“The evidence points to him,” Lord Matsudaira said.

Hoshina nodded in staunch affirmation. And Sano couldn’t say that Lord Matsudaira had no real evidence to justify an accusation against the chamberlain. Before the meeting, Lord Matsudaira had told Sano to keep quiet or he would be expelled.

Sputtering with fury, the shogun said, “Well, ahh, I shall have Yanagisawa-san come and, ahh, answer for what he has done.”

“A good idea.” Lord Matsudaira’s tone hinted at how much he welcomed a face-to-face clash with his rival.

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi ordered his attendants, “Bring the chamberlain here.”

The attendants hastened to obey. Soon the door to the reception hall opened to reveal Yanagisawa standing at the threshold. Apprehension glimmered in his eyes as he saw Lord Matsudaira. His gaze bypassed Sano and skittered over Hoshina.

“You wished to see me, Your Excellency?” he said.

Glaring at him, the shogun said, “Don’t just, ahh, stand there, you scoundrel-come in.”

The apprehension in Yanagisawa’s eyes deepened, but he strode toward the dais. After him walked his son Yoritomo. Sano was surprised to see the boy, for Yanagisawa had never before included him in official business. Why did he now? Lord Matsudaira’s and Hoshina’s faces also showed surprise as the handsome, shy Yoritomo neared them. The chamberlain noted Lord Matsudaira seated in his own usual place by the shogun. He paused, tacitly ordering Lord Matsudaira to move. When Lord Matsudaira didn’t, Yanagisawa knelt in the lesser position to the shogun’s left. He motioned for his son to kneel between them. As Yoritomo complied, Sano watched the shogun’s attention fix upon the boy.

“May I inquire what this is about?” Yanagisawa asked the shogun.

“Ahh…” Distracted by Yoritomo, the shogun faltered, then said, “I have just heard some terrible news. Daiemon was murdered last night.”

His admiration for the son had depleted some of his ire toward the father as well as his grief over the death of his favorite. Lord Matsudaira and Hoshina stared in dismay. Sano marveled at whatever prescience or genius had inspired Yanagisawa to bring his son as a weapon to protect himself.

Yanagisawa’s face expressed shock, apparently genuine, at the news of the murder. If he realized that Daiemon’s death had benefited him and the Matsudaira faction had lost ground, he didn’t show it. “What happened?”

“He was stabbed to death while in a house of assignation,” Hoshina said. His manner toward the chamberlain reflected the bitterness that had accompanied the demise of their affair. “Except you didn’t really need to ask, did you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Yanagisawa’s perplexity seemed as honest as his shock.

“He means that you knew how and where Daiemon died, because you killed him,” Lord Matsudaira declared.

The shogun reluctantly detached his gaze from Yoritomo and eyed Yanagisawa with renewed suspicion.

“Your Excellency, that’s ridiculous.” Amazement and outrage visibly jolted Yanagisawa. His breath exploded from him in a loud huff. “I did not kill Daiemon.”

“Not with your own hands,” Lord Matsudaira said. “You’d have kept them free of blood by sending one of your minions to do your dirty work.”

“I was nowhere near any house of assignation,” Yanagisawa continued, raising his voice over Lord Matsudaira’s and directing his vehemence at the shogun. “My guards will verify that I didn’t leave my compound last night.”

“See how careful he is to arrange himself an alibi.” Hoshina sneered. “A man of his wealth and power can easily bribe or force other men to lie for him.”

Yanagisawa shifted position, blocking the shogun’s view of Hoshina. “I had no need to kill Daiemon.” He flashed Lord Matsudaira a glance that Sano interpreted to mean he could win their fight without resorting to assassination. “Their accusations are false, Your Excellency. Don’t listen to them. Trust me.” The gaze he fixed on Tokugawa Tsunayoshi alluded to their longtime companionship. His voice took on a husky, fervent tone: “I swear I’m innocent.”

But Sano remembered their conversation last night and his suspicion that Yanagisawa was up to something. Had the chamberlain been plotting Daiemon’s murder? Was that why he’d felt confident enough to claim that Lord Matsudaira was vulnerable and promise Sano rewards for joining his side?

Vacillation played across the shogun’s weak features as Yanagisawa held his gaze captive. “Don’t believe him,” Lord Matsudaira said, enraged that Yanagisawa was foiling him. “He’s guilty. He’s lying to save his disgraceful neck. And he’s brought his bastard to soften your feelings toward him and make you forget my nephew.”

Lord Matsudaira shot a contemptuous look at Yoritomo, who blushed and bowed his head. If Yanagisawa had killed Daiemon, he would have expected to be accused of the crime and come prepared to defend himself, Sano realized. Yoritomo was his weapon against Lord Matsudaira as well as his shield against the shogun’s wrath.

“He’s playing you for the fool he thinks you are, Honorable Cousin,” said Lord Matsudaira.

The shogun goggled at Yanagisawa. “Are you?” he said, hovering between fear and anger.

“Of course not,” Yanagisawa said. “Lord Matsudaira and Police Commissioner Hoshina are the ones trying to deceive you. Let us ask ourselves why they’re so eager to convince you that I murdered Daiemon. I suggest that they killed him, and they want to frame me.”

Lord Matsudaira and Hoshina looked flabbergasted by the counterattack, although Sano thought they should have known that Yanagisawa considered a good offense as the best defense. The shogun turned his suspicion, fear, and anger on them. “Is that why you, ahh, accused Yanagisawa-san?” he demanded.

“The very idea is blasphemy!” Lord Matsudaira’s complexion turned so red that Sano thought he would burst a vein. “Why would I kill my own nephew?”

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi shrank from his cousin’s anger. The chamberlain sat calm and smug, in control of the situation now. He said, “Everyone knows Daiemon was ambitious for power within your clan. Many a high-ranking samurai has protected his position by killing off young challengers among his kin.”

That Daiemon was ambitious, and Lord Matsudaira hard-pressed to restrain him, Sano had seen for himself. Sano now wondered if Lord Matsudaira was indeed responsible for his nephew’s death.

Lord Matsudaira, reduced to blustering indignation, shouted, “I would never shed the blood of my own clan!” The strain of waging political warfare during many months had undermined his self-discipline. Fear shone through his rage, because now the shogun beheld him with distrust.

“Oh, I doubt that you stabbed Daiemon yourself,” Yanagisawa said. “You’d have had other hands wield the dagger.” Now his accusing gaze swung to Hoshina. “The hands of your lackey the police commissioner.”

Hoshina stiffened as though Yanagisawa had tossed a bomb into his lap. Sano saw that Yanagisawa wasn’t content to attack Lord Matsudaira; he sought to harm his onetime lover who’d joined forces with his rival. Hoshina went very still, as though afraid the bomb would explode if he moved.

“That’s absurd,” he said. His matter-of-fact tone didn’t hide his panic. “I had nothing to do with the murder.”

“Your officers were surely familiar with the house of assignation,” Yanagisawa said. “They must have known that Daiemon was a patron, and they passed the gossip to you. It served you well when you needed to rid your master of his unruly nephew.” The chamberlain swelled with vengeful pleasure at paying back Hoshina for hurts and insults inflicted on him. “You found out when Daiemon was due to visit the house. You lay in wait for him there. You took him by surprise and stabbed him.”

“I didn’t!” As Hoshina’s panic broke through his self-control, sweat glistened on his face. “I’m innocent!” He looked to Lord Matsudaira, who frowned severely at him.