Shichisaburo clapped his hands with glee. “Honorable Chamberlain, you’re so brilliant! The sosakan-sama is sure to fall into the trap.” Then doubt furrowed his childish brow. “But what if he happens to miss it somehow?”
“He won’t,” Yanagisawa said confidently. “I know how Sano thinks and acts. He’ll do just as I’ve predicted. But if for some reason he doesn’t, I’ll help him.” Yanagisawa chuckled. “How appropriate that my other rival should provide the tool for the destruction of them both. All we have to do is wait and be patient. Right now, I can think of a pleasant way to pass the time. Come here.”
Yanagisawa grasped Shichisaburo’s hand, pulling him close. But the boy playfully resisted. “Wait, my lord. I have a surprise for you. If you will please permit me?”
With a tantalizing smile, he unknotted his sash and let it drop to the floor. Ceremoniously he shrugged off his outer kimono, one sleeve at a time. He stepped out of his flowing trousers. Desire welled in Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s throat and groin. No one else undressed with such graceful flair. He couldn’t wait to see what new erotic delight the actor had in store for him.
Shichisaburo’s eyes glowed, reflecting his master’s excitement. Prolonging their pleasure, he paused for a dramatic moment in his white under-robe. Then he peeled the robe away from his shoulders and let it fall. Triumphantly he flung out his arms, displaying himself for Yanagisawa’s inspection. Yanagisawa gasped; his heart lurched.
Raw gashes marked Shichisaburo’s chest. Recent and unhealed, the cuts were red, caked with darkening blood, lurid against the fair, smooth skin. The crudest one bisected his left nipple. Another ran down through his navel, into his loincloth. He looked like the victim of a savage attack.
“I did it for you, my lord!” Shichisaburo exclaimed.”To show that I’m willing to endure pain and suffering for your sake.”
Ritual self-mutilation, performed with swords or daggers, was an age-old practice by which samurai lovers demonstrated their loyalty and devotion to each other. Therefore, Shichisaburo’s action didn’t really surprise Yanagisawa, now that the initial shock had passed. Amused by the boy’s eagerness to please, he laughed.
“You’ve done well,” he said.
Shichisaburo knelt. Taking Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s hand, he pressed it against the wound on his breast. His skin felt feverish. “With my blood, I pledge my eternal love for you, my lord,” he whispered.
His eyes blazed with passion-genuine, unfeigned passion. The laughter died in Yanagisawa’s throat. Stunned, he said, “You really mean it, don’t you?” Deep within him, something trembled, like the ground during an earthquake. “Everything you say about your feelings for me, it’s all true. You’re not just acting. You mean every word!”
The boy nodded. “At first I was acting,” he admitted. “Then I grew to love you.” His smile was full of yearning affection. “You’re so beautiful and strong, so intelligent and powerful. You’re everything I want, everything I could wish to be. I would do anything for you!” He raised Yanagisawa’s hand to his face, pressing his mouth to its palm.
A torrent of emotion flooded Yanagisawa. First came disbelief that anyone would make such a gesture of self- sacrifice for him. Into his mind flashed a vivid memory. On the day he’d achieved the post of chamberlain, he had hosted a lavish gala at Edo Castle, with music, dancers, Kabuki skits, the best food and sake. All the male guests were subordinates who wanted favors from him. All the women were courtesans bought with his new wealth. No family-he remained estranged from them; no friends-he had none. The guests with whom he’d celebrated cared nothing about him, except for the power he wielded. In the midst of insincere smiles and congratulations, Yanagisawa had experienced a feeling of complete emptiness.
Now that same emptiness opened into a vast, yawning cavern inside him. From it howled the voice of his soul, demanding the love he craved but had never known. Tears rushed to Yanagisawa’s eyes-tears he thought had been spent at his brother’s funeral, but had instead accumulated into a huge reservoir of loneliness. Shichisaburo’s tribute moved him to the core. He wanted to embrace the boy and sob out his gratitude, to feel tender arms around him while the armor shielding his heart crumbled.
Then, across the distance of time, he heard his father’s voice: “… lazy, unfit to be my son… pathetic, dishonorable…” Yanagisawa recalled the blows with the wooden pole. Again he experienced the feeling of sheer worthlessness, the feeling that he didn’t deserve love. Hating the awful sensation, wanting to make it go away, he forced himself to remember who he was: the shogun’s second-in-command. And who Shichisaburo was: just a little peasant, foolish enough to injure his own body for another person. How could he have the temerity to love the ruler of Japan?
Yanagisawa’s yearning and gratitude turned to rage. Jerking his hand away from Shichisaburo, he demanded, “How dare you treat me in this impertinent manner?” He slapped Shichisaburo’s face. The young actor gasped; hurt filled his eyes. “I never ordered you to love me.” Anyone capable of loving him was beneath contempt. “How dare you?”
The lessons of a lifetime filled him with a fear that increased his anger. Love made a person vulnerable, dependent; love could only lead to misery. Hadn’t his parents spurned his childhood efforts to please them and win affection? The rejection had hurt even worse than the blows. In Shichisaburo’s love, Yanagisawa glimpsed the terrible promise of future rejection, more pain-unless he did something to avert the threat.
“I’m your lord, not your paramour,” Yanagisawa shouted, his voice ragged as he fought to control his warring emotions. “Show some respect! Bow down!”
With a swipe of his arm, he knocked the actor off his knees. Shichisaburo sprawled on the floor. Horrified by his own cruelty, Chamberlain Yanagisawa stifled the urge to apologize, to give in to his craving for love. But the need for self-preservation outweighed all other needs.
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Shichisaburo was sobbing. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I thought you’d be pleased by what I did. A thousand apologies!”
He raised himself on his elbows. Chamberlain Yanagisawa struck his jaw, and he fell again. By bringing Yanagisawa’s loneliness to the surface, by making him vulnerable, the actor had demeaned him, reversed their positions. Yanagisawa couldn’t tolerate the shift in the balance of power. It presaged suffering and ruin that he didn’t want to imagine.
Roughly he tore away the white cotton band that bound Shichisaburo’s loins and cleaved his buttocks. Then he stripped off his own robes. Shoving the young actor facedown on the tatami, he straddled Shichisaburo.
“I’ll show you who is master and who is the slave!” Yanagisawa shouted.
Trembling with fear, Shichisaburo wept. They’d often indulged in rough sexual play-but this was not play, and he knew it. “If it please my lord, I’ll never speak of my love again,” he cried. “Let’s forget what happened and go back to the way we were before!”
They could never go back; everything had changed between them; Chamberlain Yanagisawa pummeled Shichisaburo’s back with his fists. Shichisaburo moaned, but didn’t struggle. The lack of resistance further incensed Yanagisawa. He grabbed the boy’s hair and slammed his face repeatedly against the floor, while fumbling to liberate his erection from his loincloth.
“You can do-whatever you wish-to me,” Shichisaburo whimpered between anguished gasps. Sweat glistened on his skin; the reek of his terror filled the room, but he spoke up bravely. “I accept-the pain. Even if you-don’t want my love-I’m yours forever. I’ll-do anything for you!”
Before the violent fusion of pleasure and anger and need could over whelm him, Chamberlain Yanagisawa realized what he had to do. He must end his liaison with Shichisaburo-or face the ruin of his power- of his entire self. Yet for now, the young actor was too useful to drop. He’d successfully carried out orders. The stage was set for the destruction of Sano, and Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s other rival. But if the ploy somehow failed, Yanagisawa might require Shichisaburo’s services again before the end of the murder investigation.
16
Sano’s last task of the day was hearing reports from his detective corps. In his office, the men related the progress of their hunt for the poison dealer and investigation of the Large Interior. Doctors and pharmacists had been canvassed, without results so far; interviews with the residents of the women’s quarters and a search of the
