“This method should expose the mice to any poison in the oil or incense,” Dr. Ito said, “while protecting us from dangerous fumes.”
In the third cage he set a dish of the sake that Harume had apparently imbibed shortly before her death, and a third mouse. To test the razor, Dr. Ito shaved a patch of hair off a fourth mouse’s back; with the pearl-handled knife he made a shallow cut on the fifth mouse’s belly, then dropped the animals into separate cages.
“And now the ink.” From a cabinet Dr. Ito took one of his own knives. “I’ll use a clean blade to avoid introducing extraneous contamination.” He made a scratch on the sixth mouse’s belly, unstoppered the lacquer jar, and brushed black ink onto the wound. Then he dropped the mouse into its cage and said, “Now we wait.”
Sano and Dr. Ito watched the cages. Faint scratchings came from within the two cloth-covered ones. The third mouse sniffed the liquor, then began to drink. The razor-shaved mouse roamed his cage while the others licked their wounds. Suddenly a high shriek rang out.
“Look!” Sano pointed.
The mouse with ink on its cut belly writhed, back arching, tiny claws grasping the air, tail whipping back and forth. Its chest heaved as if trying desperately to suck air into the lungs; its eyes rolled. The little pink mouth opened and closed, emitting cries of agony, then a gush of blood. Sano indicated the symptoms which matched the castle physician’s description of those suffered by Lady Harume: “Convulsions. Vomiting. Shortness of breath.”
A few more squeals and gasps, a final paroxysm, then the mouse lay dead. Sano and Dr. Ito bowed their heads in respect for the animal that had given its life to the pursuit of scientific knowledge. Then they checked the other cages.
“This mouse is intoxicated, ' Dr. Ito said, observing the creature that staggered around the now-empty sake dish, “but otherwise healthy.” The shaved animal and the knife-cut one scampered about their cages. “No apparent ill effects here, either.” Dr. Ito lifted the cloths off the last two cages, releasing clouds of pungent smoke and revealing two groggy but living mice. “Or here. The ink alone contained poison.”
“Could this have been suicide?” Sano asked, still hoping for an easy resolution to Lady Harume’s death.
“Possibly, but I think not. Even if she had wanted to die, why choose such a painful method, instead of hanging or drowning herself? Those are the more common means of female suicide. And why bother putting the poison in the ink, instead of simply swallowing it?”
“So Lady Harume was murdered.” Dismay tempered Sano’s gratification at having his suspicions confirmed. He must report the news to the shogun, the chief castle physician, and palace officials; it would then spread throughout Edo. To prevent destructive consequences, Sano must identify the poisoner, fast. “What substance kills so quickly and horribly?”
“When I was physician to the Imperial Court in Kyoto, I made a study of poisons,” Dr. Ito said. “The symptoms caused by this one match those of bish, an extract of a plant native to the Himalayan region. Bish has been used in India and China for almost two thousand years as an arrow toxin, both for hunting and in warfare. As you can see, a small amount introduced into the blood is fatal. People have also died after mistaking the plant’s roots for horseradish. But the plant is extremely rare in Japan. I’ve never heard of any such poisoning cases here.”
“Where could the poison that killed Lady Harume have come from?” Sano asked. “Am I looking for a murderer with special knowledge of herbs? Such as a sorcerer, priest, or doctor?”
“Perhaps. But there are druggists who illegally sell poisons to any customer able to pay.” Dr. Ito told Mura to remove the mice. Then his expression turned thoughtful. “These merchants usually offer common poisons such as arsenic, which can be mixed with sugar and dusted onto cakes, or antimony, which is administered in tea or wine. Or fugu, the poisonous blowfish.
“But there was one man who became a legend among physicians and scientists: an itinerant peddler who traveled around Japan, collecting remedies from remote areas and in port cities where the locals possess medical knowledge gleaned from foreigners before Japan was closed to free international trade. His name was Choyei, and I used to buy medicine from him when he passed through Kyoto. He knew more about drugs than anyone I’ve ever met. Mostly he dealt in beneficial substances, though he also sold poisons to scientists who, like myself, desired to study them. And there were rumors that his merchandise had caused the deaths of several high bakufu officials.”
“Could he be in Edo now?” Sano asked. If the poison dealer named a recent purchaser of bish, Lady Harume’s murder could be solved.
“I haven’t seen Choyei-or heard anything of him-in years. He must be about my age now, if he’s still alive. An odd, reclusive individual who wandered wherever fancy took him, according to no particular schedule, disguised as a tramp. I heard he was a fugitive from the law.”
Though discouraged by this story, Sano didn’t lose hope. “If Choyei is here, I’ll find him. And there’s another possible route to the killer.” Sano held up the ink jar. “I’ll try to discover where Lady Harume got this, and who could have put poison into it.”
“Perhaps the lover for whom she tattooed herself?” Dr. Ito suggested. “Unfortunately, Lady Harume didn’t cut his name on her flesh, as courtesans often do, but she would have wished to obscure his identity, if he was someone other than the shogun.”
“Because a concubine could be dismissed, or even executed for infidelity to her lord,” Sano agreed. “And the place she chose for the tattoo suggests that she wanted secrecy.” He rewrapped the evidence. “I plan to interview the shogun’s mother and her chief lady palace official. Maybe they can provide information about people who might have wanted Lady Harume dead.”
Dr. Ito accompanied Sano outside to the courtyard, now shaded by the coming twilight. “Thank you for your help, Ito-san, and for the gift,” Sano said. “When Lady Harume’s corpse arrives, I’ll return for the examination.”
After loading the evidence into his saddlebag, Sano mounted his horse, eager to continue the investigation, yet reluctant to return to Edo Castle. Would he find the killer before fear heightened the dangerous personal and political tensions there? Could he avoid becoming a casualty of the inevitable plots and schemes?
5
Autumn twilight descended upon Edo. Clouds sketched swirls across a pale gold western sky, like script written in smoke. Lanterns burned above gates and in the windows of peasant houses, merchant dwellings, and great daimyo mansions, the Edo residences of landowning lords. A gibbous moon rose amid early stars, distant beacons heralding night and guiding a hunting party that tramped through the Edo Castle forest preserve. Porters laden with chests of supplies followed servants leading horses and barking dogs. Ahead, the hunters, armed with bows, moved on foot among the trees, above which birds soared in prenocturnal flight.
“Honorable Chamberlain Yanagisawa, is it not getting a bit late for hunting?” Senior Elder Makino Narisada hurried to catch up with his superior. The other four members of Japan ’s Council of Elders followed, huffing and gasping. “There is a most unpleasant chill in the air. And soon it will be too dark to see anything. Should we not go back to the palace and continue our meeting in comfort?”
“Nonsense,” Yanagisawa retorted, drawing his bow and sighting along the arrow. “Night is the best time to hunt. Though I cannot see my prey clearly, neither can he see me. It’s much more of a challenge than hunting in the unsubtle light of day.”
Tall, slender, strong-and, at age thirty-three, at least fifteen years younger than any of his comrades- Chamberlain Yanagisawa moved swiftly through the woods. Night’s mystical energy always stimulated his senses. Vision and hearing gained power and clarity until he could detect the slightest motion. In the forest’s pine-scented shadows, he heard wings flap softly as a bird landed on a nearby bough. He froze, then took aim.
Hunting aroused Yanagisawa’s killing instinct. What better condition in which to conduct affairs of state? He let fly the arrow. With a thump, it struck a tree. The bird flew off unharmed. Squawks arose as a nearby flock took wing in panic.
“A marvelous shot,” Senior Elder Makino said anyway. The other elders echoed his praise.
Chamberlain Yanagisawa smiled, not caring that he’d missed his target. He was after larger, more important prey. “Now, what is the next subject on our agenda?”
“The sosakan-sama’s report on his successful murder investigation and capture of a smuggling ring in
