Laura Rowland - The Fire Kimono

“Good.” Yanagisawa poured sake into cups. “I propose a toast to new alliances.”

They drank, and Yoritomo said, “Speaking of Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Sano, they’re blaming each other for the attacks on their wives.”

“That’s just as I planned,” Yanagisawa said.

He’d sent his troops, disguised with their crests, to ambush Lady Reiko and bomb Lord Matsudaira’s estate. He was also responsible for other attacks that his rivals had attributed to each other. They didn’t know the attacks were part of his plot to aggravate their strife into a blowup. They didn’t suspect that the attacks had anything to do with him. They didn’t think his partisans were capable of such devious, focused strategy, and they were right. Until Yanagisawa had returned, his partisans had been a bunch of badly organized hoodlums who’d struck randomly, hit or miss.

Yoritomo looked disturbed. “I wish we didn’t have to attack Chamberlain Sano. He’s been a good friend to me.”

Yanagisawa had gathered that during his absence Sano had taken Yoritomo under his wing. Even though Yanagisawa hated Sano for winning over his son, he knew that had their positions been reversed, he’d have done the same. It was a smart tactic. But he couldn’t afford for Yoritomo to have divided loyalties.

“I know you like Chamberlain Sano,” Yanagisawa said. “However, he’s not your friend.”

“But he’s kept your enemies away from me. And what about all the time we’ve spent together talking and practicing martial arts?” Yoritomo said, distressed. “He’s the only person at the castle who really cares about me.”

“He cares because you’re in a position to help him. He protects you and flatters you; you influence the shogun in his favor. He’s using you.” The hurt he saw in Yoritomo’s eyes pained Yanagisawa. His son was too good and innocent. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way of the world.”

“Yes.” Downcast, Yoritomo murmured, “I see. But it’s hard to believe that Chamberlain Sano could be so mercenary.”

“Well, he is. I know him better than you do. Should it suit him to betray you, he will.” Anxious to comfort Yoritomo without softening the harsh lesson, Yanagisawa said, “Now that I’m back, you don’t need Sano anymore.”

“Yes.” Yoritomo brightened. He looked up at Yanagisawa with a gaze full of faith and hero-worship. “Thank you for dispelling my illusions about Chamberlain Sano.”

“Don’t let him know your feelings toward him have changed,” Yanagisawa warned.

“I won’t,” Yoritomo said. “I can keep a secret.”

Yanagisawa knew he could. After all, he’d kept Yanagisawa’s return a secret from everyone except their most trusted confederates. And he would keep it until Yanagisawa had weakened his enemies and built up his own power base enough to launch his comeback.

“I have more news,” Yoritomo said. “A skeleton was discovered buried near the Inari Shrine in the hills. It was identified as Tokugawa Tadatoshi, the shogun’s cousin. The shogun has ordered Chamberlain Sano to investigate Tadatoshi’s death.”

“That’s interesting,” Yanagisawa said, leaning forward, stroking his chin. “Maybe the investigation will prove to be my blessing and Sano’s downfall.”

Sano was the underdog in the conflict between him and Lord Matsudaira, whom Yanagisawa most needed to defeat if he wanted to climb back on top of the regime. But Sano was still a major obstacle, and he had Yanagisawa’s old post. Furthermore, Yanagisawa and Sano had a bad history.

The moment Yanagisawa had laid eyes on Sano eleven years ago, he’d known that Sano would be trouble for him. Sano had immediately become his rival for the shogun’s favor. Sano hadn’t needed to seduce the shogun with sex; he’d won the shogun with his cleverness and unstinting service. Sano’s first investigation for the shogun had resulted in one of Yanagisawa’s most humiliating experiences. Since then, Yanagisawa’s fortunes had tended to rise or fall in opposition to Sano’s, as if they were counterweights attached to a pulley. Yanagisawa had become Sano’s biggest detractor and caused Sano as much grief as possible, until a later investigation, in Miyako nine years ago, had led to a truce between them. The truce had been convenient for Yanagisawa as his struggle against Lord Matsudaira began to demand all his attention. But now Yanagisawa hated himself for not crushing Sano when he’d had a chance, for letting Sano live to occupy a critical place on the chessboard that Yanagisawa wanted to dominate.

The truce was off, even though Sano didn’t know it yet.

“What has Sano discovered so far?” Yanagisawa asked.

“I don’t know. I left Edo before he reported to the shogun,” Yoritomo replied. “But he said Tadatoshi’s death smacked of foul play.”

Glad anticipation filled Yanagisawa. “If this is indeed a case of murder, then so much the better for us.”

“His murder investigations always land Sano in trouble,” Yoritomo said.

The suspects Sano identified were often powerful people. His efforts always put him at odds with them while making him a target of the killer.

“And he always faces the prospect of failure and losing the shogun’s esteem. But he has such a foolhardy dedication to pursuing truth and justice.” Yanagisawa couldn’t understand Sano’s readiness to endanger himself in the name of honor. “He never backs off, even when he’s threatened with demotion, exile, or death for him and his entire family, as he inevitably is. Not that I’m complaining.”

Sano’s sense of honor had always been Yanagisawa’s best weapon against Sano.

“What should we do?” Yoritomo said.

“For now, we wait and watch. Chances are, Sano will dig his own grave.”

“But if he doesn’t?”

Yanagisawa smiled. “I’ll think of something.”

“You always do, Father,” Yoritomo said with admiration.

Outside, the temple bell tolled the hour of the ox. Yoritomo rose. “I’d better go. The shogun will be wanting me.”

“You must keep him happy,” Yanagisawa cautioned. He hated pandering his beloved son to the shogun, but he had no choice. Neither had he had a choice when, many years ago, he’d seduced the shogun himself. His intimate relationship with the shogun had been a crucial defense against his enemies. Yoritomo’s would protect him until the day when he and Yanagisawa ruled Japan together. “We can’t afford to have him wonder where you are and put you under surveillance.”

As he let Yoritomo out the door, Yanagisawa said, “Keep me informed about Sano’s investigation.”

The flame of the lamp blazed its image into Reiko’s eyes as she stared at it. She knelt in her chamber, hands folded in her lap, the mauve and green patterned silk skirt of her robe fanned out around her like flower petals. Her beautiful face wore a still, intense expression. The cut on her cheek shone black in the dim light. The house was quiet, everyone else in it asleep. But Reiko had suffered from insomnia ever since Masahiro’s abduction, and having him back at home hadn’t ceased her late-night vigils.

She was keeping watch over the children, asleep in the adjacent chamber, in case an attack should come. She couldn’t bring herself to rely on the guards. She must be alert. As she devised strategies for protecting the children, she looked up to see Sano standing in the doorway.

“Did you just get home?” she asked with a forced smile.

“Yes. I had work to do. More emergencies, as usual.” Sano entered the room, knelt opposite her, and studied her with concern. “Are you feeling better?”

His gaze probed at the calm facade Reiko had donned for him. “I’m fine,” she said. But after almost ten years of marriage, they’d grown so close that they could often read each other’s minds, and she knew that he could see on her face the ill effects of living under strain.