understand what was happening to him. 'Priests s-said I was possessed by a demon. They lit fires around me and ch-chanted spells to drive it out.
“B-but nothing worked. I got worse. Finally I was l-locked in a storehouse. Every day a s-servant opened the door and put food inside. I was allowed to come out only wh-when the storehouse was c-cleaned. The s-servant would throw b-buckets of water inside and sweep out the filth. Then he stripped me and threw water on m-me. There was only one w-window in the storehouse. All I could s-see was the sky through the b-branches of a cherry tree. For a whole y-year I lived there.”
Sano imagined the young Momozono hooting and convulsing in his prison, watching the cherry blossoms bloom then drift to the ground, the leaves unfurl then drop, until snow covered the boughs. Empathy had no place in a murder investigation, but the prince’s story affected Sano deeply.
“Then one night, s-some men came. They wrapped me up in qu-quilts so I couldn’t m-move, and tied a gag over my mouth. They c-carried me away in a palanquin. They didn’t t-tell me where they were taking me, but I h- heard them talking about how I was going to live in exile. I was glad because I thought Exile was the n-name of a place where children like m-me could be happy. I didn’t know any better.”
His voice broke on a sob; his eyes teared. Grimacing and puffing, he said, “We traveled for a l-long time. At last we stopped at a m-mountain village. It was d-dark and snowing and very c-cold. The men set me down outside the v-village and untied my gag. Then they picked up the palanquin and left.” Momozono sniffled; he tried to wipe his nose, but his hand flew upward, and he used the other to pull it down. “I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do, so I sat and w-waited.
“F-finally it began getting light. The v-villagers came. They d-didn’t want me any more than the Imperial Court did.” The prince gulped and blinked. “I sat alone for t-two days, freezing and h-hungry and scared.” Ragged sobs choked him. 'P-please excuse me.”
Filled with pity, Sano imagined what had happened when the villagers found Momozono. Probably they’d taunted him and stoned him before leaving him to die.
“Then I b-began to feel sleepy and warm,” Momozono said. “I stopped caring what h-happened to me. I was on the verge of d-death. But then the m-men returned. They took me back to the palace. I was washed and fed and given a r-room in the emperor’s residence. His M-majesty came in. He s-said he’d dreamed about a demon who threatened to cause a terrible p-plague unless h-he rescued me and made me his c-companion. L-later I heard people saying he’d invented the whole story and b-brought me back to spite everyone. But I was too g-grateful to care why he’d saved me.”
His face twisted with tics and emotion, Momozono gazed at Emperor Tomohito, who was beating his sword on the helmet of another soldier. Boyish cries arose as the battle raged on. “Because of His M-majesty, I’m allowed to live here.” He added softly, “I’ve done my b-best to repay His Majesty.”
By giving him a false alibi? Sano wondered. Whatever the emperor’s motive for saving Momozono, he’d won the devotion of his cousin. Sano caught himself falling into the assumption that Momozono’s affliction rendered him incapable of any worse crime than lying to protect the emperor. Momozono had revealed himself as a man of intelligence. To have survived his ordeals, he must be stronger than he looked.
“Your loyalty must be of valuable help to His Majesty,” Sano said. Momozono humbly shook his head, but his eyes brightened with pleasure. “Now perhaps you can help me. How well did you know Left Minister Konoe?”
The prince hopped up and down, hooting and growling, striking out with his fists.
Startled, Sano dodged the blows. “You didn’t care for the left minister, then?”
Rolling his eyes, Momozono reeled backward. “Forgive me, I can’t h-help myself.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Sano said. “What did Konoe do to you?”
“I suppose you’ll find out from someone else if I don’t tell you. L-left M-minister Konoe was the one who had me locked up in the storehouse. H-he gave the order to exile me.” Momozono looked Sano straight in the eye, and Sano fought the impulse to avert his gaze from the prince’s twitching face. “Yes, I-I hated him,” Momozono said defiantly. “When His Majesty and I found him dead, I rejoiced. But I didn’t do it. If I’d wanted to kill him, why would I have waited t-ten years?”
Hatred could fester over time, Sano knew. Momozono and the emperor shared an alibi. Which of them was it really meant to protect? Tomohito had rescued his cousin once already.
With a self-deprecating laugh, Momozono said, “How can you think I could k-kill anybody?”
Just then, Emperor Tomohito waved to him from across the battlefield, calling, 'Bring me another sword!”
Momozono picked up a sword from the pile of toy weapons. He dropped it twice as he lurched toward the emperor. Watching, Sano tried and failed to imagine him as the killer. If Momozono fumbled the simplest tasks, how could he master the art of kiai? Where would he have learned it? Perhaps he exaggerated his symptoms, but Sano still believed that the conspiracy and the murder of Left Minister Konoe were related. How could a despised outcast mount an insurrection?
The emperor spied Sano. Ignoring the sword Momozono offered him, he dropped his toy horse and swaggered over. “What do you want?” he demanded.
Kneeling, Sano bowed, honoring the churlish youth as the descendant of the gods. Had they granted his bloodline the power to manipulate cosmic forces? Had his imperial ancestors bequeathed to him the secret of kiai?
“I’ve come to ask you some questions,” Sano said.
“Stand up,” Tomohito ordered.
Obeying, Sano returned the emperor’s scrutiny. The armor added bulk to Tomohito’s large build, and menace to his petulant, childish face. He said, “You’ve got nerve coming here, after what you did. You arrested my consort! You knocked me down!”
Sano noted these offenses as motives for Tomohito to want him dead.
“May lighting strike down all you Tokugawa bullies!” the emperor shouted.
While Momozono emitted anxious yelps, Sano experienced a stab of alarm, accompanied by the urge to laugh. The emperor had the power to invoke the wrath of the heavens, yet Tomohito’s curse sounded like a child’s extravagant threat. If he also commanded the power of kiai, his unbridled temper would make him all the more dangerous.
Sano hastened to appease the emperor: “I regret what I did. Lady Asagao has been freed.”
But Tomohito, with the short attention span of youth, had lost interest in the subject. “You’re a real fighter, aren’t you?” he said, studying Sano with grudging admiration. Pointing at Sano’s long sword, he ordered, “Let me see that.”
Sano couldn’t refuse an order from the emperor. He unsheathed his sword and handed it over.
“This is really nice.” Tomohito ran a grubby finger along the blade. Suddenly he leapt backward and slashed at Sano, yelling, “Hah!”
Sano ducked just in time to escape a cut to the head. “Careful! That’s not a toy.”
“N-no, Your Majesty,” Momozono wailed.
He grabbed the emperor’s arm, but Tomohito pulled away. His eyes shone with the thrill of wielding a real blade. He circled, feinted, and sliced at the air. Sano noted Tomohito’s skill. The emperor outshone many samurai of his age. His footwork was quick, each strike gracefully executed.
“You’re pretty good, Your Majesty,” Sano said. “How long have you studied kenjutsu?”
“All my life!”
“Who taught you?”
The emperor aimed a swipe at Sano’s legs; when Sano jumped to avoid it, he laughed. “The best swordsmen in Miyako.”
“What other martial arts did they teach you?”
“You ask too many questions!”
The emperor’s impressive swordsmanship meant he could discipline his energies when it suited him, and discipline was crucial to the power of kiai.
“The battle your soldiers are fighting,” Sano said. “It’s the Jokyu War, isn’t it?”
That was the war by which Emperor Go-Toba had tried to overthrow the military dictatorship. He’d summoned the Minamoto to a festival in Miyako where his army had attacked them.
“So what if it is?” Tomohito whirled and slashed around Sano.
“Then you’re not being true to history,” Sano said, flinching as the blade came dangerously close. “Your
