The Snow Empress

“Nobody was allowed to go near her,” Lady Pansy said, “not even to give her food or a blanket.”

“She caught such a bad cold and was so miserable that she finally had to give in,” Lady Smart said. “And from then on, Tekare ruled us all as if she were an empress.”

The Empress of Snow Country. Reiko recalled Hirata’s description of how Tekare had earned her nickname. Tekare had certainly fomented trouble in the women’s quarters as well as among the men she’d used.

“What did you do?” Reiko asked Lady Matsumae.

With a bitter laugh, Lady Matsumae said, “What could I do? I put up with the situation. I had no choice.”

“You’d think Tekare would have been satisfied because she’d won,” Lady Pansy said, taking a coy delight in this gossip. “You’d think she would have left well enough alone. But not her. She ordered our poor lady to kneel and bow down to her whenever they happened to meet.”

“And our lady had to do it or be cast out.” Lady Smart’s serious manner didn’t hide her relish of the drama.

“My husband didn’t care,” Lady Matsumae said. “He didn’t protect me. Not even after our daughter became ill and I was beside myself with worrying about her. Instead, he-”

Her throat visibly contracted as she swallowed. She lowered her eyelids; tears leaked from under her dark, spiky lashes. Her attendants sat in hushed sympathy. Reiko sensed secrets permeating the silence. She glanced at Lilac, who puffed her cheeks to express that she was bursting with tales but didn’t dare speak.

“What happened?” Reiko asked.

Nobody answered. History on Ezogashima was as deep and opaque as the sea around it. Reiko decided to go fishing. She said in a quiet, confidential manner, “Your life must be easier now that Tekare is dead. She stole your husband’s affections. If you took revenge on her, I wouldn’t blame you. I’d admire you for having the courage to do what many women in your position only wish they could.”

Lady Matsumae’s head snapped up. She and the ladies-in-waiting stared at Reiko in apparently genuine shock. “You think I killed Tekare?” You can tell me.“ Reiko smiled a conspiratorial smile, woman-to-woman against the world of men. ”I can keep a secret.“

“You haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about. I did not kill that woman, no matter how much I would have liked to.” Lady Matsumae spat the words at Reiko’s face. “You may be the chamberlain’s wife and a guest in my house, but I am utterly insulted by your accusation.”

Reiko was chagrined that her ploy had failed. She shouldn’t have pushed Lady Matsumae so hard so fast.

“Of course she didn’t kill her,” Lady Smart declared. She’s too gentle, too good,“ Lady Pansy said indignantly.

Lady Soldier folded her arms and fixed an insolent gaze on Reiko.

“You seem to know a lot about our business, but maybe not as much as you think. Did you know that Tekare was shot with a spring-bow?”

“So I’ve heard,” Reiko said.

“Who told you?” Lady Smart asked.

“My husband.”

Comprehension flashed across Lady Smart’s plain features. “I’ve heard about your husband’s deal with Lord Matsumae. He finds out who killed Tekare, and Lord Matsumae will set him and you and your friends free. If he fails, you all die. You’re trying to help him by putting the blame on our lady.”

So much for covert detective work, Reiko thought. “We’re only trying to discover the truth.”

“The truth is that our lady is innocent,” Lady Pansy said with staunch, childish loyalty.

Lady Soldier picked up Lady Matsumae’s hands, peeled the gloves off them, and held them up. “Can you imagine these setting a spring-bow?” The fingers were tapered and soft, typical of a high-class woman who’d never done any physical work in her life.

An alternative had become clear to Reiko. “You wouldn’t have had to do it yourself,” she said to Lady Matsumae. She turned a significant gaze on the ladies-in-waiting. But instead of being frightened because her suspicion had turned to them, they smiled.

“Well, I suppose I know how to set a spring-bow,” said Lady Smart. “My father is a trade official, and my family spent a lot of time in Ezo country while I was growing up.”

“The same with me,” Lady Soldier said.

“I knew that Tekare liked going to the hot spring at night,” Lady Pansy simpered.

“We could have plotted to kill her,” Lady Soldier said, “and punish her for hurting our lady. But even if we did, you’ll never be able to prove it. And we’ll never tell.”

Her smug smile was reflected on the faces of her two friends. Lady Smart said, “I’m afraid this visit with us has been a waste of your time, Lady Reiko. You came after one person you thought might have killed Tekare. Instead, you found four of us. Are not too many suspects as bad as too few?”

Reiko experienced the same weird disorientation as when she’d first met the women. On the surface they were as familiar as any at home, but inside they were infected with savagery native to Ezogashima. Violence and murder were in their blood, under the veneer of civilization.

Lady Matsumae beheld Reiko with an expression of hard, humorless triumph. “I think it’s time you left.”

15

The sound of angry voices came from the Ezo camp as Hi-rata and his companions approached it. He and Detective Marume, the Rat, and their guards arrived to find the barbarians facing off against three Matsumae troops. The barbarians had bows and quivers slung over their shoulders; they wore snowshoes made of bent wood and leather straps. Two of their dogs were harnessed to a sled. Barbarians and troops shouted at one another in Ezo language.

“What are they saying?” Hirata asked.

The Rat looked especially miserable this morning. He sniffled and coughed. His eyes were bleary, and frozen mucus matted his whiskers. “The Ezo want to go deer hunting. The Japanese won’t let them.”

Hirata had never been hunting, even though the idea had always intrigued him. The Buddhist religion prohibited slaying animals as well as eating meat. So did Tokugawa law, upheld by the shogun, a devout Buddhist. But there were exceptions to law and tradition. People weakened by illness or injuries were given meat stews and broths to cure them. Edo had a flourishing wild game market for that purpose. Here in Ezogashima, the barbarians hunted in order to survive, and the Japanese usually allowed them-but not today.

“The Japanese say the barbarians have to stay in camp. Lord Matsumae’s orders,” said the Rat.

Urahenka, the onetime husband of Lord Matsumae’s mistress, raged at the troops, who retorted. Hirata jumped into the fray. “Let them go,” he said.

Both sides looked at him in surprise. The lead Matsumae soldier said, “You don’t give orders around here.”

“I’m investigating the murder,” Hirata said, “and I have Lord Matsumae’s permission to question the barbarians. I can talk to them while they hunt.”

“You want to go hunting with them?” The leader and his men were flabbergasted. The barbarians muttered among themselves, trying to figure out what was being said-except for Chieftain Awetok, who watched Hirata with unmistakable comprehension.

“Yes.” Hirata wanted a new experience as well as a chance to speak with the Ezo away from their masters.

“Well, we’re not letting you,” the leader said. “If they run away, we’ll be blamed.”

“I won’t let them,” Hirata said. “My men and I will bring them back.”

“That’s what you think. You don’t know these sneaky devils. As soon as they get to the forest, they’ll give you the slip. You’ll be lucky if you find your way home before you freeze to death.”

“Please listen to him,” the Rat said with a loud sneeze. “He’s right.”

“We’ll compromise,” Hirata said. “I’ll take just those two”-he pointed at Urahenka and Chief Awetok-“if they’ll promise to be good.” He turned to the Rat. “Tell them what I said.”

The Rat obeyed. The two Ezo nodded. Urahenka looked wary, Chieftain Awetok curious.