“Help! Help!” Kira called.
Kajikawa grabbed Lord Asano and restrained him until the castle guards arrived moments later. As they dragged him away, Lord Asano broke down and sobbed.
* * *
NOW, ALMOST TWO years after the attack, Sano stood in the Corridor of Pines and touched the cut on the pillar that Lord Asano had struck, the only evidence left. Sano raised his eyes to Kajikawa, who had put a new, surprising slant on the forty-seven rōnin case.
“Did Lord Asano really accuse Kira of corruption?” Sano asked.
“Yes.” Kajikawa sounded a bit peeved that Sano would question his veracity. Sano suspected he often felt underrated. “I heard him with my own ears.”
“You never reported it during the investigation into the attack,” Sano said.
“… No.”
“Why not?”
Kajikawa’s head bobbled nervously. “At the time, I didn’t know if there was any truth to Lord Asano’s accusation. I didn’t want to mention it and get myself in trouble with Kira.”
“So you withheld the information.” Sano eyed the little man with reproach because it was information that related to Lord Asano’s grievance against Kira, that pertained to the motive for the attack and the underlying truth about the vendetta.
“I should have spoken up,” Kajikawa admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t. But neither did Lord Asano. I thought he would try to justify his attack by casting aspersion on Kira. I was surprised that when he was asked what his quarrel with Kira was, he refused to say.”
Sano had been surprised, too. He’d wondered what grievance had driven the man into such drastic action. So had everyone else.
“I decided that if Lord Asano didn’t say anything, then it was better that I didn’t,” Kajikawa said primly.
Sano disliked Kajikawa for his cowardice, which he was passing off as discretion. But the man had given Sano a new direction for his inquiries. “You said you didn’t know if there was any truth to Lord Asano’s charge of corruption against Kira ‘at the time.’ Does that mean you’ve changed your mind since then?”
Kajikawa cleared his throat. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead.”
“I give you permission,” Sano said.
“It’s just a rumor I heard about Kira a long time ago. I remembered it months after the attack. I don’t know whether it’s true.”
“I’ll determine that. Talk.”
Kajikawa sighed, perhaps tired of being coerced, perhaps relieved that he could unburden himself of a weighty secret. “When Kira was young, he had a brother-in-law who was a wealthy daimyo, Lord Uesugi of Yonezawa Province. Lord Uesugi didn’t have any sons. He named Kira’s son as his heir. Soon afterward, Lord Uesugi died. Kira’s son inherited his title and estate. The rumor said that Kira poisoned Lord Uesugi.”
This was the first evidence a witness not personally involved in the case had given that Kira was other than a blameless man. But even as Sano welcomed the evidence, he remarked on an important point: “Nothing seems to have come of the rumor.”
“It was never proven. If the government had thought there was any truth to it, Kira would never have risen so high. So you can understand why I haven’t brought it up until now.”
Sano unwillingly spotted more weaknesses in the evidence. “Even if it was true that Kira poisoned his brother-in-law, I can’t see that Lord Asano would have cared enough to attack Kira.” And he was hard-pressed to demonstrate that Lord Asano’s motive for attacking Kira had any bearing on the forty-seven rōnin’s vendetta.
“Maybe there was a connection between Kira’s brother-in-law and Lord Asano. People of their rank are so inbred.” Now Kajikawa seemed eager to promote the theory that the supposed murder was the motive behind the attack.
Still, Sano saw a new line of inquiry, the histories of the people involved in the case. It might lead him to proof that Kira hadn’t been an innocent victim and the forty-seven rōnin had done the world a favor.
He warned himself that he must hold tight to his objectivity despite the evidence that swayed his opinion even further toward pardoning Oishi and his comrades. Even if it meant driving the runaway horse cart off the cliff.
19
RIDING HIS HORSE downhill through the passages inside Edo Castle, Hirata saw auras flare like torches in his mental landscape, given off by the guards stationed in the watchtowers and by people passing him on horseback, in palanquins, and on foot. He didn’t detect his stalker’s. But the man had access to the castle; once he’d even invaded Hirata’s own home. Nowhere was Hirata safe. Hirata thought of the priest and the birds he’d seen yesterday. He felt himself and his stalker moving toward a confrontation.
Would it happen today?
Hirata remembered his conversation with Sano. He hoped he wouldn’t be needed to protect Sano’s family, because he wasn’t sure he would live long enough.
He recognized the aura of the other man for whom he was searching. Its unobtrusive, steady pulse led him to the precinct in the castle that housed the shogun’s treasures. Rows of fireproof storehouses with white plaster walls, iron doors, and heavy tile roofs were separated by narrow aisles. They contained furniture, silk robes, antique porcelain, and other priceless artifacts. Some of these were rotated in and out of the palace; others were too old, fragile, or unfashionable, and never saw the light of day. Servants were cleaning snow off the storehouses’ roofs with long-handled brushes, so that it wouldn’t melt, seep inside, and damage the treasures. The aura Hirata had followed belonged to an older man in a wicker hat, baggy coat, and patched leggings. When Hirata approached him, the man said under his breath, “If you give me away, I’ll never give you or your master any more information.”
Hirata kept his own voice low as he said, “Your identity is safe with me, Toda Ikkyu. But why is our best spy posing as a servant?”
Toda was an agent with the metsuke, the Tokugawa intelligence service, which monitored the citizens and protected the regime from insurrections. His face was so nondescript that people without Hirata’s mystical powers had difficulty recognizing him even if they were longtime acquaintances. His forgettable looks served him well in his profession.
“Someone’s been filching loot,” Toda said. “I’m trying to find out who it is.”
“Good luck,” Hirata said.
Toda raised his eyebrows at Hirata’s unfriendly tone. “You don’t like me, do you?”
“That’s right. Because you pretend to help Sano-san while you help his enemies behind his back.”
“Sano-san is aware that I play both sides. It’s a matter of survival.”
That didn’t absolve Toda, as far as Hirata was concerned. “The last time he asked you to find out what Yanagisawa was up to, you withheld important information. If you hadn’t, the shogun’s wife might not have been hurt. Sano-san might not have been demoted.”
“Speaking of disservice to Sano-san, does he know that you ride around town while you’re supposed to be working?”
Hirata couldn’t hide his chagrin. He’d been aware he was under surveillance by metsuke agents but hadn’t known they’d thought his actions significant enough to report to Toda.
“What are you looking for?” Toda asked.
“None of your business,” Hirata said. “What do you know about Kira Yoshinaka?”
Toda chuckled. “You know I’m not to be trusted, and you ask me anyway?”
“You can give me more dirt on people than anyone else can, even if you hold back half of it.”
“All right, as long as you know I might very well hold it back. Here’s a story about Kira. He’s always enjoyed much more prestige than monetary gain. His annual stipend was low compared to other important officials, and he had financial problems. His banker gambled away a lot of his savings. He overspent on keeping up appearances, throwing lavish banquets and such. He made a little extra money by taking bribes from men he instructed in etiquette.”
Hirata had gathered that from Oishi’s story.
“Go on.”
“Kira couldn’t keep his head above water. He borrowed money, with his house as collateral. When he fell behind on the payments, the moneylender filed a complaint. The magistrate ruled that either Kira paid off the debt, or the moneylender could seize his house. This was two years ago.”
“Kira must have paid,” Hirata deduced. “When he died, he still had the house.”
“Here’s what happened,” Toda said. “Lord Asano attacked Kira inside Edo Castle. Lord Asano was put to death. His assets were confiscated. A short time later, Kira paid off his debt and saved his house. Where could he have gotten the money?”
“You’re implying that it came from the confiscated assets.” Hirata was intrigued by the theory but skeptical. “Are you forgetting that the government received the goods from Ako Castle? They all should have gone straight into these storehouses.”
“Should have, but didn’t. Several chests of gold went missing.”
“So they were stolen along the way. How could Kira have gotten his hands on them?”
“Kira’s son-in-law is a captain in the army,” Toda said. “He’s stationed in Harima Province. He was one of the troops who cleaned out Ako Castle.”
“And you suspect that he and Kira took a cut of the loot?”
Toda nodded.
Hirata voiced Toda’s unspoken words: “But you have no proof.”
“None, unfortunately. The captain and his troops were interrogated. They claimed they hadn’t stolen the money. Their quarters were searched; the money wasn’t found. But when I investigated their connections, I discovered Kira and his discharged debt. I’m sure he was the brains behind the theft.”
Toda smiled and cleaned the snow off another storehouse. “Suppose that Kira had his eye on Lord Asano’s fortune. Doesn’t that put Lord Asano’s death in an entirely new light?”
* * *
IN THE SHOGUN’S private chambers, a troupe of young actors, naked except for loincloths and silk capes, sang and danced scenes from popular Kabuki plays. The shogun laughed and applauded, surrounded by his male concubines. Yoritomo, his favorite, sat beside him, keeping a watchful eye on everyone else. Masahiro was careful to sit quietly in a corner, avoiding the shogun’s attention and watching Yoritomo.
Yoritomo seemed unhappy because the shogun was ignoring him. Now he noticed Masahiro, and jealousy twisted his face. Masahiro understood that Yoritomo thought Sano meant to gain a hold over the shogun by putting Masahiro in the shogun’s bed, where disgusting things supposedly happened. It wasn’t true, but Yoritomo didn’t want anyone to usurp his place, least of all Sano’s son.
Yoritomo called to Masahiro, “It’s almost time for lunch. Go to the kitchens and order some food.”
Masahiro gladly went, even though he hated being treated like an errand boy by Yoritomo, his father’s enemy, who had no right to order him around. At least he would be out of the shogun’s sight. As he hurried through the castle, he thought of Okaru and could hardly believe she was living in his house. He’d lain awake most of the night, too excited to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about Okaru.
* * *
REIKO IN HER palanquin, and the guards escorting her, joined a long line of travelers making their New Year pilgrimage to Zōjō Temple, the holy city within the city, home to thousands of priests, nuns, monks, and novices. The going was rough, over trampled snow, but nobody seemed to mind; nor did the cold, gray day diminish the holiday spirit.
Along the approach to the main temple, whose curved roofs and tall pagoda stood out against dark evergreen trees, gongs and bells rang continuously, chasing away the evil spirits of the old year. Market stalls sold a special holiday beverage—shogazake, a sweet, milky fermented brew seasoned with ginger root. Lieutenant Tanuma bought a cup for Reiko. She sipped it as her procession wound among the forty-eight subsidiary temples that clustered around Zōjō Temple. Many were prosperous, large, and elegant. The shogun was a devout Buddhist and generous to his favorite religious orders. But Reiko’s destination was among the humbler, less favored kind.
Reiko alighted outside a weathered plank fence that enclosed two small buildings. These squatted under a shaggy pine tree. The plaster on their walls was scabby and discolored. Because the Asano clan’s fortune had been confiscated, Lady Asano hadn’t had a dowry to get her into a better convent. When Reiko rang the bell on the gate, a novice nun dressed in a frayed hemp robe and cloak answered.
Reiko introduced herself. “I’m here to see Lady Asano.”
The novice let her inside while her guards waited in the road. The larger of the two buildings was the worship hall. It was deserted, the pine boughs by the door the only sign of the New Year season. Reiko and the novice entered the smaller building, the convent. It was almost as cold as outdoors. Reiko removed her shoes but not her coat. In a small chamber with worn-out tatami on the floor, the novice seated Reiko by the alcove, which contained a bonsai in a ceramic planter and a scroll that bore a line from a Buddhist scripture. She fetched a charcoal brazier, placed it before Reiko, and departed. Reiko looked around. Furnishings consisted of a low, scarred table and cabinet. She warmed her hands over the brazier, but her toes were numb with cold by the time a thin, stooped nun arrived.
The nun had sagging features below a stubble of white hair that gleamed like frost on her shaved head. She knelt, bowed, and said, “I am the abbess of the convent. My apologies, but you will not be able to see Lady Asano. She does not receive visitors.”
“Perhaps your novice forgot to tell you that my husband is the shogun’s chief investigator,” Reiko said.
“Certainly I respect your honorable husband’s status, but I beg you not to intrude on Lady Asano. She came here believing that she would be safe from the outside world.”
“I understand, but this is a matter of life and death.”
The abbess blinked at Reiko’s strong words. “May I ask, life and death for whom?”
“The forty-seven rōnin,” Reiko said.
“What forty-seven rōnin?”
Reiko was startled. “Haven’t you heard?” She explained, “The forty-seven rōnin are Lady Asano’s late husband’s former retainers. They killed the man they blamed for his death. The man was Kira Yoshinaka, the master of ceremonies at Edo Castle.”
The abbess drew back in shock. “I had no idea. We’re very secluded here.”
A loud clatter came from the doorway. There stood a nun who wore a stained apron over her hemp robe, and a faded blue kerchief knotted around her shaved head. The mop and pail she’d just dropped lay on the floor.
“I prayed that it would happen,” she said in an exultant voice. This was Lord Asano’s widow, Reiko realized. “Someone has avenged us. At last!” She began to weep.
The abbess gave Reiko a look of reproach. “You’ve upset her. You should leave.”
“No,” Lady Asano said, sobbing into her hands. “I must speak to her.”
“The affairs of the world are not your concern,” the abbess reminded her gently.
“Please!” Lady Asano begged.
“The forty-seven rōnin have been arrested,” Reiko told the abbess. “They may be condemned to death even though they fulfilled their duty to their master. Lady Asano may be the only person who can save them. Would you want their deaths on your conscience?”
The abbess reconsidered, said, “You may have a few moments with Lady Asano,” then withdrew.
Wiping her tears on her sleeve, Lady Asano hurried into the room. She knelt and leaned toward Reiko. “How did the revenge happen? I want to know everything.”
Disconcerted by such avid curiosity, Reiko took a closer look at Lady Asano. The woman was at least ten years younger than Oishi’s wife, Ukihashi. Her skin was still firm, her body’s contours softer. But unlike Oishi’s wife, Lord Asano’s had never been a beauty. Lady Asano had small, widely spaced eyes and an irregular, full-lipped mouth in a round face. Even in better times she would have been plain.
“The forty-seven rōn
in broke into Kira’s house on the night of the blizzard,” Reiko said. “They killed Kira.”
“Tell me how.” Lady Asano’s sallow cheeks turned pink.
Reiko shrank from feeding her bloodlust with gory details, but Lady Asano deserved to know them, and there was apparently no one else to tell her. “They cut off his head.”
Lady Asano breathed through her mouth. “Did he feel pain?”
“Probably not much,” Reiko said. The disappointment on Lady Asano’s face chilled her. Lady Asano clearly bore a grudge against Kira. “It would have happened fast.”
“Did Kira have time to be afraid?” Lady Asano seemed to hunger for proof that he’d suffered.
“I expect so. When the forty-seven rōnin invaded his house, he escaped through a secret exit and hid in a shed. He’d have listened to them killing his retainers. He’d have heard them coming after him.”
“Which one of them did it?”
“It was Oishi.”
Gratitude and shame mingled in Lady Asano’s expression. “I thought he’d neglected his duty to my husband. But I misjudged him. He’s an honorable samurai after all.” Apprehension replaced her glee over Kira’s fate. “What’s going to happen to Oishi? And the others?”
“Nobody knows yet.” Reiko told Lady Asano about the scandal, the controversy in the government, and the supreme court.
Lady Asano listened with a bemused air. “To think that all this happened while I’ve been shut away in here. And I never would have known but for you.” Her voice faltered in confusion. “Why did you come?”
Reiko explained that Sano was investigating the vendetta for the supreme court and she was helping him. She forbore to mention that she was trying to save her family; she didn’t want to burden Lady Asano with her own problems. “There are questions about what led up to the vendetta. The fate of the forty-seven rōnin may depend on the answers. I came because I was hoping you could provide some.”
“Me?” Leeriness narrowed Lady Asano’s small eyes into slits. “How could I?”
The Ronin's Mistress: A Novel (Sano Ichiro Novels) Page 16
