The nobles exclaimed in outrage: “Blasphemy!” "Sacrilege!” Tradition prohibited the emperor’s body from touching the ground where ordinary people walked. Horror assailed Sano. He was responsible for Reiko’s search of Lady Asagao’s room, and now this worse insult to the Imperial Court. Instead of regaining the shogun’s favor, he would be reviled for his poor handling of the investigation. Yet his orders compelled him to proceed.
“Take her,” he told the troops.
When they grasped Lady Asagao by the arms, a look of sheer terror came over her face, as though she finally understood the consequences of her actions. Kicking and thrashing, she screamed in high-pitched bursts. The soldiers hauled her toward the door. Jokyōden, Ichijo, and the nobles surrounded Sano.
“You shall not commit this atrocity,” Jokyōden said.
Ichijo commanded, “Release my daughter at once!”
Did their efforts to help Lady Asagao hide a desire to see her blamed for the murder and themselves exonerated? Sano wondered.
“Father!” shrilled Asagao. “Don’t let them take me!”
The emperor set upon the troops, trying to pry their hands off Asagao. “Somebody help me!”
Loud hoots signaled the arrival of Prince Momozono, who must have been listening outside. He lurched into the room and hurled himself at Sano, crying. “Y-you can’t h-have His M-majesty’s consort!”
Sano flung up his hands to repel the prince’s wild blows. The nobles hurried to their sovereign’s aid. A melee of pushing, shouting, and grabbing erupted, with the shrieking Lady Asagao at the center. Fearing that a riot might spread throughout the palace, Sano drew his sword. The crowd fell back amid cries of fear. Lady Asagao and the emperor broke into hysterical tears. With many doubts and no sense of victory, Sano led his men and their prisoner out of the room.
“Where are you taking her?” Right Minister Ichijo demanded, following them down the corridor. “A woman of her position doesn’t belong in the city jail.”
“Lady Asagao will be kept in a safe, comfortable place for a while,” Sano said. He needed time to investigate her story.
“And then?”
“I’ll take her to Edo for her trial.”
Unless he found justification for his misgivings about Lady Asagao’s confession.
13
It was evening by the time Sano rode his horse up to the gate of Nijō Manor. Above the plaster walls and spreading tile roof of the inn, an ocher residue of daylight stained the western rim of the soot-colored sky. Lanterns burned in the windows of surrounding houses. Noisy crowds streamed toward the shrines, temples, cemeteries, and pleasure quarter for Obon celebrations. When Sano entered the courtyard of Nijō Manor, he found it filled with newly arrived travelers. He got a stableboy to take charge of his horse. As he walked down the corridor to his rooms, he looked forward to Reiko’s company, yet he also felt a strong desire for solitude.
A long day of inquiries hadn’t resolved his problems with Lady Asagao’s confession. Mentally and physically exhausted, Sano needed to relax for a while. Reiko would be waiting to hear about everything, but Sano wasn’t ready to face her questions, her youthful energy, her eagerness for debate. Besides, he had another reason for not wanting to see Reiko.
The subject of Left Minister Konoe’s former wife hadn’t yet come up between them, but eventually Reiko would remember that Sano had gone to Kodai Temple. She would ask about Kozeri. Usually Sano enjoyed the intuitive understanding between him and his wife, but he didn’t want Reiko to guess how Kozeri had affected him.
Servants hauling baggage down the corridor momentarily blocked the door to Sano’s suite. He welcomed the chance to compose himself. Then he entered the room.
Reiko was there, fresh and pretty in her yellow dressing gown. When she saw him, she leapt up from her seat by the window, eyes bright with anticipation. “What happened?” she cried.
Sano experienced the usual gladness and affection at the sight of Reiko, followed by guilt. “We have a solution to the case,” he said, “but I’m not exactly happy about it.”
He placed his swords in a wall rack, then lay down on the floor, resting his head on a cushion. Relief permeated his muscles, but his nerves remained on edge.
“You’re tired. I should let you rest instead of bombarding you with questions,” Reiko said contritely.
Kneeling beside him, she spread a damp, cool cloth on his forehead. She poured a cup of water for him. Her solicitude increased Sano’s guilt. “That’s all right,” he said, and described Lady Asagao’s confession and arrest.
Reiko exclaimed in amazement. “I can’t believe she confessed. Nor can I believe she’s guilty. Have you checked her story?”
“Yes, I have.” For some reason, Sano resented her implication that he would accept Asagao’s statement at face value. He said, “After the arrest, I went back to Left Minister Konoe’s mansion and interviewed his personal attendants. They admitted to knowing about his affair with Lady Asagao. They also delivered the message asking Asagao to meet Konoe in the Pond Garden on the night he died. When I asked why they hadn’t mentioned this when I questioned them the first time, they said they’d kept quiet to prevent a scandal, but since Asagao had confessed, they could tell the truth. So there was an affair, and a strong motive for Asagao to want Konoe dead.”
“But what about the means and opportunity to kill?” Reiko asked.
“As I’ve said, Asagao wouldn’t -or couldn’t- demonstrate a spirit cry. But she apparently did have the opportunity to murder Konoe.” Sano drank water from his cup, swallowing his irritation at Reiko. Did she think he’d forgotten the basics of detective work? “I questioned the ladies-in-waiting you met yesterday. They admitted they’d lied to you when they said Asagao was with them during the murder. She’d left her chambers shortly before midnight -to meet someone. The women didn’t know who it was, or where she was going, but she’d been sneaking out often for the past few months. Their story is indirect confirmation of the affair, and it breaks Asagao’s alibi.”
Reiko sat mulling over the information, innocently oblivious to Sano’s mood. “Granted, Asagao isn’t very smart, but she must have known the danger involved in taking a lover. How could she risk losing her position? And for a man old enough to be her father!”
Though the age difference between himself and Reiko was less than a generation, Sano thought she should understand that love wasn’t confined to couples similar in age. “Some women like older men, who often have a sophistication that young men lack,” he said with controlled impatience. “And didn’t Asagao complain to you that life in the palace is dull? Perhaps she couldn’t resist the excitement of an illicit romance.”
Reiko must have perceived antagonism in Sano’s voice, because a puzzled frown marred her smooth brow. “But you might not have learned about the affair if she hadn’t told you. It would have been better for her just to keep quiet.” Then Reiko’s eyes lit with inspiration. “What if the emperor found out about the affair, but he loves Asagao too much to hurt her? Instead, he kills Konoe, pretends to discover the body, and thinks that’s the end of his problems. But then you come to investigate the murder.
“The emperor panics, because if he’s charged with a serious crime, at the very least, he’ll lose his throne, and at worst, his life. He asks Prince Momozono to give him an alibi, but he’s afraid that’s not enough. So he tells Right Minister Ichijo and Lady Jokyōden what he’s done and begs them to help him. They decide that Lady Asagao should sacrifice herself to save the emperor.”
“And that happens between yesterday, when you left her after the Kabuki play, and this morning, when she walked in on you searching her room,” Sano said.