Hoshina, he had a vague, inexplicable sense of hidden dimensions to the case. In his mind floated the disturbing thought that he’d overlooked something important.
8
A garden of pines, willows, red maple, and flowering shrubs decorated the walled compound where the emperor’s consorts lived. As the old courtier walked Reiko through the compound, music and laughter floated in the warm, still air.
“Her Highness the Chief Imperial Consort is amusing herself with her attendants,” the courtier said. “She has invited you to join them.”
In a courtyard shaded by the wings of buildings, wisteria vines, bright with purple blossoms, climbed lattice frames. A painted mural depicting moonlit woods formed a backdrop for a canopied wooden platform. On this stood a young woman and man. She wore a lavish kimono of crimson silk; floral ornaments adorned her elaborate upswept hairstyle. He was dressed as a peasant in cotton robe and straw sandals. Nearby, three musicians played flute, samisen, and the wooden clappers used in Kabuki theater. Gentlemen and ladies in traditional court garb knelt on cushions in front of the makeshift stage, watching the drama unfolding there.
“The time has come for us to die!” the actor proclaimed with exaggerated passion, seizing his partner’s hands.
Sobbing, the woman lamented, “Though in this life we could not be together, in the next world we shall be husband and wife.”
The pair stumbled through the imaginary dark forest, clinging together toward a ceramic urn that contained an immense, leafy bamboo plant.
Reiko recognized the play as Love Suicides at Kamakura, popular in Edo’s theater district some time ago, based on the true story of a prostitute and a potter, forbidden lovers. Standing behind the audience, Reiko watched with amazement while the amateurish attempt at Kabuki-cheap, low-class entertainment-compromised the decorum of the Imperial Court.
“That is the Honorable Lady Asagao,” the courtier murmured to Reiko, indicating the woman acting the role of the prostitute.
Reiko’s amazement increased as she beheld the emperor’s consort. In her early twenties, Lady Asagao had a round face with rouged cheeks, a snub nose, and round eyes accentuated by painted lids. A generous bosom and curvy hips filled out her kimono. That a woman of her exalted status would stoop to such vulgarity!
The actor playing her lover was handsome, with delicate features and a slender build. He led Lady Asagao to the bamboo plant and cried, “Let us make our end, in the shadow of this bamboo thicket!”
He knelt by the urn. Lady Asagao began to sing:
“Never have we known
A single day of peace-
Instead, the torment of an ill-starred romance.”
She minced about the stage, fluttering her eyelids at the actor. Her voice was sweet, but she couldn’t carry the tune.
“You must kill me with your hands,
Release me from this torture,
Then follow me into death!”
Falling to her knees beside her lover, she wept, begging, “Please, hold me one last time before I die.”
They embraced; a sigh rose from the audience. The actor’s hands fondled Lady Asagao, who eagerly returned the caresses. They seemed to be enjoying themselves a little too much, and their ardor embarrassed Reiko.
The actor pulled a wooden dagger out of his sash. “Here’s our guarantee that our souls will never part!”
“I’m ready. Be quick!” Lady Asagao closed her eyes and sat up straight.
Weeping, the actor pretended to stab Lady Asagao’s chest. She screamed, collapsed, and writhed in simulated death throes. He held her until her moans subsided and she lay still. Then he exclaimed, “My beloved, I shall join you now!” and plunged the dagger into his own breast.
The audience cheered and applauded. The doomed couple lay immobile for a moment, then stood and bowed, laughing. Now Lady Asagao caught sight of the newcomers. Her eyes lit. She hopped down from the platform and sashayed over to Reiko.
“Honorable Lady Sano! I’m so happy to meet you,” she gushed. To Reiko’s escort, she said, “You’re dismissed.” He obediently departed. Lady Asagao giggled, while her eyes appraised Reiko with the calculating expression of a woman always on the lookout for admirers or rivals. “How marvelous that you’ve arrived in time for our play. What did you think of my performance?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Reiko said, striving for a compromise between honesty and flattery.
The dubious compliment provoked delighted laughter from Asagao. “My humble talent hardly deserves such praise! And from you, who have surely been entertained by Japan’s best actors. Oh, how I wish I could see them too!” Her full, red lips pouted prettily. “We’re so secluded here in the palace, and we must make do with our own little amusements, but we try to be authentic. The stage scenery was made by one of the best court artists. He also designed my costume.” She pirouetted in front of Reiko. “Does it become me?”
“Yes, you look beautiful,” Reiko said. The kimono was a work of art, although Asagao would benefit from a darker color and simpler pattern to make her look slimmer.
“Oh, thank you! You’re so kind.” Asagao preened. Beckoning to her audience, she called, “Come meet our guest from Edo.” Courtiers and ladies-in-waiting flocked around Reiko, smiling, bowing, and murmuring greetings while Asagao performed introductions. Asagao laid a proprietary hand upon the arm of the actor who’d played her lover onstage. “This is Lord Gojo. He’s one of the emperor’s secretaries.”
The two exchanged a smiling, intimate glance. Then Asagao widened her eyes and exclaimed, “I’ve just had the most marvelous idea. Lady Sano must take a part in our play!”
“Oh, I couldn’t.” Horrified, Reiko backed away.
The group greeted Asagao’s idea with enthusiasm. Lord Gojo said, “She can be the heroine’s best friend.”
“But I don’t know the lines,” Reiko protested, desperate to avoid making a spectacle of herself.
“That doesn’t matter,” Asagao said. “You can read them from the script for now, and memorize them later.” She thrust out her lower lip, her expression reproachful. “You won’t disappoint us, will you?”
The petulant whine in Asagao’s voice warned Reiko that Asagao was quick to take offense at anyone who denied her wishes. Reiko understood that if she refused to act, the emperor’s consort would cut short their visit and she would lose her chance to ask questions about the murder.
“Of course I couldn’t disappoint you,” Reiko said with forced sincerity. “I’d be honored to act in your play.”
“Wonderful!” Asagao laughed and clapped her hands, her good humor restored. Everyone else cheered. Asagao critically surveyed Reiko’s simple, knotted hairdo and sea-blue silk kimono printed with pale green ivy leaves. “We’ll have to find a costume for you later, but let’s give your face and hair some glamour. Come along!”
Asagao and her ladies-in-waiting took Reiko to a corner of the courtyard, where a large parasol shaded a table that held a mirror, brushes, combs, hair ornaments, and jars of makeup.
“Bring us some wine, Gojo-san,” called Lady Asagao, “then go and prepare the stage for the first scene.”
The young man complied. Two ladies-in-waiting began restyling Reiko’s hair, while the others drank wine and offered suggestions. Reiko sipped the sweet plum liquor, hoping it would ease her embarrassment. Asagao smeared a mixture of grease and white rice powder on Reiko’s face.
“You must think we’re frivolous to spend our time this way,” Asagao said, pausing to gulp wine from her cup, “but there’s so little else to do here, and life gets terribly dull.”
Reiko tried not to wince as the warm, thick makeup coated her skin, or recoil from the too-intimate contact with her new acquaintances. “I would have thought that the shocking incident in the Pond Garden offered some diversion.”
Asagao looked perplexed; then her face cleared. “Oh, you mean the death of Left Minister Konoe.” She dismissed the murder with a flick of her fingers. “That was ages ago. The excitement is past. You probably think I’m
