by John Allyn
Kataoka had already reported the party to Oishi when word came from other sources that it had been postponed. The monkey-faced man scheduled an extra session with his tea master and learned that this was indeed true. The tea master was tearfully disappointed and could only hope that another chance would come. It seemed that the Shogun was having a party on the same date and Kira had canceled his own arrangements so that he could attend.
The men's spirits were deflated, but the following week when Kataoka went for his lesson they were again given reason for hope. This time he learned that there would definitely be a year's end party at Kira's some time in December. He relayed this to Oishi and the report was confirmed by Horibe, whose
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priest friend had asked him to deliver a letter of acceptance to the same party to Kira's gate.
The party was set for the fourteenth and Oishi felt a cold chill when he heard the date. Kataoka and Horibe recognized its significance, too, and gave Oishi meaningful glances. It was the same day of the month as Lord Asano's death and a sure omen that the time to strike had come at last!
rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
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Snow began to fall on the night of the eleventh. It was a heavy fall and looked as if it would continue for several days. The people in the streets were heavily wrapped, hurrying, and had no eye for such things as the movements of strangers. It was ideal weather for the conspirators from Ako.
Oishi's final plan was simple: a simultaneous attack on both Kira's front and rear gates with his full force. Once the gates were taken, the older men would stay by them to guard against outside interference while the younger ones would enter the house to find their man.
Oishi would lead the assault on the front gate and the subsequent invasion of the house itself; Hara
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would be in charge at the rear and Onodera and Yoshida would command the forces outside. Weapons and uniforms had all been obtained and would be donned just before the attack. Every man knew his place and his target; now there was nothing to do but wait.
As the morning of the twelfth came and then the thirteenth the snow still fell, but there was no word of cancelation or postponement of Kira's party. The excitement of the men from Ako grew day by day and Oishi felt as exhilarated as any of them.
On the morning of the fourteenth, he went alone to Sengaku-ji temple to pay his last respects to Lord Asano. It was the first time he had risked being free of the surveillance of his guards and he knew he was taking a risk, but it was less conspicuous to go by himself than with a small army.
In the cemetery he wiped the snow from the plaque before Lord Asano's grave and once again raised his head to speak with his dead master.
"We are ready, my Lord, to take revenge."
He paused and imagined that these words brought the same satisfaction to Lord Asano's ears as they did to his own.
"Your loyal forces have gathered. Before the night is over some or all of us may have sacrificed our fives, but we count it as nothing because our cause is duty and our course is honorable.
"Whether we succeed or not, we are sure to join you soon and this gives us courage in our undertaking. The forces we oppose are superior in number but with our spirit we are sure to vanquish them—or to die trying. We will have the element of surprise on our side and with luck will be able to find our man quickly with no unnecessary shedding of blood."
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Once again he pledged his loyalty to the death and then with a deep bow of respect, he left Sengaku-ji.
At the corner where the pathway to the cemetery joined the post road stood a small country inn and as Oishi passed he could hear music and drunken shouting. He frowned at the image this brought to his mind of samurai misbehaving; this was indeed typical of Edo.
But then his brow unwrinkled as the clear notes of a samisen were heard and a girl began to sing. He smiled and then felt a twinge of remorse. He saw Okaru's face before him and knew that the days with her at Yamashina would haunt him as long as he Hved, He sighed and after a while he moved thoughtfully away.
At the gateway to the inn, almost hidden by the snow, a blind beggar called for alms. Oishi almost stumbled over him, then walked on. After a few steps, however, he stopped. The beggar had a sword beside him, a samurai sword, and Oishi could not ignore it. For all he knew it could bear the crest of Asano—it could be one of his own men who had struck bottom.
He went back to the beggar, gave him a few coins, and started to walk away again. Then for the second time he stopped. This time when he returned to face the sightless eyes of the man in the snow he turned his coin purse upside down in his basket. Now as he stepped off into the snowy street he felt a sense of release, of peace and freedom. Money was something he need not worry about any more.
"It was to remind me how lucky we are that the beggar was placed in my path," he told Chikara, as
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they huddled close to the hibachi in the freezing little room at the inn.
"You see," he went on, "some people live all their lives without knowing which path is right. They're buffeted by this wind or that and never really know where they're going. That's largely the fate of the commoners—those who have no choice over their destiny. For those of us born as samurai, life is something else. We know the path of duty and we follow it without question."
He got up to look out the window as he continued.
"But even that may not be easy because there may be insurmountable obstacles. Such as what that bhnd beggar faces. He might have a secret dream of revenge against an oppressor, too. He might have justice on his side as we do now, but there is nothing he can do about it. I say we're lucky—we know what has to be done and it's within our capability to make it happen!"
Chikara's eyes were shining as his father spoke and he was about to make some reply when Oishi suddenly started and leaned forward to peer out the window more closely.
Two horsemen were approaching through the snow, one large and one small, and for a moment Oishi saw himself and Lord Asano's httle daughter, riding through the fields of Ako on that day so long ago.
"Father ..." Chikara said tentatively, and Oishi turned to look at him. For a moment he forgot what he had been saying, then he picked up where he had left off, but in a more subdued manner.
"As I was saying, we are lucky, lucky."
"I know we are. Father."
Oishi smiled at him. "That's right. Those are the words of a samurai. Remember, there's sacrifice
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involved in any kind of life. Even the man who chooses the safe way has to give up the thrill of combat. The point is that once you know what you want, you must be prepared to sacrifice everything to get it. Those who realize this are the fortunate ones. Those who know and can try. What more can a man ask for than that?"
Chikara shook his head. To him, too, there was nothing more important, and his father was reassured by his manner that it had not been a mistake to allow him to join the band.
Still, there were memories . . .
At the evening meal, which they ate together, Oishi was suddenly reminded of the boy's mother and his mind went from there to picture all the little ones around the table—the little ones that he had sent away. He was overcome by emotion for a moment, but hid his feehngs from his son.
"Go easy on the rice," he told the boy, clearing his throat. "You'll be better off later without too much food in you."
Chikara nodded and obeyed, although he was still hungry. There was no meat or fish, of course, and other delicacies were ruled out for spiritual reasons. It would be bad luck to indulge oneself before going into such a solemn undertaking as faced them now.
After dinner they lay down for a short rest, although neither of them could sleep. Chikara reviewed his own part in the attack in his mind and then fell to thoughts of the past. He pictured his mother and little brother and sister and then th
e young maiko he had known so briefly. There was not the slightest chance he would ever see her again, but still he could not help thinking about her . . .
They were "awakened" promptly at eight by the
arrival of Kataoka and Onodera, who spoke in whispers which seemed to emphasize the solemnity of the occasion. In silence they rose and dressed and went out into the snow.
The first meeting place for Oishi's group was Horibe's fencing school, where they changed into battle dress. There were three such places designated, with all the men to join together when they were ready to march.
Their clothes were new, both as a symbol of purity to ensure divine protection and as evidence that they were not driven to their extreme action by the desperation of poverty. Over wadded silk undergarments they put on cloth shirts that fastened close to the wrist. Next came a bloomerlike skirt that afforded great flexibility of movement. Over these came a coat of mail covered with satin and on top of this each man wore a lacquer-scaled breastplate with cross-stitching of silk cord and a great gold crest. A mantle and hood of broadcloth which could easily be tossed off gave them the appearance of officers of the fire brigade, a disguise they hoped would permit them to go unchallenged on their march through the streets.
Oishi had secretly had these outfits made at various armorers in Kyoto, a few at a time so as not to excite undue suspicion. When they were dressed, they moved out in twos and threes to Hara's rice shop, the final rendezvous point.
Here Oishi inspected each man and questioned all about their orders. He had finished this task and was sitting quietly, waiting for the hour to march, when he was startled to have a cup of sake handed to him. He turned to see the grizzled face of Hara.
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It was time to propose one last toast to their success and this he did in a confident manner that inspired them all. Then it was time to leave.
Outside they formed in ranks of four and stepped off on Oishi's command. They carried two light ladders and appeared to be nothing more than a fire brigade on patrol, a not uncommon sight in the tinderbox alleys of Edo. The only difference was that at the rear of the column Mimura carried a placard with a statement of their intentions which would be displayed at the proper time.
The snowfall had stopped, but enough snow lay underfoot to deaden the sound of their footsteps. No one appeared on the streets except an occasional fire watcher who beat his sticks together to show that he was on the alert. Oishi returned their salutes and they were not challenged.
They had crossed the bridge over the Sumida River into Honjo and were entering Matsuzaka when the first incident occurred. A dog, mangy and shivering, stood in their path and began to growl as they approached. Fearful that the dog would bark and cause an alarm, Oishi gave a silent signal to Hara beside him. Without breaking his step, Hara put an arrow to his bow and let the animal have it full in the throat. With a gargle the dog fell dead and the men marched on past. As they looked at its corpse, they all realized that this was the first overt act of disobedience to the Shogun's law that had been committed since the band was formed. In itself, it made them liable for severe punishment, and they knew this was only the beginning.
To Hara's lips, the sight of the dog brought a chuckle. He was pleased at his marksmanship besides being keenly aware that they had passed the point of
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no return on their way to the final battlefield. This was what he had been looking forward to for nearly two years and he savored the moment to the utmost. What could be sweeter in life than the anticipation of battle?
As he marched along, Kataoka's mind, too, was stirred by the killing of the dog. He remembered the funeral procession they had encountered in the streets of Edo on the way to the Shogun's castle with Lord Asano. He was sure it was a good omen. A dead dog was a sure sign that Kira was waiting for them at the end of the road. He only hoped he would be the one to find him first. Kira was an excellent swordsman, he knew, but in his present keyed-up state he felt he could take on twenty Kiras and come out on top. His steel blade ached to slash into the body of his master's betrayer.
The older men marched with more difficulty through the snow, but their step was no less determined. Onodera and Yoshida both saw the events of the night in broader perspective. To them it was like the moves in a game of go in which each piece had to play a part. Killing the dog was the first move but it was the overall strategy that was most important and would determine their success or failure.
For most of the younger men, the dog was only a dog, a nuisance that had to be destroyed. Their real test would come when they faced cold steel for the first time. Then they would know, Chikara among them, if they were truly worthy to be called samurai.
As Mimura passed the body of the dog he quickly ducked out of formation to cover it with snow so that it would not be found until the morning sun warmed the ground. Back in line, he looked closely at the snow, as though he had never seen it before. In the
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moonlight it had never looked more beautiful. He tried to recall a poem about snow but none came to mind; it never occurred to him to try to compose one of his own. That was for nobles and samurai—to match words to scenes of natural beauty. He was only there to do their bidding, although in this case their desires matched his own. There was one other he would like to see die besides Kira and that was the kitchen boy at the restaurant, but a little snow would not cover that over and it was fortunate for all that he was far from the object of his hatred.
Oishi, at the head of the column, had already forgotten the dog. He was busy projecting himself into the minds of his adversaries, trying to imagine how they would react to the attack, wondering if they had a foolproof system for summoning aid.
The greatest single danger was that an alarm would be raised so soon that reinforcements would arrive before they had dealt with Kira. His band of forty-seven was already outnumbered by the sixty archers in the mansion, not to mention the countless servants who would fight if ordered to. But if other forces were committed, either by Chisaka from the house of Uesugi or by any of Kira's neighbors, his men would be bound to be defeated.
Therefore it was reasonable to assume that Kira's first action would be to send for help. He might have signal fires to light, in which case they would have to be quickly extinguished. Or he might try to send a messenger on foot. With Oishi's forces at both gates he did not think a messenger could get through, but if he did it would be only a matter of minutes before the bowmen of Uesugi would be upon them. The question was, could they find Kira before any of these possibihties were realized?
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The orders for all were to find Kira without delay, engage in no unnecessary combat and kill no one who did not offer resistance. They knew from their map which room was supposed to be Kira's, but at the sound of an alarm he might head for a safer place.
Oishi shook his head. He had tried to think of everything; he could only hope he had been thorough enough.
But now speculation was at an end. They had arrived at Kira's gate and it was time for action.
Silence was of the utmost importance and no one spoke a word as the pace slowed and finally stopped. There was no sound from within and they assumed that thus far they were undiscovered.
Now Oishi gave the order and his two assault groups formed. Hara led his men to the rear and again listened for signs of activity within. He heard nothing and quickly beckoned to Kataoka, who had been assigned to his party for a very special reason. The monkey-faced little man stepped forward with a grin, spat on his hands, and started up the wall by the gate with a boost from Mimura. He gained the top in silence and, after a careful look around, he leaned back over the wall to assist the next man up. It was young Yato, who was boosted up by Hara and Mimura together; after him came two others. Now the four men on the wall waited until their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and they could see what the guards were doing. There w
ere two of them in the shadows below, drowsily leaning against the very wall on which the invaders stood, but as yet they gave no sign that they were aware of trouble.
Kataoka raised his hand, then dropped it in a silent signal and all four men leaped at once. They hit the
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soft ground and sprang on the guards before they could make a cry. Four sharp swords entered their two bodies almost simultaneously and they died without a sound. Kataoka raced to the gate and unlocked it and with the help of the others pushed it wide open. Hara and his swordsmen came through leaving Yoshida and the other older men outside. There were still no sounds of an entry being made at the front gate and Hara hesitated. The impulse to storm the house alone was strong but he forced himself to wait, realizing that an alarm now could spell disaster if Oishi and his men had not yet made it over the wall.
At the front gate the two ladders prepared for the occasion were hoisted into position at the moment when Oishi judged Kataoka had had time to scale the rear wall. With the exception of Onodera and the elders, the rest of the men went up and over. Here, too, the guards were surprised and overcome before they could let out a cry. As they offered no resistance, Oishi had them bound and gagged rather than killed. This took more time than a sword thrust and to make up for it he led his men at a dead run across the open area surrounding the house. He met Hara just in time to prevent him from entering the house on his own.
Now the two groups rejoined and the burliest men were sent forward to batter down the locked door to the mansion. The wood proved to be more decorative than solid and shattered when they fell against it. This was the first indication to those inside that they were under attack and Oishi and his men hurried through the entrance hall and into the rooms beyond to overwhelm the fighting men before they could arm themselves. In the main reception room they found five soldiers of the guard who fell without a sound
