Bundori: A Novel Of Japan

my reputation and turn the shogun against me by slandering my ancestors and spreading lies about me.” His voice issued from his distorted mouth like spurts of corrosive steam. “Well, I won’t tolerate it. Do you hear me?”

Sano could only stare, dumbfounded by Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s allegations. Such a scheme had never entered his mind, although he suspected that other bakufu officials might discredit an adversary this way. Now he realized that whatever had initially set Yanagisawa against him was nothing compared to this perceived insult. With nothing left to lose, Sano decided to pursue his investigation.

“Honorable Chamberlain, you can prove your innocence by telling me where you were during the murders. If you have a satisfactory alibi, the matter will be dropped, and-”

Sano gasped as the chamberlain seized his collar and yanked him so close that their faces almost touched.

“Listen to me, sosakan, and listen well,” Yanagisawa hissed.

Fury drew his face into an ugly scowl. Sano tried to pull away, but Yanagisawa gripped him with a strength amazing for a man of such slender physique.

“I am His Excellency’s highest official. You are merely his lackey for three more days. You have no right to interrogate me, and I am under no obligation to answer.” Hot, sour spittle pelted Sano’s face. “And if you persist in harassing me with impertinent questions and false accusations, I will-”

Yanagisawa stopped just short of an open threat. Did his refined sensibilities shun such crude behavior? Or did he fear antagonizing a man who could destroy him?

Whatever the reason, he released Sano, stepped back, inhaled and exhaled deeply. He smoothed his garments as his elegant features hardened into their customary smooth mask. But his eyes were dark, bottomless pools of hatred and anger. When he spoke again, he did so in low, deadly tones.

“Let us just say that I will not allow you to succeed in your mission. And before I am finished with you, sosakan, you will beg for the privilege of boarding the exile ship for Sado Island.”

He turned and swept out the torii gate. In despair, Sano stood and watched the retreating figure. The encounter with Yanagisawa hadn’t produced any evidence of the chamberlain’s guilt, but neither had it cleared him and allayed Sano’s dread. And by forcing Yanagisawa’s hostility into the open, Sano knew he’d only worsened their relations. What would he do now?

Sano squared his shoulders, forced a pleasant expression, and started toward shore, where he could see Noguchi, Magistrate Ueda, and the women waiting for him beside Kiyomizu Hall. But when he reached the promenade, he halted in his tracks. All thought of the failed miai fled his mind.

To his right, Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s party was climbing into a line of palanquins attended by bearers ready to carry them back to Edo. Yanagisawa bowed to his colleagues, then entered the lead palanquin.

The one with a snarling dragon emblazoned in red, green, and gold across the black lacquer doors.

Sano gaped as the bearers lifted the palanquins and trotted past him. The clatter of their footsteps faded from his consciousness; his vision darkened. The dragon palanquin’s image burned into his mind.

That quickly, Chamberlain Yanagisawa became his prime suspect. And Sano finally acknowledged his worst fear-the terrifying heroic act by which he might have to secure his family’s place in history. Now he could not shut out his father’s voice, speaking to him across the years:

“Sometimes an evil spirit, in the form of a corrupt councillor, enters the house of a great lord. Such a councillor leads the lord astray with misinformation, surrounds the lord with his own cronies, and removes any opposition against himself. The councillor procures women or entertainers to seduce the lord away from business and addict him to pleasure. He squanders the lord’s money to further his own evil purposes. He causes the ruin of the lord’s health and character, and ultimately, the regime.”

“No,” Sano whispered.

He’d watched Yanagisawa dominate the shogun, usurp his authority, cater to his vices, and steal his wealth. If Yanagisawa had also murdered four men, this would confirm him as the “evil spirit.” Sano didn’t want to recall Bushido’s harshest lesson, but his father’s relentless voice continued as he watched Yanagisawa’s palanquin disappear around a curve.

“The evil spirit must be destroyed, but not through open confrontation, which could cause scandal or war. The most admirable deed a samurai can do is to sacrifice himself for his lord’s sake. To rid the regime of corrupting influence, he must kill the evil spirit, then commit ritual suicide to escape capture and disgrace, and establish his clan’s honor for all eternity.”

Chapter 23

Astride his horse, Sano followed Chugo Gichin into the daimyo district. This morning, he’d assigned Hirata the dangerous task of following Matsui Minoru tonight. For himself he’d claimed the even more perilous undertaking of watching Chugo, whose formidable swordsmanship skills made him a greater threat than Matsui and his bodyguards combined-and who could command the demotion, dismissal, beating, or death of an inferior officer caught trespassing upon him. Now Sano carried out his plan, despite the knowledge that his time would be better spent pursuing Chamberlain Yanagisawa.

He couldn’t deny what he must do should Chamberlain Yanagisawa, his prime suspect, prove to be the killer. No one would believe Yanagisawa was guilty based on the word of a man who’d lost the shogun’s favor, as Sano had. Yanagisawa controlled the bakufu. Sano could be condemned as a traitor for speaking against him. To guarantee justice and serve honor, Sano must slay the chamberlain, then commit suicide to escape the disgrace of arrest and execution.

Yet the thought of seppuku sent terror gusting through Sano’s soul like a cold, ash- laden wind. He wasn’t sure he possessed the courage to take his sword to himself. He’d risked his family’s honor and his own career to pursue this investigation. Now his life depended on proving Chugo’s, Matsui’s, or the woman O-tama’s guilt, rather than Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s.

Heading south, Chugo kept his head down, his horse to the middle of the wide boulevard, and its pace brisk, as if he feared observation by the sentries at the gates of the great walled daimyo estates. Sano followed at a safe distance. So far so good: Chugo didn’t stop or turn his head. But when they entered Nihonbashi, the captain acted increasingly wary. He meandered and backtracked through the streets, pausing at intervals to look over his shoulder. Each time, Sano stopped his horse so Chugo wouldn’t hear the telltale hoofbeats, because this section of the quarter was deserted, with no noise to provide cover. Sano focused half his concentration on avoiding Chugo’s notice.

The other half he devoted to watching his own back. Because the attack he feared could come at any time, and he was most vulnerable now-alone, at night. His preoccupation cost him. Once, when he didn’t stop in time, Chugo’s head snapped alert at the two extra hoofbeats that echoed his horse’s. Later, when Sano turned to check behind him, he lost the captain. He galloped wildly around corners and almost ran into Chugo at a neighborhood gate. Hastily retreating into an alley, he watched Chugo respond to the sentries’ interrogation.

“Otani Teruo, retainer of Lord Maeda,” the captain said when asked his name. The sentries, obviously intimidated by his stern appearance, let him pass without searching or challenging him. At the next gate, Chugo gave his credentials as “Iishino Saburo, retainer of Lord Kii,” with identical results.

Anticipation made Sano’s skin tingle. Was the captain traveling under a series of aliases so no one could report his absence from his post? Or because he meant to commit murder, and wanted no witnesses who could place him near the crime scene?

The captain’s next move completely perplexed Sano. Chugo turned down a deserted street of closed shops. From behind a public notice board, Sano watched him dismount and tie his horse outside the only lit building. Chugo looked up and down the street, then walked up to the shop’s door. Someone opened it at his knock, and he vanished inside.

Sano blinked at his quarry’s abrupt disappearance. His doubts about Chugo’s guilt and Yanagisawa’s innocence resurfaced. Had Chugo befriended his next victim, thereby gaining admittance to the man’s shop, where he could kill without fear of discovery by gate sentries or patrolling doshin? Or did Chugo merely have a late business appointment? Sano dismounted and secured his horse to the notice board. He scanned the area, but saw no one lurking anywhere. Keeping close to the buildings across the street, he stealthily advanced on the shop