“Here, lie down.” Sano pressed her gently onto the floor.
Reiko told him about the evidence that Masahiro and Taeko had gathered. “But it was all for nothing!”
“Never mind,” Sano said. “Breathe. Relax. Masahiro, bring your mother some water.”
What did it matter if she lost the baby? She was going to be burned to death, and the baby with her, tomorrow. Reiko thought of the woman she’d once seen tied to a stake. It had been a glimpse of her own future. She began trembling. More screams threatened to burst from her. Masahiro knelt beside her, a cup in his hand, his face white with fear. She forced herself to drink and smile. He and Sano looked momentarily relieved. The contractions stopped, but Reiko was too devastated to do anything except lie there while tears spilled from her eyes.
“How long do we have?” Masahiro said.
“Until tomorrow, after Yoshisato’s funeral,” Sano said.
Detective Marume came in. “Let’s hope it’s a long one.” His wretched expression said that he’d overheard everything. Nobody laughed at his attempt at a joke.
“Are we just going to sit here and wait?” Masahiro said.
“I guess so,” Sano said, then shook his head emphatically, pointing to the door through which the troops might eavesdrop. He put his finger to his lips, then whispered indignantly, “Of course not. Does our family ever give up without a fight? No! I have a plan.”
He was taking on the burden of upholding morale, as Reiko had done when he was downcast and weak. Love for him made her cry harder. She sensed that he didn’t have much faith in this plan of his, but he would pretend he did, to raise her and Masahiro’s spirits.
“What is it?” Masahiro said eagerly.
Sano whispered his plan. It seemed the product of desperation rather than sane, practical thinking. But Reiko, Marume, and Masahiro nodded. They had nothing to lose. And the best Reiko could do was support Sano in his impossible plan.
“We’ll have to wait until morning,” Sano said.
36
The rising sun spilled a golden glow over Edo. Townspeople massed along the main street, waiting to see the procession that would accompany the shogun’s dead heir to Zōjō Temple. Troops kept the space outside the castle gate clear of peddlers hawking tea and rice crackers to the throngs. Nuns and monks sold incense, prayers printed on wooden tags, and amulets for the biggest funeral in recent memory.
Inside the castle, samurai and ladies dressed in white, the color of mourning, emerged from their mansions. They streamed uphill through the passages to the palace. There, priests in saffron robes, equipped with drums, gongs, bells, and cymbals, were gathered. Troops held white lanterns, and banners emblazoned with the Tokugawa crest, on long poles. Servants lit incense burners. Maids brought huge bouquets of flowers. White doves fluttered in bamboo cages. Bearers stood by the funeral bier-a miniature house that contained Yoshisato’s remains, decorated with flags and gilded artificial lotus flowers, mounted on two horizontal wooden beams. Everyone waited for the shogun and his entourage.
Sano’s estate was the only one in the castle from which nobody went to join the funeral procession. Inside the mansion, Sano stood by the front door. His bandaged face felt like raw, stiffening leather. The cuts burned as if carved with a hot knife. They throbbed in a warning rhythm.
In his lifetime he’d engaged in many subterfuges but never considered himself a good actor. Now he must act the role of a condemned man resigned to dying.
Sano opened the door and said to the two soldiers on the veranda, “I must speak with the officer in charge.” He hoped his voice was loud enough to cover any noise from inside the house. He didn’t have to fake his exhaustion or misery. “I have a last request.”
The soldiers looked at each other, then back at Sano. Their pity served his purpose. One fetched an older samurai who had a florid, pleasant face. Sano walked across the courtyard to meet him. The fewer guards near the house, the better.
“I’m Captain Onoda,” the officer said. “What is your last request?”
The last request of a samurai sentenced to death was a serious matter. Sano could see that Captain Onoda wanted to grant his, if possible. “Please allow me to fulfill my last duty to the shogun before I die. I want to solve the murder of his daughter.”
The last thing he really wanted was to serve the fool who’d defaced him and let him and his family be condemned to death. Yet Sano really did want to finish the investigation. If things went wrong today, he wouldn’t like to die with the case unsolved. He did want justice for Tsuruhime, whom everyone else seemed to have forgotten.
Captain Onoda looked impressed. “I’d like to help you, but I can’t let you leave the premises.”
“I’m not asking to leave. I think I already know who killed Tsuruhime. It’s the woman who nursed her when she had smallpox. Her name is Namiji. If I can just talk to her, I’ll find out whether she’s guilty. Will you bring her to me?”
Captain Onoda considered. “I don’t see how it could hurt.” He sent a soldier to fetch Namiji. He whispered to Sano, “I always thought you were the most honorable samurai in the regime. I can hardly believe you killed Yoshisato. It was wrong of you, but I know you must have meant well.”
“A thousand thanks.” Sano bowed, touched by these kind words, hating to trick the man.
* * *
Inside the mansion’s private chambers, Masahiro pulled out a section of drawers in the cabinets built against the wall. It rolled out on oiled wheels. He bent, inserted his fingers into a groove in the floorboards, and pried. A large, square panel popped up. The hole it had covered gave access to the space under the building.
Taeko, Tatsuo, and Akiko took turns jumping down the hole. They crouched beneath the house. Midori lowered herself into the hole while Reiko held the baby. Reiko handed the baby down to Midori, then awkwardly followed the others. They waited in the earth-smelling darkness until Masahiro joined them. Then they began crawling.
Masahiro led. Reiko had forbidden the children to play under the house because it was dirty and inhabited by poisonous spiders, but now she was glad he’d disobeyed. Despite the meager light coming through the lattice panels that covered the building’s foundation, he moved swiftly between the stone posts that supported the mansion. The other children and Midori, the baby riding on her back, kept pace with him as he angled under wings and corridors, around courtyards and gardens. Reiko lagged behind. Her heavy belly dangled. She felt the twinge of a contraction, but she didn’t stop until she caught up with the others at the back of the mansion. Through the diamond-shaped openings in the lattice Reiko saw the sandaled feet and armored legs of troops outside. She and the others huddled together, waiting.
* * *
Shouts blared. A soldier ran into the courtyard, where Sano stood with Captain Onoda. “That big fellow has gone crazy! We need help!”
Calling troops to accompany him, Captain Onoda followed the soldier. Sano trailed them to the yard where he and Masahiro practiced martial arts. Marume knelt on the ground, clutching a kitchen knife, surrounded by troops.
“Go away!” he yelled. An empty wine jar lay beside him. “Leave me alone!”
“He’s going to commit seppuku,” said the soldier who’d called for help.
“He can’t,” Captain Onoda said with concern. “Chamberlain Yanagisawa said that all Sano’s retainers are to be kept alive, so they can be executed after he’s dead.”
“Let me take my life honorably.” Marume’s eyes were red and teary from the vinegar he’d splashed in them. He reeked of the liquor he’d poured on himself.
“Seize him,” Captain Onoda ordered.
The soldiers moved in on Marume. He waved the knife at them. They leaped back. He tore open his kimono and held the knife to his belly.