O-hisa dashed the rest of the way down the path to emerge into a garden where huge, craggy boulders dotted an expanse of white gravel. Her running feet left prints in its carefully raked pattern of parallel lines.
She’d almost made it to the gate at the other end of the garden when she heard footsteps coming across the gravel behind her. Without stopping, she half turned. Her mouth opened to scream when she recognized her pursuer and met his merciless gaze. But the scream never had time to leave her.
A cord slipped over her head. It tightened around her neck. Red darkness exploded in her brain as she coughed and choked, fighting for air. In desperation, she clawed at the cord. Her fingernails gouged her own flesh. Blood roared in her ears. Her teeth locked her tongue in an agonizing grip. Blindly she grabbed for her attacker’s hands; her twitching fingers closed upon air.
“Uh, uh!” she gurgled, trying to call for help.
None came. Red turned to dense black. O-hisa felt herself begin to spin in dizzying, ever-faster circles. As consciousness ebbed away from her, she saw again the blessed golden image of her home, and her mother and grandmother sitting by the stove. Their loving smiles beckoned her. O-hisa’s heart yearned toward them. With the last of her strength, she fought for life. She must survive to see them again. But the vision quickly darkened, then disappeared as another took its place.
Miss Yukiko. Radiant, smiling in infinite compassion. Holding out a hand to welcome O-hisa into death.
Chapter 24
Edo Castle dominated its wooded hilltop, a great fortified city-within-a-city that housed the shogun Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, his family, his closest allies, and a veritable army of soldiers, officials, and servants within its massive stone walls.
Sano walked up to the shimmering moat, gazing at the castle with the awe that this symbol of Tokugawa supremacy always inspired in him. For the first time, he grasped the full extent of Lord Niu’s madness. Who in his right mind would dare challenge this? The castle had stood for almost a hundred years, and it looked ready to stand for at least as many more, judging from the strength of its defenses. Countless samurai stood inside guardhouses that topped the walls, and more occupied lookout towers. Above the walls, the keep soared five stories high, a square white tower composed of many smaller towers. Its gables and barred windows provided lines of fire to archers and gunners; its plastered walls and tile roofs could resist both fire arrows and bullets. At ground level, a battalion of guards manned the iron-plated main gate. Armed with muskets as well as swords, they controlled the heavy flow of traffic in and out of the castle.
Watching the visitors, mostly samurai who presumably had legitimate business inside, Sano felt more than a little intimidated. He’d never been inside the castle; his family was too unimportant and his rank too low for him to have enjoyed the honor. But he knew that somewhere, deep inside the palace, were the headquarters of the Tokugawa spy network. There the metsuke collated and interpreted information gathered by agents and informers all over the country and distributed it to the shogun and his advisers. To them he must bring the news of the treasonous Conspiracy of Twenty-One.
Still he hesitated, reluctant to cross the bridge. Except for Cherry Eater’s word, he had no evidence that the conspiracy planned to kill the shogun. He didn’t know how, when, or where the assassination attempt would take place. His own conviction that the plot gave Lord Niu a motive for the murders wouldn’t influence the authorities. After all, Raiden had been executed for Yukiko’s and Noriyoshi’s murders, and Tsunehiko’s death officially ruled a highway killing. He would just have to tell his story from the beginning, present his conclusions, and hope that the metsuke would draw similar ones. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and marched across the bridge.
“I would like an audience with the metsuke,” he told the guards, after identifying himself.
They looked him over in a bored fashion. One of them said, “Show me your pass.”
“I don’t have one. But I’ve come on a matter of extreme urgency.” Sano had anticipated difficulty in getting past the castle’s security, which protected its occupants not only from physical threats but also from callers who might waste their time. “I bring news of vital importance to the shogun,” he added. “Please allow me to convey it to the metsuke.”
“ ‘Vital importance, ’ eh?” The spokesman leaned on his spear. “Suppose you tell me what it is. I’ll see that it gets to the right people.”
Imagining how his story would be distorted as it passed through the castle’s bureaucratic channels-possibly never reaching the metsuke at all-Sano shook his head. “I must speak with them personally.”
“Well, you can’t.” The guard shed his veneer of courtesy, his voice turning sharp. He was a Tokugawa foot soldier, one of a breed known for their arrogance and rudeness. “Either leave a message, and if the metsuke want to see you, they’ll send a summons. Or else get lost. We’re busy.” He turned to question an arriving party of samurai.
Sano had managed to extract one more piece of information from Cherry Eater before freeing the drenched and indignant shunga dealer: the identity of the metsuke to whom Noriyoshi had reported. But Cherry Eater wasn’t sure whether the exact name was Jodo Ikkyu or Toda Ikkyu.
Taking a chance, he said, “Toda Ikkyu will have your heads if you don’t bring me to him at once.”
The guard’s head snapped around. “You’re Toda’s creature?” His face relaxed from a scowl to a knowing smirk. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Banging on the gate with his spear, he shouted to someone inside. Another guard came out. “Take this man to Toda Ikkyu.”
The other guard gestured for Sano to follow him. Sano realized that they thought he was one of Toda’s informers. Well, he was, in a way. And he’d learned that this was how the government bureaucracy worked: by manipulation of men through their fear of their superiors.
Inside the gate, more walls formed a square enclosure designed as a trap for invading enemies who managed to penetrate the castle’s outer defense. At least twenty more guards stood watch, rigid and stern. They took away Sano’s swords and searched him for hidden weapons. Then they swung open another gate that stood at right angles to the first.
This opened into a large courtyard bordered by long wooden sheds hung with red curtains. Inside them, Sano could see row upon row of weapons: swords, bows, spears, muskets. Hundreds of armored samurai stood in or in front of the sheds. Others, mounted on horses caparisoned with battle regalia, paced the courtyard. The odor of horses sharpened the air; the tramp of restless feet and the rumble of voices echoed off the walls. Beyond a second moat and bridge stood another wall. The keep towered above it, looking grimmer and more solid than from a distance. Sano felt tiny and insignificant in the presence of such military might. Lord Niu’s madness must give him superhuman courage.
Once past another set of sentries and across the bridge, Sano entered another enclosure, with more guards and yet another gate. This gate led to a narrow, gradually ascending passageway full of turns and angles. Gun holes and arrow slits pierced the white plaster walls of enclosed corridors that ran along the high stone walls. At regular intervals, larger square openings in the corridors allowed the defenders to dump stones on anyone who tried to climb the walls. Sano spied more guards behind the openings. The other visitors he saw all had their own military escorts. Only samurai wearing the Tokugawa crest walked proudly alone and armed. Sano soon lost count of the number of checkpoints and gates he passed. Tokugawa Ieyasu had built his fortress to withstand a siege, but were his descendants safe from treachery? Remembering the fanatical gleam in Lord Niu’s eyes, Sano wondered. Perhaps the Conspiracy of Twenty-One planned to somehow ambush the shogun outside the castle walls, away from his legions of soldiers.