spirit.
Now the procession exited the courtyard. As Sano and Yanagisawa walked through the narrow streets of the kuge district for the last time, Right Minister Ichijo joined them.
“A private word, if I may?” Ichijo said.
Sano and Yanagisawa dropped behind their entourage and walked with the right minister. Ichijo said, “We all know that your investigation is not quite complete.”
“True,” said Yanagisawa.
“I will explain what you saw when you followed me to the Ear Mound,” said Ichijo, “if you will keep the information confidential.”
Yanagisawa raised an eyebrow at Sano, who smiled. Some things never changed. Ichijo was still a consummate politician. Loath to tarry in Miyako, Yanagisawa and Sano had agreed that they would return to Edo, leaving Detective Fukida behind to tie up loose ends. But perhaps Fukida needn’t worry about this one.
“Very well,” Yanagisawa said.
“I have a secret mistress and daughter in the village of Kusatsu,” Ichijo said quietly. “I visit them whenever I can. I also send them money through intermediaries. That’s what I was doing at the Ear Mound. I hired those two ronin to protect my family from bandit raids and convey cash to them.”
Sano said, “That’s not illegal. Why the need for secrecy?”
“The woman is a peasant,” Ichijo said. “For a man in my position, an affair outside the noble class is unseemly. It would have damaged my career. I was passing through the Pond Garden on my way to Kusatsu when Left Minister Konoe was murdered. I didn’t want to be caught at the scene, so I continued on my trip.” He added, “Konoe knew my secret. He was blackmailing me.”
The procession reached the palace gate. “Thank you for the information,” Sano said, glad to have a mystery solved.
“If you will kindly excuse me, I have business to attend to,” Ichijo said, bowing.
“As have I.” A bemused expression, tinged with worry, came over Yanagisawa’s face.
“And I,” Sano said, as foreboding stirred in him.
At the Palace of the Abdicated Emperor, Reiko sat on a veranda with Lady Jokyoden. They gazed at the sunlit park, where courtiers and noblewomen strolled. Wind chimes tinkled; dragonflies hovered over fragrant flowers.
“Everything looks the same,” Reiko said. “It’s as if nothing had happened to disturb the peace of this world.”
“I must devote more effort to preserving that peace,” Jokyoden said, “and more attention to His Majesty the Emperor.”
This was the only reference they made to the revolt. Reiko contemplated Jokyoden’s hint that she would keep her son under stricter control. Men dominated politics and waged wars, but a woman working behind the scenes could accomplish much. Reiko doubted if the emperor would dare defy his mother and misbehave again, and the Tokugawa regime was indebted to Jokyoden.
“Many thanks for your help,” Reiko said, bowing.
With dignified grace, Jokyoden also bowed. “I am honored to have been of service.”
“I wonder-” Reiko paused, eager to satisfy curiosity, yet hesitant about broaching a personal question. “May I ask why you decided to help me, when your interests opposed mine?”
“I saw myself in you,” Jokyoden said with a wry smile. “Besides that, another woman aided me many times during my life. She is beyond my assistance, so I repaid her favor by helping you.” As if to herself, Jokyoden murmured, “May that deed compensate for those less virtuous.”
A chill passed over Reiko. By now she’d read the metsuke dossiers that Chamberlain Yanagisawa had sent Sano. She’d learned of Jokyoden’s rivalry with another court lady whose fatal fall over a cliff might not have been accidental. Even if Jokyoden hadn’t murdered Left Minister Konoe or Aisu, even if she didn’t have the power of kiai, she was still dangerous.
Lady Jokyoden gave Reiko a faint smile. As though aware of Reiko’s thoughts all along, she said, “Women are generally considered helpless, yet under the right circumstances, we are capable of great harm as well as good.”
Reiko realized with an unpleasant shock that she herself was a dangerous woman. As the wife of the shogun’s sosakan-sama, she had more power than ordinary women, and she’d played a role in incriminating the innocent Lady Asagao. Would she, too, someday have sins to regret?
There was another reason for this visit besides bidding good-bye to her friend: Sano had asked her to solve a minor puzzle in the case. Knowing that Jokyoden would see through any subterfuge she tried, Reiko said bluntly, “I’d like to know what is your connection with the Daikoku Bank.”
Jokyoden looked surprised, then recovered her composure and nodded. “I trusted your discretion once, and you did not fail me, so I shall tell you. As you may know, the imperial family has financial problems. I sold my valuable kimonos and used the money to establish the Daikoku Bank. Through my agents, I issue loans and speculate on commodities. The profits supplement the court’s income.”
“Astonishing,” Reiko murmured. Surely Jokyoden was history’s first noblewoman banker.
“I made the mistake of telling Left Minister Konoe,” said Jokyoden. “He demanded a share of my profits in exchange for not revealing that I had crossed the boundaries of womanly behavior and trespassed on the purview of the merchant class.”
“I’m sure that if I tell my husband about your business, he’ll agree to ignore it because you’re doing no harm and you led us to the conspiracy,” Reiko said.
“I would much appreciate his generosity,” said Jokyoden.
Reiko suspected that Jokyoden had chosen to reveal her secret because she’d predicted this outcome. The world of women wasn’t so different from the world of men, Reiko observed. Favors were the common currency, and she owed Jokyoden a greater debt than she’d repaid. Perhaps she could pass along the favor by helping other women in need, and use her power to do good.
They rose and made their final bows of farewell.
“It may be that we shall meet again someday,” Jokyoden said.
In spite of the distance from Miyako to Edo, Reiko had hopes that they might. So many unimaginable things had already happened: the discovery of a man with the power of kiai; Sano’s return from the dead; a war averted. Anything seemed possible.
“Perhaps we shall,” she said.
As her palanquin carried her out of the Imperial Palace, her thoughts turned toward another impending event- one more commonplace than her recent experiences, yet just as miraculous, and now a certainty. Soon she must tell Sano.
At Nijo Castle, troops and servants prepared for the trip to Edo, packing clothes and supplies, readying the horses. Chamberlain Yanagisawa paced the veranda of the private chamber. He inhaled on his tobacco pipe, hoping the smoke would calm his nerves. Hearing footsteps behind him, he stopped, turned, and saw Yoriki Hoshina standing at the far end of the veranda.
“You sent for me.” The hesitancy in Hoshina’s voice made it almost a question. Yes…
Slowly they walked toward each other and stood at the railing, looking out at the stark, treeless garden. “So you’re leaving tomorrow,” Hoshina said.
Yanagisawa nodded. His spirit and body came alive with the exhilaration that Hoshina’s presence inspired. After leading the victorious army back to Miyako and returning Emperor Tomohito to the palace, they’d spent much time celebrating their reunion with violent, physical passion. Yet so much had happened that neither had dared mention the future.
“There’s something I want to talk about,” Yanagisawa said, at the same moment Hoshina said, “I suppose this is our last day together.” An uncomfortable silence ensued. Then, with a sense of leaping off a cliff, Yanagisawa spoke in a voice barely above a whisper: “It doesn’t have to be.”
“What did you say?” Hope battled disbelief in Hoshina’s face.
Now Yanagisawa’s voice came out clear and strong: “I want you to come to Edo with me.”
