“Hideyoshi didn’t just want me to sing the night he died. He wanted … everything. A patron’s rights, even though he was not my patron. I didn’t want to. I told him no, but he was so drunk and so strong. I knew I couldn’t stop him. That’s why I asked Mayuri to intervene.”
“But she refused,” Hiro said.
Sayuri raised a hand and wiped her cheek. “I was afraid, if Hideyoshi had his way, Hidetaro wouldn’t want me anymore.
“When Mayuri wouldn’t help I decided I would hide in the latrine until Hideyoshi fell asleep, but when I got there I found Hidetaro waiting. He wanted me to run away with him, but I was too scared to go. I thought Hideyoshi would follow us and kill Hidetaro. I couldn’t let that happen. In the end, we decided that I would hide for the rest of the night and we would run away in the morning.”
“How long did you hide in the latrine?” Hiro asked.
“I don’t really know.” Sayuri shook her head and wiped her cheek to stop a tear. Her crying had stopped except for a few stray droplets. “I stayed there as long as it took the moon to move a handsbreadth in the sky. I watched until it rose above the top of the slatted window, and then I waited a few more minutes.”
She took a deep breath. “When I returned to the room, Hideyoshi was dead. His legs were still kneeling but his head and shoulders had fallen back onto the floor.
“There was so much blood…”
She paused and then continued. “I couldn’t stand looking at his contorted body so I pulled it to the mattress. That’s how the blood got on my kimono.
“I was frightened. I assumed Hidetaro killed Hideyoshi while I hid in the latrine. I went to the veranda, but no one was there. As I shut the door I realized I had Hideyoshi’s blood all over my socks. I took them off and hid them in my kimono. I don’t know why. I wasn’t thinking very clearly.”
“What did you do then?” Hiro asked.
“I sat in the corner, as far away from the body as I could get, and waited for morning. I made up the story about falling asleep to explain why I didn’t call for help as soon as I found the body.”
“Why didn’t you call out?”
“I wanted to give Hidetaro time to get away.”
“Yet now you claim he is innocent,” Hiro said.
“I had time to think while I sat with Hideyoshi’s body,” Sayuri said. “I realized Hidetaro could not have done it. Well, wouldn’t have anyway. Why would he murder his brother and risk someone blaming me when we intended to run away the following morning?”
Before Hiro could reply the door slid open.
“My guests are arriving,” Mayuri said, “and I must ask you to leave. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Her smile negated the apology, but Hiro had finished questioning Sayuri anyway.
The men walked home in silence as the sky grew black and the stars appeared. As they approached the church Father Mateo asked, “Shouldn’t we talk with Yoshiko? To see if she will confirm Hidetaro’s story?”
“Not yet,” Hiro said. “She had several chances to offer that information, but didn’t, which suggests she has something to hide.”
Before the priest could respond, the door to the church swung open. A backlit figure in a Portuguese doublet and leggings stood silhouetted in the entrance. The figure laid its hands on its hips in a show of exasperation.
“It’s about time you got here,” Luis fumed. “I found your missing spy.”
Chapter 36
Luis led them into the house and pointed to the hearth.
A bald man with a long mustache sat cross-legged on the tatami, drinking tea from a porcelain cup. He wore no visible sword and his padded kimono was cut in provincial lines. A thin growth of stubble covered the back and sides of his head, but the new growth on his pate was slightly longer, suggesting more frequent shaving of that area over time.
The stranger didn’t look up as Hiro and Father Mateo entered and said nothing as the other men joined him around the hearth.
Hiro arranged his kimono carefully to ensure it would not interfere if he had to jump to his feet. Lord Oda’s spies had no reason to return to Kyoto unless they wanted to eliminate witnesses. Luis had made a colossally stupid decision in bringing the stranger home.
Hiro actually would have preferred it if the merchant ran away after all.
“May I introduce the missing spy from the teahouse,” Luis said with a flamboyant gesture.
The bald stranger looked up. “I am Akechi Mitsuhide.”
Hiro was stunned.
Father Mateo’s mouth fell open. His lips flapped like a fish tossed on a riverbank.
Hiro recovered first. “How can this be?”
Luis waggled his shoulders and preened with a self-satisfaction that Hiro would find unbearable on any other day.
“I went after him, of course. There’s only one major road between here and Nagoya, and he had four carts full of rice and weapons. It was easy to overtake him.”
“How did you know who he was?” Father Mateo asked.
At the same time, Hiro said, “You actually went after a murderer?”
“Well, I didn’t know he was a murderer,” Luis said. “But if so, I could hardly let him get away, especially since it meant Mateo’s life.”
After a short, uncomfortable silence in which Luis seemed to realize he had done something more valiant than he intended, the merchant added, “It also would have ruined my business.”
“How did you convince him to return?” Hiro asked.
“I offered,” Mitsuhide said. “I owe my cousin that much at least.”
“You didn’t murder him,” Hiro said. “If you had, you wouldn’t be here.”
“True, but I may have seen his killer. I will tell you what I know, on two conditions.”
He paused. Father Mateo started to agree at once, but Hiro silenced the priest with a look and gave a noncommittal nod instead.
Mitsuhide apparently found that acceptable.
“I left Kyoto several months ago to join another daimyo,” he said. “Men may call me a traitor for that, but my reasons are my own and not relevant to this discussion. I will say no more about it, and you will not ask. That is my first condition.”
Mitsuhide’s eyes held a challenge. Hiro gave a miniscule nod of assent.
“Second,” Mitsuhide said, “I will not remain to speak with my brother’s family. I will tell you what I know and leave at once. What you do with my information is your business, but I warn you that my name will earn you no friends, even among the Akechi clan. You will not follow me or try to stop me.
“That is the second condition.”
“Assuming you tell the truth and do no harm to anyone in this house, those conditions are acceptable,” Hiro said.
Mitsuhide nodded. “I returned to Kyoto two days ago to obtain additional weapons for Lord Oda. I shaved my head and disguised myself as a merchant to avoid discovery, but I decided to risk a meeting with Hideyoshi on the night before I left. It was foolish, but blood is blood.” He paused. “Perhaps that was not the best choice of expression.
“I made an appointment at the Sakura Teahouse because I knew Hideyoshi spent his evenings there. I requested a girl whose name I did not recognize and gave her a gold koban, hoping the wealth would dazzle her so she wouldn’t remember me well.”
“It worked,” Hiro said with a smile. “She found you boring.”
Mitsuhide laughed. “As I intended. Boring men are difficult to remember.
“The girl entertained me in the front room on the west side of the teahouse. It shared a wall with Hideyoshi’s room.”
“Did you speak with him?” Hiro asked.
“Yes,” Mitsuhide said, “in the latrine, after dinner. He was not pleased to see me. He told me to do what I had to do and go, and not to contact him or his family again.”
“Not surprising,” Father Mateo said.
“He understood my reasons for joining Lord Oda,” Mitsuhide countered. “He only objected because I asked to take Nobuhide with me. The boy is wasted as a
yoriki
. I could have made him a real samurai. But Hideyoshi refused to let Nobuhide go, and I accepted his decision. I told him I would not ask again.
“I returned to my room and finished my sake. I intended to leave fairly early but the girl was attractive and sang moderately well, so I stayed later than intended. I left the teahouse shortly after midnight and headed for Pontocho, to find a sake shop where I could pass the hours until my meeting with the Portuguese merchant.”
“Luis,” Luis corrected. “Luis Álvares.”
“As I left the Sakura, I noticed someone hiding in the shadows by the garden gate.”
“In front of the gate or behind it?” Father Mateo asked.
Hiro approved of the question.
“In front,” Mitsuhide said. “I pretended not to notice because I didn’t want a fight.”
Merchants didn’t carry swords, but Hiro suspected Mitsuhide had other weapons concealed beneath his padded robe. Hiro would have too, in his place. He also would have been loathe to expose them or attract attention if he didn’t have to.
“I walked a little way down the road,” Mitsuhide said, “keeping my eye on the shadows in case I was followed, but as soon as I passed the woman went into the teahouse instead.”
“Woman?” Father Mateo asked. “The person hiding in the bushes was a woman?”
“I only saw her from behind,” Mitsuhide said, “and most of the lanterns were already out so I couldn’t see her in detail, but she was wearing her kimono with the obi tied in front.”
“A prostitute?” Hiro asked.
“No one else wears an obi that way,” Mitsuhide confirmed. “That’s why I noticed. At the time I thought she was sneaking in so no one would know she had strayed and stayed out so late. But when I heard about Hideyoshi’s murder I wondered if she might have been the assassin, or at least another witness who might have seen something—if you can identify her.”
“Quite possibly,” Hiro said.
“Thank you for coming all this way back to tell us,” Father Mateo said. “You may have saved two lives.”
“I have one more question,” Hiro asked. “Did Hideyoshi have a source of income other than his stipend from the shogun?”
“If he did, I never heard about it,” Mitsuhide said, “though it wouldn’t surprise me. Teahouses are expensive, and Hideyoshi spent a lot of time there. Then again, we didn’t know each other well and I didn’t visit often. We would hardly have discussed his financial status.”
Mitsuhide stood up and stretched his legs. “Thank you for your hospitality. Now, as we agreed, I must go.”
“Don’t you want to rest?” Father Mateo asked. “We can give you a place to sleep.”
Mitsuhide smiled like an indulgent parent trying not to laugh at a child’s mistake. “I think I had better go. Any lives my information saved would be lost, and then some, if the shogun’s retainers learn that I was here.”
Chapter 37
Hiro walked Mitsuhide to the door and returned to the hearth just in time to hear Father Mateo ask, “Have you any idea how big a risk you took?”
“Hardly a risk.” Luis sneered. “These Japanese know their emperor would cut off their heads in an instant if they harmed me. Besides, they all know I’m armed and I’m better with a firearm than they are.”
Luis’s eyes shifted from the priest to the fire as his hands fidgeted in his lap. Hiro was impressed by the merchant’s unusually self-effacing attitude.
But the moment didn’t last.
“Even you should be able to find the murderer now,” Luis told Hiro, “since someone else has solved the hard parts for you.”
“Perhaps I can,” Hiro said drily. “One more question, though. What made you so certain the merchant was not the killer? You wouldn’t have gone after him otherwise.”
Not even Luis was that stupid, though Hiro kept that part to himself.
“He seemed too familiar,” Luis said. “He claimed we had never met before, but he wasn’t scared and he didn’t stare like most of my customers do. At the time I just considered him a conniving, self-interested bastard, like any other merchant worth his salt, but when you pointed out the illegible seal and told me about the murder I realized I had seen him before. He looked different with his hair cut and wearing that moth-eaten robe, but yesterday evening I realized who he was—and guessed that he wouldn’t have killed his cousin. Even samurai tempers have their limits.”
“Why didn’t you tell us before you left?” Father Mateo asked. “I thought…”
Luis sniffed. “You thought I fled for my life. Really, Mateo. I expect that of him”—he nodded at Hiro—“but not of you.”
“You did take the imperial pass.”
“I couldn’t get through the barricades without it. I am sorry I didn’t mention my departure but I didn’t want to raise your hopes. I might not have found him, or he might have been the wrong man after all.”
Someone knocked on the door. Ana bustled through from the kitchen, disappeared into the foyer, and returned a moment later.
“It’s a fisherman, come to speak with Father Mateo.” She sighed, tossed her hands, and returned to the kitchen muttering, “Hm. Come to pray at all hours, without even the decency to bring us a fish or two.”