“Good enough.” Sano pretended grudging concession, hid his relief that he could count on Lord Tsunanori to keep quiet about the investigation.
It was the only bright spot in his investigation, which was already going wrong, leading away from Yanagisawa.
7
The Shogun’s heir’s residence was isolated in the western fortress of Edo Castle, on the tier of the hill just below the palace. Enclosed by stone walls topped by covered corridors and a guard tower, the residence was a miniature version of the palace. Damage from the earthquake had been repaired. The residence was a safe nest from which the new dictator of Japan would eventually hatch.
Yanagisawa strode through the chambers, sliding open the partitions between them, admiring the gilded landscape murals, smelling the fresh, sweetly scented tatami, and exulting in the territory he’d won in this round of his battle for power.
“I’ve done it. We’re here at last, set to rule Japan!”
At the opposite end of the building, Yoshisato stood in his new room. He rearranged books and clothes that the servants had unpacked. “What do you mean, we? I’m the one who will inherit the dictatorship.”
Stung by his ungraciousness, Yanagisawa said, “You couldn’t have gotten here by yourself.” He moved toward Yoshisato. “Whose idea was it to pass you off as the shogun’s son?”
“Yours,” Yoshisato admitted grudgingly. He rammed books onto shelves.
“Well, then.” Yanagisawa prided himself on the brilliant scheme he’d dreamed up after he’d lost his favorite son, after Ienobu had devised a plot to banish him from court. Yoshisato, one of his other four sons, was his salvation. “Don’t forget how hard I’ve worked to convince the shogun, his clan members, and his top officials that you are indeed his son. Don’t forget how much money I’ve paid in bribes to persuade people to support your bid for the succession.”
“Don’t forget that it wasn’t your money. It came from my allowance from the shogun.”
“Without me you wouldn’t have that allowance. So you shouldn’t mind if I celebrate our accomplishment.”
“Do it by yourself. Now that I’m the shogun’s heir, I don’t need you anymore.”
Fear stabbed Yanagisawa. He’d known that the day he put Yoshisato in line to become the next dictator could be the day he outlived his usefulness to Yoshisato. They’d been at odds during their four-month collaboration. It was a miracle that they’d come this far together.
“You do need me.” Yanagisawa had to convince Yoshisato. One bad word from him, and the shogun would throw Yanagisawa out of the regime. Yanagisawa’s enemies would descend on him like a pack of wolves. “I’m the one with a lifetime of experience in politics. You’re just a seventeen-year-old boy. Without me, you’d be eaten alive.”
“I won’t be seventeen forever,” Yoshisato said, irritated because Yanagisawa was right. He meticulously folded clothes into drawers. “And I’ve learned a lot.”
“With my tutoring,” Yanagisawa reminded him. “And I got rid of witnesses who could have testified that your mother never slept with the shogun.” He’d scoured the city clean of officials and servants who’d worked in the castle at the time Lady Someko was purported to have been the shogun’s concubine. He’d also cleared out people in his own household who knew she’d been sharing his bed at the time Yoshisato was conceived. He’d bribed the witnesses to keep quiet, threatened them, sent them to faraway places, and had the most dangerous ones assassinated. “You couldn’t have done that for yourself. And you need me to deal with the false witnesses who are sure to crop up.” How he resented having to justify his worth to this insolent young man!
Yoshisato glowered, resentful of his own need. “All right. You can stay until the shogun dies and I take over. Then you go.”
That the dictatorship would someday be entirely in Yoshisato’s hands! Yanagisawa forced a scornful laugh. “If you think you’ll be fine on your own once you’re shogun, then you’re a fool. There are many Tokugawa relatives who would like to rule Japan themselves. When the shogun’s not around to protect you, they’ll rise up against you. I’m the one who has powerful allies to back you with their armies.”
“You also have powerful enemies. As long as you’re with me, they’re my enemies, too. When I dump you, they’ll accept me as their lord.”
“I’ve heard your lame political theories before: Get rid of me, and my enemies will be so grateful, they’ll let you rule happily ever after. What you don’t understand is that bad blood runs deep. My enemies won’t forget that you’re my protégé. They’ll destroy you as revenge on me. And Sano will lead the charge. You shouldn’t have insisted on keeping him in the regime.”
“That’s the price you pay for my cooperating with your plot,” Yoshisato said with a grin. “Let Sano stay, or I tell the shogun I’m not his son and you made me pretend to be.”
Yanagisawa fumed at the ultimatum. “You won’t tell the shogun now.”
“Try me. Kill Sano. See what happens.”
Yanagisawa glared at Yoshisato, whose smirk widened to a nasty grin. He didn’t dare call Yoshisato’s bluff. He didn’t trust Yoshisato not to jeopardize them both for the sake of a victory in their private war. The boy was as ruthless as he was. The same blood flowed in their veins. Yanagisawa knew it, no matter that he’d convinced half the world that Yoshisato belonged to the shogun.
“You’re asking for trouble by keeping Sano around just to spite me,” Yanagisawa said. “If he can’t prove you’re not the shogun’s blood heir, he’ll wait until the shogun is dead, and he’ll assassinate you before you’ve ruled Japan for one day.”
“He won’t,” Yoshisato said with confidence. “Sano’s not like that.”
Incredulous and disdainful, Yanagisawa said, “I’ve known Sano a lot longer than you have. He will. That’s what I would do.”
Yoshisato regarded Yanagisawa with sardonic amusement. “Your trouble is that you judge Sano, and me, and everyone else by your own measure. It blinds you to reality.”
Yanagisawa grimaced. There was no use arguing. He and Yoshisato were equally stubborn. Like father, like son. “Very well. Keep Sano at court as if you’re a little boy with a pet viper in a basket. Someday you’ll see that I’m right.”
Yoshisato laughed. “If Sano does assassinate me, it would be worth it, having him beat you in the end.”
The magnitude of his antipathy hurt Yanagisawa; he loved his son even though he detested the youth’s attitude. “Why do you hate me so much?”
Yoshisato gazed at him with fierce, hard eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t waste that much emotion on you.”
“Fine.” Yanagisawa pretended indifference, but he longed for Yoshisato to love him in return. He’d been terribly lonely since his favorite son, Yoritomo, died. He missed having someone who cared about him. He cursed himself for craving more from Yoshisato than Yoshisato was willing or able to give. “So why can’t we be friends? It would make things easier for both of us.”
“Excuse me for not feeling particularly friendly toward you. You ignore me for my whole life, and then my half brother dies and you need a new political pawn, so you come sucking up to me. What a wonderful basis for friendship.”
Yanagisawa knew that Yoshisato was hurt because Yanagisawa had, in effect, disowned him by positioning him as the shogun’s son. “So I didn’t fuss over you like a mother hen while you were growing up. Not many fathers would have.” Yanagisawa’s own father had been a cold, ambitious man who’d introduced Yanagisawa to the shogun as soon as Yanagisawa was old enough to tempt the shogun’s sexual appetite. Yanagisawa’s longtime affair with the shogun had resulted in many political and economic benefits for his family. “But I’ve given you something worth far more than my attention-the chance to rule Japan. And I’m here now. Can we put the past behind us and make a fresh start?”