invite him to my moon-viewing parties. He’s jealous and vindictive, and he’s out to get me. I’ll have him run out of town!”
The astronomer had better prepare for a battle unless he changed his tune, Reiko thought. She steered the conversation to the topic she’d come to discuss. “What does Priest Ryuko think of this business?”
Disgruntlement soured Keisho-in’s face. “That man! How should I know what he thinks? He never comes near me! I’m furious! After all I’ve done for him! I introduced him to my son. I even got him his own temple. If not for me, Ryuko wouldn’t have a pot to make water in. But it’s always, ‘I’m busy helping the poor earthquake victims, my dear.’” She snidely imitated the priest’s booming voice.
“I suppose Priest Ryuko is too busy for incense lessons,” Reiko said.
“Incense lessons?” Keisho-in looked baffled by this new, unexpected topic.
“Somebody told me he was taking them,” Reiko said. “Before the earthquake. I was thinking of studying incense myself, when things get back to normal. Now what was his teacher’s name?” She frowned, as if trying to recall. “Oh, yes. Madam Usugumo.”
“That bitch!” Lady Keisho-in exclaimed.
Startled, Reiko said, “Did you know her?” Then she wanted to bite her tongue because she’d spoken in the past tense. She didn’t want to let on that Usugumo was dead and invite unwelcome questions.
Lady Keisho-in didn’t seem to notice. “I never met her, but Ryuko- san mentioned her. I don’t like anybody who offends my dearest.”
“What did he say about her?” Reiko spoke casually, but excitement quickened her heartbeat.
“That she had taken him in. That if he had known what she was really like, he never would have associated with her.”
“It sounds as if something happened between them.” Containing her excitement, Reiko asked, “What was it?”
“I don’t know.” Keisho-in’s face bunched up like a sulky child’s. “He wouldn’t tell me. All I know is that when he came home from his lesson, he was terribly angry and upset. After that, he quit the lessons. He never went back to Usugumo again.”
“Have you any idea why?” Reiko probed. “Do you remember anything else?”
Keisho-in turned her irritation on Reiko. “No, I don’t. All I remember is that my dearest Ryuko- san was grumpy for a long time.”
Reiko didn’t dare press the issue and risk irritating Keisho-in, who had a history of extreme wrath toward people who crossed her. She’d had maids, ladies-in-waiting, and even the shogun’s concubines beaten, sent to the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter to work as prostitutes, or exiled to islands in the middle of the ocean for infractions as minor as not flattering her enough. The women in the Large Interior walked on tiptoe around her. Reiko changed the subject.
“I heard that Lord Hosokawa’s daughters were taking incense lessons, too,” she said. She had to explore the possibility that if the priest had indeed committed murder, the teacher hadn’t been his intended target. “Is Priest Ryuko acquainted with them?”
“He’s not acquainted with any women except me.” Lady Keisho-in was renowned for her jealousy. She treated Ryuko as if he were her husband, even though he’d taken a religious vow of celibacy. It was no secret that he visited her in her bedchamber. The irritation in her eyes took on a suspicious glint. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“No, no,” Reiko said. “I just thought that maybe Priest Ryuko met Lord Hosokawa’s daughters when he took incense lessons at Usugumo’s house.” She was wondering whether he’d seen anything to indicate whether they were guilty, when a new and dismaying idea occurred to her. Had Priest Ryuko been involved with Usugumo? Had their quarrel been a lover’s spat? If so, then here was another suspect-Lady Keisho-in. Reiko had thought that nothing could be more dangerous than implicating Lord Hosokawa’s daughters in the murders.
“Ryuko- san never met anyone at Usugumo’s house. His lessons were private.” Lady Keisho-in leaned toward Reiko, suddenly hostile. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”
The risk of making Priest Ryuko a suspect in the crime was also hazardous. Even if Lady Keisho-in believed her lover was guilty, she would be just as angry at those who exposed him as at Ryuko himself. Reiko felt danger suffuse the air, like poisoned incense smoke. The shogun loved his mother. Accusing or displeasing her was tantamount to treason.
“I almost forgot,” Reiko said. “Please excuse my poor manners. I brought you a gift.” She offered the lacquer box to Lady Keisho-in. Polite custom dictated that she should have given the gift as soon as she’d arrived, but Reiko had waited, in case she needed it to smooth over a difficult moment.
“Oh, wonderful!” Lady Keisho-in pounced on the box, as eager as a child for a treat. She opened it, saw the pale green cakes colored with tea, filled with sweet lotus paste, and dusted with cinnamon. Reiko’s cooks had made them with the last of the spice. “My favorite!”
She crammed a cake into her mouth, chewed, and smacked her lips. The danger dissipated. Reiko relaxed.
“I just remembered something else Ryuko- san said when he came home from his last incense lesson,” Lady Keisho-in said as she munched another soft, gooey cake. “He said that if Usugumo tried to get him in trouble, he would make her sorry.” Lady Keisho-in licked her fingers.
16
Sano made a few inquiries and learned that Minister Ogyu had vacated his mansion in town, which had been totally destroyed by the earthquake, and moved to the Academy of Confucian Studies, known as the Yushima Seido-Sacred Hall in the Yushima district, located north of Edo Castle.
Snow lay ankle-deep in the streets as Sano and his troops rode to Yushima. It caked the horses’ hooves and manes, covered strewn debris. Smoke from fires in the camps disappeared into the veil of white flakes. When Sano looked back at the castle, he could barely see its shape on the hill. It felt as if he, his men, and the few wanderers they passed were the only people left in the world. When he reached Yushima, nostalgia worsened the sorrow that had lodged in his heart since the earthquake.
Yushima had once been a popular recreation spot. When he was a boy, his father and mother had brought him to the market, where crowds were so thick that parents often lost track of their children, and to the spring festival when the plum trees bloomed. They’d enjoyed walking along the Kanda River, watching the boats. Now the retaining walls, the teahouses, and the restaurants that had lined the banks had slid into the river. Snow frosted the plum trees. Yushima was deserted except for small groups of people roaming around, viewing the destruction. That was the most popular pastime nowadays. Sano’s father had been dead thirteen years; his mother was remarried and living in a distant village. He missed them and their happy times.
He came upon the ruins of the town. Here had once stood the kagemajaya — “teahouses in the shadows,” brothels inhabited by boy prostitutes. Sano ascended the road up the hill occupied by the Yushima Seido and the Kanda Myojin Shrine. The shrine was home to the great festival held on the anniversary of the Battle of Sekigahara, at which Tokugawa Ieyasu had defeated his rival warlords to become the supreme dictator of Japan. Sano remembered the portable shrines carried by near-naked bearers, the musicians banging drums and gongs, the models of human figures, pine trees, turtles, cranes, and roosters riding on floats drawn by oxen. He could almost taste the famous sweet sake, laced with ginger, once sold in the famous shops that now lay wrecked along the road. He’d brought his family to the last festival. They’d had a wonderful time, especially Akiko, who couldn’t take her eyes off the floats. He wondered if they would ever see the festival again.
The Seido evoked more decorous memories. Sano had been there for the grand opening ceremony twelve years ago. The shogun, government officials, and daimyo had gathered inside the academy, which resembled an opulent temple. They’d listened to speeches, readings from Confucius, and poetry composed for the occasion. The place had become an elite educational institution, the first of its kind, where the sons of Tokugawa retainers and feudal lords studied the Confucian classics. But there wouldn’t be any more ceremonies, lessons, or lectures for the foreseeable future. Sano and his men had to dismount and clamber through the gaps in the broken tile walls that enclosed the Seido; the roof over the main gate had collapsed, blocking the portal. Sections of the wall around the
