a claim?”
Sano was. News of a poisoning-whether actual or conjectured- would create an atmosphere of suspicion just as destructive as an epidemic. The legendary hostilities in the Large Interior would escalate, and might even turn violent. This had happened in the past. Shortly before Sano came to the castle, two concubines had ended an argument in a brawl, the winner stabbing the loser to death with a hairpin. Eleven years ago, an attendant had strangled a female palace official in the bath. Panic could spread to the rest of the castle, intensifying existing rivalries and provoking fatal duels among samurai officials and troops.
And what if the shogun, ever sensitive to challenges to his authority, should perceive the murder of a concubine as an attack upon himself? Sano envisioned a bloody purge of potential culprits. Seeking a possible conspiracy, the bakufu-Japan’s military government-would investigate every official, from the Council of Elders down to the most humble clerks; every servant; every daimyo-provincial lord-and all their retainers; even the lowliest ronin. Politically ambitious individuals would try to advance themselves by casting aspersions upon their rivals. Evidence would be manufactured, rumors circulated, characters maligned, until one or many “criminals” were executed…
“We have no proof that Lady Harume was murdered,” Dr. Kitano said.
Noting the man’s pallor, Sano knew he feared that, as chief physician, with a knowledge of drugs, he would be the prime suspect in a crime involving poison. Sano himself had no desire to face the bakufu’s scrutiny, because he had a powerful enemy eager for his ruin. The image of Chamberlain Yanagisawa flashed through Sano’s mind. Sano now had a wife and in-laws, also vulnerable to attack. In Nagasaki he’d learned the dire consequences of indulging curiosity by probing sensitive matters…
Yet, as always at the beginning of an investigation, Sano found himself entering a realm where higher concerns outweighed personal, practical ones. Duty, loyalty, and courage were the cardinal virtues of Bushido-the Way of the Warrior-the foundation of a samurai’s honor. But Sano’s personal concept of honor encompassed a fourth, equally important cornerstone: the pursuit of truth and justice, which gave his life meaning. Despite the risks, he had to know how and why Lady Harume had died.
Also, if she had been murdered, there might be more deaths unless he took action. This time his personal desires coincided with the interests of security and peace in Edo Castle, for good or bad.
“I agree that we can’t rule out disease yet,” Sano said to Dr. Kitano.”An epidemic is still a possibility. Finish your examination of the women, keep them quarantined, and report any cases of illness or death to me immediately. And please have someone take Lady Harume’s body to Edo Morgue.”
“ Edo Morgue?” The doctor gaped.”But sosakan-sama, high-ranking castle residents don’t go there when they die; we send them to Zojo Temple for cremation. Surely you know this. And Lady Harume cannot be removed yet. A report documenting the circumstances of her death must be filed. The priests must prepare the body for the funeral, and her comrades keep an overnight vigil. It’s standard procedure.”
During such rituals the corpse would deteriorate, and evidence possibly get lost.”Arrange Lady Harume’s transport to Edo Morgue,” Sano said.”That’s an order.” Unwilling to say why he wanted the concubine taken to a place where dead commoners, outcasts, and victims of mass disasters such as floods or earthquakes went, Sano knew that a show of authority often yielded better results than explanations.
The doctor hurried off. Sano and Hirata surveyed the room.”The source of the poison?” Hirata said, pointing at the floor near Lady Harume’s shrouded corpse. Two delicate porcelain cups lay on the tatami; their spilled contents had darkened the woven straw.”Maybe someone was with her, and slipped the poison into her drink.”
Sano picked up a matching decanter from the table, looked inside, and saw that a bit of liquor remained.”We’ll take this, and the cups, as evidence,” he said.”But there’s more than one way to administer poison. Perhaps she breathed it.’’ Sano gathered lamps and incense burners.”And what do you make of the tattoo?”
“The character ai, ' Hirata said.” ‘Love.’ ” He grimaced in distaste.”Yoshiwara courtesans mark themselves this way to prove their love for their clients-even though everyone knows they really do it to get more money from the men. But I would have thought that the shogun’s concubines were too elegant and refined to stoop to such a low- class custom. Do you think the tattoo has anything to do with Lady Harume’s death?”
“Perhaps.” Sano contemplated the razor, blood-tipped knife, and shaved pubic hairs on the floor.”It looks as though she’d just finished the tattoo before she died.”
He collected the tools, then found the ink bottle lying in the corner and placed it with the other items. Then he and Hirata began searching the room.
Cabinets and chests contained folded quilts and futons; kimonos and sashes; toiletries, hair ornaments, makeup; a samisen; writing brush and inkstone-the miscellany of women’s lives-but no food, drink, or anything resembling a poisonous substance. Wrapped inside a white under-kimono Sano found a book the size of his hand, bound in silk printed with a pattern of pale green intertwined clover stems and blossoms on a mauve background, and tied with gold cord. He leafed through sheets of soft rice paper covered with tiny characters written in a feminine hand. The first page read, “The Pillow Book of Lady Harume.”
“A diary?” Hirata asked.
“It looks like it.” Since the reign of the Heian emperors five hundred years ago, court ladies had often recorded their experiences and thoughts in books like this. Sano tucked the diary under his sash for later perusal, then said quietly to Hirata, “I’m taking the sake, lamp oil, incense, tools, and ink to Dr. Ito at Edo Morgue-perhaps he can identify the poison, if it’s there.” He carefully bundled the articles in the garment that had contained the diary.”While I’m gone, please supervise the removal and transport of Lady Harume’s body; see that no one tampers with it.”
From outside the room, Sano heard the priests’ muttered conversation, the chatter and weeping of women in nearby chambers. Lowering his voice even more, he continued, “For now, the official cause of death is illness, with an epidemic still a possibility. Have our men distribute the news to everyone who lives in the castle, instructing them to stay in their quarters or at their posts until the danger has passed.” Over the past year, Sano’s personal staff had grown into a team of one hundred detectives, soldiers, and clerks, enough to handle this large task. He added, “That should help prevent rumors from spreading.”
Hirata nodded.”If Lady Harume died of a contagious disease, we need to know what she did, where she went, and whom she saw just before she died, so we can trace the sickness and quarantine her contacts. I’ll set up appointments with the chief lady palace official, and His Excellency’s Honorable Mother.”
The shogun’s wife was a reclusive invalid who kept to her bed, her privacy and health guarded by a few trusted physicians and attendants. Therefore Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s mother, Lady Keisho-in, his constant companion and frequent adviser, ruled the Large Interior.
“But if it was murder,” Hirata continued in a lower voice, “we’ll need information about Lady Harume’s relations with the people around her. I’ll make discreet inquiries.”
“Good.” Sano knew he could trust Hirata, who had demonstrated impressive competence and unswerving loyalty during their association. In Nagasaki, the young retainer had helped solve a difficult case-and saved Sano’s life.
“And sosakan-sama? I’m sorry about the wedding banquet.” They left the room, and Hirata bowed.”My congratulations on your marriage. It will be a privilege to extend my service to the Honorable Lady Reiko.”
“Thank you, Hirata-san.” Sano also bowed. He appreciated Hirata’s friendship, which had supported him through a lonely period of his life. One of the hardest things about his job had been learning to share responsibility and risk, but Hirata had taught him the necessity-and honor-of both. They were united in the ancient samurai tradition of master and servant, absolute and eternal. Glad to leave matters in trustworthy hands, Sano left the palace, bound for Edo Morgue.
3
The gate to Sano’s mansion in the Edo Castle Official Quarter stood open to the bright autumn afternoon. Up the street, past the estates of other high bakufu officials, porters carried wedding gifts from prominent citizens hoping to win favor with the shogun’s sosakan. Servants transferred the bundles across the paved courtyard, through the wooden inner fence, and into the tile-roofed, half-timbered house. There maids unpacked; cooks labored in the kitchen; the housekeeper supervised last-minute preparations for the newlyweds’ residency. Members of the sosakan’s elite detective corps passed among the surrounding barracks, the stables, and the
