He soon would, Reiko thought.
“But what if he somehow finds out?” Lady Ogyu said, still fearful.
Another, longer silence fell. Reiko wordlessly exhorted the couple to say something that further identified the old woman and explained what bearing, if any, she had on the murders.
Light footsteps ran toward Reiko, then skidded to a halt. She turned and saw the Ogyus’ little boy, who stood a few paces from her. They beheld each other in alarm. Reiko put her finger to her lips.
“Mama! Papa!” the boy cried.
Reiko fled.
27
After leaving Hirata’s estate, Sano met General Isogai, chief of the Tokugawa Army, in the street in the official quarter. General Isogai was a stout, middle-aged samurai with a thick neck and pugnacious expression. His belly strained the lacings of his armor tunic. The rim of his metal helmet indented his fleshy head.
“Folks have been looking high and low for you,” General Isogai said. His voice was hoarse from barking orders; his piggish eyes were bloodshot. He’d been working day and night, deploying his troops across the city and creating a semblance of order. “The shogun has called an emergency meeting.”
Countless emergency meetings had been called since the earthquake. “What’s this one about?” Sano asked.
“I guess we’re going to find out,” General Isogai said.
At the guesthouse Sano and General Isogai found the shogun and Ienobu seated on the dais with the four aged men of the Council of Elders. The floor below them was crowded with the council’s aides, the shogun’s guards, and palace officials. The audience overflowed out the open door; on the veranda, men stood three deep. The crowd buzzed with low, speculative conversation. The shogun beckoned Sano and General Isogai. As Sano knelt in his place at the shogun’s right, he saw Toda Ikkyu’s bandaged face in the front row of the audience. He noticed Masahiro kneeling in a corner. He remembered that Masahiro was now in charge of the shogun’s chambers, but this was the first time he’d seen Masahiro in an official role at such an important gathering. His son had a man’s job, at twelve years old. The earthquake had created strange circumstances indeed.
The shogun raised his hand; the crowd quieted. “I, ahh, called you together because I, ahh, have just, ahh, received, ahh, disturbing news. Toda- san, tell them what you told me.”
Toda rose on his knees and turned around to face the crowd. “I’ve discovered some activity among the Mori, Maeda, and Date daimyo clans.” Sano felt an internal drumbeat of foreboding. “I’ve done a rough count of their troops, based on what my agents have reported. The number is much higher than normal. It appears that the troops have been sneaking into town since the earthquake. They’ve been parading through the streets, all decked out for battle.”
Murmurs rumbled. Men exchanged alarmed glances. Everyone knew what this massing of troops could mean-a revolt brewing. The shogun cringed inside his quilts. Masahiro looked worriedly at Sano, who fought to keep his composure. It sounded as if the daimyo who wanted to overthrow the Tokugawa regime were so bent on revolt-and so certain they would come out on top-that they didn’t care who knew about their plans.
“Why have you only just discovered this?” General Isogai demanded.
“Because the intelligence service has been as impaired by the earthquake as every other section of the government,” Toda said.
Sano looked at Toda. Toda returned his gaze, inscrutable.
“How have those troops managed to get from the provinces to Edo?” asked Kato Kinhide, on the Council of Elders, a crony of Yanagisawa. “Aren’t the highways impassable?”
“The troops apparently got through somehow,” Toda said.
“Why haven’t the officials at the checkpoints let us know they were coming?” Ienobu asked. Distress knotted his ugly features. Sano supposed he was worried about inheriting a civil war along with the Tokugawa regime.
“The checkpoints have been closed since the earthquake,” Toda said. “The messenger service is virtually shut down. There’s nobody to bring us news from afar.”
Edo was a sitting target, blindly unaware of danger. Sano felt guilty because he’d been aware but hadn’t told.
“Are the daimyo going to attack me?” The shogun clutched Sano’s sleeve. “What should we do?”
All eyes turned to Sano. Sano still couldn’t tell what he knew because that would force the government to respond to the threat and the daimyo to proceed with their insurrection regardless of whether Sano solved the crime and Lord Hosokawa joined them. “We shouldn’t leap to the conclusion that the daimyo are preparing for war,” Sano said. “There could be other reasons why they would bring in extra troops. To fix their damaged estates, for example.”
“Ahh.” The shogun looked relieved.
Skepticism appeared on faces in the assembly, including Masahiro’s. Toda studied Sano with curiosity, Kato with veiled suspicion.
“All due respect, Honorable Chamberlain, this would be a perfect time for those daimyo to strike at us-while we’re down,” General Isogai said. “I should take our army and go order them to send their extra troops home or they’ll be sorry.”
Sano saw the disaster he dreaded shaping up. “That could provoke them into attacking even if they never intended to. Everyone’s temper has been on edge since the earthquake. Do you want to risk starting a war?”
“No, oh, no!” Eyes wide with fright, the shogun clapped his hands over his mouth.
“Then we mustn’t take military action until we’re sure it’s necessary,” Sano said.
General Isogai scowled at Sano. “Your Excellency, if the daimyo are intending to attack, we can’t just sit and wait for it.” Rumbles of agreement came from the audience, including Kato.
“Yes, we have to show them who’s in charge,” Ienobu said.
Encouraged by the support, General Isogai said, “We can’t afford to look like we’re blind to what they’re doing, or too weak to protect ourselves.”
The rumbles faded into an uncomfortable silence.
The shogun looked around in confusion. “What’s the matter? Someone say something. You.” He pointed at Toda.
Toda reluctantly voiced the assembly’s shared thoughts. “We’ve been severely weakened by the earthquake. Our army has only about ten thousand soldiers left in town. They’re too exhausted to stand against fresh troops from the provinces. The castle’s defenses are in no shape to withstand an invasion. I think Chamberlain Sano is right: We shouldn’t show aggression toward the daimyo when there may not be good reason and since we won’t be able to handle the consequences.”
Horror and shame filled the chamber, like the reek from an infected wound. Men bowed their heads. It was a terrible moment. That the Tokugawa regime was no longer invincible! That its disintegration could come during their lifetime! Sano felt the blow to the assembly’s collective samurai pride. His own spirit contracted painfully. Ienobu stretched his lips over his protruding teeth and brooded. The shogun was a picture of woe. Even he understood his predicament.
“All right, then, what should we do?” General Isogai demanded, red-faced, his eyes bulging with impotent anger.
“Yes, Chamberlain Sano, what?” the shogun echoed anxiously.
“We’ll watch the daimyo,” Sano said; it was the only thing he could say. “Toda- san, keep us informed about their business.” He could only hope Toda’s agents wouldn’t see anything that would provoke the regime into taking action it would regret or expose his own duplicity. “We’ll fortify the castle as best we can and prepare our troops for battle.”
The assembly filed from the room as quietly as mourners exiting a funeral. General Isogai aimed a derisive snort, disguised as a cough, in Sano’s direction. Sano followed Toda, caught up with him in the garden, drew him away from the other men, and said, “Did you know about the daimyos’ troops when we spoke earlier?”
Unfazed by Sano’s accusing tone, Toda said, “Yes.”