The Snow Empress: A Thriller (16 page)

Yowling with bloodlust, Captain Okimoto and the other troops drew their swords and charged the natives. Sano was appalled because the tensions between the natives and the Japanese had been ignited by unproven accusations and Lord Matsumae’s minor injury. He, Hirata, and the detectives grabbed the troops in an attempt to stop the fight. The troops fought them off. The women scattered in fright; the Rat dived into the forest. Okimoto shoved Sano, yelling, “Stay out of this!”

Sano skidded on ice and collided with a soldier. The soldier punched his jaw. Sano went reeling. Marume and Fukida brawled with other troops. Hirata exploded into action, a blur of flying punches and kicks. Troops fell away from him, but others attacked the natives, whom they outnumbered at least ten to one. Chieftain Awetok barked orders at his men. All except Urahenka turned and ran. He and Awetok crouched, knives raised, prepared to fight and give their comrades time to escape.

Stop!“ Sano threw himself between the two sides and spread his arms. ”This is insane!“

Troops barreled past him. They drew bows and fired arrows at the fleeing natives, hacked at them with swords and cut them down as they ran. Three soldiers grabbed Sano. Captain Okimoto shouted, “Hey, Hirata-san!” He held the point of his sword to Sano’s throat while Sano struggled against the men holding him. “Quit that, or I’ll kill your master!”

Hirata spun to a halt amid the bodies of the soldiers he’d downed. Chieftain Awetok and Urahenka fought; swords battered knives. Amid curses in Ainu language and Japanese, the combatants lunged, struck, retreated, and lunged, trampling Lilac’s dead body.

Afraid that Reiko would be caught in the battle and killed, Sano frantically looked for her. He saw a few troops gather her up with the other women and hurry them all away. From the forest came cries of agony as the troops slew the natives. Lord Matsumae jumped up and down, waved his sword, and cackled with gleeful excitement.

In a desperate attempt to restore order, Sano called to him, “We haven’t yet found out who killed Tekare. Don’t you want to know?”

“We do know. It was them!” Lord Matsumae pointed at the chieftain and Urahenka, who were fighting for their lives.

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Sano said. “They passed the trial by ordeal. They could be innocent.”

Lord Matsumae shifted his attention from the battle to Sano; he stopped cackling. Captain Okimoto pricked Sano with his blade. “Shut up!”

Sano’s flesh recoiled from the sting of cold steel. “If you kill them now, you’ll never know for sure. Neither will Tekare. She’ll never be certain she’s had her revenge.”

A vestige of rationality tinged Lord Matsumae’s frown.

“Her murderer may still be out there,” Sano said.

Impulsive as ever, Lord Matsumae shouted, “Stop the battle!” He kept shouting until the troops backed away from Chieftain Awetok and Urahenka, who stood panting, knives clutched in their hands, bleeding from cuts. “Everybody come back here!”

His army rushed out from the forest. At first they were too busy hooting in triumph to notice that everyone else was at a standstill. A soldier roared, “They’re all dead. We got every last one of the barbarians.”

Then they looked around in puzzlement, halted, and quieted. One said, “What’s going on?”

“The war is postponed until we get to the bottom of things.” Lord Matsumae pointed at Awetok and Urahenka, the sole surviving natives, and said, “These are our prisoners of war. Bring them back to the castle.”

The funeral procession turned into a wild, raucous march home from battle. At its head Lord Matsumae walked in a daze, accompanied by cheering soldiers. Gizaemon followed, grimly triumphant. More troops escorted Chieftain Awetok and Urahenka. The two native men wore stony expressions, held their heads high. Behind them walked Sano, Hirata, and their comrades, also escorted by guards, little more than prisoners themselves. Then came a hooting mob of the youngest soldiers, carrying the severed heads of the slain natives. Blood dripped from the grisly trophies.

Trailing the march was another, quiet procession of servants. They carried Lilac’s body, wrapped in their coats. The girl whose death had precipitated a war was all but forgotten.

As Sano trudged along, he felt ill with horror about the massacre. Detective Marume said, “I’ve met samurai bullies in my time, but these boys are the worst.”

“They’re like a wolf pack,” Fukida said.

The Rat moaned, “Merciful Buddha, transport me back to Edo!”

Hirata’s face was set in tight lines of anguish and fury as he watched the chieftain prodded and tormented along. Through Sano’s horror rang guilt. If he’d solved the murder sooner, he might have prevented the massacre. Now he must do something to forestall more senseless slaughter.

At Fukuyama Castle, sentries at the gate greeted the troops like returning heroes. They mounted the severed heads on pikes outside the castle wall. The army cheered Lord Matsumae: “Hail to the future conqueror of Ezogashima!”

He smiled but looked perplexed, as if he didn’t quite understand what had happened. Sano rushed over to him. “Lord Matsumae, please call off the war. Even if Chieftain Awetok or Urahenka did kill Tekare, their people had nothing to do with it.”

They’re guilty by association,“ Lord Matsumae said.

“Japanese law says that a criminal’s kin must share his punishment,” Gizaemon added.

“Only his immediate family and close associates,” Sano said. “It would be unfair to kill the other tribes.”

“These bastards are all related as far as we’re concerned,” Gizaemon said.

If reason wouldn’t get through to them, maybe threats would. “The shogun won’t want a war. You’re already in trouble with him for disrupting trade with the natives. A war will stop it altogether. He’ll throw your clan out of Ezogashima and turn you all into masterless samurai.”

Another cheer regaled Lord Matsumae. He raised his arms, beaming. Gizaemon said, “Trade will be better than ever after we wipe out the barbarians. We’ll open up Ezogashima to every Japanese who wants to hunt game or mine for gold. There will be more wealth for the shogun.”

“Ezogashima’s a huge place. Your troops will be spread thin. You’ll need reinforcements from the Tokugawa regime, from other samurai clans. That won’t make Lord Matsudaira happy. He needs everybody to help him fight the rebels who are trying to depose him.”

“We’ll win a fast victory.” Gizaemon sounded confident. “Lord Matsudaira will thank us for bringing him more riches to pay his army and his allies.”

The castle gate opened. Troops swarmed through, carrying Sano in on the tide of their uproar. He fought to stay near Lord Matsumae and Gizaemon. “The practical details are against you. There’s a plague among your men. And winter is no time to launch a military expedition. If there’s this much snow here, how deep is it in the far north?”

“We won’t go there yet,” Lord Matsumae said. “We’ll attack the nearest villages and save the others for spring.” He cried, “Let’s drink to our future victory!”

“At least wait until I finish investigating the murder,” Sano pleaded.

“You are finished.” Sudden anger enflamed Lord Matsumae. “I put my faith in you, and you’ve let me down. I’m taking back charge of the investigation. I’ll find out who killed Tekare by persuading our prisoners to tell the truth.”

“Best idea I’ve heard in a long time,” Gizaemon said. “I’ll help. Let’s go.

Horror struck Sano because he knew what they intended. Hirata said “No!” and rushed forward to save Urahenka and Awetok from the troops herding them like animals.

Captain Okimoto said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Hirata-
san.”
Rowdy, grinning soldiers aimed bows at Sano. One loose finger could end his life. Hirata stared in frustration and rage.

“Let Hirata-san and me come with you,” Sano said to Gizaemon. Maybe he could keep things from getting out of hand. Maybe he was a deluded fool.

“All right,” Lord Matsumae said. “I’ll show you how an interrogation is done.”

At the women’s quarters, the troops locked the native concubines in their rooms. Reiko found herself thrown together with the Japanese ladies in theirs. Maids stoked braziers and brewed tea. The ladies-in-waiting fussed over Lady Matsumae. They removed her coat, wrapped her in quilts, and rubbed her cold hands and feet. No one paid any attention to Reiko. She knelt in a corner, spent by the day’s events.

Discovering Lilac dead and learning that she’d been murdered had been bad enough. Reiko was aghast that it had led to a war. How many of the natives had been slaughtered? Reiko feared for Sano. Would he be killed in the fight? Would she lose her husband as well as her son?

Guilt filled Reiko. She’d been so immersed in her own loss that she’d done nothing to help Sano. If they never saw each other again, this separateness would be her last memory of him. Reiko felt such a debilitating exhaustion and despair that she wanted to lie down and sleep through whatever happened.

Lady Matsumae retched into a basin and vomited while the ladies-in-waiting held her head. “The sight of that girl was just awful,” she groaned. “So was the fight. All that blood! I can’t get it out of my mind.”

Lady Smart offered her a cup of herbal tea. “Drink this. It’ll settle your stomach.”

“I can’t.” Lady Matsumae gagged and shivered. “I feel so cold. I feel dirty from being around death all day. It’s rubbed off on me.”

“A hot medicinal bath will help you,” Lady Pansy said.

Reiko experienced a renewal of the anger that had sent her looking for Lilac. Now that the girl was beyond reach and Reiko could forgive her, the anger found a different focus. Such terrible things had happened, and all Lady Matsumae did was make work for other people. Reiko’s earlier resentment toward Lady Matsumae deepened into hatred. She had no sympathy left for this woman who’d lost her daughter. Reiko had lost her son, and her own daughter, Akiko, was too far away to be any comfort. Lady Matsumae didn’t deserve special consideration or the right to behave selfishly. Lilac had at least given Reiko warm clothes. Lady Matsumae had offered nothing whatsoever. And Reiko wondered if Lady Matsumae was at fault for more than that.

Her attendants helped Lady Matsumae out of the room. Reiko followed them down the corridor, stood outside the door of the bath chamber, and listened. Water splashed while the attendants washed Lady Matsumae. When they left her alone to soak in the tub, Reiko sneaked into the chamber.

It was a small room with a raised floor of wooden slats. Mats on the walls had a pattern of leafy green plants woven into them, for visual warmth. In the center was a round, sunken tub. Lady Matsumae sat submerged up to her chin. Her head lolled; her eyes were closed. The water steamed up in clouds that smelled of sweet, pungent herbs. Reiko had a sudden image of Lilac dead in the hot spring. For an instant she felt Lilac’s inert flesh, saw the boiled-fish eyes staring sightlessly at her. The sensations nauseated her and fueled her anger.

“Wake up, Lady Matsumae,” she ordered.

“Uh?” Lady Matsumae’s head jerked up. Her eyes snapped open.

She looked older without her makeup, her complexion sallow, mottled, and loose, her mouth pale and puffy. Hostility focused her bleary eyes. “What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Well, I don’t want to,” Lady Matsumae said peevishly. “Go away.” She lay back, shut her eyes, and compressed her lips.

“I’m not leaving.” Reiko had ideas about what had happened to Lilac, and she had bones to pick with Lady Matsumae. She dipped her hand in the tub and splashed water in Lady Matsumae’s face.

Chieftain Awetok and Urahenka knelt on the dirt floor of an empty storehouse inside the castle. They were stripped to the waist, hands and ankles tied. Their fierce faces gleamed with sweat raised by a crackling wood fire whose flames gilded the thick hair on their bodies and cast their shadows toward Gizaemon, Lord Matsumae, and Captain Okimoto. Okimoto held a leather whip that bristled with metal barbs.

“This is your last chance,” Lord Matsumae said, shrill with manic excitement. “Admit you murdered Tekare.”

Gizaemon relayed the order to the natives in their language. Near the door, eight soldiers guarded Hirata and Sano. Hirata had never felt so helpless. If he tried to save the Ainu, the Matsumae folk wouldn’t punish just Sano but also Reiko and their other comrades. He watched with impotent rage as the chieftain and Urahenka spoke, denying the accusation.

“They say their trial by ordeal proves they’re innocent,” Gizaemon said.

Lord Matsumae laughed. “Let’s see if you can withstand my kind of ordeal!”

Okimoto cracked his whip, striking the chieftain and Urahenka across their chests. They held themselves rigid, jaws clenched. Bloody lash marks appeared on their skin. Sano wore the intense, somber expression that Hirata knew meant he was thinking hard, formulating and discarding strategies.

“What do you say now?” Lord Matsumae asked the natives. Each uttered denials. “Well, if you want to suffer, by all means do.”

Again the whip cracked. Again the natives stoically bore the punishment. Chieftain Awetok’s body was so tough with sinew and leathery skin that he looked as if he could endure the whipping indefinitely. But Urahenka was shivering; the sweat rolled down his face.

Tearful with frustration, Lord Matsumae hurled more accusations and demands for confessions at the natives. But Gizaemon had an air of enjoyment. Sano said to him, “You’re eager for them to confess, aren’t you?”

“You bet.” Gizaemon relished chewing a sassafras toothpick. “It’ll help my nephew, make him well again.”

“I think your reason is more personal than that,” Sano said. “If they confess, that lets you off the hook.”

Gizaemon glowered. “That’s enough from you.”

Sano persisted even though the troops pressed their spears into his coat: “Before Lilac died, she told my wife that she knew something about the murder.” He raised his voice above Lord Matsumae’s angry shouts. “Was it about you?”

Hirata understood what Sano was trying to do-draw suspicion away from the natives and focus it on Gizaemon. And he could tell that Gizaemon knew.

“Lilac seems to have had a habit of bartering information for favors,” Sano said. “But maybe you already know that, from personal experience.”

I’m warning you,“ Gizaemon said.

“Did she tell you that she saw you set the spring-bow trap for Tekare?” Hirata joined in. “Did she threaten to tell Chamberlain Sano unless you gave her money?”

Gizaemon didn’t answer, and Lord Matsumae was too busy ranting to hear the suggestion that his uncle could be the murderer. The natives continued to resist him until their torsos were crisscrossed with bloody lines punctuated by deeper wounds where the barbs had dug in. Both were breathing hard now, both in obvious pain. Hirata looked away in shame. He couldn’t bear to see the chieftain whipped to death while he stood by.

Suddenly the chieftain blurted an exclamation. “Wait,” Gizaemon told Okimoto, who’d raised the whip again. “He says he’s ready to give in.”

Alarm beset Hirata. He didn’t think the chieftain was a murderer; Awetok must have simply reached the limits of his endurance. But Hirata’s confidence wavered in spite of himself. Maybe the chieftain was guilty. Maybe Awetok had been deceiving Hirata, luring him with promises of knowledge, to win an ally.

“At last you’ve come to your senses,” Lord Matsumae said with relief. “Let us hear the truth.”

The chieftain spoke. Gizaemon’s expression turned foul. “The bastard says he’ll talk only under one condition. That we call off the war.”

Awetok was sacrificing himself to protect his people. Hirata admired the man’s nobleness even as he continued to wonder if Awetok was the killer. Hirata knew two things for sure: The chieftain had held out this long to increase the value of his confession and use it as leverage to save the Ainu, and he would be executed whether he deserved it or not.

“You’re in no position to bargain,” Lord Matsumae said. “Talk now, and we’ll make a deal later.”

As Gizaemon relayed these words to him, Awetok nodded in resignation. He uttered a statement that sounded final.

“He admits that he killed Tekare,” Gizaemon said with a smug look at Sano.

Sano’s mouth curled with disgust. “This is as false a confession as I’ve ever seen.”

Lord Matsumae ignored Sano, exulting, “At last I know who the culprit is. At last I will have justice for my Tekare.” He beckoned Okimoto. “Take him to the execution ground.”

Urahenka began yelling. The chieftain rapped out a command at him, but he yelled louder.

“What’s he saying?” Sano asked.

“That the chieftain didn’t kill Tekare,” Gizaemon said, annoyed by the interruption. “He says the chieftain only confessed to protect him. He’s the killer, and he wants to prove it to us, with his own confession.”

Lady Matsumae sputtered in fury. “The nerve of you! Have you no manners? You act like a cheap peasant girl.”

“Save your insults,” Reiko said. “They don’t hurt me. Nothing can, after what’s happened.”

“What are you blabbering about now?” Lady Matsumae wiped her face with a wet hand and spat water into the tub in which she sat.

“My son is dead.” Grief swelled within Reiko; her voice trembled. “He has been since before I got here.”

Lady Matsumae’s gaze was stupid with confusion. “How do you know?”

“I went to the keep. I saw the cage where they put Masahiro.” The terrible memory almost undid Reiko. “I saw his blood.”

“How did you get inside the keep?” Lady Matsumae said, as if that was the most important thing about what Reiko had said.

“That doesn’t matter.” Reiko didn’t want to reveal that Wente had helped her; Lady Matsumae would punish Wente. “What matters is that your husband murdered my son. And I think it’s your fault as much as his.”

My fault? How could it be? I never even saw your son. I didn’t know he was here until you told me. If he’s dead, I had nothing to do with it.“

Reiko didn’t believe her. “You started this whole disaster. You murdered Tekare. It drove your husband mad. You’re directly responsible for all his crimes.”

“I didn’t murder her,” Lady Matsumae said, impatient and offended. “I’ve already told you. I wouldn’t lift a finger to kill one of those barbarian whores.” Her tone was one she might use to say that stepping on ants was beneath her. “They’re not worth the trouble.”

“This one was, because you believe she murdered your daughter.”

Dismay sagged Lady Matsumae’s features. She clutched at her heart as if Reiko had struck her there. “Where did you learn that?”

“From Lilac. She told me how your daughter got sick and how Tekare performed a healing ritual. But your daughter died. And you think Tekare poisoned her.”

“Lilac was a terrible gossip,” Lady Matsumae said with disgust, but she didn’t deny Reiko’s claim. “I always said that her tongue would be the death of her.”

“Maybe it was. Yesterday she promised me information about Tekare’s murder. She’d already let me know that you wanted Tekare dead and why. What else did she have to tell?”

“…I don’t know.”

“I think you do. I think Lilac saw you or your ladies setting up the spring-bow by the path. You found out that she knew. How? Did she try to blackmail you? Did she take money or gifts from you in exchange for her silence?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Lady Matsumae was vehement, but Reiko continued, “When my husband started investigating the murder, that must have worried you. Here was someone who could give Lilac more than you could-a new life in Edo. You became afraid she would tell on you.”

“There was nothing to tell about me!”

“You knew that if your husband found out you killed Tekare, he would put you to death,” Reiko went on, relentless. “You needed to protect yourself. So you did away with Lilac.”

Lady Matsumae drew herself up and declared, “I have nothing to hide from my husband. I had nothing to fear from a gossipy, conniving servant girl.”

“This morning you followed her to the hot spring. You hit her on the head.”

“I never left the castle until the funeral. I hadn’t seen Lilac since last night. I never touched her!”

“You killed her,” Reiko said. “Then you came to the funeral as if nothing had happened.”

“Stop bothering me.” Lady Matsumae’s temper matched Reiko’s. “Leave at once!” She pointed a dripping, shaky finger at the door.

Reiko folded her arms. “Not until you admit what you did.”

“Then I’m going. I don’t have to listen to your foolish accusations.” Lady Matsumae rose, reaching for the towel and robe that lay near the tub.

Reiko snatched them and flung open the exterior door. Bright, freezing air poured into the bath chamber. As Lady Matsumae protested, Reiko hurled the towel and robe into the snow-covered garden outside. She faced Lady Matsumae.

Cowering in the tub, Lady Matsumae ordered, “Shut that door. I’ll catch a cold.”

“Don’t expect me to care.” Part of Reiko knew she was acting like a child having a tantrum, but it felt good in a nasty, shameful way. “You killed Tekare. You killed Lilac. You’re responsible for my son’s death. Admit it!”

Lady Matsumae shrank from Reiko. “You’re mad!”

“Maybe I am. And people who are mad are dangerous. Your husband is proof of that. You’d better confess, or Lilac won’t be the only one to die in a hot bath today.”

“Help!” Lady Matsumae cried.

“I can kill you before anyone comes. Now talk!”

It didn’t occur to Lady Matsumae to fight back against Reiko: She was physically passive, as were most women of her class. But her eyes gleamed with unexpected cunning. “What makes you so sure Lilac told the truth when she said she had more information?”

“Don’t play games with me,” Reiko said. “I’m running out of patience.”

“She was dishonest,” Lady Matsumae continued, although scared breathless. “She was just trying to get what she wanted out of you. She didn’t really know anything.”

Reiko put aside her own knowledge that Lilac had been stringing tar along about Masahiro. Once a liar didn’t have to mean always a liar. “I rate her truthfulness higher than yours. You’re trying to save yourself. She’s been murdered. That’s evidence that she knew too much-about you.”

Lady Matsumae suddenly repeated her earlier question: “How did you get inside the keep? Was it Lilac who took you?” Reiko’s face must have given away the answer, because Lady Matsumae said, “So it wasn’t.” A mean, sly smile curved her mouth. “But I think I know who did. It was that Ezo concubine, the one you stopped me from beating.”

“No,” Reiko began.

“I suppose the little whore was grateful to you and wanted to return the favor. And you were ready to trust her because she seemed so pathetic, so simple.” Lady Matsumae laughed disdainfully. “I warned you before that you don’t understand the ways of Ezogashima. You outsiders think that what you see of the barbarians is all there is to them. But appearances are deceiving. Especially when you’re so blind.”

A cold, apprehensive sensation crept through Reiko. She was distracted even though she knew that was Lady Matsumae’s intention. “What are you saying?”

“You’ve put your trust in the wrong place.” Lady Matsumae was unafraid, her voice stronger now and laced with contempt. “Wente is Tekare’s sister.”

“I’m aware of that. She told me.” But Reiko recalled her interrupted conversation with Wente yesterday. What would she have learned if they’d had the time to finish it?

“You don’t seem aware that she and Tekare were on bad terms, Lady Matsumae retorted. ”In fact, they were enemies. The other Ezo women had to keep them separated so they wouldn’t fight. I suppose she didn’t tell you that?“

Reiko was aghast at this information about her friend and upset because she’d had to hear it from Lady Matsumae. She woodenly shook her head.

Lady Matsumae laughed again. “Well, I’m telling you now. Maybe this time you’ll listen to me. I saw a quarrel between the two of them, just a few days before Tekare died. They were slapping and clawing each other and shouting.”

“What were they quarreling about?” Reiko hated to ask.

“I don’t know; I don’t understand Ezo language. But Wente had the last word. And I know a threat when I hear it.” Lady Matsumae’s smile shone with cruel triumph. “You should be accusing Wente instead of me.”