responsibility, and loyalty, which accorded well with Bushido. A fad that had waxed and waned throughout history, it was currently enjoying a bout of popularity. It was considered necessary knowledge for cultured men in the Tokugawa regime. Sano had attended classes and lectures at the school, a prestigious center of education and culture. So had the shogun, who gave generous patronage to the Confucian scholars who taught there.
“Is Minister Ogyu alive?” Hirata asked. Since the earthquake, that question invariably came up when someone’s name was mentioned. “And Priest Ryuko?”
“Both are. I’ve seen them,” Sano said.
Reiko took the book from Sano. She ran her finger down the list of names, perusing the dates and notes written after them. “Priest Ryuko and Minister Ogyu had their last lessons the month before the earthquake. On some dates Usugumo taught Priest Ryuko and Minister Ogyu at their houses, but on other dates, at hers.”
“They had the opportunity to sneak the poisoned incense into her supplies,” Sano concluded.
“So now we have two new suspects.” Hirata glanced at Sano, seeking a sign that Sano approved and he’d made up for his absences.
On the one hand, Sano was glad that Hirata had done his assigned task. On the other, he felt as if Hirata had unearthed a bomb from the incense teacher’s house. “I wish the suspects were anyone except these particular men.”
Concern appeared on Reiko’s face. “They won’t take kindly to being under investigation for the murders. And they could get you in trouble with the shogun.”
“Nonetheless, we have to investigate them,” Sano said, “because Lord Hosokawa will cause even worse trouble if we don’t solve the crime.” His spirits lifted a little. “If I have to tell him the killer is Priest Ryuko or Minister Ogyu, he’ll probably react more favorably than if I tell him it was one of his daughters. I’ll talk to them today. Hirata- san, you investigate their backgrounds and see if there’s anything incriminating.”
“I’ll get it done right away,” Hirata said, too promptly.
“I know Lady Keisho-in,” Reiko said. “I can ask her about Priest Ryuko and the incense teacher. But I haven’t any connection to Minister Ogyu. Is he married?”
“I expect so,” Sano said. Most men of Ogyu’s status were.
“I’ll find a way into his household,” Reiko said.
“We have to be careful about how we handle Priest Ryuko and Minister Ogyu,” Sano reminded her.
“We mustn’t offend them,” Reiko agreed.
“We also mustn’t let them know we’re investigating them,” Sano said. “They’re intelligent men with plenty of connections. We don’t want them wondering why I’m interested in the murders, making their own inquiries, and finding out about Lord Hosokawa and the daimyo who are plotting against the Tokugawa regime.”
15
From a distance Zojo Temple appeared unchanged, its hilly terrain and pine forests serenely beautiful under the fresh snow. Sano could almost believe that all was well at the Tokugawa family temple, home to three thousand priests, nuns, novices, and their attendants-until he and his troops drew nearer.
The two-story main gate lay in fragments by the road. Sano’s party trod carefully on shifted, crumbled stone stairs that led to the temple’s main precinct. Inside the precinct, people crowded the space around the temple buildings. Some sheltered under tents; others sat in the falling snow with nothing to protect them except the clothes on their backs. Children snuggled against mothers who held crying infants. The pagoda leaned as if in a fierce wind. Walls had peeled off the abbot’s residence and the novices’ dormitories, exposing empty rooms. Heat waves rose from the crematorium, where the fires that would burn more dead bodies during the night had already been lit. Rhythmic chanting emanated from the main hall, whose massive structure, carved columns and doors, wooden bracketry, and undulating roofs were miraculously intact. Sano and his men entered its cavernous realm of flame-light and shadow. The smoke was so thick that Sano could hardly breathe, the smell of incense overpowering. Kneeling people packed the floor, facing the altar. Their lips moved as they chanted. They were praying to the Buddha to deliver them from evil. Sano hoped the Buddha was listening.
On the altar, hundreds of candles burned before a giant golden Buddha statue. Its many arms seemed to wave in the flickering light that reflected off thousands of golden lotus flowers that surrounded it. Priests in saffron robes knelt on the raised floor before the altar, their backs to the crowd. Their shaved heads gleamed. The tallest man, at their center, wore a glittering stole of red and gold brocade that seemed made of fire. It was Priest Ryuko. His chanting boomed above the others, deep and resonant. The earthquake seemed to have added luster to his image as Japan’s leading cleric.
Sano edged around the crowd to the side of the altar. From there he had a good view of Priest Ryuko. Appearance had certainly played a part in Ryuko’s good fortune. His profile was comely, with a high brow, long nose, heavy-lidded eyes, and lips as full and curved as the Buddha statue’s. He must have sensed Sano’s attention; he turned his head slightly. His gaze grew hooded. He rose in a motion that was smooth and quick for a man in his fifties. He beckoned Sano. They went to a side chapel, where a smaller altar held gilded statues of the spirits of prosperity, relief to the poor, and the exorcism of evil. The sound of chanting was muted here. Incense sticks gave off bittersweet smoke tendrils. In the dim light of a few candles, Sano and Ryuko bowed to each other. Sano could see that leading the faithful through this crisis had taken its toll on Ryuko. Purplish shadows smudged the skin under his eyes, and his vibrant golden skin had turned ashen with fatigue.
“I presume this is not a social call.” Ryuko’s voice rasped from so much chanting. “None of us has time for those nowadays.”
“Indeed,” Sano said. “I came to see how the temple is faring.”
Ryuko studied Sano intently, as if trying to glean the significance behind the pretext. They were political allies by default rather than because of mutual trust. Ryuko detested Yanagisawa, whose power had threatened the authority of the clergy, and had backed Sano during his clashes with Yanagisawa. But Ryuko and Sano were leery of each other’s power.
“Your officials were here two days ago,” Ryuko said. “I’ve made a full report.”
His suave manner had a splintery edge. The earthquake had revealed wellsprings of patience and compassion in some people; in others, their natural bad tempers. Ryuko was among the latter, goaded by frustration to turn a simple chat into a quarrel, the last thing Sano needed while conducting a murder investigation that he wasn’t supposed to be conducting and questioning a suspect who wasn’t supposed to know he was a suspect.
“It’s good to see things with one’s own eyes,” Sano said in a placating tone.
“True.” Yet Ryuko clearly chafed at Sano’s authority. “As you’ve probably noticed, we haven’t been able to repair our buildings that were damaged. May I ask when we can expect help from the government?”
Although religion was important to the shogun, and he’d proclaimed that fixing the temples was a top priority, he’d left Sano to allocate scarce resources. Sano had put the temples behind urgent needs such as feeding and supplying clean water to the population and repairing the castle, roads, and bridges. Ryuko had protested the decision. So had other officials who thought their homes, offices, and businesses deserved a bigger share.
“You can expect help soon.” As soon as he solved the case and Lord Hosokawa handed over the money, Sano thought. If he didn’t solve the case, the civil war would start and Priest Ryuko would have more serious problems to worry about than fixing the temple.
“That’s good news.” Ryuko’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“By the way,” Sano said, “I understand that someone you’re acquainted with was found yesterday, during the search for victims of the earthquake.”
“Oh? Who is it?”
“An incense teacher named Madam Usugumo. Didn’t you take lessons from her?”
“Usugumo is dead?” Ryuko’s heavy eyelids lifted so high that the entire pupils showed, dark brown rimmed with black, shining in the candlelight.
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it. What a pity.” There was a strange note in Ryuko’s voice; it sounded closer to pleasure than surprise or sorrow. Something in him had relaxed, a tension that Sano only became aware of now, in its absence. “How do you know about Usugumo’s death?”
