Laura Rowland - The Incense Game

Skepticism wrinkled Kato’s brow. “There’s not much room for you at court these days. Not with Sano leading the government and Ienobu sucking up to the shogun.”

Sano and Ienobu, the two adversaries he had to battle. “I don’t need much room.” Yanagisawa held up his thumb and forefinger, a hairsbreadth apart. “Just enough to slip my secret weapon in.”

“What secret weapon?”

“An ally to plant close to the shogun, to influence him and help me regain control over him,” Yanagisawa whispered.

Kato reacted with confusion and disbelief. “That’s what you did before. You mean to do it again?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Yanagisawa wouldn’t admit that he wasn’t exactly flush with new ideas; his mind still hadn’t quite regained its usual speed or originality.

“But how are you going to-?” Kato said with startled enlightenment, “You’re going to replace Yoritomo.”

Pain twisted through Yanagisawa like a skewer studded with barbs. “Don’t say that! Yoritomo can’t be replaced! Not ever!”

“Forgive me.” Kato raised his hands, patted the air. “Let me rephrase that: You intend to find a young man to perform the duties that you need performed. Correct?”

Yanagisawa nodded, regretting his outburst. He would have to keep a tighter control over his emotions, which made him vulnerable.

“Who’s the lucky pawn?” Kato asked.

The word pawn rankled. Yanagisawa had made a pawn of Yoritomo, who’d become the shogun’s favorite male concubine, the sole, dubious achievement of his short life. “I have four candidates.”

“Oh, I see. Your other sons.”

Yanagisawa had fathered five sons on five different women. He also had a wife and a daughter, stashed away in the country, whom he seldom saw. His four remaining sons ranged in age from pubescent to late teens, just right to appeal to the shogun’s taste. It couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned it. Yoritomo had been his favorite, and he didn’t know the others, whom he monitored from a distance, like a merchant keeps track of business interests in faraway provinces. But that was about to change.

Kato regarded Yanagisawa with admiration and repugnance. “First you share the shogun’s bed, then Yoritomo does, and now you’re going to put some more of your flesh and blood there. You must be the most ruthless man in the world!”

“Ruthlessness is the offspring of necessity,” Yanagisawa said.

“I don’t suppose it matters whether the new secret weapon likes following in the previous one’s footsteps.”

“Not at all.” Even though Yoritomo had never complained, and always professed himself eager to do whatever Yanagisawa wanted, Yanagisawa had hated to make Yoritomo sacrifice himself for his father’s political goal. Because he’d loved Yoritomo. But love wasn’t an issue with his other sons. “He should be glad to cooperate. He’ll have a brilliant future.”

As brilliant as Yoritomo’s? The question was written on Kato’s face. Yanagisawa pretended not to notice. Kato asked, “When do you decide which son gets to do the honors?”

“I’m going to look them over today,” Yanagisawa said.

His heartbeat quickened with anticipation that had little to do with the prospect of advancing his political aims, thwarting Ienobu, or punishing Sano. He was surprised to find himself wishing that one of his other sons could fill the emptiness in him. The strength of his desire was alarming.

“Keep me company while I eat.” Reiko invited the maid at the Hosokawa estate.

The maid eagerly scrambled closer. “Thank you, mistress.”

“I sensed that Lady Hosokawa and Tama aren’t on very good terms,” Reiko hinted.

That was all it took to open the floodgates. “They hate each other,” the maid said with relish. “When Lord Hosokawa brought Tama in as his concubine, Lady Hosokawa was so jealous. He gave Tama her own servants and her own rooms. When he’s here, he spends his nights with her. He only went to Lady Hosokawa’s bed to get children. After he had enough, he stopped going.”

A daimyo needed one legitimate son to be his heir, others in case the first didn’t survive, and daughters to use as political pawns in the marriage market, Reiko knew.

“Tama put on airs. She acted as if she were the lady of the house.” The maid grimaced in distaste. “Lady Hosokawa was furious. But Lord Hosokawa made her be nice to Tama.”

It was a story Reiko had heard often. How cruel the custom of taking concubines could be to wives! Again, Reiko felt lucky to be married to Sano.

“Lady Hosokawa got back at Tama,” the maid said gleefully. “She put mouse dung and dead flies in Tama’s food. Tama got sick and didn’t know why.”

Another spell of queasiness lapped at Reiko as she thought of the poisoned incense. Had Lady Hosokawa done worse than contaminate food to make her rival sick? Reiko drank more tea, combating the nausea that came with her knowledge that there were even better suspects than Lady Hosokawa within the clan.

“How did Myobu and Kumoi get along?” Reiko asked, duty-bound to bring Sano the truth even if it wasn’t what he liked to hear.

The maid shook her head regretfully. “They were the sweetest little babies, and I loved them both. But the rivalry between Lady Hosokawa and Tama increased after they were born. Myobu had nicer clothes and more toys than Kumoi. She had teachers to teach her how to read and write and arrange flowers and play the koto and sing. Kumoi didn’t. Because Myobu was Lord Hosokawa’s legitimate daughter.”

Whereas Kumoi was only his bastard, even though he’d recognized her as his own and professed to Sano that he’d loved her. The custom was cruel to children, too.

“It didn’t help that Kumoi was prettier than Myobu,” the maid went on. “Myobu was jealous. Their mothers were always comparing them. Kumoi was their father’s favorite. They were born to hate each other. They fought all the time.”

Had their hatred been great enough for one to have poisoned the other and, by accident, herself? Reiko’s suspicion tended even more strongly toward the Hosokawa family.

“Things got even worse when they grew up,” the maid said. “Myobu was the elder, so Lord Hosokawa looked to marry her off first. She got a proposal from the daimyo clan that has the estate across the street. They’re allies of Lord Hosokawa. The daimyo ’s second son needed a wife. He was young and handsome and rich. A perfect match for Myobu.

“The trouble started at the miai.” That was the first formal meeting between a prospective bride and groom and their families. “Kumoi was there. The young lord couldn’t take his eyes off her. He barely looked at Myobu. And Kumoi couldn’t take her eyes off him. They fell in love.”

That was trouble indeed. “Did the marriage go through?” Reiko asked.

“Oh, yes. Both families wanted it. And Myobu liked the young lord.”

There was a sound of small feet padding down the hall. The maid looked toward the door and smiled. Reiko turned to see a toddler with fat, rosy cheeks. The maid held out her arms. He ran to her, and she sat him on her lap. He sucked his thumb while he soberly studied Reiko.

“This is Myobu’s son.” The maid’s eyes welled.

Pitying this child who’d lost his mother, Reiko said a quick, silent prayer for her own unborn baby. “What did Kumoi do after Myobu became engaged?”

“She accepted it. Or so we thought.” The maid peeked out the door and continued in a whisper: “A few months later-the day before the wedding-we found out that Kumoi was with child. The father was her sister’s fiance.”

Reiko’s mouth opened in shock.

“Kumoi confessed that she and the young lord had been secretly meeting. Oh, you should have heard the uproar! Lord Hosokawa scolded Kumoi. Lady Hosokawa called her a whore and blamed Tama for not raising her properly. Tama had a fit because Kumoi had ruined herself. Myobu cried because Kumoi had seduced her fiance. And Kumoi begged Lord Hosokawa to let her marry the young lord. She said he wanted her for his wife, not Myobu.”