“Forgive me, Oishi-san,” he cried, prostrating himself before the grave. He had a square face with an aggressive jaw. “When I saw you lying in the gutter in Miyako, I thought you’d become a worthless bum. But now I know I misjudged you. You were a true samurai.”
Sano stared, amazed. “That’s the man from Satsuma,” he told Reiko. “The one Oishi mentioned in his story.”
They took the long route back to their escorts, around the temple, skirting the woods. It was quiet and peaceful here, and lush with spring, but Sano’s thoughts were dark, troubled.
“What’s wrong?” Reiko asked.
“I feel as if I don’t deserve the promotion,” Sano said.
“Why on earth not?”
Sano hadn’t told Reiko about the moment when he’d been presented with the choice between rescuing the shogun or Masahiro. In all the confusion no one but himself had noticed it. He told Reiko now.
“If Hirata and the soldiers hadn’t helped the shogun, you’d have done it and let Yanagisawa kill Masahiro?” Reiko’s voice was filled with horrified indignation. Then she looked stunned as the opposite scenario occurred to her. “You would have saved Masahiro and abandoned the shogun?” She sucked in her breath, then released it in a whisper. “Oh.”
It was clear that she recognized the dilemma that Sano had experienced and saw that whichever his choice, the consequences would have been disastrous. She waved her hand, as if to fend off the very idea of them. “But you didn’t choose. You didn’t have to, thank the gods. So let’s not even think about it.”
“I can’t help thinking about it,” Sano said. “I keep wondering whom I’d have chosen. Could I put Bushido and loyalty to my lord ahead of Masahiro’s life? Or would I have made the same choice as Kajikawa, who put his feelings for his son above all other concerns?” Sano glanced toward the temple. “When I looked at Oishi’s grave, I felt inferior.”
Reiko was silent for a long moment. Sano could tell that she thought he should have saved their son and the shogun be damned. She was Masahiro’s mother. Her maternal instinct outweighed Bushido.
When she spoke, she picked her words carefully, as if trying to assuage Sano’s doubt about his worth as a samurai while stifling her urge to impose her own opinion on him. “In the end, I think actions matter more than motives. The forty-seven ronin avenged their master’s death. History will remember them for their loyalty, not everything else. The same applies to you.” She gently touched Sano’s arm. “The shogun thinks you protected him from Kajikawa. It’s true. But he’s forgotten that you’ve risked your life for him many times.” She smiled, tender and proud. “You’re every bit as much a samurai hero as the forty-seven ronin.”
Her praise lifted Sano’s spirits. “I suppose I have to believe you, because you’re always right,” he said.
It felt good to be out of disgrace and officially back at the helm of the regime. Sano decided to stop dwelling on what he might have done under different circumstances. Instead, he would renew his commitment to Bushido and do his loyal best to serve the shogun. He would turn his attention to the future.
The war between him and Yanagisawa wasn’t over. Yanagisawa blamed him for Yoritomo’s death. It was the one offense that Yanagisawa would never forgive. When Yanagisawa emerged from mourning, there would be hell for Sano to pay.
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The Ronin’s Mistress si-15 Page 35
