“Did anyone think at the time that Tadatoshi had been kidnapped?”
“I don’t know. There was so much confusion.”
“If you didn’t kidnap him, maybe someone else did.” Sano knew it was dangerous to assume she was innocent, but he couldn’t believe she would kidnap a child any more than kill it. “What about this tutor, this monk named Egen, that Colonel Doi mentioned? Could he have done it?”
“No! I mean, I don’t know, I can barely remember him.” She squirmed in bed, her face averted from Sano. “Please, no more questions. That was such a terrible time. I can’t stand talking about it.”
Hana said, “Leave your mother alone, young master. Let her rest.” She used the same no-nonsense tone as when scolding him during his childhood. “Pestering her isn’t going to make her memory come back.”
“Very well,” Sano said, and watched his mother sag with relief. “But we’re going to have to discuss it, the sooner the better. The more information you can give me, the more chance I’ll find out who really killed Tadatoshi.”
As he left the room, he didn’t wonder if she was hiding something. He wondered how much it was, and how bad.
“I didn’t want to say this when the young master was here,” Hana said, “but maybe you should tell him the whole story.”
Etsuko stared at her maid in horror. “I can’t.”
“But he’s said that if he’s to help you, you have to help him.” Hana was sympathetic but firm. No matter that they were servant and mistress; her long years of devotion gave Hana the privilege of speaking her mind. “I think he’s right.”
“I’ve told him plenty.” That had been hard enough. Etsuko pulled the quilt up to her chin. She wished she could crawl under the quilt and hide from her troubles, just as she’d hidden for forty-three years. “He doesn’t need to know the rest.”
“What would it hurt for him to know?” Hana persisted. “After all this time?”
“You saw his face when I told him about my engagement to Colonel Doi. It did hurt him. And it hurt me to see him angry because I hid my past from him.” As heartache and shame filled her, Etsuko rushed to justify her decision. “But I hid it to protect our family’s honor. For his sake as well as mine.”
They shared an understanding glance. Hana knew most of what had happened. She’d stood by Etsuko and faithfully kept her silence. But now she said, “Have you stopped to think that your secrets may come out no matter what you do? There are other people alive who know. Better that your son should hear the truth from you first.”
But the truth was even worse than Hana thought. Etsuko hadn’t shared the whole story with her longtime confidante. She prayed that those who knew would keep the silence they’d maintained all these years. They had as much reason as she, but could she count on their discretion?
“If you don’t tell him, maybe I should,” Hana said.
“No!”
Etsuko grabbed Hana’s arm and clutched it so tightly that Hana gasped in pain. In her eyes shone the fear that her mistress would harm her to keep her quiet. Etsuko experienced her own sudden trepidations that Hana might know more about her and Colonel Doi, Tadatoshi and his tutor, than she’d thought.
“I’m sorry,” Etsuko said, releasing her hold on Hana. “You’re right. I should tell him. And I will.” She had no intention, but she must prevent Hana from talking. “But not yet.” She lay back on the bed, feeling exhausted and ill. “This has been too much for me. I can’t bear any more right now.”
Relenting, Hana tucked the quilt around her. “All right. Rest awhile. I’ll be here if you need anything. We’ll get through this together.”
Etsuko closed her eyes, but knew she would have no rest. The discovery of Tadatoshi’s murder had opened a door to the past, and out of it came the winds of memory, rushing upon her like a storm.
A fierce northern wind buffeted Edo. It shook the houses, penetrated chinks in the walls, rattled bare tree branches, and swept whirlwinds of dust through the streets. After months without rain, the city was as dry as tinder. Every day, sparks from charcoal braziers ignited fires all over town. Buildings burned to the ground in an instant. Fire alarm bells rang continuously. The blue sky was obscured by swirling clouds of black smoke.
Inside the walled estate of Lord Tokugawa Naganori, cousin to the shogun, the gusts jangled wind-chimes that hung from the eaves. Etsuko and a party of other girls were gathered on the veranda, bundled in padded silk cloaks, hoods, and mittens. She was sixteen, the youngest lady-in-waiting to Lord Naganori’s wife. They cheered at the antics of Lord Naganori’s soldiers, who cavorted in the garden, showing off.
A soldier turned somersaults across the dry brown grass and hit a tree. Etsuko and her friends giggled. His comrades jeered. One said, “My turn!”
Tall and lithe, he balanced himself on his hands and effortlessly walked on them up to the veranda. He flipped backward and landed on his feet. As he bowed, the ladies clapped, fluttery with admiration.
“You’re so lucky,” one of the women whispered to Etsuko.
Etsuko was the most beautiful lady-in-waiting, envied by her friends, admired by the men. And she was engaged to be married to Doi Naokatsu, the samurai athlete, whose proud, smiling gaze focused on her.
“He’s so handsome,” sighed another woman.
Even better, he was a favorite of Lord Naganori’s. He currently served as chief bodyguard to the lord’s son Tadatoshi, but he was slated for a much higher position in the future. When Etsuko married him, her future as the wife of a rich, important man would be secure. Her parents were happy about the match they’d arranged for her, and so had Etsuko been, at first. She’d known Doi forever; his family and hers were old friends. She liked him, and she’d welcomed the prospect of having him for a husband.
Until she’d lost her heart to someone else.
Doi and his friends began a mock sword battle, vying for the ladies’ attention. Etsuko slipped into the house. Drafts rattled the lattice-and-paper walls as she tiptoed through the corridors. From a room drifted Tadatoshi’s voice. Etsuko peeked through the door.
Tadatoshi knelt at a table furnished with books, paper, and writing supplies. He recited a lesson from the history of Japan. He was such an odd boy that the sight of him gave Etsuko a creepy, uncomfortable feeling. He seldom spoke voluntarily, his eyes never looked straight at anyone, and he had a peculiar smile. Etsuko’s gaze fixed on the man who sat beside Tadatoshi. Her breath caught.
His shaved head was turned toward his pupil. A hemp monk’s robe clothed his slim body. His long, finely modeled hands toyed with his beaded wooden rosary while he listened. As if Etsuko’s yearning gaze had touched him, Egen turned and saw her. His beautiful, sensitive features made Etsuko tremble inside. Her eyes met his deep, somber ones. She almost fainted.
Until Egen had come to the estate last spring, Etsuko had never been in love. The moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d felt the sweet, exhilarating rapture. And she could tell by his expression that he’d felt it, too. The stories she’d heard, the plays she’d seen, had told the truth: Souls could meet and know in an instant that they were meant for one another.
Now Tadatoshi finished his recitation. Egen corrected his mistakes, then said, “It’s time for your sword-fighting lesson. You may go.”
Tadatoshi stood, bowed, and exited the room. He had a furtive, scrambling gait. He passed Etsuko without seeming to see her. She hardly noticed him. She floated toward Egen, who rose.
“Hello,” he said in his quiet, gentle voice.