Laura Rowland - The Assassin's Touch

“I’ve heard reports of fighting between the army and the outlaws in the provinces,” Sano said. The outlaws were fomenting rebellion in areas where the Tokugawa had less military presence. “Have you figured out who’s leading the attacks?”

“I’ve interrogated the fugitives we’ve captured and gotten a few names,” General Isogai said. “They’re all senior officers from Yanagisawa’s army who’ve gone underground.”

“Could they be taking orders from above ground?”

“From inside the bakufu, you mean?” General Isogai shrugged. “Perhaps. Even though Lord Matsudaira has gotten rid of most of the opposition, he can’t eliminate it all.”

Lord Matsudaira had purged many officials because they’d supported his rival. The banishments, demotions, and executions would probably continue for some time. But remnants of the Yanagisawa faction still populated the government. These were men too powerful and entrenched for Lord Matsudaira to dislodge. They comprised a small but growing challenge to him.

“We’ll crush the rebels eventually,” General Isogai said. “Let’s just hope that a foreign army doesn’t invade Japan while we’re busy coping with them.”

Their meeting finished, Sano and General Isogai rose and exchanged bows. “Keep me informed,” Sano said.

The general contemplated Sano a moment. “These times have been disastrous for some people,” he remarked, “but beneficial for others.” His sly, knowing smile nudged Sano. “Had Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira never fought, a certain onetime detective would never have risen to heights far above expectation… isn’t that right, Honorable Chamberlain?”

He emphasized the syllables of Sano’s title, conferred six months ago as a result of a murder investigation that had contributed to Yanagisawa’s downfall. Once the shogun’s sōsakan-sama-Most Honorable Investigator of Events, Situations, and People-Sano had been chosen to replace Yanagisawa.

General Isogai chuckled. “I never thought I’d be reporting to a former rōnin.” Before Sano had joined the government, he’d been a masterless samurai, living on the fringes of society, eking out a living as a tutor and martial arts instructor. “I had a bet with some of my officers that you wouldn’t last a month.”

“Many thanks for your vote of confidence,” Sano said with a wry smile, as he recalled how he’d struggled to learn how the government operated, to keep its huge, arcane bureaucracy running smoothly, and establish good relations with subordinates who resented his promotion over them.

As soon as General Isogai had departed, the whirlwind outside Sano’s office burst through the door. Aides descended upon him, clamoring for his attention: “Here are the latest reports on tax revenues!” “Here are your memoranda to be signed!” “The judicial councilors are next in line to see you!”

The aides stacked documents in a mountain on the desk. They unfurled scrolls before Sano. As he scanned the papers and stamped them with his signature seal, he gave orders. Such had been his daily routine since he’d become chamberlain. He read and listened to countless reports in an attempt to keep up with everything that was happening in the nation. He had one meeting after another. His life had become an unceasing rush. He reflected that the Tokugawa regime, which had been founded by the steel of the sword, now ran on paper and talk. He regretted the habit he’d established when he’d taken up his new post.

In his zeal to take charge, he’d wanted to meet everyone, and hear all news and problems unfiltered by people who might hide the truth from him. He’d wanted to make decisions himself, rather than trust them to the two hundred men who comprised his staff. Because he didn’t want to end up ignorant and manipulated, Sano had opened his door to hordes of officials. But he’d soon realized he’d gone too far. Minor issues, and people anxious to curry his favor, consumed too much of his attention. He often felt as though he was frantically treading water, in constant danger of drowning. He’d made many mistakes and stepped on many toes.

Regardless of his difficulties, Sano took pride in his accomplishments. He’d kept the Tokugawa regime afloat despite his lack of experience. He’d attained the pinnacle of a samurai’s career, the greatest honor. Yet he often felt imprisoned in his office. His warrior spirit grew restless; he didn’t even have time for martial arts practice. Sitting, talking, and shuffling paper while his sword rusted was no job for a samurai. Sano couldn’t help yearning for his days as a detective, the intellectual challenge of solving crimes, and the thrill of hunting criminals. He wished to use his new power to do good, yet there seemed not much chance of that.

An Edo Castle messenger hovered near Sano. “Excuse me, Honorable Chamberlain,” he said, “but the shogun wants to see you in the palace right now.”

On top of everything else, Sano was at the shogun’s command day and night. His most important duty was keeping his lord happy. He couldn’t refuse a summons, no matter how frivolous the reason usually turned out to be.

As he exited his chamber, his two retainers, Marume and Fukida, accompanied him. Both had belonged to his detective corps when he was sōsakan-sama; now they served him as bodyguards and assistants. They hastened through the anteroom, where the officials waiting to see Sano fretted around him, begging for a moment of his attention. Sano made his apologies and mentally tore himself away from all the work he had to do, while Marume and Fukida hustled him out the door.

Inside the palace, Sano and his escorts walked up the long audience chamber, past the guards stationed against the walls. The shogun sat on the dais at the far end. He wore the cylindrical black cap of his rank, and a luxurious silk brocade robe whose green and gold hues harmonized with the landscape mural behind him. Lord Matsudaira knelt in the position of honor, below the shogun on his right. Sano knelt in his own customary position at the shogun’s left; his men knelt near him. As they bowed to their superiors, Sano thought how similar the two cousins were in appearance, yet how different.

They both had the aristocratic Tokugawa features, but while the shogun’s were withered and meek, Lord Matsudaira’s were fleshed out by robust health and bold spirits. They were both fifty years of age and near the same height, but the shogun seemed much older and smaller due to his huddled posture. Lord Matsudaira, who outweighed his cousin, sat proudly erect. Although he wore robes in subdued colors, he dominated the room.

“I’ve requested this meeting to announce some bad news,” Lord Matsudaira said. He maintained a cursory charade that his cousin held the power, and pretended to defer to him, but fooled no one except the shogun. Even though he now controlled the government, he still danced attendance on his cousin because if he didn’t, other men would, and he could lose his influence over the shogun to them. “Ejima Senzaemon has just died.”

Sano experienced surprise and dismay. The shogun’s face took on a queasy, confused expression. “Who did you say?” His voice wavered with his constant fear of seeming stupid.

“Ejima Senzaemon,” repeated Lord Matsudaira.

“Ahh.” The shogun wrinkled his forehead, more baffled than enlightened. “Do I know him?”

“Of course you do,” Lord Matsudaira said, barely hiding his impatience at his cousin’s slow wits. Sano could almost hear him thinking that he, not Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, should have been born to rule the regime.

“Ejima was chief of the metsuke,” Sano murmured helpfully. The metsuke was the intelligence service that employed spies to gather information all over Japan, for the purpose of monitoring troublemakers and guarding the regime’s power.