courtiers were elsewhere at the time of Left Minister Konoe’s death. He’d ordered everyone to stay out of the garden.”
“Excellent work,” Sano said, noting the raw edge of pride and ambition behind the yoriki’s modest demeanor: Hoshina enjoyed showing off, and he anticipated rewards for pleasing the shogun’s sosakan-sama. That their interests coincided inclined Sano to trust the helpful Hoshina.
“Were there any visitors or other outsiders present in the compound that night?” Sano asked.
“No,” Hoshina said, “and there was no sign of forced entry, so it’s unlikely that an intruder killed Left Minister Konoe.”
Sano said, “Was everyone else in the court accounted for around the time of the murder?”
“I thought it best to wait until your arrival before questioning the imperial family,” Hoshina said. “However, I’ve made discreet inquiries. There are some people whose whereabouts I haven’t been able to establish. Emperor Tomohito and Prince Momozono weren’t in their quarters as usual. Neither were the emperor’s chief consort, Lady Asagao, or his mother, Lady Jokyoden.”
Four potential murder suspects; all members of Japan’s sacred imperial family. Sano contemplated the politically volatile nature of the case. By probing into palace affairs, he was bound to violate social and religious convention, thereby damaging relations between the bakufu and the institution that sanctioned its right to rule. Nevertheless, the killer must be caught, or others might die.
Looking upward, Sano saw the hills darkening in murky twilight. He couldn’t call on the imperial family so late, on such short notice, without offending them. “I’ll interview the emperor, his mother, cousin, and consort tomorrow morning.”
“Of course,” Yoriki Hoshina said. “I’ll arrange appointments for you. Shall I take you to your lodgings at Nijo Manor now?”
The offer tempted Sano, who was hungry and tired, caked with sweat and grime; he needed food, a bath, and sleep. He also wanted to discuss the case with Reiko, but he hadn’t finished the day’s work at the palace. “Before we go, I’d like to inspect Left Minister Konoe’s residence and question the household.”
3
Sano, Yoriki Hoshina, Marume, and Fukida walked west along a passage that bisected the palace compound, through the district of the kuge, court nobles who were hereditary retainers to the imperial family. Fences bounded some hundred estates packed side by side, where buildings clustered with scarcely a gap between roofs. As the dinner hour approached, charcoal smoke billowed from many chimneys; the noise of activity and conversation made a constant, muted din. Through the passages strolled courtiers dressed in the old-fashioned short jackets and black hats of imperial tradition. Everyone bowed to Sano and his party.
At the Konoe estate, near the northern wall of the imperial enclosure, black mourning drapery decorated the lattice fence and double-roofed gate. Hoshina rang a bell that dangled from the portal. After a moment, the gate swung open to reveal a courtier, who looked startled by the unexpected arrival of four samurai, then bowed politely.
“Greetings, Honorable Masters. How may I serve you?”
Hoshina introduced Sano and said, “The sosakan-sama is investigating the death of Left Minister Konoe. You shall assemble the family for questioning and show us the left minister’s quarters.”
The courtier led Sano’s party along a flagstone path through a garden landscaped with pines. Within a gravel courtyard stood a mansion built in the same style as the palace. Wooden rain doors were raised to admit the mild evening breeze. Walking behind the courtier down hallways floored in polished cypress, Sano and his companions passed spacious parlors where cultured voices murmured and a samisen played behind paper partitions.
In the reception hall, screens decorated with forest scenes formed an enclosure; lanterns cast a soft glow.
The courtier invited the four samurai to sit on the dais, then left. Presently he returned, announcing, “I present the honorable Konoe clan.”
Sano watched in amazement as a long parade of people, young and old, filed into the room to kneel before the dais. The courtier introduced siblings, cousins, and other relatives of the dead man. Sano had known that court families were large but hadn’t expected quite so many people living under the same roof. The men wore traditional court costume. The women were dressed in multilayered pastel robes with voluminous sleeves and narrow brocade sashes; long hair flowed down to their waists. Sano recalled that Tokugawa Ieyasu had established 'Laws Pertaining to the Emperor’s Retainers,” which consigned the noble class to the practice of scholarship and arts rather than politics. Isolated from the world during the seventy-six years that had followed, these people fulfilled little purpose except to preserve their obsolete way of life. They were virtual prisoners of the bakufu, which financially supported them along with the imperial family. Now they comprised a huge pool of potential witnesses.
“My detectives will question the servants,” Sano said to the courtier. “Is there a place where I can interview the family one at a time, in private?”
Evening immersed Miyako in tropical darkness. In the Market of the Dead, brightly lit stalls turned the streets into lines of multicolored fire where shoppers browsed among Obon supplies. Gongs rang, calling dead souls back to earth. On hillsides and along the Kamo River, bonfires burned, lighting the way for the spirits’ journey. Pine torches blazed at the thresholds of houses; incense smoked on windowsills. Citizens bearing lanterns converged on the cemeteries to visit ancestors’ graves. The air resounded with the clatter of wooden soles. On the boulevards fluttered the curtains of shops closed for the night, stirred by the wind… or passing ghosts.
In the city center stood the great bulk of Nijo Castle, built by Tokugawa Ieyasu eighty-nine years ago with funds levied from vanquished warlords. Its stone walls and five-storied keep loomed high above the surrounding houses. Gold Tokugawa crests crowned the curved roofs. No shogun had visited Miyako in more than five decades; since then, Nijo Castle had been occupied by a minimal staff of caretakers. A few sentries manned the gates and guard turrets above the wide moat. From the outside, the castle seemed an inert historical relic.
But deep inside its dark complex of barracks, gardens, and palace buildings, lights burned in the White Parlor, residence of visiting shoguns. There, in an austere room decorated with murals depicting winter landscapes, sat Chamberlain Yanagisawa and his chief retainer, Aisu.
Yanagisawa inhaled on his tobacco pipe, then expelled smoke in an impatient gust. Although circumstances required his present state of waiting, he hungered for action. Worry and anticipation consumed him.
“Are you sure Sano doesn’t know I’m here?” he said.
“Oh, yes, master,” said Aisu, who’d just returned from making covert inquiries on Yanagisawa’s behalf. “No one in Miyako knows, except your local agents. They received your message from Edo in plenty of time to carry out your orders. They told Shoshidai Matsudaira that the shogun had issued orders to renovate Nijo Castle, then brought in laborers and supplies as if it were true, not just a ploy to keep Sano away. No one else suspects anything. My spies have been watching Sano since he left Edo, and he’s completely oblivious. Oh, yes, the plan is working fine so far.”
Aisu’s nervous grin begged Yanagisawa to appreciate his efficiency, to see how much he deserved to keep his job despite the failed bombing. Yanagisawa had given him one more chance to prove his worth before dismissing him. Thus, Aisu’s fate, as well as Yanagisawa’s hopes, depended on the success of the plan.
“See that the operation proceeds along its present satisfactory course,” Yanagisawa said, then murmured to himself: “The results had better justify the trouble this venture may cause me.”
When the shogun had ordered Sano to investigate Left Minister Konoe’s death, Yanagisawa had recognized a perfect opportunity to rid himself of his enemy and permanently secure his position in Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s graces. He’d decided that he, too, must go to Miyako. Hence, he’d waited until the meeting with Sano ended and he was alone with the shogun, then proposed that he should go to Omi Province-where Miyako happened to be located-on a top-secret mission to investigate corruption among local officials. The shogun had vacillated, demurred, and finally been persuaded.
Yanagisawa spent the rest of that night conferring with Aisu and his other top retainers, issuing orders,
