Incredulous, Yanagisawa said, “How does he think he’s going to do that?”
“He says he’ll convince the tribunal that he’s innocent.”
Yanagisawa combined a laugh with a groan. The tribunal’s verdict was already decided; nothing Yoshisato said would change it. “I’ll make him see reason.”
30
Wind blew ash and litter through the deserted streets outside the temporary Edo Jail. Dogs scrounged in garbage piles that had accumulated along the wall. Dozing sentries crouched at the gate. The jail was quiet, except for occasional moans from prisoners.
The sound of hoofbeats startled the sentries awake. They sprang up to face two mounted samurai. One of these said, “We’re here to fetch a prisoner named Korin.”
“What for?” asked a sentry.
“Who are you?” asked the other.
The two samurai wore helmets with visors shading their eyes and face guards covering their noses and mouths. The Tokugawa crest was painted on the breastplates of their armor tunics. The spokesman said, “We have orders from the shogun.”
The sentries looked at each other; they shrugged. One opened the gate. The other said, “I’ll help you find your man.”
Inside the prison, Korin lay curled up alone in his tent. He drowsed, glad to be alive. His tent mates had been taken away and executed; three other men had died of illness today. He could hear more prisoners tossing and groaning. Korin grinned, thinking that once again he’d dodged misfortune. His mother used to tell him he must have done something good in a past life, because he didn’t deserve to be so lucky. As a boy, he’d been in one scrape after another and always got away unharmed. He’d shoplifted from market stalls, been chased by the police, and managed to escape. When he’d worked as a tout for the brothels, he’d overcharged the customers and pocketed the difference without his employers ever knowing. He’d cheated at cards many times before he’d gotten caught. Chances were, he would get out of his present trouble, too.
Heavy footsteps stopped outside the tent. A rough voice called his name. “Get up!”
The voice belonged to one of the guards. Korin looked outside and saw two soldiers. The guard said to them, “He’s all yours.”
The soldiers beckoned him. Korin knew there was only one place they could be taking him-the execution ground. Fear stabbed his heart. “No!” he cried, shrinking from them. “Please!”
They hauled him out of the tent as he struggled. “I promise I’ll never cheat anybody again! I swear!” The soldiers forced him to walk through the prison yard. “Help!” he shrieked. “Don’t let them take me!” Wild with terror, he thrashed. The men twisted his arms. Faces peered out of tents; patrolling guards paused to watch; no one came to Korin’s aid. His undeserved good luck had run out. Now he would pay for all his sins.
He would join Madam Usugumo in the special hell reserved for criminals, where they both belonged.
As the soldiers propelled him along, one whispered in his ear: “We’re rescuing you. If you want to live, then come peacefully.”
Surprise choked off Korin’s screams. He looked up at the soldier. “What?”
“No questions,” hissed the soldier. “Just be patient.”
Korin ceased resisting. His cocky grin returned. He didn’t care who these men were or why they would bother to break a lowly crook like him out of jail. He couldn’t afford to wonder where they were taking him or what would happen to him there. Now he wouldn’t have his head cut off for cheating at cards. Now Chamberlain Sano couldn’t put the blame for Madam Usugumo’s murder on him. His miraculous luck was still holding!
Fairly dancing out the gate with his escorts, Korin called over his shoulder, “Good-bye, you poor fools!”
“Yoshisato?” Someko called. “I’ve brought your father.”
She and Yanagisawa stood in the corridor outside their son’s room. No answer came through the paper-and-lattice wall, but Someko said, “He’s there. Go in.”
Braced for another rejection, Yanagisawa entered the chamber, shut the door behind him, and faced Yoshisato. The young man stood in the center of the floor. He had the awkward stance of someone who’d risen too hastily. He looked shocked.
“I didn’t think you would come,” he said.
Yanagisawa detected gratitude in his son’s voice. That gave him hope. “Of course I came. As soon as I heard about the order you received.”
“Why did you?”
“Because you’re my son, and you’re in trouble. And because I want to help.” Yanagisawa watched the fierce independence in Yoshisato resist his need to put his troubles in the hands of a father who would protect him. Yanagisawa admired Yoshisato’s strength. He realized that however much he’d loved Yoritomo, he’d never admired his favorite son; he’d always thought of Yoritomo as weak, not especially clever, and too submissive.
“Oh, I see.” Scorn twisted Yoshisato’s mouth. “To advance your political schemes, you need a son, and you found my half brothers lacking. So you can’t have me condemned as a traitor. And if I go down for treason, so do you. You wouldn’t like that.”
Again, Yanagisawa realized that Yoshisato’s affection wouldn’t be easily won. He resisted his tendency to use charm and glib words to get what he wanted. “I’ll be honest with you. I do need you to further my schemes, and I don’t want to die.” He saw Yoshisato’s eyes narrow. “But that’s not the only reason I want to save you. I think you’re a man who’s worth saving.” He was embarrassed to say something so personal and true, afraid it would meet with derision. “As a matter of fact, you’re one of the few men I’ve ever known who is.”
Yoshisato stared, astonished by the genuine esteem in Yanagisawa’s words. He took a step toward Yanagisawa, then stopped. “Then you must have more talent for making enemies than friends. Which of your enemies is attacking me to get at you? Is it Chamberlain Sano?”
“No,” Yanagisawa said, surprised that Yoshisato had gleaned more information about politics than he’d expected of such a sheltered youth. But then Yoshisato was his son. Politics ran in Yoshisato’s blood. “It’s Lord Ienobu.”
“The shogun’s nephew.” Yoshisato sounded appalled. “You’ve gotten us into a real mess, haven’t you?”
His disapproval stung, but at least he now appreciated the seriousness of his predicament. “Yes,” Yanagisawa said, “Ienobu is a powerful enemy. That’s why I don’t want to hear you say that you don’t need my help and you’re going to convince the tribunal that you’re innocent. That’s not only foolishness; it’s suicide.”
Frowning at the harsh words, Yoshisato said, “Well, then, how do you think you’re going to save me? Can you get the order rescinded? Or make the tribunal acquit me?”
Once the shogun had signed an accusation of treason-no matter whether he’d been manipulated into it-he couldn’t rescind it without losing face. Yanagisawa hadn’t yet regained enough influence to convince the shogun that losing face to save Yoshisato wasn’t so bad. He also had no authority over Ienobu’s judges. To think that he’d once been the most powerful man at court! Yanagisawa regretted those lost, glorious days.
“No,” he said. “I can’t.”
“Just as I thought.” Yoshisato looked disappointed, but smug because he’d correctly assessed the situation. “So I might as well defend myself in front of the tribunal. Because there’s nothing else to do but go down fighting.” He squared his shoulders, held his head high. Yanagisawa ached with pride in him. “When I’m convicted, I’ll be ready to commit seppuku.” He added, with a touch of sardonic humor, “You’d better be ready, too.”
Nettled because he didn’t want Yoshisato to think him so impotent, Yanagisawa said, “Don’t sharpen your sword just yet. There’s another way to get you out of this.”
“How?” Yoshisato regarded him with hope tainted by suspicion.
“If you could win the shogun’s favor before the trial-”
Yoshisato uttered a sound of repugnance. “I don’t like sex with men. I’d rather die.”
Yanagisawa admired Yoshisato for standing up for himself, as Yoritomo never had. “I’m not asking you to become the shogun’s concubine. I have a plan that’s far better.” He beckoned Yoshisato.