Laura Rowland: The Incense Game

“I’ll give you an incentive to accept,” Lord Hosokawa replied promptly. “Many of the most powerful daimyo are tired of being ruled by the Tokugawa. It’s been a hundred years of paying tribute and swallowing their pride. But now the regime’s capital is in ruins, its castle is as full of holes as a sieve, its army is minuscule. Three hundred and fifty-one officials are dead. For the first time in a century, the Tokugawa is vulnerable.”

The secret of the death toll had leaked out, too, Sano realized with alarm.

“In contrast, we daimyo are in good shape,” Lord Hosokawa went on. “Granted, many of us lost estates in Edo and quite a few men, but most of our wealth and property and armies is safe in our provinces. The earthquake has given us a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If we band together, we can conquer the Tokugawa and rule Japan.”

Sano stared in shock at Lord Hosokawa, a friend suddenly turned potential enemy, the regime’s worst fear embodied. “Are you one of the daimyo who want to strike at the Tokugawa regime while it’s down?”

“Of course not,” Lord Hosokawa said. “You know me better than that.” But an unfamiliar brazenness in his eyes told Sano that he didn’t know this man at all. Deranged by his daughters’ death, Lord Hosokawa had absorbed the evil that had pervaded the air since the earthquake, that led people to do things they never would under normal circumstances. “Mine is the voice that’s urging the hotheads to keep the peace. My clan is a barricade between them and the shogun. But that will change unless you do as I ask. Catch my daughters’ killer, or I’ll join forces with the others, fight alongside them in a civil war, and ensure their victory.”

Flabbergasted, Sano stood. “That’s blackmail.” He had a nightmarish feeling that had plagued him since the earthquake, that the world had become a place of madness.

Lord Hosokawa rose, meeting Sano’s gaze. “It’s the length I’ll go to to secure your cooperation.”

“It’s treason to even talk about a revolt, let alone conspire to start one! It’s punishable by death!”

“It’s only punishable if the revolt fails. If it succeeds, the shogun will be in no position to deprive us of our heads.”

Sano grabbed Lord Hosokawa by the shoulders. “Stop this!”

Lord Hosokawa emitted a sound that was half moan, half chuckle, and all awareness that he’d put himself in grave danger. He resembled a man who is crossing a river that gets deeper with his every step. He gazed at Sano as if Sano had thrown him a rope while the current swept him down a waterfall. “It’s too late. I’ve already said too much.”

“I’ll have to report it to the shogun,” Sano said with regret. This was a double tragedy-first his daughters murdered; now Lord Hosokawa would go down for treason, his clan dissolved, its wealth confiscated. There seemed no end to the evils following the earthquake.

“No, I don’t think you’ll report me,” Lord Hosokawa said, suddenly crafty.

Sano tightened his face so it wouldn’t show the fear that trickled through him. “Why not? Because you’re going to kill me before I can leave this house?” He was alone here, his few troops outside no match for the Hosokawa army.

“Certainly not. Remember, I need you to investigate my daughters’ murders. You will decide for yourself that it’s better not to tell the shogun what has passed between us.”

As Sano frowned in disbelief, Lord Hosokawa said, “Think about what will happen if you tell. The bakufu will send what’s left of the Tokugawa army to arrest me and the other daimyo. Then we’ll have no choice but to fight. What would we have to lose?”

“You won’t win,” Sano said, trying to convince himself as well as Lord Hosokawa. “The Tokugawa branch clans and hereditary allies will support the regime.”

“You know they’re as weakened as the government,” Lord Hosokawa said. “Their domains are located near Edo, in the earthquake zone. Before they can get their troops provisioned and their rear ends on horseback, we’ll have our armies on the march from all over Japan, fully supplied with food, equipment, and ammunition.”

Appalled by this all-too-realistic scenario, Sano said, “It won’t work. You can’t coerce me into doing what you want.”

“If you bring my daughters’ killer to justice, I’ll hold off the rebels. They can’t win without me. I’ll hand over the money to you and persuade them that it’s better to donate money to rebuild Edo and shore up the Tokugawa regime than to gamble on coming out on top after a civil war. But if you don’t, you’ll be to blame for the end of the Tokugawa reign because you wouldn’t give up a few days of your precious time. Neither you nor your family will survive the wrath of the shogun, who will see you as the traitor.” Mournful yet triumphant, Lord Hosokawa said, “So, Chamberlain Sano: Which will it be?”

Sano felt the sting of betrayal, the burn of outrage. Never had he been subjected to such a devious form of pressure to solve a crime, and from a friend, yet! Never had the price of refusal or failure been greater. He was as trapped as the earthquake victims who’d been buried inside their collapsed houses.

Nodding in defeat, he said, “May the gods damn you to hell!”

Bearers carried a palanquin into Sano’s estate, whose outer wall was cracked in some places, entirely crumbled in others. Within the wall, sections of the barracks had collapsed. Once, these two-story structures had formed a continuous inner wall around the mansion and the estate’s other buildings. Now the few barracks that still stood resembled teeth in a mouth punched by a fist. Followed by four guards on horseback, the bearers plodded through the courtyard, where tents served as quarters for Sano’s homeless troops. They set the palanquin down by the mansion, also badly damaged. The front of the half-timbered building listed on its granite foundations. Timbers propped up the eaves that overhung the verandas. The guards dismounted, opened the palanquin’s door, and lifted Reiko out.

“I’m all right now, Lieutenant Tanuma,” Reiko told her chief bodyguard, who held her shoulders. She’d regained consciousness a few moments after fainting in the tent city, but he’d insisted on bringing her home even though she’d wanted to stay. “I can walk.”

The guards insisted on carrying her into the mansion. Because the private quarters had collapsed, Sano and Reiko had moved with their children into the mansion’s relatively intact front section, which contained offices and reception chambers. They lived in one reception chamber; Sano’s principal retainers slept in the others. The guards brought Reiko to her family’s chamber, which was crammed with tables, chests, charcoal braziers, other furniture, clothes, and personal belongings salvaged from the ruins. The maids who hurried to assist Reiko had barely enough floor space to spread the futon. Akiko ran in, calling, “Mama, Mama!”

Mother and daughter didn’t have the easiest relationship. They often fought, but Akiko didn’t like Reiko to go out and leave her. Usually when Reiko returned, Akiko sulked and refused to speak to her. But now she seemed upset by the unusual sight of her mother being carried home like an invalid.

“Don’t worry, Akiko, I’m fine.” Reiko touched the little girl’s hand as the soldiers carefully set her on her feet. But she still felt weak and shaky as she crawled into bed. When Tanuma sent for a doctor, she hadn’t the strength to object.

The physician was a nice old man who treated her children’s colds and fevers. As he felt the pulse points on Reiko’s body, Akiko watched anxiously. He made comical faces at Akiko; she giggled. Reiko heard Sano’s officials and secretaries talking and their footsteps in the corridors. There was little privacy or peace since the earthquake. Noise from the construction in Edo Castle started at sunrise and didn’t stop until dark. Reiko listened to cooks working in their makeshift kitchen, a flat wooden roof supported by posts in what had once been the garden. The kitchen buildings had burned down. Cooks and other servants slept under the roof at night because their quarters had collapsed.