The side street, half the width of the boulevard he’d just left, ran between the wall of the Niu yashiki and that of its neighboring estate. Pairs of guards stood sentry at plainer secondary gates through which continuous streams of porters and servants passed. Here Sano worried less that someone might challenge him. The guards were occupied, the foot traffic heavy, the trash plentiful. But he had little chance of seeing Lord Niu here. A daimyo’s son would use the main gate.
Disconsolate, Sano paced the side street, wondering what to do now that his plan had failed. He could search for witnesses who had seen a man throw a large bundle into the river. He could go back to Yoshiwara and question the rest of Noriyoshi’s friends in the hope that one had seen him with Lord Niu the night of the murders. Sano shook his head. How far could he get before someone penetrated his disguise and reported him to Ogyu?
Then, as Sano passed the Nius’ gate for the third time, it opened to discharge four samurai carrying a black palanquin. Neither the palanquin nor the bearers’ cloaks displayed identifying crests, but they bore the unmistakable stamp of quality. What Niu family member or distinguished guest chose to leave through the side gate? Sano peered at the palanquin, his curiosity frustrated by its sealed shutters.
Suddenly the shutters opened. The passenger spoke to the bearers, then quickly closed the shutters again. His face, partially hidden by a wicker hat, had appeared for a mere instant. But Sano recognized him at once.
It was young Lord Niu.
Although mystified by Lord Niu’s stealthy departure, Sano had no trouble following the palanquin. Nihonbashi’s crowded streets offered many hiding places and kept the bearers’ pace slow.
Lord Niu visited a swordmaker’s shop, talked briefly to the other customers, and left without buying anything. He went to a seedy martial arts academy frequented by rōnin, where he practiced his swordsmanship. Sano strolled back and forth in front of the open door, watching. Lord Niu fought with a steel blade instead of a wooden practice sword. Unhindered by his bad leg, he executed each thrust and parry brilliantly, his reflexes lightning fast. Match after match ended with his blade against his opponent’s throat. His skill left Sano breathless with admiration. Would that he need never face Lord Niu in combat!
Afterward, Lord Niu and three fellow students went to a restaurant near the academy. Sano followed the bearers’ example and used the time to buy lunch from street vendors. Although he risked eating at the stall next to theirs, he overheard nothing useful. They were taciturn men who gave their orders and then ate in silence. Sano wished he dared eavesdrop on Lord Niu and his friends instead. At this rate, he might never see or hear Lord Niu incriminate himself. But he stayed, ready to pursue Lord Niu for the rest of his life if necessary.
His quarry had begun to exert a powerful magnetism on him. He was gradually coming to believe that Lord Niu had killed a blackmailer, his own sister, and Tsunehiko, all in an attempt to cover some earlier dreadful crime. Sano couldn’t let the creature out of his sight. Hatred and fascination whetted his appetite for vengeance, and he accepted whatever hardships awaited him. He bought two mochi cakes in case the pursuit took him someplace where food wasn’t available. He endured sore legs, frozen feet, and the ever-present threat of death, watching with a fierce sense of anticipation as Lord Niu came out of the restaurant and climbed into the palanquin.
To Sano’s disappointment, the bearers began to retrace their steps home. Then, bypassing the daimyo district, they followed a circuitous path down winding streets, across the Nihonbashi Bridge, along canals, and through rich and poor neighborhoods, gradually heading north. Finally they left the city’s outskirts and continued into open country.
Sano felt safe enough following Lord Niu through the Kanda district, where undulating wooded hills lay brown and gray beneath low, swollen clouds that continued to send down a thin, cold rain. Although the crowds had vanished, there was still plenty of traffic on the Okushudo highway leading into Ueno, including peasants dressed like himself. Then the bearers turned onto a deserted road that climbed a steep hill into the woods. Sano dropped farther and farther behind so they wouldn’t see him.
Finally, fearing he might lose them if they turned onto one of the trails that branched off the main road, he sped up and took to the woods.
Firewood gatherers had cleared the ground of dead branches that might have slowed his progress, but Sano had to contend with other hazards. Rocks thrust their sharp points against his already sore feet. Puddles soaked him to his knees. An arrow stuck into a tree told him that he was in some lord’s hunting ground. As he hurried to keep Lord Niu’s palanquin in sight, he expected a party of mounted hunters to descend on him at any moment. To his relief, the trail ended a short distance ahead, at a wall with a roofed gate bearing the Niu crest. The bearers set down the palanquin while two samurai came out of the guardhouses and opened the gate.
Sano watched from the woods as the gate closed behind the bearers and the palanquin, and the guards returned to their houses. This must be the Nius’ summer villa. With the daimyo in his province and the rest of the family spending the winter in town, Sano didn’t expect to find the villa heavily guarded. He approached it at an angle, moving deeper into the woods, away from the road and gate. Then, as he neared the wall, he heard the squelch of footsteps on the damp ground. Quickly he crouched behind a bush to peer through it at the pair of armored samurai carrying bows and arrows. As they marched past, snatches of their conversation reached him:
“I’ll be glad to get back to Edo. Too quiet here.”
“Not tonight, though.” Laughter.
What did that mean? Sano waited until he heard them talking with the guards at the gate. Then he hurried in the direction from which they’d come. Additional patrols, if any, would be spread out around the estate. He followed the wall’s curve until he could no longer see the road or gate. He paused to watch and listen. No one was inside the observation towers mounted at intervals along the wall. The forest seemed deserted, its gloom deepening with the fading sky, quiet except for the steady drip of water from the trees. Sano stole up to the wall.
Made of earth and faced with flat stones fitted together without mortar, it rose high above Sano’s head. He began to climb, his fingers and toes finding precarious holds in the cracks between the stones. His straw cape rustled loudly, and he winced at the noise. He pulled himself on top of the wall and lay there, looking down at the other side. There he saw more forest, similar to the one he’d just left-a natural-looking mixture of evergreen and deciduous trees and shrubs. It, too, seemed deserted. Sano waited a moment more. Seeing no one, he dropped over the edge of the wall. His cape rustled again as he landed. He hastily tore it off, burying it under a pile of dead leaves. The rain had almost stopped, and his dark cloak and trousers would make better camouflage in the coming twilight.
He stood up and began moving in the direction of the gate. A trail led through the woods, probably cleared to make a scenic walk for the daimyo’s ladies. It curved and wound, then ended at the edge of a clearing. Ahead Sano saw a wide gravel path leading from the gate. His eyes followed it to the distant house at his left. Immediately he felt as though he’d gone back in time.
Built in a style popular some eight hundred years ago, the Nius’ tree-shaded summer villa crowned a small rise in the land. The large main house, or shinden, a boxy shingle-roofed wooden structure raised on stilts, faced south. At the foot of its steep staircase rested Lord Niu’s deserted palanquin. Two more guards stood watch over a door fronted by a wide veranda and sheltered by a pillared roof. Covered corridors led from each side of the shinden to similar but smaller houses. Diamonds of light glowed behind the window lattices of all three buildings. From each side house, Sano guessed, another covered corridor extended backward, enclosing a rear garden and ending in open pavilions. Behind this compound, more interconnected buildings would house family apartments, servants’ and retainers’ quarters, kitchens, and stables. He’d seen such dwellings in old paintings. Female authors of the Heian imperial court, such as Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shōnagon, had written their poems, stories, and diaries in them. Prince Genji had carried out his romantic intrigues in the chambers, pavilions, and gardens. Lord Niu’s coming here out of season, in an unmarked conveyance, suggested some more sinister purpose for the elegant villa.