Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

Now wasn’t the time for Taeko to tell her mother that she was going to be Masahiro’s concubine. “Yes, Mother,” she said unhappily. “I’ll try.”

* * *

In the section of the guest quarters on the other side of the garden, Lady Yanagisawa unpacked her baggage. Kikuko said, “Mama, where are my dolls?”

“Here, darling.” Lady Yanagisawa found the dolls in a trunk. Her daughter’s childishness always provoked mixed feelings in her. She was distressed because Kikuko would always remain a five-year-old girl in a woman’s body but glad that Kikuko would always need her, unlike other children who eventually left their mothers.

Kikuko chattered to the dolls as she changed their kimonos. Lady Yanagisawa smiled fondly at her, thankful that she’d inherited her father’s looks. Putting away clothes, Lady Yanagisawa listened for her husband. She always thrilled to the sight and sound and smell of him, his slightest attention. She loved him with a passion that persisted regardless of his indifference toward her and his revulsion toward their daughter. She often wished she didn’t love him, but nothing could change her feelings-not even the fact that he’d just moved her and her daughter into the same house as her worst enemy.

She’d admired, envied, and hated Reiko since the day they’d met fifteen years ago. Reiko had everything she didn’t. Reiko was beautiful; Reiko had a loving husband; Reiko had two normal children whom their father loved. Lady Yanagisawa wished with all her heart that she’d managed to kill Reiko when she’d had the chance. She wished Kikuko had managed to drown Masahiro. That would have taught Reiko that she couldn’t be lucky all the time! When Lady Yanagisawa had seen Reiko today, it had been like acid thrown in her face.

Reiko was as beautiful as ever. Her daughter looked just like her. Masahiro was a man, as tall and handsome as his father. Reiko’s children had grown up, but Kikuko never would. Lady Yanagisawa’s envy was as corrosive as poison.

A familiar step at the door set her pulse racing. She looked up to see Yanagisawa. A shiver of joy rippled through her. Her body ached with desire. He’d made love to her only a few times, and she couldn’t honestly call it making love; he’d taken his pleasure so fast, with no care for hers. She breathed a sigh that expressed all her hopeless love and yearning. She lived for two things-her beautiful, childlike daughter and her beautiful, cruel husband.

He spoke to the air above her head. “I’ve arranged for Kikuko to marry Sano’s son, Masahiro, tomorrow. Get her ready.” Then he left.

A loud, wild howling racketed in Lady Yanagisawa’s ears. She covered them to block out the noise. She didn’t realize it was coming from her until Kikuko ran to her and cried, “Mama, what’s wrong!”

My daughter is to marry Reiko’s son!

Lady Yanagisawa clapped her hand over her mouth to suppress the howling. She wheezed, coughed, and retched so hard that the pressure behind her eyes caused a dark tangle, like a scrawl of red-tinged ink, to swim across her vision-blood from ruptured veins. Dizzy and breathless, she collapsed to the floor.

Kikuko knelt beside her, patting her back. Lady Yanagisawa moaned and writhed, caught in the throes of a savage anguish. Reiko already has everything, and now her son is going to take my only child, the only person in the world who loves me!

“What did Papa mean?” Kikuko asked in her babyish voice. “Who’s Masahiro?”

Legions of army foot soldiers and mounted troops occupied the streets of the daimyo district all night. Concentrated outside the estates of the clans that opposed Lord Ienobu, they prevented anyone from leaving and deliveries of food, coal, and other necessities from entering. They burned bonfires to keep warm. In the guest quarters of the Mori estate, Reiko lay rigid and sleepless in bed. She smelled the smoke from the bonfires, watched the orange light from the flames flicker through the window shutters, and listened to the daimyos ’ watchdogs barking. Once during this long night she’d fallen asleep and dreamed that her naked body was drenched in the blood of the man she’d been accused of murdering eleven years ago. She’d not dared to close her eyes again. And the evils weren’t only in her dreams or memory.

Yanagisawa and his wife and daughter were under the same roof, separated from her only by corridors and paper walls. Reiko felt Lady Yanagisawa’s animosity like a deer scents a wolf’s meaty breath. In the adjacent chamber Masahiro stirred and muttered in his sleep. Reiko heard muffled sobs from Taeko. Her heart ached for the poor girl who was suffering the pain of lost love.

Reiko looked at Sano, asleep beside her. He thrashed his arms, kicked, then lay still, as if disturbed by intermittent bad dreams. They hadn’t spoken since he’d told her and Masahiro about his deal with Yanagisawa. Whenever she tried to see it through his eyes, she understood that he’d done the best he could in an impossible situation, but understanding didn’t negate the fact that he’d not only pitted himself against Lord Ienobu, he’d inadequately hidden his collaboration with Dr. Ito, and that secret had put him under Yanagisawa’s power. His actions had been based on honor, and their son was paying the price. What Reiko could understand, but not forgive, was that their family would always lose out to Sano’s honor.

She turned her face away from him; she lay as far from him as possible, so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her. She hated him so much! The fact that she’d once loved him passionately made her hatred all the more strong. She had to get away from him. She didn’t know where she would go or what she would live on, but leave him she must.

Temple bells rang; it was dawn. The guard that Lord Mori had assigned to the guest quarters spoke at the door, “Excuse me, Sano- san ?”

Sano bolted upright beside Reiko. “What is it?”

“There’s a message from Lord Ienobu. He wants a meeting with you and Yanagisawa and Yoshisato.”

* * *

The morning was warmer, cloudy, with a deceptive, springlike mildness. Fog shrouded the hills outside Edo and hung in the air. In the daimyo district, troops formed cordons along the avenue that separated the Mori estate from another, which belonged to an ally of Lord Ienobu. Archers crouched on roofs on both sides. At one end of the avenue, Sano stood with Yanagisawa and Yoshisato. Behind them were fifty of Lord Mori’s mounted soldiers. At the far end, Lord Ienobu and Manabe stood, backed by their own fifty troops from the Tokugawa army. The conditions of the meeting had been specified in the message Lord Ienobu had sent to Sano, Yanagisawa, and Yoshisato. They’d included the stipulation that although their troops could wear armor and weaponry, the four men would not. Clothed in ordinary robes and wicker hat, minus his swords, Sano felt naked and vulnerable. Cold mist filmed his skin as he gazed down the long avenue.

In the middle, set off to his right, between the two rival camps, stood a tent such as generals used as battlefield headquarters. The tent was made of white fabric, mounted on four poles. Flaps open on all four sides showed a tatami mat, charcoal brazier, and five cushions in the tent. Sano’s mind reeled with disbelief. Never had he imagined attending a war council between rival contenders for the dictatorship, right in the middle of Edo, to discuss the fate of the Tokugawa regime.

Temple bells rang the hour of the dragon. Lord Ienobu and Manabe stepped forward. Yoshisato, Yanagisawa, and Sano followed suit. Matching pace by pace, trailed by their armies, they advanced through an unnatural quiet disturbed only by a stray cough, a horse’s stomp, and dogs barking in the distance. Sano kept his eyes trained on Lord Ienobu and Manabe. Lord Ienobu shuffled in thick, padded winter robes that disguised his deformities. A broad-brimmed hat enlarged his small head, shadowed his ugly face. Sano was keenly aware of the troops outside the estates, the archers on the roofs. His instincts rang out danger signals.