drowned in a wine vat. To clear the way for her new dynasty, she’d executed several hundred aristocrats and members of the old Tang imperial family. She’d even murdered her own infant daughter, whom she feared might supplant her as empress and fall under the influence of her opponents before Wu Tse-tien could bear a son and secure her position. Now came Jokyoden’s turn to show how well she’d learned by example.
One day the palace ladies made a pilgrimage to a mountain temple. Before they left home, Jokyoden sent a note to Myobu, saying she had something private to discuss and asking Myobu to meet her in a secluded pavilion on a cliff above the temple. When Myobu came, Jokyoden was waiting for her. One push, and Myobu fell to her death. Later Jokyoden claimed that Myobu had tried to push her over the cliff, and she’d acted in self-defense. With no witnesses, everyone believed Jokyoden. She became the emperor’s official consort.
Use his laziness to your advantage, Wu Tse-tien advised.
Lady Jokyoden gradually took over the emperor’s duties. Soon she gave birth to Crown Prince Tomohito.
Before you take the next step, make sure he will live, said Wu Tse-tien. The mother of a dead emperor is nothing.
Jokyoden waited twelve years. Prince Tomohito flourished. She convinced the emperor to abdicate and turn the throne over to their son. The sacred mirror, jewel, and sword of imperial sovereignty passed to Tomohito. Jokyoden advanced to the highest rank for a court lady. With Tomohito still a child, she could mold him into a tool to serve her ambitions. However, a serious obstacle blocked her progress.
Through the years, she’d grown aware of the court’s diminished circumstances, its nonexistent influence over the world outside. Tokugawa troops guarded the palace. The bakufu doled out meager sums of money that kept the court alive but dependent. The imperial family had millions of devoted subjects, but no army. Jokyoden had eventually awakened to the fact that she had reached the pinnacle of her world, but there seemed no way to expand her domain. Would all her education, all her scheming, result in nothing more than command over the petty affairs of a few individuals?
Disappointment is the mother of creativity, Wu Tse-tien had counseled. Reassess your objectives. Circumvent the problem.
At last Jokyoden found a new direction for her life. It was daring, unwomanly, and violated both tradition and law. She loved it. But unfortunately, her new venture coincided with another circumstance: Left Minister Konoe’s appearance as her suitor.
Never allow yourself to fall under the power of a man! Wu Tse-tien warned. Men are a woman’s downfall!
But the left minister had awakened needs that Jokyoden had suppressed in pursuit of her dreams. He made her realize how much she craved affection; his lovemaking taught her that sex had other benefits besides procreation. She’d fallen in love with him. Carried away by romance, she had confided in him, and he had betrayed her.
“You were right,” Jokyoden said now to Wu Tse-tien. “I never should have trusted the left minister.”
Never waste time on regretting the past, Wu Tse-tien said sternly. Her eyes, the ornaments in her hair, and the dragons on her robe glittered in the flame that surrounded her. Concentrate on the present and the future. Hasn’t the death of the left minister solved your problem?
Once Jokyoden had believed that Konoe’s murder had saved her from exposure, scandal, and punishment while protecting her great venture. Then Sano had revived the danger. “I thought Konoe had died before he could use the power he held over me, but he was involved in things I never guessed. The sosakan-sama survived the attack, and his investigation continues. I didn’t anticipate the direction it would take, or the stakes involved.” She added regretfully, “I was a fool to help Lady Reiko, but I could not have guessed what would come of taking her to the left minister’s secret house.”
That was a grave mistake, said Wu Tse-tien. Now there is only one way to protect yourself and your son. You must cease your activities so that the shogun’s detective will not discover them. Until he is gone from Miyako, you must have patience.
Wu Tse-tien had shown Jokyoden the value of patience. The Chinese empress had waited forty-one years to found her new dynasty, until Emperor Kao-tsung and her strongest opponents were dead. She’d accumulated power over a lifetime, gradually replacing the old bureaucracy with men loyal to her. Yet Jokyoden couldn’t accept Wu Tse-tien’s advice.
“I can’t stop now,” she said. “This is a critical time. I’ve invested all my effort and capital and hope in this venture. Unless I move forward, I risk utter failure.”
Bitterness hardened Wu Tse-tien’s expression, because she had suffered defeat in the end. At eighty-three, she’d been forced to abdicate by one of her sons, who dissolved her regime and reestablished the old Tang dynasty. This was the one example from her mentor’s life that Jokyoden must not emulate.
“I shall continue as I began,” decided Jokyoden. Then she asked humbly, “May I have your blessing?”
My blessing, yes: my approval, no, Wu Tse-tien said peevishly. Even from the grave she liked to be in control.
“May I ask what the future holds for me?”
The Chinese empress spread her hands in a mocking gesture of resignation. Yours is a perilous path, which you have chosen to walk without my guidance. The future is uncertain; good and evil are equally possible. I wish you luck, because you are on your own now. Good-bye until we meet again in the afterlife.
“Wait,” Jokyoden cried. But Wu Tse-tien’s image vanished; the candle had burned out. Jokyoden sadly closed the butsudan. The world had changed since Wu Tse-tien’s day. Jokyoden must go where Wu Tse-tien couldn’t guide her. It was her destiny.
She prayed that her destiny would not lead to execution for murder and treason.
28
The news came just as Chamberlain Yanagisawa was preparing to attend Yoriki Hoshina’s execution.
Hearing a knock at the door of his private quarters at Nijo Castle, Yanagisawa called, “Come in.”
The guard captain entered, bowing. “Excuse me, Honorable Chamberlain, but there’s a problem that I must bring to your attention. Yoriki Hoshina is gone.”
A wave of shock hit Yanagisawa; his heart began to hammer. “What do you mean, gone? Hoshina was locked up at police headquarters. He’s supposed to die this morning.”
“The sosakan-sama had Hoshina moved last night,” the guard captain said. “Two doshin took him to a secret hiding place. They were ordered to guard him, but they’re both subordinates and friends of his, and he persuaded them to let him go.”
“Why hasn’t he been caught?”
“There are troops out looking for him now, but he made the doshin promise to wait until sunrise before reporting his escape. So he’s got a head start on us.”
Yanagisawa turned away, trying to sort out his emotions. Hoshina’s flight enraged him. With his knowledge of Yanagisawa’s sabotage against an investigation ordered by the shogun, Hoshina alive and free was a lethal danger. Yet even in the throes of anger and fear, Yanagisawa felt relief. If Hoshina got away, he need not die. Perhaps they would meet again someday. But Yanagisawa wanted Hoshina back now, even if only to see him one last time on the execution ground.
Turning on the guard captain, Yanagisawa said, “I want those doshin executed for dereliction of duty!”
“They’re already dead,” said the captain. “They just walked into the shoshidai’s office, confessed that they’d set Hoshina free, then committed seppuku.”
“I want troops combing the city, nonstop, until Hoshina is found,” Yanagisawa said.
“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.”
After the captain left, Yanagisawa leaned against the wall, shaken. Then he forced himself to forget Hoshina. He still had to solve the murder case and triumph over Sano. They’d arranged to meet here at the hour of the rooster to share their findings, and until then, he would let the shoshidai’s troops continue the search for the outlaws while he followed the leads he’d kept to himself when he and Sano had agreed to work together.
Yanagisawa hastily shed his black ceremonial robes and donned the faded indigo cotton kimono, blue trousers, and straw sandals he wore for martial arts practice. The clothes were right, but he looked too clean. Going outside to the garden, he rubbed dirt on his garments. And he needed something to conceal his face. Then he noticed a
