The Fire Kimono by Laura Joh Rowland Page A

contentedly all these years. But now he regretted leaving her on her own. He felt bad because he saw her so seldom and hadn’t kept her safe.
    “I had to beg them to let her dress,” Hana said. “I tried to stop them, to tell them she hadn’t done anything wrong, but they wouldn’t listen.”
    “There must be some mistake,” Sano said. “Did they say why they were arresting her?”
    “For murder!”
    Incredulity resounded through Sano. His mother was a good woman, incapable of hurting anyone. She was always calm, gentle; he’d never seen her lose her temper.
    “This is insane,” Sano said. “Who did they say she murdered?”
    “Someone named Tokugawa Tadatoshi.”
    Enlightenment struck. Sano realized what had happened. He felt even worse. His mother had been swept into the whirlwind of political intrigue that surrounded him and his investigation.
    “You have to help her,” Hana pleaded. She grabbed Sano by the front of his white martial arts practice jacket and shook him, the way she had during his childhood when he’d misbehaved. “Do something!”
    “I will,” Sano said, “but first I need to know where my mother is. Where did the soldiers take her?”
    “To the palace. They said they had orders to bring her before the shogun.”
    Sano was already halfway out of the room. “You wait here,” he called over his shoulder to Hana. “Don’t worry.”
    Striding down the corridor, he ordered the servants, “Bring my guest some food and drink and make her comfortable.” He told his troops, “Go tell Hirata-san to meet me at the palace.”
    Detectives Marume and Fukida fell into step behind Sano as he hurried toward his room to change into the clothes required for a meeting with the shogun. He tore off his martial arts jacket with an angry gesture and spoke between clenched teeth: “Lord Matsudaira is not getting away with this.”
    “Where are you going?” Midori asked.
    “To meet Chamberlain Sano at the palace,” Hirata said as he donned his shoes in the entryway of their house.
    “Why? What’s going on?”
    Hirata took down his swords from the rack on the wall. “Something to do with the murder investigation.”
    “And after that?” Suspicion inflected Midori’s voice. “Where are you going next?”
    The atmosphere between them had been tense since he’d returned home from Ezogashima three months ago. Before that, he’d been gone much of five years while studying martial arts and roaming the country. The long periods apart had changed her as much as him. She was no longer the sweet, docile girl he’d left. While raising their children by herself, she’d grown a strong will of her own. She’d missed him, but she’d come to resent his absences, his abandonment of her.
    “I don’t know.” Hirata hung his swords at his waist, deliberately uncooperative. He understood Midori’s need to keep track of him and her fear that he would leave again, but he chafed at her questions. It was his right to come and go as he pleased. A wife shouldn’t infringe on her husband’s freedom.
    “When will you be back?” Midori said, but she didn’t wait for Hirata to brush her off again. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see, won’t I?”
    They regarded each other with mutual antagonism. Hirata felt a pang of sorrow for the young couple in love they’d once been. Now they were almost strangers, always at odds. They’d not even had marital relations since Hirata had returned. He’d been busy, his strenuous martial arts practice diminished his sexual desire, and Midori was too angry.
    From the corridor came the sound of children’s quarreling voices and running footsteps. Their little boy, Tatsuo, grabbed Midori’s skirts and cried, “Mama, she touched me!”
    “I didn’t,” said Taeko. She tapped her finger on his head and giggled.
    “See? She did it again,” Tatsuo whined.
    Midori said, “Taeko, behave yourself, or I’ll lock you in your room. Tatsuo, if you don’t stop