Laura Rowland: The Incense Game

Grief transformed into a joy so brilliant that Sano felt as if dawn had prematurely banished the night. He lifted Reiko, hugged her to him, and wept, heedless of Minister Ogyu’s corpse, of the battle raging around them. Reiko rested against Sano, sighed with relief, then squirmed out of his embrace. She muttered, incoherent and distraught, as she jerked at the ropes around her wrists.

Sano broke the ropes, freeing her. “It’s all right now. You’re safe.”

“The baby!” Reiko clutched her stomach.

Confused, Sano said, “What baby?” He looked around at the battle and the ruins, wondering how there could be an infant mixed up in this.

Sano heard Marume laugh for the first time since Fukida’s death. “I think she’s telling you that she’s with child.”

Pale sunlight filled the reception room in the guesthouse. The shogun sat on the dais, Masahiro behind him. Sano knelt on the shogun’s left, Ienobu on his right. Sliding doors to the veranda stood open. Two days after Sano’s investigation ended, the weather had turned unseasonably warm. Trees in the garden bristled with buds. Below the dais, the Council of Elders sat along one wall; along the opposite wall were General Isogai and his top army officials. Lord Hosokawa and three other daimyo knelt before the dais and bowed to the shogun.

“Your Excellency, please allow us to present you with a small gift,” Lord Hosokawa said.

Servants carried in fifty black lacquer chests and stacked them against the back wall. They staggered under the weight of the gold coins in the chests. Sano wondered if the floor would hold it. Everyone except the shogun looked impressed by such a huge sum of cash.

“This is our contribution to repairing the damage caused by the earthquake, and a token of our loyalty to you,” Lord Hosokawa said with solemn reverence.

Sano could tell that the other daimyo weren’t pleased about bowing down to the shogun and handing over their wealth. That must have been some scene when Lord Hosokawa told them he wouldn’t join their rebellion and they must help him supply the funds to shore up the Tokugawa regime.

“A million thanks.” The shogun spoke casually, taking the tribute for granted. “You have, ahh, done a great service to me. Much better than some people.” He shot an unfriendly glance at Sano, for being absent too often, for not catering to him enough.

Ienobu scowled at Masahiro. The elders exchanged glances of relief: They knew that paying this tribute had depleted the daimyos’ coffers so much that they couldn’t afford an insurrection. Sano sensed the elders wondering why the daimyo had suddenly fallen into line. General Isogai scratched his bald head. Neither they nor the shogun knew what Sano had done to earn the money the daimyo had donated and avert a civil war. Sano and Reiko didn’t intend to tell, and only Sano and Lord Hosokawa had been present at the scene that decided the outcome of the events set in motion by a fatal incense game.

The morning after the debacle in the theater district, Sano returned to Lord Hosokawa’s estate with an oxcart whose cargo was covered with a blanket. When Lord Hosokawa met him at the gate, his troops and driver waited down the street while he said, “Would you like to see who killed your daughters?” Sano dismounted and threw back the blanket. Underneath were the dead bodies of Minister and Lady Ogyu.

“There were two murderers?” Lord Hosokawa said, gazing at them with surprise and concern. “Isn’t that the administrator of the Confucian academy?”

“Yes.”

“Who is the woman?”

“His wife.”

“You killed them?”

Sano nodded, accepting responsibility for both deaths.

“I can see what happened to Minister Ogyu.” Lord Hosokawa contemplated the separation between Ogyu’s bloody neck and body, then turned to Lady Ogyu. Her homely face was pale, distorted. “But what about his wife?”

“She swallowed some of the poison that she and Minister Ogyu used to kill your daughters and Madam Usugumo,” Sano said.

That morning Sano had returned to the academy to find Lady Ogyu dead with her children clinging to her body. I didn’t know she was going to do it! his distraught guard had cried. Lady Ogyu must have had a premonition that her husband wouldn’t survive the night. She’d decided to die before she could be forced to reveal his secret to anyone else.

“But why did they poison my daughters?” Lord Hosokawa exclaimed.

“They didn’t mean to,” Sano said. “Madam Usugumo was their intended victim. She was blackmailing Minister Ogyu. I wasn’t able to find out what dirt she had on him.” Sano couldn’t reveal the secret. Having examined Ogyu’s body and confirmed that it was female, he was taking the bodies to Z o j o Temple for immediate, private cremation. If Ogyu’s deception became known, the shogun would lose face and his government would become an object of ridicule. That could weaken it enough that the daimyo might be tempted to revive their plan to overthrow it. “But Minister and Lady Ogyu did confess to the murders.” Sano couldn’t let Lord Hosokawa know that the Ogyus had made unwitting tools of his daughters. That would only cause the man more pain.

Lord Hosokawa contemplated the bodies. “I should feel triumph, or at least satisfaction, knowing my daughters have been avenged.” He lifted a bewildered gaze to Sano. “But I don’t feel any better. How can that be?”

“Revenge brings justice,” Sano said, “but it can’t bring back the dead.”

Lord Hosokawa nodded in sad resignation. “Still, I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I will keep my part of our bargain.”

Now Lord Hosokawa and the other daimyo bowed to the shogun and the assembly. As they somberly filed out of the room, Lord Hosokawa met Sano’s gaze. His expression said their business was finished. But Sano knew better. He couldn’t trust Lord Hosokawa or let him get away with his extortion. He would have to do something about Lord Hosokawa sooner or later.

“Well, ahh.” The shogun brushed his hands together, as if dispensing with a trivial affair. “Now I have a surprise for all of you.” His eyes twinkled with mischief; he clapped his hands.

Into the room strode Yanagisawa and a young samurai. Yanagisawa surveyed the company with as much aplomb as if he’d never left it. The handsome young samurai, with his athletic build, wide face, and tilted eyes, looked vaguely familiar to Sano. A woman dressed in deep red followed the two men. She was some forty years old, still attractive. She and the young samurai carried themselves with dignity and caution. The trio mounted the dais. Yanagisawa knelt nonchalantly beside Sano. The woman knelt near them. The shogun drew the young samurai down to kneel at his right side.

“It is my pleasure to introduce my son.” The shogun smiled fondly at the young samurai. “My flesh-and-blood son and heir, that I always wanted.”

The assembly gasped in shock. Sano felt a wave of vertigo that wasn’t from his head injury. He’d not had any dizziness, nausea, or much pain today. Elders and army officers whispered furiously among themselves. The shogun preened. Ienobu looked horrified by the youth seated between him and the shogun. In an instant he’d lost his position as heir apparent. Yanagisawa gloated.

“My son’s name is Yoshisato,” the shogun said.

Yoshisato kept his head high and his expression serene while the assembly stared at him. He had considerable poise for someone so young. His name reminded Sano of who he was.

“Forgive me, Your Excellency,” Sano said, “but there must be some mistake. Yoshisato isn’t your son. He’s Yanagisawa’s.”

The other men murmured, disbelieving and amazed. Yanagisawa was passing his son off as the shogun’s! He had plopped Yoshisato into first place in line for the succession, to guarantee that he would be the power behind the next dictator.