Laura Rowland - The Shogun's Daughter

Yanagisawa reeled off names, demotions, retirements, transfers, reassignments. Sano watched his allies leave the room. Most marched stoically with their heads high; others wept. An elderly minister fainted and the guards carried him out. Yanagisawa announced the names of the replacements, who filed into the chamber and knelt in the vacated spaces. In an instant the whole government had been reorganized. Sano sat alone amid Yanagisawa’s cronies.

The shogun looked blank, unaware of the coup that had just occurred under his nose. Yoshisato’s face was calm, controlled. Replete with pleasure, Yanagisawa said, “Oh, I almost forgot.” He jerked his chin at Masahiro. “Get off the dais. You’re no longer the head of the shogun’s chambers. You’ll be a castle page.”

Obviously crushed by his demotion to his former rank, Masahiro stepped down from the dais, shamed in front of the whole assembly. Sano felt angrier for Masahiro than for himself. He knew how much pride the innocent boy had taken in the position he’d lost through no fault of his own. Sano could barely contain his urge to beat Yanagisawa to a bloody pulp.

The shogun had eyes only for Yoshisato. “Now I will install my son in the residence that is reserved for my heir and successor.”

Yoshisato helped him descend from the dais. Yanagisawa followed. The officials rose and marched after the three men. Shinto priests in white robes appeared. Beating drums, they led the procession out the door. Troops waved banners emblazoned with the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest. Appalled by the festivity that had sprung from carnage, Sano and Masahiro trailed the procession outside. Musicians playing flutes and samisens materialized. A small crowd of men who’d been purged loitered by the palace entrance, too dazed to know what to do or too afraid to go home and tell their families what had happened. General Isogai and Elder Ohgami were among them. As Sano started toward his former allies, General Isogai’s face turned gray. He clutched at his heart, moaned, and collapsed.

“Somebody fetch a doctor!” Sano called, kneeling beside the panting, groaning Isogai.

Ohgami knelt and drew his short sword. His face looked oddly flaccid, as if the blow to his honor had shattered the underlying bone. He plunged the sword into his stomach.

Sano realized with horror that his two friends had reached the limits of their fortitude. But he knew that his own were still to be tested.

At Sano’s estate inside Edo Castle, carpenters built roofs on new, unfinished buildings grafted onto portions of the mansion that hadn’t collapsed during the earthquake. They erected framework for barracks that would surround the mansion and house Sano’s troops, who temporarily lived in tents on the grounds. Masons fitted new stone facings onto the earthen foundations of the walls around the compound. Work ceased only long enough for the men to bolt down food, to drink water and splash it on their sweating faces. Reconstruction of the castle was top priority, human fatigue no excuse for delay.

In the garden at the center of the private chambers, a little girl and boy ran across a bridge that arched over a pond to a pavilion in the middle. A white, orange, and black kitten chased a string that the boy dangled. The girl laughed gleefully. A canopy on wooden posts stood where the earthquake had shaken down the pavilion’s roof. Under the canopy, Lady Reiko reclined on cushions. Her friend Midori knelt beside her, sewing as they watched their children play. Midori’s baby lay asleep on a blanket. Reiko fanned her damp brow with a silk fan. She’d come outside to get some fresh air and escape the carpenters’ hammering and sawing, but the weather was warm and she could still hear the noise. Being six months pregnant added to her discomfort.

“My other two pregnancies were so easy.” Reiko clasped her round belly. She’d gained much more weight than previously, her legs were swollen, and occasional contractions made her nervous. “I don’t know why this one is so difficult.”

“You’re a lot older this time,” Midori said.

Piqued by this catty rejoinder, Reiko glanced sharply at Midori. “I’m only thirty-four.” Then she saw Midori frowning fiercely as she jabbed the needle through the sash she was embroidering. Preoccupied with her own problems, she didn’t realize what she’d said.

Shrieks came from the bridge. Midori’s six-year-old son, Tatsuo, held the kitten by its shoulders. “Give it to me!” Reiko’s five-year-old daughter, Akiko, pulled on its hind legs, crying, “Mine!” The kitten mewed frantically.

Midori jumped up, hurled down her sewing, and yelled, “Tatsuo! Akiko! Stop fighting over that cat, or I’m going to kill you!”

Startled, the children released the kitten. Midori’s gaze searched the garden. “Taeko! Where are you?”

Her nine-year-old daughter ambled out from a bamboo grove. A slender girl with serious eyes in a round face and long, glossy black hair tied back with an orange ribbon, Taeko held a paintbrush. Her pale green, flowered kimono was stained with ink.

“Are you painting again?” Disapproval roughened Midori’s voice. “Painting isn’t for girls!” Taeko hung her head. “You’re supposed to be watching your brother and Akiko.” Midori pointed at the younger children. “Get over there!”

The baby woke up and started to cry. Taeko hurried onto the bridge, gathered the younger children, and took them into the house. The kitten scampered after them. Midori’s temper dissolved into tears. “I shouldn’t get so mad at the children.” She sank to her knees, picked up the baby girl, and rocked her. “What’s wrong with me?”

Reiko pushed herself upright and hugged her friend. “You’re just upset about Hirata.”

Hirata was Midori’s husband and Sano’s chief retainer. The two families were as close as blood kin, but lately their relations had been troubled, on account of Hirata.

Midori sobbed. “He’s been gone for four months! I don’t know where. I haven’t heard a word from him!”

“There must be a good reason,” Reiko said, trying to console her.

“It’s his damned mystic martial arts!”

Nine years ago Hirata had begun studying the mystic martial arts with an itinerant priest. Since then he’d spent much time away from his family, taking lessons, practicing, and doing whatever else mystic martial artists did. Hirata’s frequent, unexplained disappearances had strained his relationship with Sano as well as his marriage.

“He’ll come back,” Reiko assured Midori. “He always does.”

“But maybe he’s been in another fight. Maybe he’s dead!”

Hirata had a reputation as one of the best martial artists in Japan. Other expert fighters were always challenging him to duels. Although no one had beaten him yet, Midori feared the day when someone would.

“He can take care of himself. Don’t worry.” They often had this conversation. Reiko said these same things over and over.

“How can I not worry? He’s left us in such a mess.” Midori’s woe yielded to a new surge of anger. “He’s never here when Sano- san needs him. Sano- san gives him a leave of absence to fix whatever problem is keeping him away from his duties, but instead of straightening himself out, my wonderful husband disappears again!”

Reiko was saddened by Midori’s contempt toward the man she’d once loved.

“And when the shogun wants him, he isn’t here.” Hirata was the shogun’s sōsakan-sama, a post he’d inherited from Sano when Sano became chamberlain. “So the shogun took away his post, his stipend, and his estate!” Midori wailed, “I don’t have my husband, my children don’t have their father, and we’re poor and homeless!”