“I’ve discovered a plot to overthrow the Tokugawa regime,” Sano said. “The plot is almost certainly connected with the murders. It’s imperative that I catch the killer before he or she can kill again or bring war upon Japan. His Majesty the Emperor and your father are still under investigation.”
Sano paused to let Asagao absorb his words, then said, “More mistakes could occur. Another innocent person might be subjected to the same treatment as yourself. Wouldn’t you like to prevent that?”
Asagao squirmed on the cushions; her eyes darted like minnows trying to escape a fishing net. She might not possess great intelligence, but Sano perceived in her a natural cunning. She’d understood his implied threat to punish her kin unless she cooperated. Now she cast a pleading glance at her companions and made a weak attempt to sit up.
“I don’t feel well,” she whined. “Take me inside.”
The physician and ladies-in-waiting moved to help her, but Sano steeled himself against letting Asagao use her illness to escape him. “Leave us,” he told her attendants.
They reluctantly obeyed. Asagao cowered on the cushions, fearful yet defiant. Sano said, “Let’s talk about the night Left Minister Konoe died. You told my wife that you were with your ladies-in-waiting. Later they admitted that you’d sneaked out to meet someone. Which is the truth?” Although he didn’t really believe that determining Asagao’s whereabouts would solve the case, unanswered questions bothered Sano. “Where were you?”
Asagao said, “I was in the tea ceremony cottage. With my father.”
Sano recognized the story that Right Minister Ichijo had told Chamberlain Yanagisawa. He also knew that Yoriki Hoshina had established that the cottage had been occupied by a pair of lovers, and therefore not by Ichijo and Asagao. Obviously, Ichijo had instructed his daughter to corroborate his lie. She’d provided her father with the alibi she no longer needed. The probable reason behind her deception gave Sano an idea how to turn Asagao’s motives to his advantage.
“Were you ever present when your father counseled the emperor?” Sano asked.
“Sometimes.” A puzzled frown wrinkled the consort’s brow.
“What did they talk about?”
“I don’t remember. Court business, I suppose. I didn’t pay much attention.” Asagao spoke with eager nervousness, as if hoping that ignorance would safeguard her until she could figure out where the conversation was heading.
“Did His Majesty talk about past emperors who had tried to overthrow military regimes?” Sano said. “Did he ever express the desire to do the same.’
Shocked comprehension dawned in Asagao’s eyes. She sat up and blurted, “No. Never.”
“His Majesty wants to rule Japan, doesn’t he?” Sano said. “He not only fights make-believe battles; he’s planning a real one. Did he tell you that he’s been bringing weapons into Miyako and recruiting soldiers for a war against the Tokugawa?”
“He wouldn’t do that!” Asagao cried.
“Wouldn’t he?” Sano said, wondering if Asagao was really surprised, or if she’d already known about the conspiracy. “His Majesty is bored by his sheltered life. He’s puffed up with conceit and dreams of glory. But plotting a coup is treason. For such a serious crime, not even an emperor can escape death.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Panic shone in Asagao’s eyes. “Tomo-chan would never try to overthrow the bakufu!”
Whether she was lying didn’t matter; it wasn’t Sano’s intention to gain evidence against Tomohito right now. The emperor was just bait for a trap. “Yesterday the soldiers and weapons were in a house belonging to Lord Ibe of Echizen Province. Did His Majesty ever mention it?”
“No!”
“Did Left Minister Konoe discover His Majesty’s plans?” Sano said. “Did His Majesty know that Konoe was a spy, and fear that Konoe would report his crime?” Now came the time to spring the trap. “Where was His Majesty on the night of Konoe’s murder?”
“Tomo-chan wasn’t in the garden. He didn’t kill the left minister!” Asagao’s desperate gaze sought help, but the courtyard was empty and still in the hot sunshine, and the building behind her as silent as if everyone had deserted it. In the trees, insects shrilled; a bird shrieked.
“How could you know where His Majesty was, when you were in the tea cottage with your father?” Sano rose and stood over Asagao. “That same story can’t provide alibis for both men. It looks as though I’ll be charging one or the other with treason and murder. You can help me decide which.”
“No!” Asagao tried to rise, but her legs tangled in her robes, and she fell against the cushions, helpless.
“Of course you want to save your father,” Sano said, hating what he must do to the consort. “He gave you life; he fed and sheltered you during your childhood. You wouldn’t like to see him hurt, and it’s your duty to protect him. But what about your duty to the emperor? His alibis for both murders are weak. He needs you to point my suspicion away from him… toward somebody else.”
“Please leave me alone,” Asagao implored. Sweat beaded her face; her pale lips trembled. “Don’t make me do this!”
Suppressing his pity for her, Sano said, “If His Majesty is found to have committed treason, a new emperor will take the throne and select a new chief consort. You’ll lose your status and special privileges. You could become a lady-in-waiting to your replacement, or marry a noble who’s willing to accept a cast-off consort as a wife. Or you could enter a nunnery.” These options represented utter humiliation to a woman of Asagao’s rank. “If that’s what you want, then by all means cast your lot with your father. If not, then perhaps you should reconsider the wisdom of protecting him at the emperor’s expense.”
Sano let the echo of his harsh words die. He waited for Asagao to choose which of the two most important men in her life she would betray. Loath to incur the consequences of implicating Japan’s sacred sovereign in the crimes, Sano didn’t want it to be Emperor Tomohito.
Asagao whimpered, hugging herself,
“Where were you when Left Minister Konoe died?” Sano asked.
For a long while he thought Asagao’s loyalty to her father would prevail. Then defeat drained the tension from her body; she began to weep. “I was in the tea cottage,” she said, “but my father wasn’t. I was with my friend Lord Gojo. We didn’t want anyone to know about us, so when the policeman came around asking everybody where they’d been that night, Gojo said he was with a friend he bribed to lie for him.”
A connection clicked in Sano’s mind. Lord Gojo was the man whom Reiko had watched flirting with Asagao in the Kabuki play. She’d been having an affair with him, not Left Minister Konoe. Asagao and Lord Gojo had been the two lovers in the tea cottage. She’d had an alibi she hadn’t wanted to use because it would have exposed her infidelity to Emperor Tomohito.
“I only said my father was with me because he asked me to.” Tears streamed down Asagao’s face; she wiped them on her sleeve. “I never saw him that night.”
She’d rejected the ties of blood for those of sex and power, sacrificing her father to protect Tomohito. Yet Sano felt no pleasure at breaking Right Minister Ichijo’s alibi. He hated himself for manipulating Asagao. The pursuit of justice too often required the basest means.
“Thank you, Lady Asagao,” Sano said, adding, “I’m sorry.”
Her bitter glare burned him. Shamed and depressed, he went to the door and called Asagao’s attendants. As they led her into the building, she turned to Sano. Between ragged sobs, she said, “My father wasn’t in the Pond Garden when the left minister died, but I know who was.”
A desperate guile shone in her reddened eyes. Sano had half-expected her to shield Ichijo by accusing someone else. Now, as she gasped for breath, he waited to see whom she would incriminate.
“It was the left minister’s former wife.”