Red Chrysanthemum

had Masahiro. The blessing of her rich father and husband had ensured their good fortune. “My life is so different that I have a hard time understanding yours.”

“Does this mean you won’t help me get Jiro back?” Sudden panic flared in Lily’s eyes.

“No, of course I will,” Reiko assured her. The boy was innocent and deserved aid no matter what. Lord Mori shouldn’t be allowed to get away with stealing him. And Reiko pitied Lily in spite of her disapproval.

Lily expelled a shaky sigh of relief. She gazed at the empty bowl she’d been clutching. “I know I’m a bad mother. I know I don’t deserve your help,” she said in a humble, shamed tone. “But I really appreciate it.” She cast a covetous glance at Reiko’s untouched meal. When Reiko passed the bowls to her, she seized on them. “A million thanks!”

“Tell me what happened,” Reiko said. “You left your son with Lord Mori. Then what?”

“The next morning, I went back to the estate,” Lily said, chewing noodles. “I asked the guards for Jiro. They acted as if they didn’t know anything about him. They said Lord Mori didn’t have him.” Indignation suffused Lily’s face. “They were lying. I demanded that they give me my son. But they said that if I didn’t go away, they would kill me.” She sobbed, choked on her food, and coughed. “So I had to leave without Jiro.”

Reiko’s pity melted her disapproval, as she imagined losing Masahiro. She couldn’t help wondering if the boy was dead. “Was that the end of it?”

“No. I went to the doshin who patrols this neighborhood. I told him what happened and asked him to go to the Mori estate with me and get Jiro back. But he wouldn’t. He said Lord Mori was an important man, and there was nothing he could do.”

Reiko knew that the police didn’t dare bother a daimyo who was an ally of Lord Matsudaira. They wouldn’t risk themselves for a peasant like Lily.

“I heard that you help people in trouble. I got the idea to write to you.” Lily finished off her meal and set down the empty bowl. “You’re my last hope.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to‘ save Jiro for you,” Reiko promised.

Lily’s face crumpled into tears of joy. “A million thanks! I’ll repay you someday, I swear!”

The proprietor shouted from the teahouse: “Lily! You’ve been gone long enough. Get back to work!”

Lily bowed to Reiko, gave her a final, trusting look, then scurried off. As Reiko climbed into her palanquin and her escorts bore her down the street, she began planning how to go about reclaiming the stolen child.

“I could take some of my husband’s troops over to the Mori estate and ask for the boy,” she said to Lieutenant Asukai, who rode beside her.

“Lord Mori won’t be able to refuse,” Asukai said.

“But on second thought, I’d rather not bring my husband into this.” Reiko tried to keep her work far removed from Sano because she didn’t want to cause trouble for him. Her actions had sometimes jeopardized him in the past, and to involve him in a clash with Lord Mori would be politically risky. “I had better try something less obvious.”

The next morning found Reiko seated in her palanquin in a street near the daimyo district. Her bearers lounged against the wall of a shop while her guards sat astride their horses, near the neighborhood gate. Reiko peered out her window through the flow of pedestrians, looking for Lieutenant Asukai.

The clever young samurai had become her chief assistant. Soon she saw him coming down the street, escorting a middle-aged woman, dressed in a plain indigo robe and white head cloth, who carried a large basket. Reiko had sent him to loiter outside the Mori estate, follow the first servant who came out, and nab him or her. Had Reiko herself tried it, she would have been too conspicuous, but one more samurai among the thousands in the daimyo district was barely noticeable. Now Asukai brought Reiko the woman, a maid headed for the market. Her face showed both curiosity and wariness as he marched her up to the palanquin.

“I’m looking for a little boy who was at the Mori estate two months ago,” Reiko said. “His name is Jiro. He’s five years old. Have you seen him?”

“No. I don’t know anything about any boy.” Shoulders hunched in fear, the maid backed away. “I have to go now.”

Lieutenant Asukai made a move to detain her, but Reiko said, “Go fetch another servant. Maybe we’ll have better luck.”

During the next hour, Lieutenant Asukai brought a valet and another maid, but their reaction was the same, fearful disclaimer of knowledge about Jiro. As Reiko watched the valet hurry off, Lieutenant Asukai said, “I think they’re lying.”

“So do I,” Reiko said. “They’re afraid they’ll be punished for talking about Lord Mori’s business. Let’s try someone from an estate near his.”

Lieutenant Asukai went off and soon brought back a groom from the stable of Lord Mori’s neighbor daimyo. When Reiko asked him about Jiro, he said, “I see lots of boys going into Lord Mori’s estate. Funny thing, though. Some of them never seem to come out.” Then he took on the expression of a man who’d suddenly stepped into a hole. “Forget I said anything.”

After he’d absconded, Lieutenant Asukai fetched more witnesses, from whom Reiko heard similar dark, vague rumors followed by abrupt silence. “Fear of Lord Mori extends outside his household,” Lieutenant Asukai remarked.

“Yes,” Reiko said, “and something sinister is going on inside.” Again she wondered if Jiro was still alive.

“Now that we can’t get anyone to talk, what are we going to do?”

“We should make discreet inquiries elsewhere.”

More than a month passed while Reiko and Lieutenant Asukai questioned their acquaintances among upper- class society. But they gleaned no information about Lord Mori, whose clan and retainers kept to themselves. Hence, Reiko formulated another plan.

A cool, early summer dusk descended upon Edo. The setting sun gilded the rooftops while temple bells rang in the clear air. The tall framework structures of fire-watch towers stood out against the pearlescent sky like ink lines painted on sheer silk. From the base of a tower in an alley in the daimyo district, Lieutenant Asukai called, “Hey, you up there!”

The peasant man seated on the platform, beneath the bell suspended from the roof, peered over the rail. “Come down,” Lieutenant Asukai ordered.

Reluctant, yet afraid to disobey a samurai, the man descended the ladder. Reiko climbed up. She wore a padded cloak to keep her warm and a wicker hat that hid her face. Kneeling on the high, windswept platform, she hoped that people who happened to glance at the tower wouldn’t notice that it was occupied by someone other than the usual watchman. She gazed around her.

The panorama of Edo spread in every direction. Lights glimmered in windows and reflected from boats on the river. A crescent moon adorned the sky. Roofs, trees, and shadows hid the activity within the Mori estate, but she had a good view of the main gate. Lanterns burned outside it. She could see the guards stationed in front and anyone who came or went.

At first she observed only Lord Mori’s retainers arriving home. Later she noticed men crouched on roofs of the estate next door. They must be metsuke agents, spying as part of the routine surveillance on prominent citizens. The moon ascended over the hills; stars appeared while night extinguished the city’s lights and traffic thinned. Temple bells signaled the passage of two hours when a woman trudged up the street, leading a small child by the hand. They stopped by Lord Mori’s gate. Reiko watched the woman speak with the guards, heard their distant, unintelligible words. The guards let the pair in the gate. Soon the woman came out alone. She trudged away.

After a long, cold, uneventful vigil, Reiko thought she’d never been so glad to see the sun rise. She stretched muscles cramped from sitting in the tower the whole night except for brief descents to relieve herself. Now the woman reappeared, a peasant dressed in faded robes. Again she spoke with the guards. They shrugged and shook their heads. She became agitated; she pleaded with them. They shouted at her, and she fled, weeping.

Reiko had just witnessed a scene identical to the one Lily had described: Another mother had rented her son to Lord Mori and failed to get him back.

Anger filled Reiko because this kind of thing was allowed to happen. She felt more determined than ever to rescue Jiro. But what had happened to him, and to this other child?

Lord Mori’s retainers and servants came and went. Two porters carried out an oblong wooden crate. Below the