A rusty, unpleasant laugh issued from Lady Yanagisawa. “Are you so sure? Would you risk your wonderful marriage on the chance that he would believe you instead of listening to me?”
“Of course he would believe me.”
But horror dawned as a shard of doubt lodged in Reiko’s heart. She’d never told Sano what had happened between her and the Dragon King. He’d hinted several times that he wanted to know, but she’d always evaded answering. She’d been so loath to relive that awful time, and to confess the things she’d done in an attempt to win her liberty, that she’d left Sano free to imagine whatever he chose. Now she wished she’d told him the whole story, because it was nowhere near as bad as the one Lady Yanagisawa proposed to tell. Reiko’s secrecy had bred suspicions in Sano’s mind, which malicious slander from Lady Yanagisawa would feed.
“I think I could persuade your husband to believe me,” Lady Yanagisawa said. “Men are possessive and jealous. They don’t like to think that their woman has given her favors to someone else. And they’re suspicious. One hint of infidelity can break their trust. But we needn’t argue about whether you’re right or I am. I’ll just tell your husband my story about you and the Dragon King, and we’ll see what happens.”
Aghast, Reiko blurted, “You stay away from my husband!”
Lady Yanagisawa laughed again. “Perhaps you’re not so sure of him after all. Do you think he’ll be so angry that he’ll divorce you for cheating on him? Do you fear that he’ll throw you out of the house and you’ll never see your son again?”
Reiko did. Although Sano was a reasonable man, she couldn’t predict how he would react to Lady Yanagisawa’s claims. He knew Reiko was hiding something about her experiences at the Dragon King’s palace. There was no one besides herself to refute Lady Yanagisawa. Midori and Lady Keisho-in hadn’t seen what had happened between Reiko and their kidnapper. The Dragon King’s henchmen, who’d witnessed much of it, were dead. And Sano’s trust of Reiko’s fidelity had never been tried before. He might be quick to suspect and retaliate. Even if he didn’t, their marriage would never be the same. Reiko vowed never to keep a secret from Sano again. But her vow came too late to help her now.
“I’ll take the chance that my husband will listen to you and punish me,” Reiko said, pretending confidence. She folded her arms across her chest. “I won’t coax him into conspiring with the chamberlain. I won’t assassinate Lord Matsudaira, not even to protect my marriage.”
“Why not?” Lady Yanagisawa’s gaze, alight with madness, burned into Reiko. “Lord Matsudaira seeks to usurp power from the shogun. He is a traitor to his own cousin. He deserves to die. Isn’t your marriage worth his life?”
“Nothing is worth manipulating my husband or killing in cold blood,” Reiko said.
Yet as she floundered amid this nightmare, a voice deep inside her mind whispered that Lord Matsudaira’s life as well as his clan’s good name were but small prices to pay for protecting her marriage. She didn’t know the man, or care about him. Her own attitude horrified Reiko. But a primitive, selfish part of her would sacrifice almost anyone or anything to keep the husband she loved. It reasoned that Lady Yanagisawa was right, and Japan would be better off without Lord Matsudaira; it inclined her toward believing that she should do the shogun a favor by killing his overambitious cousin. It argued that Lord Matsudaira’s death would prevent a big civil war and save many lives. Reiko pictured herself disguised in the gaudy clothes of an army camp whore, stealing into Lord Matsudaira’s tent, a dagger clutched in her hand.
Lady Yanagisawa smiled a sly, nasty smile. “You’re smart enough to assassinate Lord Matsudaira and not get caught. Your husband will never have to know. The chamberlain will never tell. Nor will I.”
The moral, rational part of herself told Reiko that if she did kill Lord Matsudaira, she must always live with the knowledge that she was guilty of murder even if she got away with it. And killing a member of a Tokugawa branch clan was treason even if Lord Matsudaira could be considered a traitor himself. Furthermore, Reiko knew better than to trust Lady Yanagisawa or the chamberlain. Bowing to blackmail would only put her under their power for the next time they wanted a favor.
“I won’t obey. Leave my house at once,” Reiko said.
Her voice lacked force and conviction. Lady Yanagisawa greeted her wavering with a look that was almost affectionate. “I’ll go now and give you some time to think things over,” Lady Yanagisawa said. “I’ll expect your decision by tonight.”
Clearly, she believed that Reiko would capitulate. Shaken and terrified, Reiko faced the choice between committing murder and treason or losing everything that mattered most to her. “But even if I should decide to give in to you, my husband will resist pinning Senior Elder Makino’s murder on Daiemon. How am I supposed to persuade him?”
“That’s your problem, not mine.” With a triumphant smile, Lady Yanagisawa turned and walked out the door.
29
Lady Yanagisawa arrived, breathless and excited, outside her husband’s office. Her heart throbbed wildly; exhilaration dizzied her. She flung open the door and staggered across the threshold. The chamberlain, seated at his desk, and some eight or ten officials kneeling around him, all stared with disapproval at her. But then the ire on her husband’s face gave way to anticipation. He quickly dismissed the officials, shut the door behind them, and turned to her.
“Have you something to tell me?” he said.
“I did it,” Lady Yanagisawa said, gasping. “I did everything you asked.”
His keen, luminous eyes inspected her for signs of falsehood. Then a deep breath seemed to replenish his spirit and release a flood of anxiety from him. “I now have a foothold in the future,” he said. “And my control over the present is strengthened.” His face relaxed into a gloating, exultant smile. “The advantage is mine. Victory is possible.”
Lady Yanagisawa savored his pleasure. With giddy, almost unbearable expectation, she waited for her reward.
Sudden doubt shadowed the chamberlain’s features. “But are you sure that Lady Reiko will cooperate?”
“I’m sure,” Lady Yanagisawa said, for she believed that a wife who loved her husband would do whatever was necessary to keep his love. Reiko would soon forget her objections and assassinate Lord Matsudaira. The sōsakan-sama would declare Daiemon a traitor and murderer. Lady Yanagisawa would share in the chamberlain’s triumph. That made worthwhile everything that had happened to her.
Lady Yanagisawa had suffered agonies of doubt and misery before her visit to Reiko. She’d known that by forcing Reiko to do something so wrong she would lose Reiko’s friendship. How alone she would feel without Reiko! Her nerve had almost failed her. Then Reiko had said such terrible things to her. Hatred had gained ascendancy over Lady Yanagisawa’s love for her friend. Reiko deserved to suffer.
“Very good,” the chamberlain said, reassured. “All I need do is wait for events to take their course.”
His gaze drifted away from Lady Yanagisawa, as if he were looking at the future when he would rule Japan. “Was there something else you wanted?”
He’d forgotten her reward, Lady Yanagisawa realized with dismay. “You said that if I…” she stammered. “You promised me that you would…”
“Ah. What a good memory you have.” Irritation showed on the chamberlain’s face. Lady Yanagisawa sensed him thinking about all the things he had to do that were more important than spending time with her. “Very well,” he said. “A promise is a promise. You deserve your little treat. Come along.”