Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

He heard Reiko’s hair rustle against her pillow as she nodded. “Madam Chizuru is the only commoner among the suspects. She has no powerful connections to protect her. But why would she say Ienobu told her to kill the shogun if it’s not true? How could anybody make her say it?”

Sleep was irresistible. Sano mumbled, “Those are good questions. Maybe we’ll find out the answers tomorrow.”

He turned his head toward Reiko. Before his eyes closed, he saw her lying wide awake, facing him. Did he sense a fragile truce spreading across the cold space between them, like thin ice? Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Sano teetered on the brink of sleep, then fell into its dark embrace.

The next morning Sano, Marume, and Masahiro rode to Edo Castle. The sun shone in a brilliant blue sky, and the snow on the street and rooftops sparkled, but the air was colder than yesterday, with an edge that bit Sano’s face. At the main gate, troops from the night watch streamed out while troops arriving for day duty streamed in. Masahiro headed to the palace to see the shogun’s boy while Sano and Marume went to army headquarters, located in a watchtower high on the hill. From among the troops reporting for duty Sano chose ten soldiers he’d known when he was chamberlain, who’d had good reputations then. They accompanied Sano and Marume to the palace. The physician came out, medicine chest in hand.

“How is the shogun?” Sano asked.

“Worse, I’m sorry to say. He can’t keep down any food or water or medicine, and he passed bloody stools last night. There’s internal hemorrhaging. I’m going to mix up some medicine for it. I pray it works.”

So did Sano. He took little comfort from the fact that Lord Ienobu was no longer the shogun’s heir. If the shogun died, Yoshisato and Yanagisawa’s grip on the regime would become permanent. He took Marume and the soldiers to the Large Interior. The women were dressing and breakfasting; maids lugged bedding outside to air. The chatter was subdued by the news of the shogun’s condition. Guards loitered in the passages. Sano accosted Lieutenant Arai, the man who’d been watching Madam Chizuru yesterday.

“Who else is assigned to guard Madam Chizuru?” Sano asked.

“Lieutenant Fujisawa. He just went off night duty.”

“Go bring him back. And bring everybody else who had any contact with Madam Chizuru while she was locked in her room. I want to talk to all of you outside.”

Soon the two guards and two maids were gathered on the veranda. The soldiers stood aside while Sano and Marume eyed the lineup. Arai and the other guard were strong men in their forties. One of the maids was a girl with a round, bland face, the other an older, surly-looking woman. They shivered in the cold and clasped their hands under the sleeves of their blue cotton kimonos. They looked puzzled and nervous, the guards stoic.

Marume conducted the questioning. “Did any of you bring Madam Chizuru a message?”

Sano watched for reactions. When Marume turned his gaze on each in turn, they all said, “No,” but Sano could smell that someone was lying.

“What about a letter?” Marume asked. Heads shook. “Did you tell Madam Chizuru to say that she stabbed the shogun and Lord Ienobu told her to kill him? Did you threaten to do something bad to her if she didn’t?”

Astonishment showed on all four faces. Guards and maids shook their heads again. Sano had to consider the possibility that they were all innocent and Madam Chizuru had confessed voluntarily, but he still believed she’d been pressured by Yanagisawa.

Marume directed his next question to the guards. “Did you let anyone else in her room?”

They chorused, “No.”

Sano and Marume exchanged a conspiratorial glance. Sano announced, “Somebody’s lying. I’m going to count to ten. If that person doesn’t speak up, I’m going to kill one of you.”

The maids gasped, clutching their throats. The guards looked at each other, then turned angry, fearful gazes on Sano. Lieutenant Arai said, “You can’t do that!”

“This is about the attempted murder of the shogun,” Marume said. “Anything goes.”

Sano began counting: “One, two…”

The ten soldiers stared at him in surprise. They knew his reputation for eschewing violence during interrogations.

“Somebody’s going to die,” Marume taunted.

The guards protested loudly. The maids fell to their knees, wept, and begged, “Please, have mercy!”

Sano finished counting. Nobody confessed. Sano’s instincts pointed him to the likely culprit: Lieutenant Arai, muscular with coarsely handsome features, had an arrogance that even fear for his life didn’t quell. Sano pointed at him.

“Hey!” Arai protested. Marume seized him by the arm. He jerked, yelling, “Let me go!”

“Don’t just stand there,” Marume said to the shocked, bewildered soldiers as he wrestled with Arai and tore off his swords. “Let’s get him out of here.”

They reluctantly stepped forward. Sano ordered five of them to help Marume. “The rest of you, take these folks inside and guard them.” He gestured at the kneeling, weeping maids and the other guard, whose face had turned white with terror. He had serious qualms about threatening innocent people, and breaking Madam Chizuru’s confession went against his own interests, but honor was at stake. “I’ll be back after I cut off Lieutenant Arai’s head. If nobody confesses, I’ll keep killing people until you’re all dead.”

* * *

Masahiro went to the section of the palace where the shogun’s male concubines lived. There he met a boy he remembered from the snowball fight. “Where’s Dengoro?”

“In the sickroom.” The boy pointed to the end of the corridor, which was hazy with incense smoke. “Nobody’s supposed to go in there. He has the measles.”

Dengoro must have caught it from the shogun, Masahiro thought, feeling sorry for him. Although he was afraid of catching it himself, that wasn’t the main reason for his reluctance to go near the boy. If he discovered that Madam Chizuru’s confession was true, it would put his father in the wrong. Masahiro was torn between his father and his mother. He loved them both, even though he was furious at them about Taeko. He hated being caught in the middle of their fights, and it seemed that whoever won, things wouldn’t work out so that they would let him and Taeko marry. Mixed up and distraught, he didn’t know what else to do except what they’d asked-question Dengoro again.

As he headed down the corridor, the incense smoke used to banish the evil spirits of disease was so pungent that he coughed. It emanated from brass burners hung by the door to the sickroom. Masahiro slid open the door, waved away smoke, and saw Dengoro sit up in the bed. A red, mottled rash covered his face, but Dengoro smiled at Masahiro.

“You came back. I was wishing you would.”

“How are you feeling?” Masahiro asked.

“Not too good.” Dengoro’s smile dimmed. “I get to drink as much tea with ice and honey as I want, but I don’t want much. And I have to take nasty medicine.”

“You’ll be all better soon.” Masahiro hoped so. He liked the boy despite his stories. “And then we’ll play together.”

Dengoro cheered up. “That would be fun.”

“In the meantime, I wanted to ask if you remembered anything else from the night the shogun was stabbed,” Masahiro said.

“I wanted to talk to you about that.” Dengoro admitted with chagrin, “I make things up sometimes. It’s funny, as soon as I say them, they seem so real, I start thinking they really happened.” Worry knitted his rash-covered brow. “If I tell you the truth, do you promise not to get mad at me again?”