The Ronin's Mistress: A Novel (Sano Ichiro Novels)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “She had to leave the inn where she was staying.” Reiko explained about the mob. “I invited her to stay with us for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Sano wished Reiko had asked him first. Housing under his own roof a witness in a case he was investigating could present serious problems. They’d been down that road before. But Reiko gave him her most trusting look of appeal, and he couldn’t have refused her even if he’d been cruel enough to expel Okaru into the cold, dark night.

  That would be like putting a kitten out to die.

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Sano beckoned. “Come in, join us.”

  “Oh! Thank you!” Okaru crept on her knees toward Sano and Reiko.

  A closer look at her surprised Sano. She was even younger than he’d initially thought. He’d expected someone harder, more brazen. Okaru seemed an incongruous match for Oishi, the tough rōnin. Then again, Sano could picture her falling in love with a man old enough to be her father, and Oishi enjoying her charms. She also seemed naïve enough to be fooled by an act that Oishi had put on to convince the world that he’d become a no-good bum.

  If indeed it had been an act.

  Sano pitied Okaru, unwittingly caught up in violent, scandalous events. He understood Reiko’s wish to protect her; he felt it himself. “Is there anything you need?” he asked Okaru.

  “Oh, your honorable wife has given me so much already,” Okaru said, breathless with gratitude. “Delicious food, new clothes, a beautiful room to sleep in…” Pensiveness wrinkled her forehead. “But I wish I could see Oishi. I miss him so much.”

  “Can I take her to see him?” Reiko asked.

  Sano didn’t think it would hurt, and maybe it would help his investigation. “That can be arranged.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Okaru exclaimed.

  “There’s something I want you to do for me while you’re there,” Sano said.

  “I’ll do anything for you, anything at all,” Okaru said earnestly.

  “Ask Oishi what he meant when he said that the vendetta isn’t what it seems,” Sano said.

  Maybe she could get him to tell the truth that Sano had failed to extract.

  * * *

  IN THE MIDDLE of the night, Yanagisawa awakened suddenly. He heard the noise that interrupted his sound sleep—footsteps in the corridor, on the “nightingale floor,” which was designed to squeak when someone walked on it. He jumped out of bed, looked down the dimly lit corridor, and saw Yoritomo tiptoeing like a thief.

  “What are you doing home?” Yanagisawa asked. “I thought you were with the shogun.”

  Yoritomo spun around. His face was stricken, pale. His posture drooped. “The shogun didn’t want me. He sent me home.” Guilt, shame, and fear played over his features. “He’s spending the night with one of his other boys.”

  Yanagisawa was alarmed, even though the shogun regularly bedded his other concubines. “Has this been happening more often recently?”

  Yoritomo looked at the floor. He nodded.

  Yanagisawa blew out his breath. He’d known the day would come when Yoritomo grew too old for the shogun’s sexual tastes. It had happened to Yanagisawa when he was about the same age as Yoritomo was now. He’d hoped it wouldn’t happen to his son before he’d firmed up his control over the regime.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Yanagisawa asked.

  “I was afraid you would be angry,” Yoritomo said in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.” Yanagisawa was sad that Yoritomo had borne the burden of his fear alone, yet relieved because Yoritomo wouldn’t have to satisfy the shogun’s desires for much longer. Then he thought of his chart and the names he would have to cross off his list of allies when it became known that he was about to lose a major source of his influence over the shogun and his son the chance of becoming the heir to the regime.

  Yoritomo’s gaze lifted to Yanagisawa. His eyes mirrored the consternation that Yanagisawa felt. “What are we going to do?”

  Yanagisawa began to pace the corridor. He thought aloud: “I’ll have to make sure that Sano doesn’t pick up the allies I lose.”

  “How?”

  First Yanagisawa had better find out where the forty-seven rōnin business was heading and whether he could count on it to ruin Sano. But he didn’t want to admit that his plans were so vague and worry Yoritomo. “It’s better for you if you don’t know.”

  18

  THE DAWN WAS gray and frigid, the sky like a sheet of steel between the earth and the sun. Frozen piles of snow surrounded the courtyard where Sano, Masahiro, and Hirata practiced martial arts. Although they wore thin white cotton jackets and trousers, they didn’t notice the cold. Exertion kept them warm as they engaged in two-against-one combat, Masahiro wielding his sword against Sano and Hirata. Wooden blades clacked. Sano had to admire his son’s valiant endeavors. As he and Hirata steadily backed Masahiro toward the wall, Masahiro made the men work to parry and dodge his strikes. Sano began to feel winded. He would soon be too old to keep up with his son.

  “You’re doing something that will get you killed in real combat with multiple attackers,” Hirata told Masahiro.

  “What?” Masahiro puffed and grunted as he fought.

  “While you strike or defend yourself against one of us, you take your attention off the other,” Hirata said. “You have to stay aware of all your opponents at the same time.”

  Masahiro lunged at Hirata and took a gentle hit on the shoulder from Sano. “How?”

  “Have you been practicing the breathing and meditation techniques I taught you?”

  “Well…”

  “I know you think they’re boring,” Hirata said. “I thought so, too, at first. But they’re essential to training your mind, which is your most important weapon.”

  As Sano ducked wild swings from Masahiro, he reflected that one of the few benefits of his demotion was having Hirata under the same roof, available to practice with Masahiro. Although Masahiro had his own martial arts tutor, Hirata could teach the boy valuable lessons. Sano was thankful, yet sad to realize that he couldn’t teach Masahiro everything he needed to know. But it was inevitable that Masahiro would grow up and others besides his parents would shape his world. And Sano feared that it would happen sooner than he’d thought, too soon.

  “All right, I’ll practice breathing and meditation,” Masahiro said, “but in the meantime, what should I do if I’m up against multiple attackers?”

  “The experts say…” Hirata gracefully parried. “You should run.”

  Combat dissolved into laughter. Sano watched Masahiro trot into the house. He thought of Oishi, who’d led Chikara into a dangerous vendetta. He thought of Yanagisawa, who’d made Yoritomo into his own image. Sano hoped he could do better by Masahiro than Oishi and Yanagisawa had done by their sons.

  “What’s the plan for today?” Hirata asked as he and Sano entered the house.

  “Before we go over that, there’s something I have to ask you,” Sano said. “If I have to leave Edo, promise me that you’ll take care of Masahiro, Akiko, and Reiko.”

  “It won’t come to that,” Hirata protested in dismay.

  “If it does, I need you to protect them while I’m gone.” Sano hated to think he would fail to steer the forty-seven rōnin affair to a good outcome, but he felt as if he were trying to drive a cart pulled by runaway horses hurtling toward a cliff’s edge. He had to prepare for the worst.

  “If you go, I go with you.”

  “No. You’ll stay. Promise.” He emphasized, “That’s an order.”

  “All right,” Hirata said.

  Sano could see Hirata balancing between his relief that he would get to stay with his own family and dread that he might have to honor his promise. They were both sobered by the idea that although their master-retainer bond would continue despite a separation, they might never see each other again.

  “Today I’ll investigate Lord Asano’s attack on Kira,” Sano said, glad to retur
n to immediate concerns. “I should be able to get a clearer picture of it than I did of the other events leading up to the vendetta.”

  “How is that?”

  “There was a witness.”

  “I remember now,” Hirata said, walking down the corridor alongside Sano. “A man named Kajikawa Yosobei. A keeper of the castle, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. A supervisor over the women’s quarters. Unlike the other people we’ve questioned so far, he has no personal stake in the case.”

  “Better yet—an impartial witness.”

  “Since the two people involved in the attack are dead and can’t speak, I’ll see what Kajikawa can tell me about the incident,” Sano said.

  “What would you like me to do today?”

  Sano thought a moment, then said, “We’ve been treating this murder investigation differently from others we’ve conducted.”

  “Because we already know who the culprits are,” Hirata agreed.

  “But our strategy hasn’t led us to the truth about the vendetta. So let’s look on the case as a regular murder investigation, in which we don’t know who killed the victim or why.”

  “Good idea,” Hirata said.

  “With that as the premise,” Sano said, “where would you start fresh?”

  “With the victim.”

  “That’s right. I want you to look into Kira’s background.”

  * * *

  REIKO COULDN’T WAIT to embark on the big adventure of the day—taking Okaru to see Oishi. She was eager to meet the famous rōnin leader, and she hoped she would learn something that would help Sano’s investigation and safeguard her family.

  She and Chiyo went to Okaru’s room and found Okaru snuggled in bed, fast asleep. The breakfast tray that Reiko had sent her an hour ago sat beside her, untouched.

  “I thought she was in a hurry to see Oishi,” Chiyo said, her voice crisp with disapproval.

  Reiko knew she should be annoyed by Okaru’s laziness, for it would delay a crucial part of the investigation, but Okaru looked as sweet as a child. “She’s tired after everything that’s happened.”

  “She was up awfully late,” Chiyo said. “I heard her chattering with the maids. It sounded as if they were having a party.”

  Reiko had had to get up and tell them to be quiet, so they wouldn’t waken Sano or the children. But she said, “It was her first night here. It’s all right that she had a little fun.”

  “If you don’t mind, then I don’t,” Chiyo said. “But her servant makes me uneasy. I saw her prowling around the house. I think she’d gone out somewhere.”

  Reiko felt uneasy around Goza, too, but she didn’t say so. “We’ll let Okaru sleep.” Eager for action, she headed down the corridor.

  Chiyo followed. “There’s no point in visiting Oishi without her. What shall we do instead?”

  “I just realized that there’s another character in the drama surrounding the forty-seven rōnin,” Reiko said.

  “Who is it?”

  “Lord Asano’s wife. My husband mentioned that Oishi put her in a convent after the house of Asano was dissolved. I expect she’s still there. I’d like to visit her. She may have information that could be helpful.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Chiyo hesitated. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay home.”

  Reiko suspected that Chiyo wanted to make sure that Okaru didn’t cause any trouble. “Very well.” Maybe Chiyo would get to know the girl and like her better.

  Masahiro met Reiko at the door. Reiko said, “I’m going to visit Lady Asano. Would you like to come?”

  “Yes, but I can’t,” Masahiro said. “I just got a message from the shogun. He wants me.”

  Reiko felt the usual chill that came over her when the shogun called for her son. “Will you be all right?” she asked anxiously.

  “Yes, I can take care of myself.”

  “Remember what your father told you.”

  “Try not to attract the shogun’s attention, stay in the background, I know,” Masahiro said. “Don’t worry, Mother.”

  All Reiko could do was utter a silent prayer for his safekeeping and say, “Be good.”

  * * *

  AFTER HE’D BATHED, dressed, and breakfasted, Sano went to the section of the palace that was used for government business. It was like a beehive, honeycombed with crowded offices. He squeezed past clerks who hurried along the narrow corridors with stacks of scrolls in their hands. Although the regime had been built on blood spilled during civil wars, it now ran on those cylinders of wood and paper, like a cart on wheels. Sano wandered around for a while before he found the lair occupied by the keepers of the castle.

  The keepers ensured that the buildings and furnishings were maintained, that the servants did their jobs. They knew every corner of the castle’s labyrinthine structure. Without them, life at court would grind to a halt. Their office was a warren of desks and cabinets, the walls plastered with schedules, charts, and duty rosters. The keepers smoked pipes, consulted, and argued. Sano said loudly, “Where is Kajikawa Yosobei?”

  Someone answered, “In the northern courtyard.”

  Sano went to the courtyard, which was enclosed by guards’ barracks and the castle’s outer wall. In through the gate rolled oxcarts piled high with pine branches. Servants unloaded the branches onto the ground. It looked as if an entire forest had been cropped to provide the greenery that would grace the palace during the New Year holiday. Kajikawa, a short man in a fur-lined cloak, bustled around, barking orders.

  “Wash the mud off those branches!” In his late thirties, he had a large head that bobbled as if it was too heavy for his slight body. “Cut off the dead parts!”

  Servants set to work with clippers and water buckets. Sano approached Kajikawa, introduced himself, and said, “I understand that you witnessed Lord Asano’s attack on Kira.”

  Kajikawa cleared his throat nervously. “That’s correct.” His features were small in proportion to his body, and delicate like a china doll’s.

  “I’d like to talk to you about it. Can you show me where it happened?”

  “Well, all right.” Kajikawa led Sano into the palace and stopped in the main corridor. “Here. In the Corridor of Pines.”

  This was a passage some two hundred paces long and twenty wide, named for the paintings of pine trees on the sliding doors along it. Sano and Kajikawa stood in the middle of the polished cypress floor while officials and servants strolled past them. Shiny wooden pillars supported the high, coffered ceiling. Footsteps and voices echoed. Sano had walked the Corridor of Pines many times, but now he viewed it through fresh eyes, as a crime scene.

  “There’s a lot of traffic here every day,” he said. “And yet, when Lord Asano attacked Kira, you were the only witness? How is that?”

  “There are moments when the corridor is pretty deserted,” Kajikawa said. “Lord Asano attacked Kira during one of them.”

  “Could you tell me what happened?” Sano asked.

  Kajikawa’s delicate eyebrows drew together; his small mouth pursed. “I’ve already told the officials who investigated the incident.”

  Sano sensed that his meekness hid a stronger spine than most people would attribute to him. “Why don’t you want to tell me? Are you tired of talking about it, or is something else wrong?”

  “No.” Kajikawa gave way with the air of a man often defeated. “I’d be glad to tell you.”

  1701 April

  AN ARMY OF officials and servants toiled to entertain the imperial envoys who’d arrived from Miyako. Kajikawa rushed back and forth, busy with a million details. He was on his hands and knees on the floor in the reception chamber, picking up lint, when a messenger told him, “The master of ceremonies says that there’s been a change in the schedule. The presentation of the gifts will take place an hour earlier than originally planned.”

  Kajikawa was in charge of conveying the gifts to the envoys. “Are you sure that’s what Kira said?”

  “Yes, but you can ask him
yourself.”

  Kajikawa hurried through the palace in search of Kira. He paused in the Corridor of Pines to catch his breath. The corridor was vacant, eerily silent. Then a man appeared at the far end, as if he’d materialized out of thin air. It was Lord Asano. He moved toward Kajikawa.

  “Greetings,” Kajikawa called. “Have you seen the master of ceremonies?”

  Lord Asano didn’t answer. As he came nearer, Kajikawa could see that the young daimyo was pale and trembling, his face a mass of twitches. His hollow eyes looked straight through Kajikawa. A door opened along the corridor between them. Out stepped Kira, elegant in black formal robes, wearing his usual expression of sour disapproval.

  “Kira-san, could you please confirm the time of the gift ceremony?” Kajikawa called.

  The old man turned toward Kajikawa; he started to answer. Suddenly Lord Asano rushed up behind Kira. Rage distorted his features. He seized the hilt of the long sword at his waist and yanked the blade from the scabbard. Kajikawa gasped, too shocked to move or speak, as Lord Asano gripped the sword in both hands and swung at Kira.

  Kira saw the emotion on Kajikawa’s face and turned around to see what had caused it. Lord Asano’s blade came slashing toward him. Kira yelled and dodged. Lord Asano’s sword struck a pillar, cutting into the wood.

  “What are you doing?” Kira demanded.

  “What do you think?” Lord Asano shouted as he jerked his blade free. “Have you forgotten my grievance?”

  “My dear friend, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kira pedaled backward down the corridor, his arms raised in self-defense.

  “Oh, yes, you do!” Lord Asano charged after Kira.

  As Kajikawa watched with his hands over his mouth, Lord Asano sliced at Kira again. The blade struck Kira on the head. Kira howled, was knocked down, and landed on his back. Kajikawa found his voice and screamed. Kira raised himself on his elbows. His face dripping with blood, he crawled away from Lord Asano, who hacked repeatedly at him and repeatedly missed. Lord Asano shouted, “I know this isn’t the appropriate time or place to kill you, but kill you I must, you evil, corrupt old snake!”