Finally, fearing he might lose them if they turned onto one of the trails that branched off the main road, he sped up and took to the woods.
Firewood gatherers had cleared the ground of dead branches that might have slowed his progress, but Sano had to contend with other hazards. Rocks thrust their sharp points against his already sore feet. Puddles soaked him to his knees. An arrow stuck into a tree told him that he was in some lord’s hunting ground. As he hurried to keep Lord Niu’s palanquin in sight, he expected a party of mounted hunters to descend on him at any moment. To his relief, the trail ended a short distance ahead, at a wall with a roofed gate bearing the Niu crest. The bearers set down the palanquin while two samurai came out of the guardhouses and opened the gate.
Sano watched from the woods as the gate closed behind the bearers and the palanquin, and the guards returned to their houses. This must be the Nius’ summer villa. With the daimyo in his province and the rest of the family spending the winter in town, Sano didn’t expect to find the villa heavily guarded. He approached it at an angle, moving deeper into the woods, away from the road and gate. Then, as he neared the wall, he heard the squelch of footsteps on the damp ground. Quickly he crouched behind a bush to peer through it at the pair of armored samurai carrying bows and arrows. As they marched past, snatches of their conversation reached him:
“I’ll be glad to get back to Edo. Too quiet here.”
“Not tonight, though.” Laughter.
What did that mean? Sano waited until he heard them talking with the guards at the gate. Then he hurried in the direction from which they’d come. Additional patrols, if any, would be spread out around the estate. He followed the wall’s curve until he could no longer see the road or gate. He paused to watch and listen. No one was inside the observation towers mounted at intervals along the wall. The forest seemed deserted, its gloom deepening with the fading sky, quiet except for the steady drip of water from the trees. Sano stole up to the wall.
Made of earth and faced with flat stones fitted together without mortar, it rose high above Sano’s head. He began to climb, his fingers and toes finding precarious holds in the cracks between the stones. His straw cape rustled loudly, and he winced at the noise. He pulled himself on top of the wall and lay there, looking down at the other side. There he saw more forest, similar to the one he’d just left-a natural-looking mixture of evergreen and deciduous trees and shrubs. It, too, seemed deserted. Sano waited a moment more. Seeing no one, he dropped over the edge of the wall. His cape rustled again as he landed. He hastily tore it off, burying it under a pile of dead leaves. The rain had almost stopped, and his dark cloak and trousers would make better camouflage in the coming twilight.
He stood up and began moving in the direction of the gate. A trail led through the woods, probably cleared to make a scenic walk for the daimyo’s ladies. It curved and wound, then ended at the edge of a clearing. Ahead Sano saw a wide gravel path leading from the gate. His eyes followed it to the distant house at his left. Immediately he felt as though he’d gone back in time.
Built in a style popular some eight hundred years ago, the Nius’ tree-shaded summer villa crowned a small rise in the land. The large main house, or shinden, a boxy shingle-roofed wooden structure raised on stilts, faced south. At the foot of its steep staircase rested Lord Niu’s deserted palanquin. Two more guards stood watch over a door fronted by a wide veranda and sheltered by a pillared roof. Covered corridors led from each side of the shinden to similar but smaller houses. Diamonds of light glowed behind the window lattices of all three buildings. From each side house, Sano guessed, another covered corridor extended backward, enclosing a rear garden and ending in open pavilions. Behind this compound, more interconnected buildings would house family apartments, servants’ and retainers’ quarters, kitchens, and stables. He’d seen such dwellings in old paintings. Female authors of the Heian imperial court, such as Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shōnagon, had written their poems, stories, and diaries in them. Prince Genji had carried out his romantic intrigues in the chambers, pavilions, and gardens. Lord Niu’s coming here out of season, in an unmarked conveyance, suggested some more sinister purpose for the elegant villa.
Moving from tree to tree, Sano approached the rear of the house. The clearing paralleled the covered corridor he’d expected to find. He stopped just short of the rambling wooden family quarters and crawled under the raised floor of the pavilion at the end of the corridor. Reaching the opposite side, he peered cautiously out toward the shinden. The back garden contained a small lake with an island in the middle. Arched bridges connected the island with the shore. Sano jerked his head back when he saw two more guards standing on the rear veranda. His curiosity, piqued by the other guards’ conversation, increased. Did all the daimyo keep such tight off-season security on their summer estates, or were these men here for a special reason? Were there more inside the house? He wouldn’t get anywhere near Lord Niu with them around. Frustrated and exhausted, Sano squatted under the pavilion, wondering what to do next. He leaned against the curved wooden surface of a large object beside him.
Maybe its half-familiar contours sparked a sense of recognition in him; maybe his samurai training made him wary of things encountered in dark places where he shouldn’t be. Whatever, Sano examined the object. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, he saw that it was a boat. Not a flimsy craft for carrying ladies about the lake, but a sturdy wooden punt with an equally stout oar laid across it. Sano reached inside. His fingers touched tatami, rolled into a loose bolt. He probed the bolt and thought he felt something at the center. Keeping his ears strained for footsteps, he unwound it. He hoped the guards couldn’t hear the faint rustle of the matting from this distance. The last fold opened. Two soft objects fell onto the ground beside Sano. He picked them up. Triumph flared within him.
In one hand he held a sandal, made of straw and heavily worn on the inner heel. His other hand tightened around a coil of rope. He’d seen the sandal’s mate in Dr. Ito’s dissection room: it belonged to Noriyoshi. He would swear on his life that the rope had once bound the matting around two bodies during transport between here and their watery grave. Mentally reconstructing the murders, Sano imagined Lord Niu bringing his victims to the villa-Noriyoshi with the promise of money, perhaps, and Yukiko with a simple brother-to-sister command. Stealing up behind them to deal the fatal blows. Carrying the unwieldy bundle by horseback to the river’s edge, where the boat waited. Then having the boat and its contents retrieved at his leisure. Sano thrust both sandal and rope inside his cloak. The first real smile in days tugged at the corners of his mouth. This evidence he could take to the authorities-not Magistrate Ogyu, but higher, to the Council of Elders. They would have to listen to him now.
But instead of making straight for town, he hesitated. He still didn’t know why Noriyoshi and Yukiko had died. The absence of a motive weakened his case against Lord Niu. He must find out what it was, even if he had to stick with Lord Niu all night.
Inspiration came when he saw that the corridors leading from the pavilions to the side houses were elevated, too. He could look straight down the narrow, stilt-framed tunnel beneath the one adjoining his pavilion and see daylight on the far side. Carefully he crawled toward the light. Halfway there, he heard the guards’ voices from the veranda. Would they hear him? It was darker under the corridor than under the pavilion, and he swept the ground ahead of him with his hands as he advanced. One bump against an unexpected obstacle, one tumble into a hole would alert the guards.