However, the threat had not completely died with Lady Harume. Its specter haunted Lady Miyagi, ready to rise again. And a new menace, in the form of the murder investigation, shadowed her life. Even the news of Lieutenant Kushida’s arrest had not eased her mind.
Now Shigeru’s moans grew louder with the urgency of his need. Lady Miyagi gave another signal to the concubines. Snowflake thrust her pelvis against Wren’s face and screamed. Wren arched her back, closed her eyes, and let out a series of blissful cries. Through the wall came a hoarse shout. Tears of joy stung Lady Miyagi’s eyes. Once again she had served her lord’s desire.
Hearing his footsteps retreat, she rose. Snowflake and Wren disentangled themselves and bowed. “That was excellent,” Lady Miyagi said, then walked down the corridor to Shigeru’s bedchamber.
In the light of a lamp on the table, he lay upon his futon, covered with a quilt, his head pillowed on a wooden neck rest. This was Lady Miyagi’s favorite part of the rituaclass="underline" when she and Shigeru came together again. She lay on the futon next to his. They never touched. Shigeru was usually half asleep by this time. Lady Miyagi would wait awhile to see if he needed anything, then snuff out the lamp. Eventually she, too, would sleep, secure in their unique love.
But tonight Shigeru was wide awake, his gaze pensive as he stared at the ceiling. Lady Miyagi said, “What’s wrong, Cousin?”
He turned to her. “It’s this murder investigation.” The worry on his face made him look simultaneously older and younger; in his soft, drooping features, Lady Miyagi could see both her girlhood companion and the elderly man he would become. “Ever since Sōsakan Sano came here, I have been suffering from the most terrible feeling of doom.”
“But why? What have you to be afraid of?” Though she kept her voice calm, Lady Miyagi was disturbed. Why hadn’t she sensed his fear? Why hadn’t he confided in her sooner? Were they losing their precious spiritual connection? Anger filled Lady Miyagi like hot, suffocating flame. Harume had done this! And beneath her anger, a shard of fright lodged in her breast.
How much did Shigeru know? What would happen to them? Suddenly Lady Miyagi didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. Lying rigid beneath her quilt, the fear growing into a jagged crystal in her heart, she braced herself for disaster.
“I’ve heard that Sōsakan Sano is a man who will stop at nothing to discover the truth,” Shigeru said. “Suppose he finds out what happened between Lady Harume and me? I could be charged with murder.”
“He already knows about the affair,” Lady Miyagi said reasonably, though horror sickened her. Shigeru, arrested-perhaps even convicted and executed? How would she live without him? “You’ve admitted sending the ink, but Sōsakan Sano can’t prove that you had anything to do with the murder.” She had to force herself to speak the next words: “And what more is there for him to find out?”
Even in her terror of losing Shigeru, Lady Miyagi tasted bitter jealousy. She didn’t want to learn anything about him and Harume that she didn’t already know; she didn’t want to be hurt again.
“Harume said that unless I gave her ten thousand koban, she would tell the shogun I had forced myself on her,” Shigeru said unhappily. “I thought she was bluffing, but I couldn’t be sure. So I paid her, a little at a time, so you wouldn’t notice money missing from the household accounts. I didn’t want you to worry.”
Shigeru seemed to deflate, as if drained by the confession. “Harume’s blackmail gives me a strong motive for murder. If Sōsakan Sano learns of it, I’ll be the prime suspect. Now do you understand why I’m afraid?”
Relief flooded Lady Miyagi. Forgetting her doubts and fears, she wanted to laugh with joy. Blackmail-that’s all it was, not another cruel betrayal. And how kind of her husband to consider her feelings. New confidence flowed through Lady Miyagi, washing away her suspicion that he’d hidden the truth from her for some less noble reason. She was the strong, sensible one who always took care of problems. She could avert any threat, triumph over any adversary who threatened them.
“Don’t worry, Cousin,” she said. “I’ll fix things so that you’ll be safe from Sōsakan Sano. Rest now, and leave everything to me.”
Shigeru’s eyes were tearful with relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Cousin. What would I ever do without you?”
Rolling over, he snuggled under the quilt. Lady Miyagi extinguished the lamp. Soon Shigeru was snoring quietly, but she lay awake, scheming. Lieutenant Kushida was the logical prime suspect, and Lady Miyagi expected him to be convicted of the crime. Yet she didn’t dare count on it. From the beginning she’d anticipated and prepared for trouble. Already she’d acted in their mutual defense. Now she must take further steps to protect her beloved husband. Their special marriage.
Her life.
26
As midnight approached, the fog dispersed over the banchō, the district west of Edo Castle where Tokugawa hereditary vassals lived. Stars glittered in ragged patches of indigo sky. The moon’s radiance turned the fleeing mist to a silvery haze that lit the labyrinth of deserted streets. In the dense bamboo thickets surrounding hundreds of tiny, rundown yashiki, nocturnal life seethed. Foraging rats rustled the wet leaves; stray dogs fought; crickets chirped. But most of the human population slumbered within dark houses. Sentries dozed in gatehouses, enduring the tedium of a quiet watch. All was peaceful-except the Kushida estate: There torches burned above the gate and around the bamboo thicket. Tokugawa troops patrolled the perimeter and perched on the thatched roof, preventing the escape of the criminal under house arrest.
In a small, dark storage chamber converted to a jail cell, Lieutenant Kushida lay on his futon. The alchemy of sleep carried him out of imprisonment, into the Large Interior. Down empty corridors he followed the sound of Lady Harume’s singing:
“Summer’s green bamboo shoots grow tall and bold,
The lotus spreads its pink petals…”
Kushida’s heart filled with joyous anticipation. This time she would accept his love. She would satisfy the terrible lust that gnawed at him.
“Rain showers the roofs,
A cuckoo calls-
Come to me, my love…”
At last Kushida arrived at Lady Harume’s door. He pushed it open and saw Harume lying dead on the floor. Blood drenched her nude body and long, tangled hair. The fatal tattoo branded her shaven pubis like ink on ivory. As Kushida stared in horror, Lady Harume’s eyes opened. Her hand beckoned. In a strangled croak, she sang:
“Come to me, my love!”
Jerking awake, Kushida lurched upright in bed. His chest heaved as though he’d been running. And his manhood was erect, painfully engorged with the lust he still felt for Lady Harume. She had haunted his dreams ever since they’d first met. After her death, the dreams had become nightmares. Yet love and desire persisted. And within his spirit, like underground steam seeking a fissure through which to explode, swelled his anger toward the woman who had humiliated and ruined him.
Clambering to his feet, Kushida cursed himself for succumbing to sleep and allowing the dreams to come. But he’d needed a reprieve from the harsh reality of his situation. Now he paced the floor, trying to bring his emotions under control.
At first he’d attempted to resign himself to his imprisonment with samurai stoicism. He’d spent the day in quiet meditation, eating the meals brought to him, depositing his urine and feces into the waste-bucket. But soon he could hold his peace no more. The room had grown dark and steadily colder since nightfall because his captors would give him no lamp or charcoal brazier, lest he try to burn his way out. The shame of being caged like an animal tormented his spirit. And the internal pressure of anger and need expanded within him, fueling his desperate craving for freedom.