Hoshina sat back on his heels. “There were three of those hidden in Konoe’s cloak.” Rapid, audible breaths punctuated his speech. “Sano’s detectives have the others. When Sano told them to find out what the coins are and whether they have any relevance to the murder, I said I would make some inquiries too. My contacts in the city should give me an advantage over Marume and Fukida.”
“Whatever you learn, report it to me, not Sano.” Recovering his composure, Yanagisawa said, “What are Sano’s plans for tomorrow?”
“I’m taking him to the palace to interview Emperor Tomohito, Prince Momozono, Lady Jokyōden, and Lady Asagao,” Hoshina said, his voice steady now. They regarded each other coolly, master and servant again-at least on the surface. “In the evening, we’ll attend the shoshidai’s banquet.”
Yanagisawa mentally arranged his plans around these events, then said, “Have you located a site that meets the criteria I specified in my message to you yesterday?”
“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” Hoshina described a certain house and its location.
“That sounds just right,” said Yanagisawa. They finalized plans for Yanagisawa to pursue the major lead in the case, while Sano investigated the minor ones for him, with Hoshina as his eyes and ears. “Be ready to report everything to me tomorrow night. I’ll let you know the time and place.”
Then a thought occurred to Yanagisawa. “What has Lady Reiko been doing?”
“Staying in Nijō Manor. The innkeeper’s wife is my informer, and I’ve ordered her to watch Lady Reiko. So far, she hasn’t done anything of interest.”
However, Yanagisawa knew enough about Reiko to doubt that Sano had brought her all this way just to keep him company. “I want to know where she goes, whom she sees, and what she does.”
“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.”
Their business was finished, but Yanagisawa didn’t utter the command to dismiss Hoshina. Outside, a distant temple bell tolled the hour of the boar. Hoshina waited, watching Yanagisawa. Neither moved nor spoke, but their silence clamored with questions, expectancy, and the inaudible, accelerating pulse of blood.
Then Hoshina said, “Honorable Chamberlain… If there’s anything else you wish of me…” His voice was quiet, his expression somber yet highly charged. “I would be more than happy to provide it.”
The sexual innuendo inflamed Yanagisawa, but Hoshina’s nerve affronted him. How dare Hoshina make the first move toward a personal relationship? That was Yanagisawa’s prerogative.
“Would you?” Yanagisawa said sharply. “And what do you expect in return? Wealth? Property? A position on my staff?”
Though he guessed that Hoshina wanted all those things, the yoriki spread his hands and said nonchalantly, “Just a chance to prove I’m worthy to serve you.” Then he leaned forward, staring at Yanagisawa with unmistakable intent. “And the honor of your company.”
In the past, Yanagisawa had shunned ambitious lovers who sought to use him for personal gain, but Hoshina’s bold proposition tempted him strongly. He rose, stepped down from the dais, and stood over Hoshina.
The yoriki, still kneeling, gazed up at him, muscles tense, eyes feverish with need and ambition.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Yanagisawa said abruptly, then strode toward the door without a backward glance. But he felt Hoshina’s gaze on him, and the ache of frustrated desire. Despite the fear of treachery, he looked forward to their next meeting.
5
Above the Imperial Palace rose a sky of pale, bleached blue; glaring white sunlight bathed the crowds that thronged Teramachi Avenue. A small procession drew up to the palace gate reserved for bakufu officials. At the front rode Sano and Yoriki Hoshina. Behind them marched a few guards; then came Reiko in her palanquin.
Earlier, when Hoshina had arrived at Nijō Manor to escort him to the palace, Sano had said, “My wife is coming along to call upon the emperor’s mother and consort.”
To his relief, Hoshina had accepted without question this explanation for Reiko’s presence. Hoshina merely said, “I’ll send a messenger ahead to tell the imperial women to expect a guest.”
Now Sano and Hoshina dismounted; palace sentries opened the gate. Inside the walls, the procession divided as Sano and Hoshina headed toward the imperial enclosure for an audience with the emperor, while a courtier led Reiko’s palanquin down another passage. The odors of sewage, charcoal smoke, and tropical flowers saturated the air in the passageways of the kuge district like warm, fetid breath; stormclouds layered the hills visible beyond the city. But in spite of the hot weather, Sano felt refreshed and energetic. A good night’s sleep had renewed his confidence. Surely, his investigation would be successful, and he’d made the right decision by agreeing that Reiko should assist him.
In the southern sector of the imperial enclosure stood the Purple Dragon Hall, site of important court events. The austere half-timbered building faced a courtyard bounded with covered corridors supported by vermilion posts. The ground was covered with white sand to reflect the light of the sun and moon onto the hall. A cherry tree and a citrus tree flanked the entrance, representing the guardian archers and horsemen of ancient tradition. Leading up to the door, eighteen steps, framed by red balustrades, symbolized the number of noble ranks in the court hierarchy. Sano and Hoshina approached the bottom of the steps, where a line of courtiers waited. One, a man in his sixties with short, sleek gray hair, stepped forward and bowed.
“Greetings, Sōsakan-sama,” he said in a strong, resonant voice. He wore a black cap with a vertical flap at the back, a moss green silk court robe, and baggy white trousers. Deep lines creased his forehead and bracketed his mouth, giving character to a long, elegant face. He had shrewd, intelligent eyes, and teeth dyed black in the ancient court style. “It is a singular honor to receive such a great personage as yourself.”
Yoriki Hoshina introduced the courtier to Sano. “Allow me to present the honorable Right Minister Ichijo.”
“Many thanks for consenting to act as intermediary in my dealings with the Imperial Court,” Sano said, although the right minister had no choice but to serve his needs. Ichijo’s aura of refinement commanded respect and disconcerted Sano. From studying history, he knew that the man’s noble lineage went back a millennium, to a time when his own ancestors were peasants and the samurai class hadn’t yet emerged from the ranks of primitive tribal chieftains. Ichijo was a member of the famous Fujiwara clan that had once dominated the Imperial Court. Their era had produced masterpieces of painting and poetry; their name was still synonymous with culture and prestige.
“His Majesty the Emperor awaits you,” Ichijo said.
As Sano mounted the steps, flanked by Ichijo and Hoshina, he experienced a vast sense of awe. He, like all Japanese, revered the emperor as a direct descendant of the Shinto sun goddess Amaterasu. The emperor could invoke her power on behalf of human affairs; he had a special ability to perceive the moral order of the universe and impose it upon society. In the cosmic scheme of Confucian tradition, Japan’s military dictatorship was just an instrument through which the emperor ruled.
They paused in the entranceway to remove their shoes, then proceeded to the audience hall. Sunlight streamed in through latticed windows. A long white mat bridged the polished cypress floor. Ichijo led Sano up this, between rows of kneeling courtiers. More attendants knelt by the imperial throne. This was an elaborate, cushioned lacquer seat inside an octagonal pavilion canopied with silk curtains and elevated upon a railed platform. A huge gold phoenix surmounted the throne’s roof; paintings of Chinese sages decorated the wall behind it. The air smelled of incense.