“I’ll wait for our party here,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Perhaps you’d like to walk awhile?”
The magistrate was kindly allowing him time to recover from rejection before joining the others as if nothing had happened. Seeing Yanagisawa leave the veranda and disappear into the hall, Sano realized that this might be his only chance to speak with the chamberlain, who might refuse him a formal private audience.
“Thank you, Honorable Magistrate,” Sano said. No longer able to avoid the task that filled him with dread, he wandered down the path and waited.
Soon Yanagisawa came out of the hall and sailed down the steps. Leisurely he descended the hill and strode along the promenade. Sano followed him onto the narrow strip of land that extended into Shinobazu Pond. Yanagisawa walked between the teahouses that bordered it, toward the small island where the shrine to Benten, goddess of water, stood. With sinking heart and dragging footsteps, Sano trailed after him.
Chamberlain Yanagisawa reached the island and passed through the shrine’s torii gate. Inside, a small pine grove sheltered the outer precinct, which was momentarily deserted. Sano caught up and drew a deep breath.
“Honorable Chamberlain Yanagisawa,” he blurted. “May I speak with you?”
Yanagisawa turned. His half-smile vanished when he recognized Sano. His eyes began to smolder; hostility emanated from him in almost visible waves.
“I have nothing to say to you, sōsakan.” Venom seeped through his suave tone. “How dare you intrude on my privacy in this brazen manner? Leave me at once!”
Sano’s courage waned, but he held his ground. Dropping to his knees, he said in a rush. “Honorable Chamberlain, please tell me what I’ve done to offend you. Whatever it was, it was unintentional. And I want to make amends.” If he did, then perhaps the chamberlain would agree to an interview that would undoubtedly clear him of all suspicion.
Instead of replying, Yanagisawa shot out his foot in a vicious kick. His thick-soled wooden sandal struck Sano’s shoulder. Sano sprawled backward, uttering a cry of pained surprise. Anger erupted within him; he longed to take his sword to this man whom Bushido dictated that he revere as his lord’s representative., He wished he could prove Yanagisawa the Bundori Killer… almost.
Yanagisawa stood over him, fists clenched at his sides. White lines of rage tightened the flesh around his mouth. “There is nothing you can say or do to compensate for trying to frame me for murder.”
“I’m not trying to frame you,” Sano protested, still shocked by the chamberlain’s uncharacteristic display of temper. Away from the shogun, he apparently felt no need to maintain his suave poise. Sano stumbled to his feet, realizing that the castle spies must have told Yanagisawa about Noguchi’s search for General Fujiwara’s descendants. “I was only investigating a lead. I had no way of knowing that your ancestry connected you to the murders. Any inquiries I make about you will be strictly formalities, for the sake of a thorough investigation. I haven’t told anyone that you’re a suspect, or tried to incriminate you. Because I can’t believe you’re the Bundori Killer.”
Even as he spoke, he tasted the doubt underlying his denial. Was Yanagisawa angry for the stated reason, or out of fear of exposure?
Yanagisawa appeared not to hear his words. He advanced, backing Sano up against the gate. “You seek to ruin 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, sōsakan, 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, sōsakan, 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.”