A shiver passed through Lady Mori, a memory like a bad wind that stirred her whole body. Her eyes closed; their lids quivered. “I heard Enju crying while Lord Mori groaned and wrestled him like a wild beast.”
Even as Reiko imagined the horror of it, she observed that part of Lady Mori’s story was true. She had spied on sexual sport in the private chambers, although not between Lord Mori and Reiko and not on the night he’d died. Reiko felt sick herself. “How could you let him do that to your son?”
“I was afraid of him. Afraid he would kill us both if I interfered.” Lady Mori hastened to say, “But I did try to stop him. The next day, I asked him to leave Enju alone. But he said he was in charge and he could do whatever he pleased.” She sobbed at her own helplessness. “I went to my brother, who’s a daimyo. I told him I wanted to leave Lord Mori. I begged him to take Enju and me in. But he was afraid of Lord Mori, too. He didn’t want to start a war. He said that if I left Lord Mori, I would be on my own, with nothing, and Lord Mori would keep my son.”
Reiko noted that another part of Lady Mori’s story was also true. She had sought family support, although not to end an affair between Lord Mori and Reiko, and been refused.
“There was nothing for Enju or me to do except suffer in silence.” The weight of misery and guilt visibly crushed Lady Mori. “We grew apart. He knew that I knew what Lord Mori was doing. He blamed me because I didn’t protect him. He was just a child, he didn’t understand how helpless I was. What could I have done?” She appealed to Reiko, eager to justify her inaction. “Steal him away, and try to bring him up by myself?”
That would have been Reiko’s first thought under the circumstances. But although she was tempted to despise Lady Mori for her weakness, she knew the world was a harsh place for a woman alone and poor. She saw the rationale for staying and enduring. “So you waited for Enju to get older and Lord Mori to lose interest in him.”
“Yes!” The word burst from Lady Mori in a cry of pain. “If only I had known what would come next. Lord Mori did lose interest in Enju when he grew up, but he wasn’t finished with him.” Anger and revulsion contorted her face. “He made Enju find boys for him and arrange for them to be brought to the estate.”
Reiko shook her head, amazed because she’d thought that the tale of the Mori family couldn’t possibly get worse. That Lord Mori had turned his stepson and former sexual object into a procurer!
“But that’s not all,” Lady Mori continued. “When Lord Mori killed the boys…” She put her face in her hands and wept so hard that Reiko could barely understand her as she said, “He made Enju dispose of their bodies.”
That Lord Mori had turned his heir into an accomplice to murder! Yet even while fresh shock hit Reiko, she saw a chance to solve part of the mystery. “What did Enju do with them?”
“He took them to a crematorium in the Z6jo Temple district. He paid the undertakers to burn the bodies and not tell anyone.”
This was what must have happened to the boy that Reiko had seen, and the reason Sano had been unable to find the body. Enju, or someone else, had followed the procedure, and the boy was ashes by now. Reiko had another question she desperately wanted answered. “Was there a boy named Jiro? This spring, in cherry blossom time?”
Lady Mori shook her head woefully. “I don’t know. There were so many boys.”
“Try to remember,” Reiko urged, anxious to learn whether Jiro and Lily existed, and if so, to find out what had happened to the child.
“I didn’t want to see. I looked the other way.”
Torn between pitying her and deploring her for burying her head in the sand, Reiko said, “You were lucky. You still have Enju. Think about the mothers who never saw their sons again after Lord Mori had them.”
Lady Mori covered her ears. “I don’t want to think about them. There was nothing I could do. Besides, he didn’t kill them all. I don’t know what became of the ones he didn’t.”
This raised but didn’t satisfy Reiko’s hopes that Jiro was real and alive. Still, at least Reiko now knew much of Lady Mori’s true story. For years Lady Mori had seethed with anger at her husband; then arrived Ukon, with her own bone to pick. After Reiko had come on the scene, they’d discovered their common interests. Both thought their sons had been misused by evil, powerful people; both had hungered for revenge.
“So you came up with a plan to kill two birds with one arrow.” Yet Reiko still needed to fill in the gaps in her memory. “But what exactly happened that night?”
“You don’t remember anything?” Ukon said.
“Nothing after I fainted outside Lord Mori’s chambers,” Reiko said.
Lady Mori moaned. “Please don’t make me talk about it. I can’t bear to even think of it.”
“Then I’ll tell her.” Ukon radiated malice at Reiko. “It’s not fair that you should forget.” Eager to have Reiko know the worst, she cast aside caution. “I want you to hear.”
Sano lay exhausted in the palanquin with Hirata, his lungs heaving from his struggles, his muscles cramped. He’d managed to loosen the ropes around his wrists, but not enough to free his hands. He thought of Reiko, her trial. He couldn’t help her anymore. She was on her own, her death certain.
He thought of Masahiro, and such anguish filled him that he almost beat his head against the hard plank floor. His death would leave his son helpless, his future in peril.
His anger at Hoshina kept his fear and despair at bay. He tried to concentrate on where he was going. Although he’d lost his sense of direction, he knew he was heading out of town because the city noises had diminished. Hoshina was taking him and Hirata somewhere isolated to dispose of them. Sano rested awhile, then strained at the ropes around his wrists and managed to stretch them a bit wider. He tried to think of a plan to save his life and Hirata’s.
Nothing occurred to him.
A stench filtered into Sano’s nostrils, putrid and familiar. Now he knew where he was-near the eta settlement, where the outcasts lived. He’d been here once, on an investigation. The stench came from the tanneries run by the outcasts, situated away from town so the smell wouldn’t offend the citizens and the taint of death wouldn’t pollute their spirits.
The bearers slowed their pace and muttered in disgust. Captain Torai called, “Get a move on.” Their feet sloshed in the gutters that ran through the settlement. The reek of sewage added to the tannery stench and nauseated Sano. The commotion of the settlement engulfed him. The rattle of buckets, axes chopping, laughter and curses, the wails of the sick and dying, formed an auditory picture of humanity crowded too close together in squalor. Men shouted, brawling. “Get out of the way,” Captain Torai ordered. A crowd scattered. “Turn left. Slow down,” Torai said. Sano felt the palanquin’s motion correspond to Torai’s orders. Again he strained at the ropes. They were slippery with blood from chafing his wrists. “Go in there. All right. Put it down.”
The palanquin tilted and rocked as the bearers eased the poles off their shoulders. It thumped onto the ground, jolting Sano and Hirata. Hooves clopped and armor creaked as Hoshina and his retinue gathered around them. The quality of the sound suggested a wide yet enclosed space. The tannery stench was so overpowering that Sano felt swamped by it. He heard the men jump off their horses, then smooth, metallic rasps of swords drawn.
Panic rippled through Sano, through Hirata’s body next to him. The bearers cried, “No, masters! Please!” in voices shrill with terror. There was a scuffle, hissing noises and thuds, exclamations of horror quickly stifled.
Even as Sano realized what had happened, Hoshina said, “Take them out.” The palanquin door opened. Torai and another man reached in, grabbed Sano and Hirata, and dragged them onto the ground.