Ryuko paused. Then, because Keisho-in rarely responded to subtle hints, he added a clearer warning: “One might wish to exercise caution under these circumstances.”
“Oh, yes, Sano is a fine detective,” Lady Keisho-in said, missing the point. “And I like young Hirata.” She giggled. “I think he likes me, too.”
She could be so frivolous, even at a time like this! Hiding his impatience, Ryuko said, “My lady, Sano’s investigation may turn up information that is detrimental to… any number of persons. No one is safe from scrutiny.”
“You say things in a way that I can’t understand,” Keisho-in complained. “Whatever are you talking about? Who’s in danger?”
Her denseness forced blunt speech. “You, my lady,” Ryuko said reluctantly.
“Me?” Keisho-in’s rheumy eyes widened in surprise. Evidently she’d given no thought to how the murder investigation might affect her. Then she smiled, reaching up to pat Ryuko’s arm. “I appreciate your concern, dearest, but I have nothing to fear from Sano or anyone else.”
Ryuko studied her guileless face with confusion. He’d thought himself adept at reading her after all these years, but now he couldn’t tell whether she spoke the truth. “Your relationship with Lady Harume was… shall we say… less than innocent,” Ryuko reminded Keisho-in.
She let out a merry guffaw that turned into a fit of coughing, and Ryuko had to pound her back before she could continue. “Oh, my dearest, you are such a prude! What can it matter that Harume and I sometimes enjoyed a little bed sport? Surely no one could think it has anything to do with her murder!”
Sōsakan Sano might consider it relevant, if he found out about them. Gossip spread like fire in the Large Interior, and Ryuko feared that someone might let slip a careless word to Sano’s detectives.
“There’s nothing to worry about, dearest,” Keisho-in said.
Did she mean she’d fixed things so well that Sano would never learn anything that could hurt her? Ryuko didn’t trust his patroness to have managed this: Usually she depended on him to handle sensitive business for her. He longed to ask Lady Keisho-in a few straight questions about Harume, yet the cautious politician in him didn’t really want to hear the answers. If Sōsakan Sano accused Lady Keisho-in of murder, then Ryuko’s only defense against a conspiracy charge was a lack of compromising knowledge. So he confined himself to addressing the issue of mutual self-preservation.
“You allowed Sōsakan Sano access to the Large Interior without consulting me,” Ryuko said. “A bit unwise, perhaps. I recommend taking steps to block his inquiries.”
With a grimace of annoyance, Keisho-in waved away the suggestion. She had occasional contrary moods; unfortunately, this was one of them. “Stop talking in riddles, my dearest. Let Sano inquire all he likes. What difference does it make to me?” She puffed out her chest in self-righteous dignity. “I’m no murderer. I’m innocent.”
Really? thought Ryuko. Keisho-in had a history of falling madly in love with younger men and women-like Harume. Inevitably they failed to satisfy her vast need for adoration. When the affairs ended, Lady Keisho-in would fly into a hysterical fury. Usually Ryuko could cajole her out of it, or a new romantic interest would distract her. But sometimes Keisho-in turned vindictive. Two particular incidents haunted Ryuko.
One had involved a concubine named Peach; the other, a palace guard. Both had suddenly vanished from Edo Castle after disappointing Lady Keisho-in. Ryuko’s informants had told him that Keisho-in had complained about her lovers to the Tokugawa high military command. However, no one seemed to know where Peach and the guard had gone, or whether they were still alive. Ryuko guessed that Lady Keisho-in had ordered the pair’s murders. If Sano ever learned of this, he would think she’d arranged a similar revenge against Lady Harume. Ryuko had to make her see the danger she courted by abetting Sano’s investigation.
“Harume spent considerable time in His Excellency’s bedchamber,” Ryuko said.”What if she had become pregnant?”
Looking puzzled, Lady Keisho-in said, “That’s what my son wanted, and what I wanted, too. Why else would I have urged him to do all this?” She looked around the clearing, where the architects busily conferred and the woodsmen sawed.
Ryuko could think of another reason why she’d championed the kennels. Showing mercy toward dogs would bring Tokugawa Tsunayoshi good luck, but the shogun must do his part to beget a son. Was Lady Keisho-in encouraging spiritual actions in the hope that he would neglect the physical ones?
“Let me put it another way.” Pacing the ground, Ryuko mustered his fading patience. “What do you think will happen to you if an heir is born?”
Lady Keisho-in laughed. “I’ll be the happiest grandmother in the world.” Cradling her arms around an imaginary infant, she made cooing noises.
Was she as naïve as she seemed? All marriages harbored secrets, and their union, Ryuko realized, was no exception. Forced to speak crudely, he said, “If Lady Harume had borne His Excellency an heir, she would have become his official consort. She would have supplanted you as the highest-ranking woman in Japan.”
“That would be just a formality.” Lady Keisho-in folded her arms, haughty with annoyance now. “I am Tsunayoshi’s mother. No other woman could ever replace me in his affections. He depends on my counsel. Why, he couldn’t lead the country without me!”
“Your son does not enjoy the responsibilities of being shogun,” Ryuko said, avoiding the issue of whether or not Tokugawa Tsunayoshi led the country at all. “He would rather occupy himself with religion or the theater.” Or boys, Ryuko thought, but did not add. Lady Keisho-in refused to admit her son’s preference for manly love. “With the arrival of an heir, the succession would have been secure. His Excellency might have used this as an excuse to abdicate his position and appoint a council of regents to head the government until the boy came of age.”
This prediction of the shogun’s behavior was shared by many astute bakufu members, but Lady Keisho-in’s features bunched in a stubborn pout. “Ridiculous! My son is a dedicated leader. He won’t retire until death takes him from this world. And he doesn’t need a council to run the government while he has his mother to advise him. He loves and trusts me.”
However, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi also trusted Sano; Ryuko had watched the sōsakan’s influence grow daily. Even a hint of suspicion might jeopardize Keisho-in’s relationship with the shogun, who feared and abhorred violence. If he thought she might be a murderer, he might turn away from her and seek another woman to act as mother-confidant-probably Lady Ichiteru. The devious concubine had regained his favor since Harume’s death, had already borne him two sons, albeit stillborn, and would seize the chance to improve her position.
And then what would happen to Ryuko?
“Please, my lady,” he said. “Just suppose there was an heir, and your son did retire. Who would have more influence over the regent council? You, the mother of a past, retired shogun? Or the mother of the future one?”
Ryuko’s suave voice harshened with agitation, and he bent over Keisho-in, grasping her hands. “If Harume had lived, you might have lost your position as ruler of the Large Interior, your privileges, your power. Sōsakan Sano will realize this eventually, if he hasn’t already. You stand to become his prime murder suspect!”
Across the clearing, a huge oak crashed to the ground. Its branches swayed and rustled: the death throes of a giant. Peasants began sawing up and hauling away the tree’s corpse. As Lady Keisho-in watched, her face took on a crafty, calculating expression that Ryuko had never seen before. She looked positively intelligent. A chill finger of dismay touched Ryuko. Was she finally becoming aware of her precarious position?