the murder of the shogun’s daughter. The culprit in that crime, also unfortunately dead, had implicated Ienobu. Sano wanted the proof as urgently as a starving man salivates for food. It wasn’t just duty that compelled him to deliver Ienobu to justice and prevent a murderer from becoming the next shogun. Sano had liked Yoshisato even though he was Yanagisawa’s son and Yanagisawa was Sano’s longtime enemy. Sano wanted to avenge Yoshisato’s death, and he had another, even more personal motive for bringing Lord Ienobu down. Ienobu was the one who’d demoted Sano, as punishment for telling the shogun that Ienobu had murdered Yoshisato. The shogun didn’t want to believe that his nephew and heir had murdered the man he thought was his son. He kept Sano in the regime, but Lord Ienobu constantly found ways to make life miserable for Sano.

Manabe spoke in a gruff, peremptory voice to his subordinates. All four men drained their sake cups and headed for the door. Sano and Marume backed their horses into an alley, watched the men emerge from the brothel, then exited the gate behind them. Across the moat, the men retrieved their horses from a stable and attached lanterns on poles to their backs. They didn’t notice Sano and Marume trailing them as they rode along the dike; patrol guards were ubiquitous, invisible. All Sano could see of them was their lights like swinging stars in the darkness. He was fifty years old, and his night vision was poor.

A glow in the distance signaled that they were nearing Edo. Sano and Marume spurred their horses to a gallop. “Stop!” Sano called as he and Marume caught up with their quarries.

The four men looked over their shoulders. Their lanterns threw arcing beams across the road. They reached for their swords as they turned their horses around, their expressions wary as they squinted through the snowflakes. Recognition appeared on Manabe’s hard, shiny face.

“Sano- san .” His gruff voice rasped with disapproval. “What do you want?”

At long last Sano was about to solve Yoshisato’s murder and defeat Lord Ienobu. Apprehension coiled within his excitement: This was his one chance, a big risk. “To talk with you four.” Beside him, Marume put his hand to his sword.

“You’re supposed to stay away from us and everybody else in Lord Ienobu’s retinue,” Setsubara said. With his strong jaws, prominent nose, and sharp cheekbones, he was a caricature of masculinity.

“Those are Lord Ienobu’s orders, and you know it.” Ono’s lumpy features reminded Sano of a bitter melon.

Even as his heart raced, Sano spoke calmly. “When you hear what I have to say, you’ll be glad I disregarded those orders.” He eyed Kuzawa. The young samurai looked nervous; he hadn’t learned to hide his emotions.

“When Lord Ienobu hears that you’ve disobeyed him, he’ll have your head.” Manabe jerked his chin at the other men. They all started to turn their horses.

Sano said quickly, “You four left his estate shortly before the fire in the heir’s residence started. Isn’t that an interesting coincidence?”

The four men went still. Sano focused on Kuzawa, whose eyes were wide, stricken. Seeing that he was right about the four men, Sano felt a rush of exhilaration.

“We went night fishing on the river,” Manabe said in annoyance.

“Did you catch a big one?” Detective Marume asked scornfully.

“We can vouch for each other,” Ono said.

“Meaning, no one else can,” Sano said. “You weren’t fishing. You were up to your necks in Yoshisato’s murder.”

Manabe uttered a disgusted sound. Setsubara and Ono shook their heads, as if pitying Sano’s foolishness. Detective Marume laughed and pointed at Kuzawa, who looked scared enough to wet his trousers. “Whoops, your young friend as good as admitted you’re guilty.”

Kuzawa ducked his head. Manabe said to Sano, “You can’t prove anything.”

“You’re wrong. I have evidence,” Sano bluffed.

“What evidence?” Ono asked disdainfully.

“The shogun will be first to know.”

“You won’t be able to tell him anything.” Contempt didn’t quite mask Setsubara’s worry. “You’re banned from court.”

“I’ll make sure the information is shouted by every news seller in Edo,” Sano said. “Soon it will be on the tongue of every samurai at the castle. It will reach the shogun eventually. He’ll know you’re as guilty as the woman who set the fire.”

“And then he’ll have your heads,” Marume added.

Kuzawa gulped. Setsubara and Ono glared at him, but they looked scared, too. Manabe’s hand tightened on his sword.

“If you’re thinking of killing us to shut us up, forget it,” Sano said. “Other people know. If anything happens to us, they’ll make the evidence public. You’re going down for treason.”

The penalty for treason was death. The three subordinates looked anxiously to Manabe; he scowled. Sano urged his horse forward, advancing on them. “But it doesn’t have to be that way, if you confess that you arranged Yoshisato’s murder on orders from Lord Ienobu.”

The four men looked stunned as they realized what Sano was after. Detective Marume clarified, “He doesn’t want your fat rear ends. He wants Lord Ienobu’s skinny one.”

“Give me Lord Ienobu, and I’ll see that you’re pardoned,” Sano said.

He knew he was asking a lot from them. They owed their master their complete loyalty. That was Bushido, the Way of the Warrior, the samurai code of honor. And although the shogun was the lord over everyone in Japan, their ties to Ienobu were closer; they were his personal retainers. Anger darkened their faces as they comprehended that Sano was making them choose between dooming themselves and betraying Lord Ienobu, the ultimate sin.

Manabe spoke through clenched teeth. “We will not submit to blackmail. We will not help you destroy our master.” The other men nodded.

Sano had to break them, or heaven help him. “Fine. Be good samurai. But don’t expect Lord Ienobu to protect you when it comes out that you were involved in Yoshisato’s murder.”