Jokyōden must be laying in supplies to build a fort and provision an army.
‘Buy ten loads each of copper and silver.’
She would also need to pay her troops, Yanagisawa guessed. Exhilaration filled him. Even if he hadn’t located the outlaws or weapons, he was collecting evidence that tied Jokyōden to the conspiracy.
“A wise decision to buy now,” said the proprietor. “I predict that the prices of those commodities will rise soon.”
Maybe Jokyōden was also speculating on prices as a means of raising funds for the revolt. Yanagisawa savored the fact that he, not Sano, had made this discovery. And if Jokyōden was guilty, then Hoshina was not…
“ ‘Transfer five hundred koban to her personal account,’ ” read the messenger.
Was this a loan to finance the revolt? If Jokyōden would incur such a large debt in addition to her lavish spending, she must be seriously committed to restoring the Imperial Court to supremacy. Her nerve impressed Yanagisawa. Had she killed Left Minister Konoe because he’d discovered her illicit deals?
Still, her gender prevented Yanagisawa from believing in Jokyōden’s guilt. Although he knew she managed court affairs with the authority of a male official and he’d found this new evidence of her bold, unfeminine ambition, he couldn’t picture Jokyōden stalking him through the palace compound. He couldn’t imagine any woman possessing the power of kiai.
Suddenly two huge samurai came running down the alley toward him from opposite directions. They seized Yanagisawa, ripped off his swords, and flung him facedown on the filthy ground. A heavy foot pressed down on his neck. The door opened, and the proprietor’s voice demanded, “Why were you loitering around my office?”
“Let me up!” Yanagisawa ordered, furious. The bank’s staff must have spotted him out front, become suspicious, and sent guards after him. “Do you know who I am?”
“A would-be bank robber, I bet.” A pair of sandaled feet, topped by bare legs and a short kimono, came into Yanagisawa’s view. This man carried a jitte- the parrying weapon used by the police. “You’re under arrest.”
The doshin’s assistants bound Yanagisawa’s wrists, dragged him to his feet, and hustled him down the alley. “If you don’t release me at once,” Yanagisawa raged, “you’ll be sorry. I’m the shogun’s second-in-command!”
“Sure you are,” the doshin scoffed. “We’ll just take a walk down to police headquarters and sort this all out.”
29
After leaving Lady Jokyōden, Sano went to the imperial consorts’ residence. Lady Asagao was no longer a suspect, but he needed to resolve some unfinished business concerning her.
He found Asagao reclining on cushions on the shady veranda of the residence. Ladies-in-waiting plied large fans to create a cooling breeze around her. Clad in layered pastel robes, Asagao wore her hair in a limp plait. A physician dressed in a long dark blue coat fed her potions from ceramic bowls. When Sano climbed the veranda steps, she turned toward him. Apprehension pinched her round face, which looked sallow and plain in the absence of her usual makeup. Her attendants eyed Sano with distrust. The physician glowered.
“Lady Asagao must not be disturbed,” he said. “The ordeal of imprisonment has weakened her health. To recover, she needs rest and quiet.”
Sano knelt by Asagao, bowed, and said, “Your Highness, I apologize for your ordeal. It was an abominable mistake, and I beg your forgiveness.” That Chamberlain Yanagisawa had manipulated them both into the false arrest hardly diminished the guilt he felt toward Asagao. “However, I must request your assistance. Will you be so kind as to answer a few questions?”
The emperor’s consort pouted. “Why should I?” she said sullenly.
Why indeed, thought Sano. She didn’t need to defend herself against further accusations, and she had no reason to voluntarily help someone who’d torn her away from her home and imprisoned her. The law permitted intimidation and torture to extort information from witnesses, but Sano didn’t want to inflict more suffering on Lady Asagao or further antagonize the Imperial Court, so he must give her a different incentive to cooperate.
“I’ve discovered a plot to overthrow the Tokugawa regime,” Sano said. “The plot is almost certainly connected with the murders. It’s imperative that I catch the killer before he or she can kill again or bring war upon Japan. His Majesty the Emperor and your father are still under investigation.”
Sano paused to let Asagao absorb his words, then said, “More mistakes could occur. Another innocent person might be subjected to the same treatment as yourself. Wouldn’t you like to prevent that?”
Asagao squirmed on the cushions; her eyes darted like minnows trying to escape a fishing net. She might not possess great intelligence, but Sano perceived in her a natural cunning. She’d understood his implied threat to punish her kin unless she cooperated. Now she cast a pleading glance at her companions and made a weak attempt to sit up.
“I don’t feel well,” she whined. “Take me inside.”
The physician and ladies-in-waiting moved to help her, but Sano steeled himself against letting Asagao use her illness to escape him. “Leave us,” he told her attendants.
They reluctantly obeyed. Asagao cowered on the cushions, fearful yet defiant. Sano said, “Let’s talk about the night Left Minister Konoe died. You told my wife that you were with your ladies-in-waiting. Later they admitted that you’d sneaked out to meet someone. Which is the truth?” Although he didn’t really believe that determining Asagao’s whereabouts would solve the case, unanswered questions bothered Sano. “Where were you?”
Asagao said, “I was in the tea ceremony cottage. With my father.”
Sano recognized the story that Right Minister Ichijo had told Chamberlain Yanagisawa. He also knew that Yoriki Hoshina had established that the cottage had been occupied by a pair of lovers, and therefore not by Ichijo and Asagao. Obviously, Ichijo had instructed his daughter to corroborate his lie. She’d provided her father with the alibi she no longer needed. The probable reason behind her deception gave Sano an idea how to turn Asagao’s motives to his advantage.
“Were you ever present when your father counseled the emperor?” Sano asked.
“Sometimes.” A puzzled frown wrinkled the consort’s brow.
“What did they talk about?”
“I don’t remember. Court business, I suppose. I didn’t pay much attention.” Asagao spoke with eager nervousness, as if hoping that ignorance would safeguard her until she could figure out where the conversation was heading.
“Did His Majesty talk about past emperors who had tried to overthrow military regimes?” Sano said. “Did he ever express the desire to do the same.’
Shocked comprehension dawned in Asagao’s eyes. She sat up and blurted, “No. Never.”
“His Majesty wants to rule Japan, doesn’t he?” Sano said. “He not only fights make-believe battles; he’s planning a real one. Did he tell you that he’s been bringing weapons into Miyako and recruiting soldiers for a war against the Tokugawa?”
“He wouldn’t do that!” Asagao cried.
“Wouldn’t he?” Sano said, wondering if Asagao was really surprised, or if she’d already known about the conspiracy. “His Majesty is bored by his sheltered life. He’s puffed up with conceit and dreams of glory. But plotting a coup is treason. For such a serious crime, not even an emperor can escape death.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Panic shone in Asagao’s eyes. “Tomo-chan would never try to overthrow the bakufu!”
Whether she was lying didn’t matter; it wasn’t Sano’s intention to gain evidence against Tomohito right now. The emperor was just bait for a trap. “Yesterday the soldiers and weapons were in a house belonging to Lord Ibe of Echizen Province. Did His Majesty ever mention it?”