“Certainly,” the guard said, and opened the gate. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”
“Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.”
Hirata stalked through the gate; Fukida and Marume followed him into a courtyard. Here samurai patrolled and guardrooms contained an arsenal of swords, spears, and lances. As they entered another gate that led beyond the officers’ barracks, Hirata burned with ill will toward Lord Niu.
History had lain the foundations for their strife. Lord Niu was an “outside daimyo,” whose clan had been defeated by the Tokugawa faction during the Battle of Sekigahara and forced to swear allegiance to the victors almost a hundred years ago. Hirata came from a Tokugawa vassal family. Although most other daimyo accepted Tokugawa rule without rancor, Lord Niu hated the exorbitant taxes he had to pay, and the laws that required him to spend four months each year in Edo and his family to stay there as hostages to his good behavior while he was home in his province. He also hated anyone associated with the regime-including Hirata. The daimyo had opposed the match between Hirata and Midori, who hadn’t bowed to his wishes as tradition required. Their love for each other-and the child that was already on the way before the marriage negotiations began-had necessitated desperate action.
Hirata had tricked Lord Niu into consenting to the marriage, and the daimyo had never forgiven him. Lord Niu had vowed to separate the couple and sworn vengeance against Hirata. All Hirata’s attempts to placate Lord Niu had met with failure. And because of what Hirata had learned about Lord Niu since marriage joined their clans, he believed the daimyo to be the best suspect in the massacre and kidnapping.
He and his men entered the mansion, a labyrinthine complex of buildings connected by covered corridors and intersecting tile roofs and raised on granite foundations. They burst into Lord Niu’s private chamber.
Lord Niu, clad in a dressing gown, knelt on the tatami while a valet shaved his crown with a long razor. Near them sat the daimyo’s chief retainer, a dour, homely man named Okita. Guards stood by the walls. Everyone looked up at Hirata and the detectives in surprise.
“Where is she?” demanded Hirata.
Lord Niu demanded, “What are you doing here?”
He was a short man in his fifties, with swarthy skin and broad shoulders. His most remarkable feature was the asymmetry of his face. The right half was a distorted reflection of the other. The left eye focused on Hirata and blazed with hatred; the right contemplated distant space.
“I want to know where my wife is,” Hirata said, planting himself in front of his father-in-law, despite the creeping uneasiness that Lord Niu always inspired in him. Detectives Marume and Fukida stood behind Hirata.
“How should I know?” Lord Niu regarded Hirata with puzzlement and hostility. “You stole her from me. It’s up to you to keep track of her. Why do you come in here at this early hour, without my permission, to ask ridiculous questions?”
Had anyone else reacted this way, Hirata might have believed he was telling the truth, but Lord Niu was crafty and dishonest. “Midori, Lady Keisho-in, Lady Yanagisawa, and Lady Reiko were abducted yesterday,” Hirata said.
“What?” Lord Niu’s eyebrows shot up; he leaned forward. “How did this happen?”
As Hirata explained, he observed that Lord Niu’s shock appeared genuine. But if he’d arranged the ambush, he would have expected Hirata to come, and prepared to feign innocence. Hirata glanced at the daimyo’s men. The guards and Okita looked wary, and Hirata decided they hadn’t been aware of the crime. Their master often acted without their knowledge.
“Tell me what you did with the women,” Hirata said.
“You think I took them?” Lord Niu rose so fast that he almost knocked over his valet, who’d ceased trying to shave him. He faced Hirata with an incredulous stare.
“Yes,” Hirata said.
“Well, I didn’t,” Lord Niu declared. “Why would I do a thing like that?”
“You want to separate Midori from me and break the union between our clans,” Hirata said. “The Council of Elders expects the ransom instructions to demand money, but I know better. You want to force the shogun to dissolve my marriage.”
Lord Niu looked dumbfounded. “However much I hate you, I did not massacre a Tokugawa procession or kidnap the shogun’s mother. You’re not worth risking execution for murder and treason.” His voice turned contemptuous; his hand shot out and shoved Hirata. “Only a madman would go to such great lengths for a feud with the likes of you.”
That Lord Niu was the madman, Hirata had come to realize when the daimyo had begun pursuing vengeance against him. “You’ve already gone to great lengths,” Hirata said. “When Midori came here for her ritual visit after our wedding, you locked her in and threatened to kill her unless I divorced her.” The memory fueled Hirata’s anger toward Lord Niu. “You didn’t let her out until I showed up with troops and forced you to give my wife back to me.”
“She wanted to stay,” Lord Niu lied brazenly. “You took her against her will.”
“A month later, you pretended to forgive me and invited me to a banquet,” Hirata continued. “I sat beside you while we ate and drank. That night I fell ill with terrible stomach cramps, diarrhea, and vomiting. No one else at the party got sick. The Edo Castle physician said I’d been poisoned. You did it. You tried to murder me.”
“That’s vicious slander.” Lord Niu puffed himself up in indignation. “You just can’t hold your liquor.”
“And this spring, a band of assassins attacked me in town,” Hirata said. “My men and I fought them, and they ran away-but not before I got a good look at them.” Hirata pointed to a hatchet-faced guard standing by the window. “That’s their leader. Too bad for you that your men are inept cowards.”
The guard bristled at the insult and took a step toward Hirata. A warning look from Lord Niu halted him. Lord Niu folded his arms in defiance; his left eye glared at Hirata, while his right dreamed. He said, “You’re mistaken. Those weren’t my men you saw. They must have been some of your other enemies. And I’ve had enough of your false accusations.”
Yet Hirata had even more evidence that Lord Niu would shed blood to satisfy a grudge. When Hirata had asked Midori about her father’s behavior, she’d confessed that he’d always had a wild, violent, unreasonable nature. Lord Niu had vented his ire at the Tokugawa by beating his concubines, fighting his retainers, rampaging through his province, and slaughtering innocent peasants. Furthermore, Sano had told Hirata about the daimyo’s youngest son, now dead, who’d committed such extreme treason that he couldn’t have been sane. The clan had hushed up Lord Niu’s excesses to protect him, and the bakufu had hushed up the treason rather than allow the public to know the regime was vulnerable to attack. Hirata now belonged to a select group of people who knew madness ran in the Niu family. And he believed that Lord Niu’s rage against him had worsened the madness and driven Lord Niu to abduct Lady Keisho-in and slaughter her entourage.
“I’ve had enough of your denials,” Hirata said, advancing on Lord Niu. “I want to know what you’ve done with Midori-san and her friends.”
Though Lord Niu stood only as high as Hirata’s shoulder, his crooked sneer was intimidating. “I couldn’t have abducted them. I’ve been here in Edo the whole time. They’ll tell you.” He jerked his chin toward his men.
“It’s true,” Okita said in a firm, matter-of-fact voice. The valet and guards nodded. “He didn’t do it. He never even left the estate.”
This alibi didn’t convince Hirata. Those men owed their loyalty to Lord Niu, had dutifully stood by him through all the evils he’d done, and would lie to protect him. “Then you must have sent troops or hired mercenaries so you could keep your hands clean,” Hirata said.