A narrow aisle divided a silent crowd that occupied the lower level of the floor. The troops ahead of him blocked Sano’s view of the chamber’s far end. All he could see was the ochre glow of lanterns burning on the dais. The crowd watched the troops march Sano up the aisle. Glancing from right to left, Sano saw rows of unfriendly faces that belonged to officials and daimyo who were cronies of Yanagisawa.
Anyone who might have come to Sano’s aid had been banned.
Sano stepped onto the higher level of the floor. In its middle, a small square of white sand covered the wooden boards-the shirasu, the white sand of truth, symbol of justice. The troops pushed Sano to his knees onto a straw mat in the center of the shirasu. Irony twisted Sano’s cut lips. A short time ago he’d been conducting trials, dispensing justice. If justice were served here, it would be a miracle.
The troops retreated. Now Sano saw the three judges seated at his right, in a row angled to face him and the dais. One was Kato Kinhide from the Council of Elders. The other two were also Yanagisawa’s cronies. Inspector General Nakae audited government operations, which meant he kept a lookout for misbehavior done by everyone except Yanagisawa. Broad of girth, he reminded Sano of an overripe pumpkin-he’d lost most of his teeth, and his face had caved in. Beside him was old, white-haired Lord Nabeshima, daimyo of Saga and Hizen Provinces, whose skin and eyes were yellow with jaundice.
Sano had run afoul of Inspector General Nakae and Lord Nabeshima when they’d been judges in a controversial murder trial. They beheld him with dirty pleasure, anticipating revenge. Sano looked toward the dais. Yanagisawa sat at its center, dressed in a formal black robe with glittering gold crests. The shogun was absent, and Sano knew why: Yanagisawa didn’t want him to talk the shogun into letting him go free. Yanagisawa’s handsome face was theatrically shadowed by the lanterns. His eyes were so rimmed with red and so underscored with dark shadows, his complexion so pale and so carved by lines of grief, that he looked like he was wearing stage makeup. He regarded Sano with a hatred as rigidly cold as chain mail in winter. The pity Sano had felt for this father who’d lost two sons vaporized in the heat of his anger.
There was no place on the battlefield for compassion toward one’s opponent.
“I hereby commence the trial of Sano Ichirō,” Yanagisawa said in a voice hoarse from weeping and raging.
A smile shimmered upon his mouth, its message as clear as if he’d shouted it: All scores between us are about to be settled. For all the wrongs you’ve ever done me, you will pay.
33
At Sano’s estate, his few retainers were locked inside their barracks with the army guarding them. Servants stampeded out the gate. They knew their master was on trial for the murder of the shogun’s heir, and they were leaving before he could be condemned and his household rounded up to share his death sentence. Inside the mansion, Taeko huddled with her mother, brother, baby sister, and Akiko. Midori hugged the children close. Her eyes were filled with fear.
“Mama, what are we going to do?” Taeko asked.
“I don’t know.” Midori’s voice trembled.
“Everybody’s leaving,” Tatsuo said. “Should we leave, too?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Midori said, frantic with confusion.
“I’m scared,” Tatsuo said. “Can we go to our grandfathers?”
Midori’s father, Lord Niu, had an estate in the daimyo district. Hirata’s parents lived in the banchō, an area populated by hereditary Tokugawa vassals. “I don’t know,” Midori wailed.
Her mother’s indecisiveness scared Taeko. She said, “We can’t leave without Masahiro and Lady Reiko.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Midori eagerly snatched at any guidance. “We’ll wait for them. They’ll know what to do.”
“My father will be home soon,” Akiko said. “He promised.” She was serene in her faith in Sano. “He’ll fix everything.”
Nobody had the heart to contradict her. Taeko wished she could help Masahiro solve the murder and save them all. But even if she could bear to leave her mother and the other children, how could she get away?
Midori stood up suddenly. “Maybe we should pack some things, in case Reiko and Masahiro say we have to leave. Tatsuo, Taeko, get some clothes, enough for a few days. Come, Akiko, I’ll help you pack.” Carrying the baby, she hurried Akiko away.
Tatsuo began pulling clothes out of the cabinet. Taeko saw her chance. There was no time to think. Impulse sent her running out the door.
“Hey!” Tatsuo called. “Where are you going?”
Taeko joined the servants fleeing the estate. Following them downhill through the passages inside Edo Castle, she was thankful for the company. She’d never left the castle at night by herself, and it was strange and scary. Lanterns cast shadows in which monsters seemed to lurk. Taeko cringed from mounted patrol guards, their faces dark under their helmets. They looked like suits of armor with invisible ghosts inside. Finally Taeko exited the main gate. It slammed shut behind her. She fought the urge to run back and pound on it. The maids scurried off in different directions. Taeko was alone.
On the avenue outside the castle, the friendly priests and nuns who begged for alms during the day were gone. Soldiers were chasing away other beggars, yelling threats and waving swords at a family camped on a blanket. The man had no legs. He and his wife scrambled to gather up their belongings as their little boy and girl cried.
Taeko hurried toward the daimyo district. The long, broad streets were like dark tunnels enclosed by the walls of the estates. The only light came from lanterns at the gates, where the daimyo’s guards stood watch. The guards called to passing troops. Masculine laughter echoed up and down the tunnels. Few other people were about. The side streets were even darker than the main ones. Taeko turned corners, lost. After what seemed like hours, she arrived breathless at the back gate of Lord Tsunanori’s estate.
“What do you want?” the sentry asked.
“To go in,” Taeko stammered through her fear. “I work in the laundry.”
“Oh, you’re the missing maid.” He opened the gate. Taeko scurried in before she could lose her nerve. He called after her, “Housekeeper’s been looking for you.”
Taeko’s heart sank. She’d forgotten the mean old housekeeper. She tiptoed around the outbuildings to the laundry courtyard. It was dark except for moonlight reflecting in puddles. The tent flaps were closed. Taeko cautiously lifted one and peered inside.
Warm air exuded the smells of lye, mildew, and stale breath. Taeko heard snoring, saw bodies lumped on the ground. The tent was too dark for Taeko to see very far. She took a step into the tent and trod on a foot.
The person it belonged to said in a cross voice, “Hey, be careful.” The girl was Kiku, who’d chased Taeko yesterday. “Taeko? What are you doing here?”
“Shh!” Taeko glanced at the other women. “I have to talk to Emi.”
“I’m going to tell Housekeeper you’re back.”
“No, please, don’t,” Taeko whispered.
A small figure rose inside the tent. Women grunted as Emi stumbled over them. Emi reached Taeko and pulled her outside. They ran together across the courtyard, between buildings, and crouched in the manure-scented shadows behind the stables. Horses neighed.