The merit of his rationale occurred to Sano, but so did the risk Hirata had taken. Sano said, “The Dragon King had fifty-two men, by our final count. You pitted yourself and Marume and Fukida against them all. You knew the odds were that you would fail. You also knew the kidnappers had threatened to kill their hostages if they were attacked. You put the women in more danger than if you’d left.”
Hirata breathed through his mouth; even though chastened by Sano’s argument, he said, “We killed twenty-two of the Dragon King’s men. By reducing their number, we allowed the women to escape from the palace, where he might have trapped and murdered them once you and the army came. We made your invasion much easier than it would have been if not for us.”
“I realize that. But the outcome doesn’t justify the action.” Knowing he’d often followed the opposite belief and used it to rationalize things he’d done, Sano cursed himself as a hypocrite. “You couldn’t have predicted what would happen when you disregarded my orders. That everything ended well was more a stroke of luck than a credit to you.”
Hirata bowed his head. Defeat settled upon him like a visible, crushing mantle. “You’re right,” he said. “I did wrong. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“I already have.” As Hirata looked up in surprise, Sano said, “If I’d been in your position, I probably would have done the same thing.” He gentled his tone as he added, “I can’t condemn you for wanting to save your wife and child.”
“Then you’re not going to punish me?” Hope vied with amazement in Hirata’s eyes.
“If I were to follow protocol, I would dismiss you from my employ,” Sano said. “But I don’t want to lose you because you made one mistake.”
Furthermore, Sano had always chafed at protocol. “Consider my reprimand and your shame as your punishment,” he said. “Resume your duties. Use better judgment next time.”
“Yes, Sōsakan-sama. Thank you!” Hirata exuded relief as he bowed to Sano. The color came back into his face.
Sano believed he’d made the right decision, and the bad feeling between him and Hirata had dispelled; yet the tension lingered. A line had been crossed during this episode. The kidnapping investigation had irreparably altered their relationship. What the future consequences would be, Sano couldn’t predict.
The name-day celebration took place at Sano’s mansion.
Midori reclined on cushions, holding her baby girl, whom she and Hirata had named Taeko on this sixth, auspicious day after her birth. While Taeko cooed and gurgled, female relatives and friends chattered around her. Little Masahiro offered her his toy dog. She waved her tiny hand at it, while he laughed and Midori smiled fondly. Maids served the women food and wine. A table was piled with red paper envelopes containing gifts of lucky money brought by guests attending the celebration.
Reiko drifted apart from the company and walked to the lattice screen that shielded the women from the male guests who’d wandered out of the banquet room to stroll and talk in the garden. Although she felt glad to be back in her own home, with her family and friends, a lingering unease haunted her. Lady Yanagisawa was somewhere in the house, determined to keep up their friendship despite the fact that she’d tried to kill Reiko. Furthermore, the kidnapping had taught Reiko that safety was an illusion. Not her husband’s love and strength, nor the shogun’s power, could protect her. Not even this festive occasion could brighten her mood.
Ever since leaving the island, Reiko had suffered nightmares in which hoodlums chased her through a forest and the Dragon King mauled her. She woke up with her heart pounding, convinced that she was still imprisoned in the tower instead of in her own bed with Sano beside her. During her waking hours, bloodstained visions of the massacre flashed into her mind. She saw the Dragon King’s face; she felt his brooding stare and his hot, damp touch and breath on her. Beneath the samisen music from the banquet room she imagined she heard waves lapping, a sound that would forever signify menace.
Sano strode along the veranda past the room, glanced through the lattice, and stopped on his way to join the guests. “Are you all right?” he said to Reiko.
He spoke with the gentle concern he’d shown her since that night on the island. But the memory of what had happened there divided them just as did the lattice between them.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Reiko fibbed, not wanting to worry Sano or spoil the party. Not even during their time alone had she wanted to tell the shameful story of her and the Dragon King.
Sano’s expression said that her evasion didn’t fool him. She saw the question in his eyes, and sensed his wish to know what she was withholding from him. Avoiding his scrutiny, she changed the subject: “How nice that so many important people have come to celebrate Taeko-chan’s name day.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not the reason they came.” Sano’s manner turned grim. “For them, this is more an excuse for a political confabulation than an event honoring the birth of a child.”
As she and Sano surveyed the crowd, Reiko noticed the shogun sitting in the covered pavilion. Flushed and laughing, he downed cups of sake that fawning officials poured for him. Beside him, Keisho-in flirted with handsome attendants. Chamberlain Yanagisawa and several retainers hovered below the pavilion near the shogun. Priest Ryuko and a group of monks hovered on the other side, by Keisho-in. The two factions exchanged covert, hostile looks. Reiko watched Yanagisawa glance uneasily across the garden at Lord Matsudaira, Lord Kii, General Isogai, and Police Commissioner Hoshina, gathered together with their cronies. The Council of Elders circulated the crowd in a phalanx, paying respects everywhere, taking sides nowhere yet. Minor bakufu officials flitted nervously from group to group, like birds looking for a safe place to nest. Superficial gaiety masked the strife in the atmosphere.
“This might seem like a congenial gathering, but I can see the different factions as distinctly as if lines were drawn on the ground,” Sano said.
Reiko nodded, sensing the storm brewing within the bakufu’s top echelon. Sano paused, as though searching for words, then said, “Should difficult times come, we must stand together.”
An image of the Dragon King pierced Reiko’s mind. Her fingers clutched the lattice. “Can we?” she murmured.
“Yes.” Sano spoke with sudden emphasis as he turned to her. He lowered his voice beneath the noise of the party: “Now isn’t a good time to bring up the kidnapping, but there may never be a better time. I want you to know that we don’t have to discuss it unless you wish. And nothing that happened on that island will change my love for you.”
Reiko bowed her head, thankful for Sano’s forbearance and constancy. Tears filled her eyes.
“Whatever did happen,” Sano continued, “the Dragon King bears the entire blame. Forget him. Don’t give him more power than he had while he was alive, or more thought than he deserves.”
Although Reiko recognized the merit in these words, she couldn’t forget the Dragon King. She couldn’t forgive herself for encouraging his attentions, especially when she still wondered whether she could have managed things differently and come home with a clear conscience.
“If the Dragon King ruins our lives, then he’s defeated us.” Sano said urgently, “Don’t let him win!”
But neither could Reiko bear the thought of her marriage destroyed by a mad, evil coward. She raised her head and drew a deep breath of determination.
“I won’t let him win,” she said.
She slid open the lattice screen and reached through it. Sano took her hand and held it tight and warm under the cover of his sleeve. They stood together, looking out at the discordant assembly in the garden, like two sailors on a ship heading into the winds of change.