The Ronin’s Mistress si-15

by Laura Joh Rowland

  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 ronin 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 return 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 ronin 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 ronin,” 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 y
ou 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!”

  “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 ronin 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 ronin’s vendetta.

  “Maybe there was a connection between Kira’s brother-in-law and Lord Asano. People of their rank are so inbred.” Now Kaj
ikawa 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 ronin 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.”