Hirata’s need for vengeance dissolved. His attraction to Ichiteru had vanished with the artificial trappings of fashion and manner; her bitterness repelled him. Finally he could forgive and even pity Ichiteru. Her fate was indeed her punishment. His own concerns seemed trivial in comparison.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
He would have wished her luck, or offered polite words of comfort, but Lady Ichiteru turned away. “Leave me.”
“Good-bye, then,” Hirata said.
Walking back through the garden, he felt years older than when he’d begun the investigation. The experience had fostered wisdom. Never again would he allow a murder suspect to manipulate him. Yet the departure of the strong emotions he’d had toward Ichiteru left a vacancy in his spirit. He should attend to other cases before Sano’s wedding banquet, scheduled for that evening, but Hirata was too restless for work. Filled with vague yearnings, he entered the forest preserve, hoping that a solitary stroll would clear his mind.
He’d no sooner started down a path when a hesitant voice spoke behind him. “Hello, Hirata-san.”
Turning, he saw Midori approaching. “Hello,” he said.
“I took the liberty of following you from the herb garden because I thought-I hoped-you might like company.” Blushing, Midori fidgeted with a lock of her hair. “I’ll go away if you don’t want me.”
“No, no. I’d be grateful for your company,” Hirata said, meaning it.
They wandered between birches that dropped golden leaves upon them. For the first time since they’d met, Hirata really looked at her. He saw the beauty in her clear, direct gaze, her guileless behavior. He could understand his infatuation with Lady Ichiteru as a sickness that had blinded him to good things, including Midori. Thinking about the conversations he’d enjoyed with her, Hirata remembered something.
“You knew that Ichiteru tried to kill Harume last summer, didn’t you?” he said. “And you tried to warn me that she planned to use me to make sure she would never be arrested for the murder.”
Hiding her face behind the shiny curtain of her hair, Midori looked at the ground. “I wasn’t sure, but I suspected… And I didn’t want her to hurt you.”
“Then why didn’t you say so? I know I must not have seemed very eager to listen, but you could have spoken up, or written me a letter, or told the sōsakan-sama.”
“I was too afraid,” Midori said unhappily. “You admire her so. I thought that if I said anything bad about her, you’d think I was lying. You’d hate me.”
That a highborn girl could not only care about him, but also want him to think well of her, amazed Hirata. Now he realized that she’d liked him all along. She didn’t care about his humble origins. Midori’s honest tribute lifted him free of the prison of insecurity. It no longer mattered that he lacked noble lineage or cultured elegance. His life’s achievements-the true manifestations of honor-would suffice. Hirata suddenly wanted to laugh with exultation. How strange that his most humiliating experience should also bring the gift of revelation!
Touching Midori’s shoulder, he turned her to face him. “I don’t admire Lady Ichiteru anymore,” he said. “And I could never hate you.”
Midori regarded him with wide, solemn eyes full of dawning hope. A smile trembled on her lips; her dimples flashed shyly, like sunlight glinting on pearls under water. Hirata felt a spring of happiness as he saw a possible answer to his longing.
“What are you going to do now that Ichiteru is leaving?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ll be lady-in-waiting to one of the other concubines,” said Midori. She added, “I’m supposed to stay at Edo Castle until I marry.”
Or perhaps even afterward, Hirata thought, if he remained stationed here and their fortunes coincided. But that was rushing things. For now, he was satisfied to know they would both be at the castle long enough for the future to unfold.
“Well,” Hirata said, grinning. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Midori gave him a radiant smile. Sleeves touching, they continued along the path together.
“It is my pleasure to open the celebration of the marriage of Sōsakan Sano Ichirō and Lady Ueda Reiko,” announced Noguchi Motoori.
The go-between and his wife knelt upon the dais in the reception hall of Sano’s mansion. Beside them, Sano and Reiko, dressed in formal silk kimonos, sat beneath a huge paper umbrella, symbol of lovers. Wall partitions had been removed, expanding the room to accommodate three hundred banquet guests-friends and relatives, Sano’s colleagues, superiors, and subordinates, representatives of prominent daimyo clans. Glowing lanterns hung from the ceiling; the atmosphere shimmered with the scents of perfume, tobacco smoke, incense, and cooking.
“Like rain after a drought, these festivities are much delayed and therefore all the more welcome,” Noguchi said. “Now I invite you to join me in congratulating the bridal couple, and wishing them a long, happy life together.”
Musicians played a cheerful melody on samisen, flute, and drum. Servants passed out sake decanters and cups, proffered laden trays of delicacies. Cries of “Kanpai!” arose from the guests. His heart brimming with joy, Sano exchanged smiles with Reiko.
The murder investigation was over, albeit not as comfortably as he would have liked. The violent deaths of Lord and Lady Miyagi still disturbed him. Lieutenant Kushida had been transferred to a post in Kaga Province, where he might or might not recover from his obsession and build a new life. Also, Sano felt that he should have guessed that Chamberlain Yanagisawa would sacrifice Shichisaburō, and somehow saved the actor.
However, there would be plenty of time later to review the case, to apply the experience toward better results in future. Relative harmony had returned to Edo Castle. Tonight offered a happy respite from agonizing over the past. How much more significant this celebration was now than if it had taken place right after the wedding! To Sano it seemed a fitting tribute to the bond forged between him and his bride during the investigation. Under cover of their flowing sleeves, they clasped hands.
Magistrate Ueda stood and made the first speech. “Marriage resembles the joining of two streams-two families, two spirits coming together. Though turbulence often results when the waters mix, may they continue to flow forever in the same direction, two forces united for mutual benefit.” Beaming proudly at Sano and Reiko, the magistrate raised his sake cup. “I toast the allegiance between our two clans.”
The guests cheered and drank. Maids poured liquor for Sano and Reiko. Hirata spoke next: “During the eighteen months that I’ve served the sōsakan-sama, I have found him to be an exemplary samurai and master. Now I’m glad that he has a wife of similar honor, courage, and fine character. I pledge my service to them for as long as I live.”
More cheers; another round of drinks. Then an official entered the room and announced, “His Excellency the shogun, and his mother, the Honorable Lady Keisho-in.”
In walked Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, regal in his brilliant robes and tall black cap. Keisho-in minced alongside him, smiling. Everyone bowed low, but the shogun gestured for them to rise. “Relax, we’re all, ahh, comrades here tonight.” Eschewing formality, he seated himself and Keisho-in before the dais. He said to Sano, “My mother wishes to present you with a special wedding gift.”
Four priests wrestled a huge Buddhist altar through the door. As Priest Ryuko directed them to set it in the corner, the assembly stared in awe. Garish carved dragons, deities, and landscapes adorned the teak doors of the ceiling-high butsudan. There were columns inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and a gilt pagoda roof. It was a masterpiece of ugliness.
“Wherever shall we put it?” whispered Reiko.
“In a prominent place,” Sano whispered back. The gift sealed the alliance between him and Lady Keisho-in. With her support he hoped to convince the shogun to enact reforms that would reduce government corruption and benefit the citizens’ welfare. And they needed each other to counteract the influence of Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who was conspicuously absent from the banquet. After the failure of his plot, Yanagisawa would be more eager than ever to ruin them. “That’s the most glorious butsudan I’ve ever seen,” Sano declared. “Many thanks, Honorable Lady.”