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“You look ill,” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi said. “Is something the matter?”
Seated opposite Yanagisawa in a hostile trio were Sōsakan Sano, Lady Keisho-in, and Priest Ryuko. He could tell that they knew the truth about Shichisaburō’s confession and his own role in the plot. They didn’t intend to let him get away with attacking them. This battle was over, but the war continued-with his rivals united against him.
“Everything’s fine,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said.
Hirata walked through Edo Castle ’s herb garden, where he’d ordered Lady Ichiteru to meet him. A blanket of murky cloud covered the sky, with the sun a diffuse white glow above the palace rooftops. Soaring crows cawed. Frost had withered the beds of herbs, though their pungent scents lingered. Gardeners swept the paths; in a long shed, the castle pharmacist and his apprentices prepared remedies. Lady Ichiteru’s attendants waited at the gate. This time Hirata had deliberately arranged circumstances to preclude seduction, while providing enough privacy for what he intended to be their last conversation.
He found Ichiteru alone beside a pond in which lotus bloomed in summer. Standing with her back to him, she contemplated the tangled mat of foliage. She wore a gray cloak; a black veil covered her hair. Hirata could tell by the way her spine stiffened that she was aware of his presence, but she didn’t turn. So much the better: he could speak his mind without succumbing to her allure.
“It was you who gave Lady Harume the poison that made her sick last summer, wasn’t it?” Hirata said. “It was you she feared, and begged her father to rescue her from.”
“So what if it was me?” Indifference dulled Ichiteru’s husky voice. “You have no proof.”
She was right. Hirata had spent the past three days investigating the incident, and had eliminated the other palace residents as suspects. He knew Ichiteru was guilty, but he’d found no evidence against her, and since she was obviously not about to confess, there was nothing he could do. Ichiteru had gotten away with attempted murder, as well as making a fool of him. Angry humiliation stung Hirata.
“I know you did it,” he said. “Since you didn’t kill Harume, it’s the only explanation for how you treated me. You were afraid the sōsakan-sama would discover that you were responsible for the earlier poisoning, and you wanted Lady Keisho-in convicted of Harume’s murder. So you used me.”
Seething inside, Hirata continued, “I bet you’re pretty pleased with the way things turned out. But hear this: I know what you are-a murderess in spirit if not in fact. And I’m warning you: Cause trouble again, and I’ll come after you. Then you’ll get the punishment you deserve.”
“Punishment?” Lady Ichiteru gave a disdainful laugh. “What can you do to me that’s worse than the future that already lies ahead?”
She turned; her veil slipped. Hirata stared in shock. Ichiteru wore no makeup. Her eyes were red and puffy from weeping, her pale lips bloated. Her bare skin looked mottled and sallow, and she wore her hair in an untidy knot devoid of ornaments. Hirata barely recognized this plain figure as the woman who had captivated him.
“What happened to you?” he said.
“Tomorrow, fifteen new concubines arrive in the Large Interior. I was just informed that I am one of the women who will be dismissed to make room for them-three months short of my official retirement date!” Lady Ichiteru’s voice shook with fury. “I’ve lost my chance to bear the shogun an heir and become his consort. I shall return to Kyōto with nothing to show for thirteen years of degradation and pain. I’ll spend the rest of my life as an impoverished spinster, a despised symbol of the imperial family’s failed hopes for a restoration to glory.”
Sneering at Hirata, Lady Ichiteru said, “I apologize for what I did to you, but you’ll get over it. And whenever you think of me, you can laugh!”
Hirata’s need for vengeance dissolved. His attraction to Ichiteru had vanished with the artificial trappings of fashion and ma
“I’m sorry,” he said.
He would have wished her luck, or offered polite words of comfort, but Lady Ichiteru turned away. “Leave me.”
“Good-bye, then,” Hirata said.
Walking back through the garden, he felt years older than when he’d begun the investigation. The experience had fostered wisdom. Never again would he allow a murder suspect to manipulate him. Yet the departure of the strong emotions he’d had toward Ichiteru left a vacancy in his spirit. He should attend to other cases before Sano’s wedding banquet, scheduled for that evening, but Hirata was too restless for work. Filled with vague yearnings, he entered the forest preserve, hoping that a solitary stroll would clear his mind.
He’d no sooner started down a path when a hesitant voice spoke behind him. “Hello, Hirata-san.”
Turning, he saw Midori approaching. “Hello,” he said.
“I took the liberty of following you from the herb garden because I thought-I hoped-you might like company.” Blushing, Midori fidgeted with a lock of her hair. “I’ll go away if you don’t want me.”
“No, no. I’d be grateful for your company,” Hirata said, meaning it.
They wandered between birches that dropped golden leaves upon them. For the first time since they’d met, Hirata really looked at her. He saw the beauty in her clear, direct gaze, her guileless behavior. He could understand his infatuation with Lady Ichiteru as a sickness that had blinded him to good things, including Midori. Thinking about the conversations he’d enjoyed with her, Hirata remembered something.
“You knew that Ichiteru tried to kill Harume last summer, didn’t you?” he said. “And you tried to warn me that she pla
Hiding her face behind the shiny curtain of her hair, Midori looked at the ground. “I wasn’t sure, but I suspected… And I didn’t want her to hurt you.”
“Then why didn’t you say so? I know I must not have seemed very eager to listen, but you could have spoken up, or written me a letter, or told the sōsakan-sama.”
“I was too afraid,” Midori said unhappily. “You admire her so. I thought that if I said anything bad about her, you’d think I was lying. You’d hate me.”
That a highborn girl could not only care about him, but also want him to think well of her, amazed Hirata. Now he realized that she’d liked him all along. She didn’t care about his humble origins. Midori’s honest tribute lifted him free of the prison of insecurity. It no longer mattered that he lacked noble lineage or cultured elegance. His life’s achievements-the true manifestations of honor-would suffice. Hirata suddenly wanted to laugh with exultation. How strange that his most humiliating experience should also bring the gift of revelation!
Touching Midori’s shoulder, he turned her to face him. “I don’t admire Lady Ichiteru anymore,” he said. “And I could never hate you.”
Midori regarded him with wide, solemn eyes full of dawning hope. A smile trembled on her lips; her dimples flashed shyly, like sunlight glinting on pearls under water. Hirata felt a spring of happiness as he saw a possible answer to his longing.
“What are you going to do now that Ichiteru is leaving?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ll be lady-in-waiting to one of the other concubines,” said Midori. She added, “I’m supposed to stay at Edo Castle until I marry.”
Or perhaps even afterward, Hirata thought, if he remained stationed here and their fortunes coincided. But that was rushing things. For now, he was satisfied to know they would both be at the castle long enough for the future to unfold.
“Well,” Hirata said, gri