Kozeri spent happy days making a home for Ryozen, while he worked as secretary to Left Minister Konoe. In the evenings they entertained themselves with music, poetry, and lovemaking. Soon Kozeri was pregnant. Then, five months later, things went suddenly, terribly wrong. Kozeri was resting in her room one afternoon when her mother entered.

"Daughter," said the older woman, her face woeful, "I bring terrible news. Ryozen is dead. Someone stabbed him."

Kozeri shook her head in disbelief. "But I just saw him this morning. There must be some mistake."

"There is no mistake," her mother said sorrowfully.

"No!" Kozeri stumbled from the house and met servants bringing in a blanket-covered figure on a litter. Tearing off the blanket, she saw her husband's still, pale face. She burst into a torrent of weeping.

Then an excruciating cramp convulsed her stomach. Kozeri screamed and fell. More pains wracked her. She heard her mother calling, "She's in labor! Fetch the doctor!"

Many agonizing hours later, Kozeri delivered a dead baby boy. She lost much blood; fever followed the stillbirth. Ten months pa.s.sed before Kozeri rose from her bed. She sat listlessly in the garden, pining for Ryozen. Then one day her father came to her.

"It is time to consider your future," he said. "Left Minister Konoe has asked for your hand in marriage, and I have consented."

Now the sonorous voice of the abbess drew Kozeri back to the present: "Feel the energy flow from your center to every part of your body. Let us seal the power inside us."

Kozeri opened her eyes and saw the abbess holding a long strip of cloth. She picked up a similar cloth from the floor beside her. Imitating the abbess's movements, she wrapped it tightly around her stomach. The other nuns did the same. In the dying sunlight, their faces shone with a tranquillity she envied.

"Lean forward, head and shoulders down," said the abbess. "Align your nose with your navel. Relax. And breathe, slowly. One, two..."

With the cloth compressing her muscles, Kozeri inhaled and exhaled, silently counting toward four hundred breaths. Briefly she resisted the memories, then let them come....

She hadn't wanted to remarry, but it was her duty to obey her father, who craved the prestige the new match would bring to their clan. Hence, she wedded Left Minister Konoe. He was a virtual stranger; his rank and wealth awed her. During the ceremony, she dared not even look at him, and their wedding night proved an inauspicious beginning for the marriage.

In the bedchamber, Konoe tenderly undressed her. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he said.

Kozeri knew she should show grat.i.tude toward him for rescuing her from widowhood, yet she couldn't help recalling Ryozen, and their happiness together. Tears burned her eyes. Feeling no desire for Konoe, she endured his caresses; she let him mount her. But when he pushed his erection against her womanhood, her inner muscles clenched shut. Konoe thrust and panted, but couldn't get in. Pain overcame Kozeri's self-control. The tears spilled.

Konoe forced a smile and said, "It's been a strenuous day. Let us sleep now, and begin over tomorrow."

He spent all his free time with Kozeri, and much money on gifts and amus.e.m.e.nts for her. All the palace ladies envied Kozeri, but the left minister seemed so grand that she couldn't get over her shyness. When he talked, she could manage only timid monosyllables in reply. Further attempts to consummate their marriage failed, and Konoe began to express his dissatisfaction in frightening ways.

Every evening he would ask, "What did you do today? Whom did you see?" and make Kozeri account for every moment of their time apart. He forbade her to go anywhere without him. He dropped in on her during the day, as if to catch her doing something wrong. He would not allow her to receive guests. Besides Konoe and his staff, the only people Kozeri saw were her elderly music, calligraphy, and painting teachers.

Isolated and lonely, she began to resent her husband. He sensed her antipathy and punished her with cutting remarks, violent acts. Once, in a fit of rage, he tore up all her clothes.

"Ungrateful wretch!" he shouted, stripping her naked and throwing her out in the snowy garden. "Freeze out there until you can show some affection for your husband!"

The next day he apologized profusely and bought Kozeri a new wardrobe. Her husband seemed to be two different people: his normal, public self, and the monster who ruled her. Kozeri's fear worsened their marital relations. She would have gladly let the left minister enter her, if only to pacify him, but her womanhood closed up whenever he tried. Furious, Konoe abandoned the gentle, patient approach. He fed Kozeri aphrodisiacs. He slathered oil on her crotch, prying at the threshold with wooden implements. Her pained cries further incensed him. Muttering curses, he drove his organ at her like a battering ram.

One night, after another failure, he said, "It's no use. You don't want me. You don't love me. And you never will."

Rising, he donned his dressing gown and stood looking down at Kozeri, his face taut with angry frustration. While she cowered, he said, "For love of you, I committed a heinous act. I risked my position and my honor, sacrificed my tranquillity and freedom. All for nothing!"

He left the room, and a horrifying thought took shape in Kozeri's mind. His words showed her the past in a different perspective. Little things, hardly noticed at the time, now took on an ominous significance. She recalled Ryozen remarking, "The left minister enjoys hearing about how we play music together." Indeed he seemed eager for any information regarding their personal life, and Kozeri had been pleased by what she thought was his interest in Ryozen, whose career would benefit from Konoe's patronage. She remembered the left minister's frequent visits to their home, and ceremonies where his brooding gaze followed them. Now Kozeri understood that she, not her husband, had been the real focus of Konoe's attention all along.

He'd fallen in love with her while she was still married to Ryozen. The police had never caught Ryozen's killer; they couldn't find anyone with reason to wish him dead. Left Minister Konoe could have stolen Kozeri from Ryozen by simply ordering them to divorce and commanding her to marry him; thus, no one had suspected Konoe of the murder, even though he benefited by her widowhood. But Kozeri knew his jealous nature. He wouldn't have wanted her first husband around as a rival for her love, so he'd "committed a heinous act."

Left Minister Konoe had murdered Ryozen.

Now the four hundred breaths ended. The abbess began to chant: "Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu."

"Namu Amida Butsu," Kozeri repeated along with the other nuns. Their voices rang with joyous conviction; hers sounded hollow as she remembered the horror of her discovery, and the confusion that followed. n.o.body would believe her if she accused Konoe of murder; he was too important and respected. The Imperial Court wouldn't let her go to the police. Her family wouldn't risk Konoe's disapproval by taking her side. Kozeri must hide her emotions and keep peace with the left minister.

But nothing she said or did pleased him. He grew more brutal in his efforts to penetrate her, and he watched her ever more closely. Then, shortly before their first anniversary, Kozeri's samisen teacher died. The new one who came to give her lessons was a courtier in his twenties, nicknamed "Saru"-Monkey-because of his talent for mimicry. With his lopsided smile and bulging eyes, he wasn't handsome, but he was kind. Perceiving Kozeri's unhappiness, Saru made her laugh at his imitations of animals and people. For the first time since Ryozen's death, Kozeri found pleasure in life. She had a friend.

Then one evening Konoe stormed into her chamber, his face livid with rage. He grabbed Kozeri and threw her against the wall.

"Adulteress!" he yelled, slapping her face. "Dirty wh.o.r.e!"

Kozeri cried, "What are you talking about, husband?"

"Don't pretend you don't understand," he said. "Every day you whisper and laugh with him. I know, because I've listened outside the door. He's your lover. Don't deny it!"

He meant Saru! Kozeri was shocked. She had no romantic interest in the music teacher. Besides, Saru was happily married. "No," she protested.

"Liar!" Konoe kicked her stomach. She fell and curled up; he kicked her head. "I heard you two mocking me. I've thrown him and his family out of the palace. They'll starve to death in the streets."

Kozeri realized that her husband had eavesdropped on Saru's caustic imitation of him. "I'm sorry!" she cried. "Please!"

His fists battered her. Blood poured from her nose. She screamed as Konoe ripped handfuls of hair from her head. Cursing, he picked up her samisen and beat her with it. At last he stood back, hateful triumph in his face.

"I trust you've learned your lesson," he said.

Despair emboldened Kozeri. She said bitterly, "Why don't you just kill me, the way you did Ryozen?"

For a long, awful moment she and Konoe stared at each other. She saw the truth of her accusation in his eyes. Anger flared in them, and she braced herself for another attack. Then he shook his head, turned, and walked away.

Kozeri wept. When the tears subsided, a calm clarity settled upon her mind. She understood that Konoe meant to continue trying to force her to love him. His cruelty would worsen until eventually he lost control and killed her. Kozeri's religious upbringing had taught her to accept fate; yearning for Ryozen, she considered suicide to escape misery and hasten her reunion with him. But part of her didn't want to die. Bruised, b.l.o.o.d.y, and aching, she packed a bundle of the new robes Konoe had given her. She fled to Kodai Temple, where her family had once taken refuge during a fire in the palace. The convent was a haven for maltreated women with religious leanings. The nuns took her in, accepting her wardrobe as a dowry. Kozeri imagined herself safe from the left minister forever.

A month later, Konoe burst into the convent, interrupting the novices' prayers. "I've searched all over for you," he shouted at Kozeri. "Now you're coming home with me!" He would have grabbed her, had not monks overpowered him. As they dragged him out of the temple, he shrieked, "I'll get you. You can't hide!"

He came again and again, sending letters between visits. When the nuns begged for alms in the city, Konoe accosted her. Sometimes he pleaded, apologizing for his behavior. Often he threatened to kill her if she didn't return to him. Sometimes Kozeri heard nothing from him for months; just when she began to believe he'd given up, he would reappear and the letters resume. In spite of her gentle nature, Kozeri hated the left minister. He'd destroyed her life, driven her from home and family. Why couldn't he leave her alone? She longed for his death, and an end to her misery.

She'd gotten her wish. But now, worse troubles threatened. She was a suspect in Konoe's murder; Sosakan Sano's questions had made it obvious. What if he found out how the left minister had treated her? Still, arrest wasn't the only thing she feared from Sano. His coming to Kodai Temple had shattered the calm she'd achieved through prayer and meditation. He'd awakened old emotions, suppressed longings.

In seeking a religious life, Kozeri had fled not just the left minister. Because her second marriage had overshadowed the happy memory of her first, she'd wanted nothing more to do with men. The need for peace outweighed all other desires. For years she'd been satisfied with having food, shelter, her faith, and the other nuns for company. But Sano had awakened a response in her; desire for him had stirred Kozeri's body to life. He'd aroused in her a powerful renewed need for the love of a man. She wanted to know Sano and continue the lovemaking they'd begun by the river today; yet although she longed to see him again, she dreaded the prospect.

"Now stand," said the abbess, rising slowly. "Mouth shut, chin drawn in, spine straight. Keep breathing; look straight ahead. Clear vision equals a clear conscience."

The nuns rose. Kozeri envisioned their consciences as clear water, hers as a dust storm. She possessed knowledge that could help Sano solve the case, but she also had dangerous secrets to keep. Telling the truth could jeopardize her life; love could destroy her hard-won peace. She'd not only lied to Sano, but this exercise she was performing had equipped her with a weapon that she'd used against him in self-defense. If he discovered the nature of the weapon, he would charge her with murder. Kozeri didn't know what would come of their acquaintance, but his duty, and their mutual attraction, had ensured one outcome. Sano would be back.

Clad in a dressing gown, her freshly washed hair sleek and wet, Reiko walked from the bathchamber at Nijo Manor to her room and found that Sano had returned. He was seated on the floor, sorting through the boxes of papers from Left Minister Konoe's office that Chamberlain Yanagisawa had just sent. He greeted her with a quick nod, then continued perusing doc.u.ments.

"I was starting to worry about you," Reiko said, kneeling beside him. Night had fallen; the inn's guests had already retired. "Shall I order your dinner?"

"No, thank you," Sano said, frowning at a letter in his hand. "I stopped at a food stall, so I'm not hungry."

"Well, I'm glad you're back." Puzzled by his curt manner, Reiko said, "Guess what: I've learned something about the fern-leaf coins." She described how she'd made inquiries and connected the coins to the Dazai gangster clan.

"That's a good lead," Sano said. He stopped his work and looked at her, yet Reiko would have appreciated a little more enthusiasm from him. "But Left Minister Konoe might have been spying on the Dazai for some purpose not connected to the imperial restoration plot, or his murder."

"That's true." Although she understood the need for objectivity, Reiko was disappointed by Sano's skepticism. "What did you learn today?"

"I just came from Nijo Castle," Sano said. "Chamberlain Yanagisawa raided Lord Ibe's house, but the outlaws and weapons were gone. He's leading a search for them. Unfortunately, he's located Yoriki Hoshina, as Marume and f.u.kida have just informed me. I've had Hoshina transferred to a new hiding place, but it may be just a matter of time before Yanagisawa finds him again. Earlier, I questioned Right Minister Ichijo, Emperor Tomohito, and Prince Momozono." Sano described the interviews, then said, "Either Ichijo or the emperor could have the power of kiai; either or both could be involved in the imperial restoration plot. They both have alibis that don't convince me, but would be hard to disprove."

"What about Lady Jokyoden?" Reiko said.

Sano's gaze strayed to the scrolls that lay in stacks around him. "I haven't had a chance to see her yet."

"Why not?" Reiko was surprised because he'd been gone long enough, and she thought he would have called on all the suspects while at the palace. She was also anxious to know whether Jokyoden could have committed the second murder. A solid alibi would clear Jokyoden of suspicion and ease Reiko's fear that she'd made a mistake by trusting the woman.

"I went to see Kozeri." Now Sano resumed sorting through papers with intent concentration.

"Again? Why?"

"I wanted to know about Konoe's last visit to her." Without looking up from his work, Sano said, "She saw Konoe shortly before his death. He told her he was on the verge of a great accomplishment. This suggests that he'd discovered the conspiracy and planned to report it to the bakufu, with the expectation of getting a big reward."

His reason for taking the time to see the nun seemed flimsy to Reiko, and the diversion uncharacteristic of Sano. "Yes, that does indicate that Konoe knew about the plot," she said, "but Kozeri's not really a suspect, is she? There were no outsiders in the palace during Konoe's murder, and when Chamberlain Yanagisawa set you up to be murdered, he didn't notify Kozeri of the opportunity to kill you."

"Kozeri's story substantiates my theory about the killer's motive, which is critical to solving the case. She's an important witness, so I went to see her. I'll talk to Lady Jokyoden tomorrow." Irritation tightened Sano's voice. "Why can't you respect my judgment?"

He'd been short-tempered the night before last, and for as little apparent reason as now, Reiko remembered. "Are you angry at me because I went around asking about the coins?" she said.

"I'm not angry," Sano snapped.

"Then what's wrong?" Now Reiko realized that he'd behaved this way after seeing Kozeri the first time. "Did Kozeri say or do something to upset you?"

"Of course not," Sano said in a defensive, unconvincing tone. "I already told you what happened. If I'm upset, it's because you question everything I do."

A sharp p.r.i.c.k of suspicion disturbed Reiko. But no, she had absolute confidence in Sano's fidelity. Although other husbands took lovers and mistresses, he'd never given her reason to think him interested in another woman.

Shamed by her suspicion, Reiko said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Sano nodded, dismissing her apology. He compared the note she'd found in the charcoal brazier beside a letter from Konoe's personal files. "The calligraphy matches. Konoe did write the note about the activities at Lord Ibe's house. And here's something else." He read from a doc.u.ment: 'I, Nakane the Weaver, agree to sell my house in Nishijin to the Honorable Left Minister Konoe Bokuden.' There's a map showing the location of the house that Lady Jokyoden took you to. So Konoe did own the house." Sano gave Reiko a brief, forced smile before returning his attention to the papers. "Maybe Jokyoden isn't the killer and we can trust her."

"Maybe," Reiko said, uncomfortably aware that she hadn't told him about Jokyoden's affair with Konoe. She'd promised her discretion, and she must honor her promise unless the affair became vital evidence in the case, which it so far hadn't. She was afraid that Sano was keeping secrets from her, too.

They spent the rest of the evening in stilted, minimal conversation, and when they went to bed, they lay awake for a long time, facing away from each other.

26.

I hope you don't mind if I work while we talk," Lady Jokyoden said to Sano. "No matter what misfortunes befall us, we must still observe the rites of Obon."

"Please, go right ahead," Sano said.

It was morning, and they were in the Buddhist chapel of Jokyoden's residence. The rain doors were raised; the wind wafted a bitter tang of smoke into the room. On a platform in a recessed niche sat a gilded Buddha statue surrounded by gold lotus flowers. Many narrow alcoves each held a table containing a vase for flowers, an incense burner, and a butsudan-memorial shrine-in the form of a small cabinet. From the ceiling hung trappings of the Festival of the Dead: plaited white paper strips, toys once owned by deceased children, and a mask of Otaf.u.ku, a deity of fortune.

Lady Jokyoden knelt on the tatami floor amid supplies for her Obon preparations and untied the cord around a stack of straw mats. Sano, standing nearby, noted that Jokyoden seemed unperturbed by his unannounced arrival. She'd politely acquiesced to an interview and didn't seem to mind being alone with him, but she waited for him to speak first.

"Where were you during the murder three nights ago?" Sano asked.

Serenely indifferent, Jokyoden began setting mats under the butsudan. There was no hint of mystical power about her, and Sano thought it unlikely that rigorous martial arts training would have been wasted on a woman. While still on his guard, he felt less apprehension than while interviewing Right Minister Ichijo and Emperor Tomohito.

"I can't remember," Jokyoden said.

Perplexed, Sano said, "Surely you have some idea."

"I am afraid I do not."

"The murder happened just before midnight," Sano said. "What were you doing then?"

Busy with her task, Jokyoden gave him a demure glance from beneath lowered eyelids. "I really don't know."

Sano was more inclined to believe that she preferred not to say. She certainly wasn't the fool that she sounded. Whether innocent or guilty, why didn't she just present a plausible lie instead of such a ridiculous claim?

"Did you go near the kitchens?" Sano asked.

"Perhaps... perhaps not."

And why not just place herself elsewhere, away from the murder scene? "Did you see or talk to anybody?" Sano persisted. "Is there anybody who might have seen you?"

"I don't recall whether I saw or spoke with anyone." Having finished with the mats, Jokyoden filled the alcove vases with water from a spouted jar. Her movements were precise; she didn't spill a drop. "You will have to ask the other palace residents whether they saw me."

Nettled by her impervious calm, Sano said, "You can't really expect me to believe that you've forgotten everything about that night."

She turned to him with a bland smile. "I expect nothing. But I beg you to excuse this humble woman for her poor memory."

During past investigations, Sano had met suspects who'd obstructed him by pretending ignorance, but none had carried it off as smoothly as Lady Jokyoden. What a maddening woman! Still, he admired her nerve.

Then Jokyoden said, "In my opinion, the world is a better place with one less despicable Tokugawa samurai. Your treatment of the emperor was a disgrace." Frowning, Jokyoden arranged fresh lotus flowers. "You dishonored the entire Imperial Court. It was an insult that begged revenge."

Sano stared at Jokyoden in amazement. After refusing to tell her whereabouts at the time of the murder, she'd just handed him her motive for wanting him dead! What was she up to?

"It's understandable that you don't care for me," he said, "but perhaps you found Left Minister Konoe more compatible."

"Why do you say that?" Jokyoden said in a tone of polite curiosity.

"You knew about the house he'd secretly purchased, which indicates a more than superficial acquaintance with him." Sano ventured a bold guess: "Were you and he lovers?"

Jokyoden gasped and dropped the vase she was holding. It broke on the floor; lotuses scattered and water splashed. With a moan of distress, she grabbed a cloth and began cleaning up the water.