The Cloud Pavilion (6 page)

The rising sun shone pale and diluted through storm clouds as Sano left his compound with Detectives Marume and Fukida and his entourage. As they rode along the passage, water dripped from the eaves of the covered corridors atop the stone walls, onto their wicker hats and straw rain capes. Their horses’ hooves splashed in puddles on the paving stones. High above them, far beyond Edo Castle, rain obliterated the green eastern hills outside the city. The pealing of temple bells echoed, then quickly faded, as if drowned by the humid summer air.

Sano and his men came upon another procession of mounted samurai, led by Yanagisawa. “Good day, Sano-
san
,” Yanagisawa said. He and Sano exchanged polite bows. “I was sorry to hear about what happened to Major Kumazawa’s daughter Chiyo.”

He sounded genuinely concerned and sympathetic, but Sano’s guard went up at once. “News travels fast,” Sano said. He took for granted that Yanagisawa kept abreast of his business; he did the same for Yanagisawa. But Sano was alarmed by how efficient Yanagisawa’s informants were.

“News travels especially fast when it concerns the uncle and cousin of a man as important as yourself,” Yanagisawa said.

He was also aware of the relationship between Sano and the Kumazawa clan, Sano observed. “What other facts do you have stored up in case they should come in handy?” Sano said in a light, jocular tone.

Yanagisawa responded with a pleasant smile. “Not half as many as you do, I’m sure. I assume you’re on your way to hunt down the person who perpetrated this crime against your clan?”

“You assume correctly.” Sano wondered if Yanagisawa had planted a spy inside the Kumazawa estate because he’d figured Sano would eventually show up there.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck,” Yanagisawa said. “And I’ll be glad to help, if you like.”

Memories flickered through Sano’s mind. He saw himself and Yanagisawa rolling in the dirt together, locked in mortal, savage combat. He heard Yanagisawa howling for his blood. Yanagisawa’s current behavior was truly perplexing.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind,” Sano said. “Many thanks.”

They bowed, said their farewells, and rode in opposite directions. Fukida glanced over his shoulder and said, “
He
wants to help? How about that?”

“Maybe a rat can change its whiskers,” Marume said, “but he’s got a trick up his sleeve, mark my word.”

“Obviously,” Sano said.

“What are you going to do?” Fukida asked.

“I’m going to stop relying on spies who can tell me what Yanagisawa ate for breakfast but can’t find out what’s in his mind,” Sano said. “It’s time to bring in an expert.”

Escorted by a squadron of guards, Reiko rode in her palanquin through the district south of Edo Castle, where the
daimyo
and their hordes of retainers lived. Her bearers carried her down wide boulevards thronged with mounted samurai, past the barracks that enclosed each huge, fortified estate. Rain began to patter on the roof of Reiko’s palanquin as her procession stopped at the gate house of the estate that belonged to the lord of Idzuma Province. Lieutenant Tanuma said to the guards, “The wife of the honorable Chamberlain Sano is here to see the wife of Captain Okubo.”

The guard opened the gate and called someone to announce Reiko’s arrival. Reiko had read the Kumazawa clan dossier and knew that Chiyo was a lady-in-waiting to the
daimyo
’s womenfolk. She hoped Chiyo was receiving good care here.

After a brief interval, a manservant put his head out the gate, spoke with the guard, and shook his head. The guard told Lieutenant Tanuma, “Sorry, Captain Okubo’s wife doesn’t live here anymore. She’s staying at her father’s house in Asakusa.”

Sano and his entourage rode across Nihonbashi, the bridge that had the same name as the river it spanned as well as Edo’s merchant quarter. The bridge was jammed with traffic. Porters carried trunks for samurai traveling in palanquins; peasant women armed with market baskets jostled begging priests and children; foot soldiers patrolled. Below them, barges floated on the murky brown water. Wharves stacked with lumber, bamboo poles, vegetables, and coal occupied shores lined with ware houses. Drizzle hung so thickly in the air that it muted the sounds of seagulls shrieking, oars splashing, and voices raised in laughter and argument. The wet atmosphere intensified the stench from the fish market at the north end of the bridge. Sano scanned the crowds, looking for Toda Ikkyu, the master spy.

Earlier, he’d stopped in the chambers within Edo Castle that housed the
metsuke
, the Tokugawa intelligence service. A secretary had informed him that Toda was working at the bridge. He knew from experience that Toda was hard to pick out of a crowd. Toda was so ordinary in appearance, so utterly lacking in distinctive features, that Sano could never remember what he looked like even though they’d known each other for more than a decade. Neither could most other people. That was an advantage in Toda’s line of work.

As Sano eyed the faces of samurai who passed him, he thought of what he’d learned from Toda’s dossier some months ago. Toda had begun his life as a
sutego
—an abandoned child, one among legions that roamed the cities. No one knew who his parents were. Toda had fended for himself by stealing. One night, when he was twelve, he sneaked into the estate of a rich
daimyo
. There he lived for three months, filching food from the kitchen, sleeping under the raised buildings. The
daimyo
’s men noticed things missing and found traces of Toda, but they couldn’t catch him until the dogs cornered him. They brought him before the
daimyo
.

“I can use a boy with your talents,” the
daimyo
had reportedly said. “From now on you’re in my service.”

He put Toda to work spying on his retainers, reporting any hint or act of disloyalty. This went on for ten years, during which Toda was granted the rank of samurai. Then the
daimyo
ran into financial trouble; he couldn’t pay the cash tribute required by the shogun, Tokugawa Ietsuna. He presented Toda to the shogun and said, “A good spy is worth more than any amount of money, and this young fellow is the best.”

So the legend went. Toda had risen within the ranks of the
metsuke
until he became the chief spy. To him and his subordinates belonged much of the credit for keeping the Tokugawa regime in power.

Now Sano heard a voice call, “Greetings, Honorable Chamberlain Sano. Are you looking for me, by any chance?” He saw a samurai who appeared to be Toda, leaning against the bridge’s railing. Toda was ageless, his body neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, his face composed of features seen on a million others. He wore the ubiquitous wicker hat and straw rain cape, and an expression of world-weary amusement that was vaguely familiar.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Sano jumped off his horse and joined Toda; his men halted; traffic streamed around them. “I’m not interrupting any secret operation, am I?”

“Not at all,” Toda said. “I haven’t done much of that since Lord Matsudaira’s death. Things have been quiet lately. I’m just conducting school.”

“What kind of school?” Sano asked.

“For the next generation of
metsuke
agents. Political strife will flare up again eventually, and we’ll need new spies who know the craft.”

Sano looked around. “So where are your students?”

“They’ll show up soon. What can I do for you?”

“I want you to put Chamberlain Yanagisawa under surveillance,” Sano said.

Interest enlivened Toda’s expression. “Why? Have you reason to believe he’s plotting against you?”

“Only that he’s been too nice for too long.”

“Indeed he has. As I said, things are quiet.” Toda added, “I must tell you that Yanagisawa already has us spying on you.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Sano said. Yanagisawa was far more careful of potential rivals than Sano had ever been.

“And since I’ve told you about his spying, I also have to tell him about yours, just to be fair.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, either.” Sano knew that the
metsuke
had to serve all the top officials in the regime, keep them happy, and offend none. That was how Toda and his kind rode the shifting tides of political power. “Do what you must.”

“Wouldn’t you rather use your own men?” Toda said, hinting that they were more trustworthy than himself.

“They’re on the job, too.”

“But they’ve come up empty, and that’s why you’re calling on us,” Toda said, wisely superior.

“I might as well deploy all the ammunition at hand.” Although Sano couldn’t entirely trust Toda, he’d run out of other options. “Begin your surveillance today. Handle it personally.”

“I assure you that my agents are trained and competent.”

“But you’re the best.”

Humor crinkled Toda’s eyes. “Flattery is nice, but what I would really like—”

His gaze suddenly moved past Sano and sharpened. He called, “Kimura-
san
! Ono-
san
! Hitomi-
san
!”

Three people walking across the bridge stopped abruptly. One was a stout woman with a shawl that covered her hair and a basket over her arm. One was a water-seller carrying wooden buckets that hung from a pole across his shoulders. The other was a filthy beggar dressed in rags.

Toda beckoned, and the three lined up before him. “How did you know it was us?” said the woman. She pulled down her shawl, revealing a shaved crown and hair tied in a samurai topknot.

“That’s not a bad costume, Kimura-
san
, but you walk like a sumo wrestler,” Toda said. “Nobody on the lookout for a spy would mistake you for a woman.” He turned to his other students. “Hitomi-
san
, your buckets are too light; I could tell they’re empty. Don’t be so lazy when you’re on a real job. It’ll get you killed. And you, Ono-
san
,” he said to the beggar. “I saw a merchant throw a coin on the ground, and you didn’t pick it up. A samurai like you wouldn’t because it’s beneath you, but a real beggar would have.”

The students hung their heads. Toda said, “You all fail this lesson. Go back to the castle.”

They slunk off. Sano said, “Ah, a class on secret surveillance.”

“Weren’t you a little harsh on your boys?” Marume called from astride his horse. “I didn’t see through their disguises.”

“You weren’t paying attention,” Toda said. “But you should be. You might miss someone who’s stalking your master.”

Marume looked chastened. A chill passed through Sano. Did Yanagisawa plan to assassinate him? Was he acting friendly because he knew Sano wouldn’t be around much longer?

“What I would really like,” Toda said, resuming their conversation, “is for you to ensure that if there’s a political upheaval and you come out on top, I’ll survive and prosper.”

That was a fair deal as far as Sano was concerned. “Find out what Yanagisawa is up to, and I will.”

The rain turned into a downpour while Reiko and her escorts traveled to Asakusa. By the time they reached Major Kumazawa’s estate, the roof of her palanquin was leaking and her cloak was damp. She alighted in the courtyard, under a roof that was supported on pillars and covered a path leading up the steps of the mansion. She’d been curious to see Sano’s clan’s ancestral home, but the streaming rain obscured the buildings.

An old woman met her on the veranda, bowed, and said, “Welcome, Honorable Lady Reiko. We’ve been expecting you.” She was in her sixties, gray-haired, modestly dressed. Her plain, somber face was shadowed under the eyes, as if from a sleepless night. “My name is Yasuko. I am Chiyo’s mother.” She ushered Reiko into the mansion’s entryway, where Reiko removed her shoes and cloak. “I’m sorry you had to make such a long journey in this weather.” She seemed genuinely regretful. “It would have been easier for you to see Chiyo at her home in town, but she is unable to return there. Her husband has cast her off.”

Reiko was shocked, although she realized she shouldn’t be. Society viewed a woman who’d been violated as disgraced and contaminated. Rape was considered akin to adultery, even though the victim wasn’t to blame.

“When he came last night to fetch Chiyo, he found out what had happened to her,” Yasuko explained. “He no longer wants her as his wife. He means to get a divorce.”

“How terrible,” Reiko said as the woman escorted her through the mansion’s dim, dank corridors.

Her husband could divorce Chiyo by simply picking up a brush and inking three and a half straight lines on a piece of paper. And that was a mild punishment. He could have sent her to work in a brothel if he so chose.

“What is worse, her husband has kept their children, and he won’t even let her see them,” Yasuko said. “She is very upset.”

She slid open a door, called inside, “Lady Reiko is here,” and stood aside for Reiko to enter.

Chiyo was sitting up in bed, propped by pillows. A quilt covered her from bosom to toes, even though the room was warm and stuffy. Her lank hair spilled from the bandage that swathed her head. Her features were so swollen from crying that Reiko couldn’t tell what she looked like under normal circumstances. Chiyo’s mouth quivered and her chest heaved with sobs.

Reiko knew that state of profound grief that possesses mind and body like an uncontrollable force. She’d experienced it once in Miyako, when she’d thought Sano had been killed, and again when she’d gone north to rescue Masahiro and found evidence that he was dead. Now Reiko faced a woman who’d lost her husband and children even though they were still alive. She forgot that she’d once been ready to dislike Sano’s relatives because they cared more for social customs than for their blood kin. Her heart went out to Chiyo.

She knelt beside Chiyo, bowed, and said, “I am so sorry about what happened.” She felt inadequate, unable to think of anything else to say but, “Please accept my sympathy.”

“Many thanks.” Chiyo’s voice broke on a sob. “You’re very kind.”

Her mother offered Reiko refreshments. Reiko politely refused, was pressed, then accepted. The social routine gave Chiyo time to compose herself. Yasuko went off to see about the food. Reiko sensed that she didn’t want to listen while Reiko questioned Chiyo and hear disturbing answers.

“Honorable Lady Reiko, I appreciate your coming to talk to me,” Chiyo said humbly.

“There’s no need to call me by my title,” Reiko said. “My name will do.”

“Very well, Reiko-
san
. A thousand apologies for causing you so much trouble.”

Reiko liked Chiyo for caring about other people’s feelings even after her terrible ordeal. “I’m sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.”

Chiyo’s face crumpled.

Reiko had to force herself to say, “My husband wants me to ask you about what happened. Can you bear it?”

Chiyo nodded meekly. A tremulous sigh issued from her. “But what good will it do?”

“It will help my husband catch the man who hurt you.”

Tears trickled down Chiyo’s drenched face. Her eyes were so red that she looked as if she were weeping blood. “Suppose he does. Nothing will change. My husband won’t take me back. Last night he told me I was dead to him, dead to our children. Once he loved me, but he doesn’t anymore. He looked so stern, so hateful.” She wailed, “I’ll never see my babies again!”

Reiko could hardly bear to imagine her own children ripped away from her. Alarmed at Chiyo’s suffering, she urged, “Wait a while. Your husband may feel differently.”

“No, he won’t,” Chiyo insisted. Reiko’s sympathy and family connection made Chiyo speak more frankly than she might have with another stranger. “He’s a good man, but once he makes up his mind, he never changes it.”

How Reiko deplored male obstinacy and pride!

“He thinks I’ve dishonored our family.” Chiyo sobbed. “I think maybe he’s right.”

“Why?”

“Because I brought it on myself.”

“No, you didn’t,” Reiko said firmly. “My husband told me what you said happened at the shrine. You left your group because your baby was upset. You got kidnapped. That wasn’t your fault.”

“That isn’t all that happened. I remember more than I told your husband. It’s coming back to me in bits and pieces.”

Controlling her eagerness for information, Reiko spoke gently: “What else do you remember?”

“I took my baby into the garden, and I nursed him.” Chiyo’s arms crept out from under the quilt and cradled around the infant who should have been there but wasn’t. “I heard someone moaning behind a grove of bamboo. He called for help. I went to see what was wrong.”

Women were taught from an early age to put themselves at the service of others, and Chiyo had an obliging nature. Reiko understood what must have happened, and she burned with anger at the rapist. “He lured you to him by playing on your kindness.”

“But I was stupid!” Chiyo cried. “I fell for the trick. I deserve for my husband to divorce me and take our children.”

Women were also taught to be humble and accept responsibility for whatever ills came their way. “No!” Reiko said. “You couldn’t have known it was a trick. Neither could anybody else. Don’t blame yourself.”

Weeping contorted Chiyo’s face. “My husband does.”

So would most other people, Reiko thought sadly. “Your husband is wrong.”

“I’m fortunate that my father hasn’t cast me off, too.”

Most fathers probably would shun a daughter who’d been violated. The fact that Major Kumazawa hadn’t bespoke his love for Chiyo. Perhaps Sano’s picture of him as a rigid, tradition-bound samurai wasn’t completely accurate.

“Your father has put the blame exactly where it belongs—on the man who hurt you,” Reiko said. “He wants to catch him and punish him. So do I.” She felt her own taste for vengeance. “Don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Chiyo looked worried at the thought of taking direct action against anyone. She probably didn’t have a vengeful bone in her body, Reiko thought. “But if that’s what everyone else wants . . .”

“We want justice for you. But we need your help.”

“All right.” Chiyo was clearly used to obeying authority. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tell me everything you can remember about the kidnapping and the attack. Let’s begin with the man who tricked you. What did he look like?”

Chiyo pondered, frowned, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I recall walking up to the bamboo grove. After that, everything is a blank until . . .” A shudder wracked her body. “Until I woke up.” Chiyo turned her face into the pillow, as if hiding from the recollection.

Reiko speculated that Chiyo had been grabbed, then forced to drink a potion that rendered her unconscious and erased memories. She leaned forward, bracing herself to hear the awful details of the rape. She spoke quietly, trying not to pressure Chiyo. “Then what happened?”

“He . . . he touched me where no one but my husband has ever touched.” Chiyo drew deep breaths and swallowed hard. “He suckled milk from me. And . . . he bit me.”

She opened her robe. On her breasts, around the nipples, were curved rows of tooth marks, red and bloody. Reiko winced. “Did you see his face?”

“Only for a moment. Everything was misty and blurry. It was like . . .” Chiyo fumbled for words. “I once read a poem about a pavilion of clouds. It reminded me of that.”

Reiko wondered if the clouds had been a hallucination caused by a drug.

“The clouds covered his face, except for his eyes and mouth,” Chiyo said.

He’d worn a mask, Reiko deduced.

Chiyo shrank against the cushions, reliving her fear. She whispered, “He was so ugly and cruel. Like a demon.”

“Was he someone you recognized? Did he seem familiar?”

“No. At least I don’t think so.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“Perhaps,” Chiyo said uncertainly.

Reiko hid her dismay at the idea that the rapist might get away with his crime because Chiyo had so little memory of it. “Can you remember anything that might help us identify him?”

More shudders convulsed Chiyo. “His voice. While he did it, he muttered, ‘Dearest mother. My beloved mother.’ ”

Reiko felt her own body shiver with disgust at the rapist’s perversion. “Did you hear anything besides his voice?”

“The rain and thunder outside.”

That didn’t help narrow down the location; it had been raining all over Edo for days. And maybe Chiyo had imagined the clouds she’d seen. “Clouds and rain,” was the poetic term for sexual release. Maybe the drug had conjured up the clouds and linked them with the rain, and her violation, in her dazed mind.

“Think again. Can you remember anything else at all?” Reiko said hopefully.

“I’m sorry, I cannot.” Chiyo sighed, exhausted and weakened from reliving her ordeal. “I went back to sleep.”

Then she froze rigid, her muscles locked in a sudden, brief spasm. Her expression alternated among shock, fright, and horror. “No! Oh, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Urgency seized Reiko. “What do you remember?”

“Something new. I woke up again. Just for an instant. Because he slapped my face.” Chiyo touched her cheek. “And I heard him say that if I told anybody what he’d done to me, he would kill me, and kill my baby, too.”

Her voice rose in hysteria. “I told! And I shouldn’t have! Now I’ll be punished. Now my baby is going to die!”

“That’s not going to happen,” Reiko assured Chiyo. “You’re safe here. Your father will protect you. My husband and I will catch the man before he can make good on his threat.” Reiko would do everything in her power to deliver the monster to justice. Even though she knew there was no guarantee that she would succeed, she said, “I promise.”