one, they were too strong; even singly, they could each best him. “And I’m not doing any more rituals.”
He stomped past them, brushing his hands against his sleeve. But his bravado was false. While he rode away, the skin on his back flinched under their gazes. Inside he trembled with fear that joining the society was the worst mistake he’d ever made, that he’d gotten himself into something far beyond his ability to handle.
5
The way to Lord Hosokawa’s house led Sano and his troops along the Daiichi Keihin, the main highway to points south. Fewer scenes of destruction met them as they left the outskirts of the city. Sano felt as if an iron clamp around his chest had loosened. Inhaling air that wasn’t tainted with dust or the smell of decay, he rested his tired eyes on the forests, whose bare trees laced the rim of a blue, clear sky. He was surprised that beauty still existed in the world. But even here there were reminders of the disaster. Trees leaned where the earth had shifted. Sano and his men jumped their horses across cracks that split the road. At last they neared a group of samurai estates, private towns enclosed by barracks. The damage was slight here. If Sano squinted, he couldn’t see the cracks in the long walls of the barracks or the few broken roofs. Soldiers milled around outside. The illusion of normality was jarring.
The Hosokawa estate was the grandest in the area, with a gate made of wide, iron-studded planks. As Sano dismounted and approached the gate, two sentries scrambled out of an ornate guardhouse. They recognized Sano, greeted him, and bowed.
“Are any women in Lord Hosokawa’s clan missing?” Sano asked.
“Yes,” said a sentry. “Lord Hosokawa’s two daughters.”
Resigned to being the bearer of bad news, Sano said, “Then I must speak with Lord Hosokawa.”
He left his troops outside the estate while one servant escorted him into the mansion and another fetched Lord Hosokawa. Sano had barely entered the reception chamber when Lord Hosokawa rushed in. Lord Hosokawa was in his sixties, gray-haired and slight of build. He wore modest robes patterned in neutral colors instead of the opulent, fashionable garb that daimyo of his wealth usually affected. The lines in his face bespoke intelligence and constant worry. Two women, both in their late forties, followed.
Lord Hosokawa rushed through the polite ritual of greeting. “My wife,” he said, introducing the woman with gray hair, sallow skin, and drab brown clothes. He gestured toward the other, who was done up with dyed-black hair and full makeup, her robes in brighter shades of maroon and teal. “Tama, my concubine.” The women leaned toward Sano, their faces anxious, their hands wringing. “Honorable Chamberlain, have you news of my daughters?”
“I’m afraid so,” Sano said somberly. “We’ve found the bodies of two young women.”
“Why do you think they’re my daughters?” Lord Hosokawa looked torn between the hope that the missing had been located and the wish that the dead weren’t his kin.
“They were wearing these.” Sano displayed the sashes he’d brought.
Lady Hosokawa snatched the magenta sash with the crests worked in gold thread. “That’s Myobu’s! I embroidered it for her myself!” She pressed the sash to her face and wept.
The concubine grabbed the green, plainer sash. Cradling it, she fell to her knees, sobbed, and rocked back and forth. “Kumoi! No! No!”
Pained by their grief, Sano averted his eyes. He’d witnessed similar scenes too many times since the earthquake. No family was untouched by loss.
The lines on Lord Hosokawa’s face knitted his features into a mask of agony. He sagged to his knees. “Myobu. Kumoi.” He sounded as if he’d aged ten years. “My only two girls, my treasures. I prayed that they were alive, but I knew that after all this time, they couldn’t be.”
Sano crouched opposite Lord Hosokawa. “I’m sorry to bring you such bad news.”
“There’s no need to apologize. Thank you for coming. I know how busy you must be.” Lord Hosokawa swallowed tears. “It’s better to know that my children are dead than to spend the rest of my life wondering what had become of them.”
Tama the concubine crawled up to Sano. “I want to see Kumoi!” The sash was twisted in the clasped hands that she raised to him. “Where is she?”
“And Myobu?” Lady Hosokawa lifted her face. “May I see her?”
Sano hesitated. He couldn’t tell the parents that the bodies were on the way to the morgue for an illegal examination.
“You mustn’t,” Lord Hosokawa told the women. “Not after this long.” He obviously thought the bodies were too decomposed for the mothers to bear viewing.
The women wept harder but accepted his pronouncement. Sano felt guilty about letting them keep a false impression.
“After our daughters are cremated, may we have the ashes to bury in our family tomb?” Lord Hosokawa asked.
“Certainly.” Sano couldn’t help feeling relieved that the family wouldn’t see the signs of the examination.
Lord Hosokawa seemed to draw on the strength of will that had made him one of the most capable provincial rulers in Japan. “Where were they found?”
“In a house in Nihonbashi that sank underground during the earthquake,” Sano said.
Surprise momentarily distracted Lady Hosokawa from her grief. “Whose house?”
“What were they doing there?” Tama asked between sobs.
“The house belonged to an incense teacher named Usugumo,” Sano said. “She and your daughters were playing an incense game when the earthquake struck. They all died.”
Lord Hosokawa shook his head, puzzled. “We didn’t know Myobu and Kumoi had left the estate that night. We didn’t realize they were missing until after the earthquake.” He turned to the women. “Did you know they were taking incense lessons in town?”
“No,” Lady Hosokawa said.
“Kumoi never told me,” Tama said.
“I taught Myobu not to mix with commoners unless they’re people we know well, who work for our family or do business with us,” Lady Hosokawa said. “She never would have gone there on her own.” She angrily turned on Tama. “It must have been your daughter’s idea. She liked new fads. She liked slumming with the lower classes.”
“That’s not true!” The fury in her eyes and the makeup running down her face made Tama look like a demon in a Kabuki play. “Your daughter was the big sister. Kumoi would follow her wherever she went. It’s Myobu’s fault that my daughter died in that house!”
“Don’t you speak to me like that!” Lady Hosokawa slapped Tama’s face.
Tama threw herself on Lady Hosokawa. The women became a clawing, sobbing, thrashing tangle of silk robes and disheveled hair. Lord Hosokawa grabbed his wife. Sano grabbed the concubine. They tore the women from each other. Ladies-in-waiting ran into the room. Two groups formed-one with Lady Hosokawa at the center, the other around Tama. They exchanged glares, like rival armies. Lady Hosokawa’s pack swept out of the room, followed by Tama’s.
“Please forgive our bad manners,” Lord Hosokawa said, shamefaced, to Sano. “My wife and my concubine don’t get along.”
Many men’s wives and concubines didn’t. That was one reason Sano would never bring another woman into his home. If he did that to Reiko, he would never have a moment of peace. The other reason was that he loved Reiko so much that he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else. He was sorry that the death of Lord Hosokawa’s daughters had increased the strife between their mothers, who couldn’t even comfort each other.
“How did my daughters die?” Lord Hosokawa asked. “Was it quick and merciful?”
Here came the part of his mission that Sano had been dreading the most. He wished he could assure Lord Hosokawa that his daughters hadn’t suffered, but he couldn’t withhold the truth. Were he in Lord Hosokawa’s position, he would want to know.
“It looks as if they weren’t killed by the earthquake.” Sano described their red eyes and the rescuer’s illness
