“Shut your ugly mouth,” Yugao snapped, “or I’ll shut it for you. Now give me that water.”
“If you want it that bad, you can have it,” Sachiko said disdainfully.
She hurled the water at Yugao. It splashed her face, drenched her robe. Murderous rage filled Yugao. She lunged at Sachiko, and the impact knocked them both to the floor. She pummeled her fists against Sachiko’s face, clawed at her eyes. Sachiko beat Yugao’s head, tore her hair. The other women cried, “Get her, Sachiko! Show her who’s boss!”
Sachiko was bigger than Yugao, and she knew how to fight. Soon she was on top of Yugao. Pinned down, Yugao thrashed, striking out at Sachiko, whose hands grasped her throat. Yugao coughed and choked as Sachiko squeezed the breath from her. But she felt an overriding determination not to die here, in a stupid prison brawl, but to stay alive and receive her rightful death sentence at the execution ground. Her flailing hands found the heavy ceramic water jar. She seized it and bashed Sachiko across the face. Sachiko howled, let go of Yugao, and fell backward. Blood poured from her nose. Yugao flung herself on Sachiko and began beating her head with the jar.
“Stop!” Sachiko cried, sobbing in pain and terror. “That’s enough. You win!”
But a savage lust for violence possessed Yugao. She mercilessly beat Sachiko.
“Get her off me!” Sachiko screamed.
Instead, the other women pounded on the door, calling, “Help! Help!”
Caught up in her madness, Yugao barely heard the iron bars on the outside of the door drop and a jailer say, “What’s going on?” Suddenly the room was full of men. They dragged her off Sachiko, while she shouted and struggled. Sachiko lay moaning; the other women huddled in a corner. Guards dragged Yugao out of the cell.
“We’ll teach you to behave yourself,” said the jailer.
He and the guards pushed her onto her hands and knees in the passage. She fought them, but they held her. They pulled up her robe, and one man knelt behind her. She jerked as his erect organ probed between her buttocks. He plunged into her. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the agony. One after another, the men took their turns. Tears streamed down her face. She told herself that this was nothing compared to the disgrace and suffering that he had experienced. She must endure it for his sake, until the time came to die for him.
The distant clanging of a bell impinged on her awareness. She heard one of the guards say, “That’s the fire signal.” The man violating her withdrew himself; the others let go of her. Yugao collapsed onto the floor, gasping. The guards rushed down the corridor. They unbarred and flung open doors, yelling, “Fire! Everybody out!”
Amid cries of fear and excitement, prisoners burst from their cells. They ran down the corridor past Yugao. She smelled smoke from a blaze somewhere nearby. A guard kicked her ribs as he followed the prisoners out of the jail.
“Get up and go unless you want to burn to death,” he said.
The law ordered prisoners to be released from the jail when fire threatened it. This was one example of mercy in an otherwise cruel legal system. Yugao realized with amazement that everything had just changed. Once she’d thought that her death by execution was all she could offer him and they would meet again only in the paradise that lay on the other side of death. Now fate had intervened.
She scrambled joyfully to her feet. Hobbling with pain and ignoring the blood trickling down her legs, she emerged with the other prisoners into a courtyard where sunlight momentarily blinded her. Clouds of acrid smoke burgeoned above the jail’s roofs in a neighborhood right outside its walls, but the air was fresher than in her cell. Yugao breathed gratefully. Prisoners swarmed from other wings of the jail. The guards hurried them out the main gate.
“Don’t forget to come back as soon as the fire’s out,” the guards called to the departing horde.
As Yugao cleared the bridge over the canal, the city spread before her, bright and beautiful and inviting. What a miraculous stroke of good fortune! She could live, for him and with him. Dizzied with freedom and hope, she raced ahead of the other prisoners and vanished into the alleys of the slums outside Edo Jail without a backward look.
20
I told you that a killer was stalking the newly appointed officials,” Lord Matsudaira said when Sano reported the news of Colonel Ibe’s death. He leveled a triumphant glance at the shogun and Yoritomo seated on the dais above him, and the two elders kneeling nearby. “Do you believe me now?”
“Yes. You were right,” Ihara conceded. Displeasure wrinkled his simian features.
Kato nodded with reluctance that his mask-like face couldn’t hide. Sano, seated beside Hirata on the floor near the shogun’s right, observed the dismayed glance that passed between the two elders: They were worried because the latest murder had given more credence to Lord Matsudaira’s theory that there was a plot against his regime.
Lord Matsudaira glared at Sano. “You were supposed to catch the killer.” His eyes flicked toward the elders, hinting that Sano should have implicated them in the plot. “But instead you tell me that the killer has struck again. How dare you let me down after I put my faith in you?”
“A thousand pardons, my lord.” Sano was mortified, but he accepted the censure in the stoic manner that a samurai should. “There’s no excuse.”
The elders looked gratified by his disgrace and glad that he, not they, had become the target of Lord Matsudaira’s wrath. Hirata and Yoritomo looked worried.
“I, ahh, beg to differ,” the shogun said with the same contrariness he’d previously shown toward Lord Matsudaira. “Sano-san certainly does have an, ahh, legitimate excuse. It was only, ahh, the day before yesterday that he began investigating the murders. You shouldn’t be so impatient for results, Cousin.”
Sano thought how ironic it was that the shogun, who’d always expected instant results from him, should now defend him. The shogun was clearly put out by Lord Matsudaira’s control over him and seizing at opportunities to resist it. Maybe Yoritomo had been prodding him to stick up for Sano.
“His Excellency is right,” Lord Matsudaira said, hiding annoyance and feigning contrition. “Forgive me, Chamberlain Sano. This latest murder isn’t your fault.” His dark glance at the elders proclaimed whose fault he thought it was. “Tell us what progress you’ve made toward catching the killer.”
“I’ve identified a suspect,” Sano said.
Lord Matsudaira leaned forward. “Who is it?”
Sano watched Kato and Ihara brace themselves for an accusation against their clique. “Captain Nakai.”
Surprise showed on the faces of Lord Matsudaira, the elders, and Yoritomo. The shogun frowned as if trying to recall who Nakai was.
“But Captain Nakai…” Ihara began, then stopped.
Fought on Lord Matsudaira’s side during the faction war. How could he be the person who is trying to undermine the new regime? The unvoiced words echoed in the room.
“Why do you suspect Captain Nakai?” said Lord Matsudaira.
Sano explained that Nakai had had contact with Chief Ejima and Treasury Minister Moriwaki during the critical period before their deaths. “And he’s displeased that he hasn’t been honored for his recent performance.”
Lord Matsudaira narrowed his eyes and stroked his chin as he caught Sano’s meaning. The elders couldn’t quite hide their relief that one of his own men had been incriminated instead of them. “Let’s hear what Captain Nakai has to say for himself,” Lord Matsudaira said. “Where is he?”
Sano would rather question Nakai privately, but his position was weak enough already. “He should be on duty in the castle guard command post.”