Read Online The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria by Laura Joh Rowland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Joh Rowland
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Historical, Asia, Mystery & Detective, History, Japan, Sano; Ichirō (Fictitious character), Samurai, Ichiro; Sano (Fictitious character)
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Chamberlain, what do you think?”
Horror flooded Sano as he saw that Hoshina intended to break the truce between Sano and Yanagisawa by manipulating the chamberlain into taking sides in his war against Sano. A suspenseful hush quieted the room while the chamberlain pondered Sano and Hoshina, his expression unreadable.
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi suddenly clutched his chest and moaned, “I think I shall die unless my cousin’s death is soon avenged!”
Dull-witted and self-absorbed, he’d missed the meaning of Sano and Hoshina’s interchange. Spasms racked his body as the doctors laid him down on the bed. Hoshina frowned, his ploy thwarted; but Sano exhaled in gratitude for the distraction. The elders conversed in low, urgent tones.
“What if His Excellency does die?” “With the heir apparent dead, we can expect conflict over the succession.” “If the bakufu and the daimyo form factions, there will be a battle.” The elders turned in unison to Sano, their unspoken meaning clear: He had better avenge Lord Mitsuyoshi’s death soon, or take the blame for the shogun’s death and civil war.
Chamberlain Yanagisawa rose and calmly announced, “I think this meeting is over.”
But Sano knew that his troubles had only begun.
***
Reiko sat in her parlor, wrapped in a quilt that spread over the square frame of a charcoal brazier. The chilly mansion creaked; distant temple bells heralded midnight. The servants had retired for the evening, and Reiko had put Masahiro to bed long ago. Now she waited, alone and anxious, in the light of the lantern she kept burning for Sano. Perhaps this was too soon after the Black Lotus case to ask him for a part in an investigation, and he would justify his refusal by mentioning her past faults. If another quarrel arose, reconciliation might be impossible this time.
The front door opened, and Reiko heard clattering in the entryway as Sano hung his swords on racks. Hastily she threw off the quilt and rose, her heartbeat accelerating. His footsteps padded down the corridor, and he entered the parlor.
“Hello,” he said. Exhaustion shadowed his face; his proud posture seemed burdened by worry. “You didn’t need to wait up for me.”
“Yes, well. I wanted to.” Reiko moved forward and helped him remove his cloak. Her smile felt stiff. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be back.”
They embraced tentatively, the way they did nowadays-as though they considered each other too fragile to withstand much affection. “You’re cold,” Reiko said, feeling the winter on him. “Sit down. I’ll make you warm.”
He sat, and she wrapped him in the quilt, then draped it over the brazier. “That’s better,” Sano said. “Thank you.”
Reiko wished she could as easily thaw the spiritual coldness that surrounded them. “Are you hungry? Would you like dinner?”
“Yes. Please. If it’s not too much trouble.”
This was typical of their interactions during the last three months. They were so polite to each other, so careful not to impose nor offend. Even their lovemaking was cautious, without joy. Sadness swelled in Reiko as she recalled their past intimate companionship. She went to the kitchen to warm the miso soup and rice she’d prepared for Sano, then carried the food and a pot of tea on a tray into the parlor, where she heated sake and cooked fish on a brazier.
Sano courteously thanked her for the meal. As he ate, she knelt opposite him. Neither of them acknowledged the fact that she’d never cooked for him until after the Black Lotus case. Reiko had always disliked domestic chores, but they were a way to placate Sano.
“How is Masahiro?” Sano said.
“He’s fine. He’s in bed, asleep.”
Nights were the most difficult, because during the day, Masahiro filled the empty space once occupied by their work. They seemed to have nothing left in common except their son, and therefore nothing to share when he was absent.
“What did you do
Horror flooded Sano as he saw that Hoshina intended to break the truce between Sano and Yanagisawa by manipulating the chamberlain into taking sides in his war against Sano. A suspenseful hush quieted the room while the chamberlain pondered Sano and Hoshina, his expression unreadable.
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi suddenly clutched his chest and moaned, “I think I shall die unless my cousin’s death is soon avenged!”
Dull-witted and self-absorbed, he’d missed the meaning of Sano and Hoshina’s interchange. Spasms racked his body as the doctors laid him down on the bed. Hoshina frowned, his ploy thwarted; but Sano exhaled in gratitude for the distraction. The elders conversed in low, urgent tones.
“What if His Excellency does die?” “With the heir apparent dead, we can expect conflict over the succession.” “If the bakufu and the daimyo form factions, there will be a battle.” The elders turned in unison to Sano, their unspoken meaning clear: He had better avenge Lord Mitsuyoshi’s death soon, or take the blame for the shogun’s death and civil war.
Chamberlain Yanagisawa rose and calmly announced, “I think this meeting is over.”
But Sano knew that his troubles had only begun.
***
Reiko sat in her parlor, wrapped in a quilt that spread over the square frame of a charcoal brazier. The chilly mansion creaked; distant temple bells heralded midnight. The servants had retired for the evening, and Reiko had put Masahiro to bed long ago. Now she waited, alone and anxious, in the light of the lantern she kept burning for Sano. Perhaps this was too soon after the Black Lotus case to ask him for a part in an investigation, and he would justify his refusal by mentioning her past faults. If another quarrel arose, reconciliation might be impossible this time.
The front door opened, and Reiko heard clattering in the entryway as Sano hung his swords on racks. Hastily she threw off the quilt and rose, her heartbeat accelerating. His footsteps padded down the corridor, and he entered the parlor.
“Hello,” he said. Exhaustion shadowed his face; his proud posture seemed burdened by worry. “You didn’t need to wait up for me.”
“Yes, well. I wanted to.” Reiko moved forward and helped him remove his cloak. Her smile felt stiff. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be back.”
They embraced tentatively, the way they did nowadays-as though they considered each other too fragile to withstand much affection. “You’re cold,” Reiko said, feeling the winter on him. “Sit down. I’ll make you warm.”
He sat, and she wrapped him in the quilt, then draped it over the brazier. “That’s better,” Sano said. “Thank you.”
Reiko wished she could as easily thaw the spiritual coldness that surrounded them. “Are you hungry? Would you like dinner?”
“Yes. Please. If it’s not too much trouble.”
This was typical of their interactions during the last three months. They were so polite to each other, so careful not to impose nor offend. Even their lovemaking was cautious, without joy. Sadness swelled in Reiko as she recalled their past intimate companionship. She went to the kitchen to warm the miso soup and rice she’d prepared for Sano, then carried the food and a pot of tea on a tray into the parlor, where she heated sake and cooked fish on a brazier.
Sano courteously thanked her for the meal. As he ate, she knelt opposite him. Neither of them acknowledged the fact that she’d never cooked for him until after the Black Lotus case. Reiko had always disliked domestic chores, but they were a way to placate Sano.
“How is Masahiro?” Sano said.
“He’s fine. He’s in bed, asleep.”
Nights were the most difficult, because during the day, Masahiro filled the empty space once occupied by their work. They seemed to have nothing left in common except their son, and therefore nothing to share when he was absent.
“What did you do
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