“Miss Yukiko screamed, too. The young master ordered them both to be quiet. Oh, he was furious. And when the boy wouldn’t stop screaming, he-he-”
O-hisa’s voice dropped so low that Sano had to lean closer to hear. “The young master grabbed his sword and cut the boy’s head off.” She buried her face in her hands and dissolved into sobs.
Sano shook his head, mentally completing the story. The blood-spattered room; Yukiko’s horror; O-hisa cowering outside the window. Lord Niu, his fury quenched by his impulsive act of violence, turning to the task of covering up the murder. Did he regret his preference for boys of his own class instead of eta or other commoners, whom he could kill with impunity?
“Miss Yukiko fainted. The young master shouted for his men, then picked up Miss Yukiko and carried her out of the room.” O-hisa’s trembling voice narrated the scene as Sano envisioned it. “Then the men came. They took away the body. After they left, I could hear Miss Yukiko crying in the corridor. And I heard the young master say to her, ‘If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you!”
So that was why Lord Niu had killed his sister. Yukiko’s high morals wouldn’t have let her keep silent forever, and Lord Niu had known it. And Noriyoshi must have discovered the murder, too, either by spying, or when Lord Niu failed to return the boy he’d procured.
“He knew Yukiko would tell someone, so he killed her,” O-hisa said, confirming Sano’s guess. “If only I had spoken! She would still be alive. It was my duty to sacrifice myself for her, and I failed.” She threw herself at Sano, hands scrabbling against his chest. “Her spirit haunts my dreams. To put her to rest, I must die. So arrest me!”
Sano held her. “It isn’t your fault, O-hisa,” he said, deploring the ingrained loyalty that made her want to punish herself instead of Lord Niu. “If what you say is true, the young master is solely responsible for his sister’s death. Will you help me see that he pays?”
O-hisa’s mouth fell open in dismay. “I?” she whispered. “Oh, no.”
“By doing so you can pacify Miss Yukiko’s spirit,” Sano pressed. “Please.”
“But what can I do?” Hope lit O-hisa’s eyes, eclipsing the dread.
“Come with me to the Council of Elders tomorrow,” Sano said. “Tell them your story.” And he would tell them his. “They will administer justice to young Lord Niu.” Surely they couldn’t do otherwise when they heard O-hisa’s testimony. Daimyo’s son or not, Lord Niu would be punished for a crime of this magnitude.
O-hisa’s eyes unfocused, and Sano watched her turn the idea over in her mind. Then she pulled away from him and hung her head.
“No,” she mumbled. “I cannot betray my master. For myself, I care nothing. But he might punish my family, too, and I cannot let him do that.” She started to back away. “I must go now; I’ve been gone too long, they’ll be looking for me.”
Sano knew the risk he was asking her to take, but he understood her position better than she did. “Lord Niu probably suspects that you know about the murder,” he said. “He knows who was here that night. For now, he’s content to let you live, because the fewer servants who know of his habits, the better. But even if you continue to say nothing, he may decide it’s safer to kill you anyway, just as he did Miss Yukiko. The only way to protect yourself and your family is to deliver him to the authorities before he can act. Don’t you see?”
O-hisa’s mouth worked silently. Her eyes darted from side to side as if trying to see an alternative to this scenario.
Finally she said, “Yes. All right. The young master returns to Edo tomorrow morning, I and the other servants as well. I will go with you to the Council of Elders then.”
“Thank you, O-hisa.” Sano hid his relief under a businesslike manner. “Shall we meet somewhere at noon?” Knowing it wouldn’t be safe for either of them if he went to the yashiki, he cast about for another rendezvous place. “How about in front of Musashi the swordmaker’s.” he suggested, choosing a well-known business in Nihonbashi.
“Yes. All right. Good-bye.” O-hisa bowed hastily, then turned and scurried off toward the servants’ quarters.
Sano watched her go. Would she change her mind between now and tomorrow? Would she talk about their plan with the other servants, who might report it to Lord Niu? He had no time to worry about that now. So far he’d been lucky; the guards hadn’t seen him. He should leave before they came. Besides, he was wet to the skin and so cold that his hands and feet had lost all feeling.
Still he hesitated, remembering the guards’ conversation, Lord Niu’s impatience, and the banquet preparations. What other sinister happenings might they foreshadow? More revelations about Lord Niu’s motives?
Sano crept through the woods until he could see the front of the house. Crouching inside a triangle of thick tree trunks, he watched. Soon he heard hoofbeats on the road outside the wall.
The gate opened to admit two mounted samurai who cantered up the torchlit path, dismounted, and vanished inside the main house. A few moments later, another pair came, then a lone man. Then more, always singly or in pairs. Soon twenty horses stood outside the door. Sano wished he could see into the house. This gathering must have some secret purpose; otherwise, Lord Niu could have held it in greater comfort and convenience at the yashiki.
A sudden movement on the left edge of his field of vision made Sano turn his head. Two spots of light had appeared at the side of the house near where he’d met O-hisa. They began moving toward him. In another moment, he saw the guards’ bulky figures illuminated by the lanterns they carried. A needle of fear pierced his chest as their voices reached him:
“The housekeeper said she heard a stranger’s voice out here.”
“Probably just imagining things, the stupid old hen.”
“Can’t take that chance.”
A shrill whistle split the air. To Sano’s dismay, one of the guards left the front entrance and hurried to meet the others. Twigs snapped as they converged on him. They were less than a hundred paces away.
Sano turned and ran, away from the house, into the dark woods. He tried to move silently, but he couldn’t see where he was going. Invisible branches shot out to rasp against him; unseen puddles splashed under his feet.
“I think I hear something over there.”
The guards came thrashing through the woods after him. An arrow sang past his ear to land in the ground somewhere beyond his sight. Another thunked into a tree he’d just passed. Sano lunged for cover, falling flat on his belly. He lay still as the guards’ footsteps stopped, then began to approach again, cautiously, stealthily. Fighting panic, he half-crawled, half-slithered over grass and mud. He bit back a cry as he tumbled down a short but steep incline. His hands and knees struck stony ground. Nearby a small brook gleamed faintly, reflecting starlight from patches of clear sky between the fleeing rain clouds. Then Sano found sanctuary in the form of a great dead tree stump that stood at the top of the incline. Its gnarled roots made a cave at the water’s edge. He scuttled into the cave, drawing as far back from the entrance as he could.
Quiet footfalls halted above him: all three guards, by the sound. Their lights flashed yellow over the brook. Sano held his breath, fearful that they would see its thin vapor rising from within the cave of roots. Then someone said, “I think he came this way.”
“No,” said the voice that had called the housekeeper a stupid hen. “He’d have jumped the wall.”
The first voice: “We’ll keep looking until we’re sure. The young master’s orders-no trespassers.”
Their voices grew fainter as they moved off. Sano crept from his hiding place and peered over the incline. He saw the lights bobbing through the trees, one toward the front wall, the other deeper into the woods. He relaxed, safe for the moment, although he faced another problem. The guards’ presence made his familiar escape route too risky. He had to find another way out, but he didn’t know how far it was to the rear wall, if he could find his way to it through the woods, or where other guards might be stationed.