The Ronin’s Mistress si-15 Read online

  “Why are you standing here?” Sano said. “Why didn’t you commit seppuku?” Ritual suicide was mandatory for illegal vendettas, which the law considered murder. “Or run away?”

  “We’re awaiting orders,” Oishi said.

  Sano frowned in puzzlement. “Orders from whom?” He felt as if he were caught in a nightmare whose events didn’t follow ordinary logic. “To do what?”

  “We’re awaiting orders,” Oishi repeated. The other ronin nodded.

  “What’s going on?” Sano demanded.

  “We avenged our master’s death. Our mission is accomplished.” Oishi’s words sounded stiff and formal, recited. Although none of his men spoke, Sano could almost hear cheers shouted from their minds.

  “Well, you’re all under arrest,” Sano said. “You’re coming with us.”

  He braced himself for the ronin’s reaction. He craved a battle even though there had been enough violence for one day. Marume, Fukida, and his other troops stirred, ready for a fight. Hirata alone remained calm. Sano still wanted a chance to be a hero, to regain his lost standing, and although nothing he’d seen of the forty-seven ronin indicated that they would resist arrest, their behavior was so peculiar that he couldn’t predict what would happen.

  Oishi gave Sano a long, enigmatic look. A moment passed. Salty, metallic blood scented the air. Then Oishi nodded to his comrades. Without protest, the forty-seven ronin let Sano’s troops escort them from the temple.

  Relief and disappointment trickled through Sano.

  “That was a little weird,” Fukida said as he and Sano and Marume and Hirata followed their prisoners out.

  Marume laughed. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

  “Where are we going to put them?” Hirata asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Sano said. Edo Jail was reserved for commoners. Samurai criminals were usually kept under house arrest, but these didn’t have a proper home. They’d lost it after the house of Asano had been dissolved.

  “At least the case is closed,” Hirata said.

  “Maybe not.” Sano had a hunch that it wasn’t. And he suspected that his hunch was more than just wishful thinking.

  6

  Dressed in padded robes and bundled in quilts, Reiko and Chiyo rode through the city in a palanquin carried by four bearers. Mounted guards from Sano’s army accompanied them. Masahiro rode with the guards. Reiko looked out the window at him and smiled.

  “He’s so proud to have his first horse,” she said.

  “He’s already so good at riding,” Chiyo said.

  Reiko wasn’t sure he could control the horse, a brown stallion that seemed far too big. He might be thrown and get hurt. She felt a tender pain in her heart because soon he would be grown up; she couldn’t keep him safe at home forever.

  After a short, cold journey, her procession arrived at the south end of the Nihonbashi Bridge. Quays and warehouses spread along riverbanks lined with boats. Because the bridge was the starting point for the five major roads leading out of town, the area was crammed with inns and shops. Today Reiko saw few travelers in the snow-covered streets. Along the block to which Okaru’s letter had directed Reiko, cheap inns stood side by side, enclosed by bamboo fences. The proprietors looked out their gates in hope of customers. One gate had a tattered paper lantern, which sported a crudely painted dragonfly crest, suspended from its roof. There Reiko’s procession stopped. Her chief bodyguard, the homely, serious Lieutenant Tanuma, announced her to the innkeeper.

  “This is Lady Reiko, the wife of the shogun’s sosakan-sama. She’s here to see one of your guests, a woman named Okaru.”

  The innkeeper had a mouth that was puckered as if he’d just drunk vinegar. “All right, but please be quiet. My other guests arrived late last night, and they’re still asleep.”

  Reiko and Chiyo, Masahiro and Lieutenant Tanuma, followed the innkeeper through a passage to a small garden buried under snow and surrounded by guest rooms in small, shabby wooden buildings. The innkeeper pointed to a room on the right. “She’s in there.”

  Reiko and her companions waded through the snow and mounted the steps to the veranda. She knocked on the door. After a moment it was opened by a tall, broad, mannish-looking woman dressed in a brown-and-black-striped kimono and black trousers. A faint mustache darkened her upper lip. She gazed down at Reiko.

  “Who are you?” Her voice was high, feminine, and unfriendly.

  Disconcerted, Reiko said, “My name is Reiko. I-”

  A little scream came from inside the room. A girlish voice said, “It’s Lady Reiko! Let her in, let her in!”

  The mannish woman stood aside. Reiko, Chiyo, and Masahiro slipped past her; Lieutenant Tanuma waited on the veranda. The room was barely larger than a closet. Baggage lay stacked against the wall; bedding overflowed from the cabinet. The girl who’d spoken knelt on the floor beside a charcoal brazier, holding a comb. Her long black hair hung damply around her shoulders. She wore a pale pink robe, the sash loose. She’d evidently just bathed. The sweet fragrance of a clean young woman scented the air.

  “Honorable Lady Reiko! I prayed and prayed that you would come. I can hardly believe you’re here!” The girl gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners?” She dropped her comb and bowed. “A thousand thanks for coming. I’m Okaru.”

  She was younger than Reiko had expected-perhaps sixteen. Small and slim and lithe, she was also beautiful. She had a heart-shaped face with round cheeks, and large, limpid, innocent eyes. Her skin glowed like pearls. Her teeth were white and perfect, her lips soft and pink as peony petals. Her smile was radiant.

  “This is my cousin-in-law Chiyo, and my son Masahiro,” Reiko said.

  Okaru said breathlessly, “I’m so honored to make your acquaintance!”

  Chiyo replied calmly and politely. Reiko couldn’t help liking Okaru, the girl was so sweet; but she knew that first impressions could be erroneous. Masahiro stared at Okaru, his eyes wide and mouth open.

  “Please allow me to introduce Goza.” Okaru’s delicate hand gestured toward her companion. “My servant.”

  Goza squatted on the floor, like a man.

  “Please sit down,” Okaru said.

  Reiko and her companions knelt, crowded together in the small space.

  “May I offer you some refreshments?” Okaru lifted the lid of a teapot and said, “Oh, no, the tea is all gone. And I’m afraid we’ve finished the rice cakes.”

  “You don’t need to give us anything.” Reiko remembered that Okaru was short on money. “We’ve come to help you.”

  Okaru’s beautiful face crumpled. “And I’m so thankful. Because I’m in such terrible trouble! Or rather, Oishi is. I’m so afraid.” Tears shone in her limpid eyes.

  Chiyo handed Okaru a handkerchief. Reiko could see that Chiyo sympathized with the girl but reserved judgment about her. Okaru wiped her tears, swallowed, and breathed deeply.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Reiko said. “Where did you come from?”

  “Miyako,” Okaru said.

  Miyako was the imperial capital, a fifteen-day journey from Edo in good weather, perhaps twice as long in winter. “That’s quite far,” Reiko said. “And you came by yourself?”

  “I had Goza.” Okaru smiled at her servant. “She protected me.”

  “Who is your family?” Reiko couldn’t believe they would let a girl so young travel so far with only one female attendant. The highway was dangerous.

  “I haven’t any family.” Sadness filled Okaru’s voice.

  “What happened to your parents?” Reiko asked.

  “They died four years ago, when I was twelve. I’ve been on my own since then.”

  Pity filled Reiko. She happened to glance at Masahiro and saw him leaning toward Okaru as if fascinated. “How have you managed to live?”

  “I work at a teahouse.” Okaru spoke in a small but brave voice. Her cheeks flushed.

  Reiko understood that Okaru was one of the many teahouse girls who did
more than serve drinks. She was a prostitute, the lowly kind that worked outside the licensed pleasure quarters where prostitution was legal. Reiko marveled that Okaru had retained her beauty and innocence for this long. But Chiyo recoiled from Okaru, as many samurai ladies would. Masahiro frowned in confusion. Although Reiko knew he’d seen teahouse girls soliciting customers, he was too young to understand exactly what they did.

  After a brief, awkward silence, Reiko said, “When did you come to Edo?”

  “Yesterday.” Okaru smiled, thankful that Reiko didn’t shun her because of her occupation. “I asked the innkeeper if there was anybody who helps travelers with problems, that I could go to. I was thinking of a convent.” Convents and monasteries took in people who were down on their luck. “He mentioned you. He found me a scribe to write my letter.”

  The innkeeper had been kinder than he looked, Reiko thought. But a man would have to be made of stone to resist Okaru. “What brought you here?”

  “Oishi came. I followed him.”

  “Who is Oishi?”

  “Oishi Kuranosuke. My fiance.” Okaru blushed again.

  Reiko supposed that teahouse girls liked to refer to their customers as fiances. Maybe they thought it made them sound respectable; maybe it was wishful thinking. His two names identified Oishi as a samurai, above Okaru’s station. Okaru was likely just his mistress. “What has Oishi done?”

  “He’s killed him.” Okaru trembled on the verge of tears again. “I heard the news-sellers shouting it in the streets. They said he cut off his head.”

  “Cut off whose head?” Reiko said, alarmed yet excited to hear that the problem involved murder.

  “I followed him because I love him so much and I wanted to save him.” Okaru’s voice rose to a wail. “But I’m just a stupid girl. That’s why I sent the letter to you.” Her hands fluttered like fragile white birds. “Can’t you please do something?”

  Reiko caught Okaru’s hands and held them still. “I won’t know what to do until I know the facts. Now tell me: Whom did Oishi kill?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just so upset.” Okaru gulped and sniffled. “It was Kira Yoshinaka.”

  Reiko recognized the name. “Kira, the shogun’s master of ceremonies?”

  “I guess. Some important man at Edo Castle.”

  Reiko was amazed to learn that Kira had been murdered and she had stumbled onto the sequel of a scandalous incident she remembered well. “Is Oishi one of Lord Asano’s former retainers?”

  “Yes, yes! He came to kill Kira because Kira killed Lord Asano.”

  She didn’t have the facts exactly straight. Reiko said, “But the shogun said Kira wasn’t at fault and no action should be taken against him.” Now she understood why Oishi was in trouble and Okaru was so worried. “A vendetta would have been illegal.”

  “That’s what Oishi told me,” Okaru said. “I begged him not to go. But he didn’t care if he was breaking the law.”

  Many samurai wouldn’t. Avenging a master’s death was their highest duty, and sacrificing themselves their ultimate act of loyalty. “So Oishi murdered Kira.”

  “Not just Oishi. He took along forty-six of Lord Asano’s other men.”

  Reiko was stunned. The trouble was even more serious than she’d initially thought. The government might have excused one samurai who’d killed in the name of honor, but forty-seven ronin ganging up on one old man? Reiko couldn’t imagine them getting away with it.

  “So that’s why Oishi and I need your help,” Okaru said.

  The problem was far beyond Reiko’s power to solve. “I’m sorry to say that I can’t save Oishi.” Reiko watched Okaru’s face fall. She hated to disappoint the girl, but it would be crueler to give her false hope. “Oishi and his friends defied the shogun and committed murder. They’ll likely be sentenced to death.”

  Chiyo nodded. Masahiro turned to Reiko in dismay. Reiko was sorry she’d brought him, that he was upset.

  “But the innkeeper said your husband is an important man in the government,” Okaru said. “Couldn’t he protect Oishi, if you ask him to?”

  “My husband has to follow the shogun’s orders just like everyone else,” Reiko said. “There’s nothing he can do for Oishi. I’m sorry. My best advice to you is this: Forget about Oishi. Go home. If you need money for traveling, I can give you some.”

  Okaru conceded without a fight. Indeed, she didn’t seem to have a fighting bone in her body. Her shoulders sagged. “I understand,” she said, her beautiful face a picture of woe. “I’m sorry for imposing on you. I won’t take your money. Thank you for coming.”

  Her manner showed no resentment, which made Reiko even sorrier that she couldn’t help the girl. Then Okaru said, “What I don’t understand is how that man Kira could do something wrong, and Oishi will die for trying to set things right. It seems so unfair.”

  If Okaru knew the facts, maybe she could more easily accept Oishi’s fate and Reiko would feel less guilty for letting her down. Reiko explained, “Lord Asano drew a sword on Kira inside Edo Castle. He broke the law. That’s why he died. Kira never lifted a finger toward Lord Asano. That’s why the shogun forbade a vendetta against Kira and killing him was a crime.”

  “But Oishi said that was … How did he put it?” Okaru frowned in an effort to recall. “The ‘official version.’ He said it wasn’t what really happened. He said…” Okaru recited, “‘Nothing about this vendetta is what it seems.’”

  Interest and excitement stirred in Reiko. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

  “Yes, yes.” Nodding, Okaru gazed earnestly at Reiko. “If things are different from what everybody says, then maybe it is unfair that Oishi should have to die. Don’t you think?”

  “I think there may be extenuating circumstances in this case,” Reiko said.

  Chiyo looked surprised, Masahiro happier. The servant Goza leaned toward Reiko, suspicious. Okaru’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

  “Extenuating circumstances are reasons that the law could be overturned,” Reiko explained. “If there are any, Oishi and his friends might be excused for killing Kira.”

  “And he’ll be saved!” Okaru clasped her hands under her chin. Her smile shone through her tears like sunlight reflected in water. “Oh, how wonderful!”

  Reiko was alarmed at how quickly Okaru had seized on the slim chance. “Don’t count on it,” she warned. “First we have to determine whether there really are any reasons why Oishi shouldn’t be sentenced to death. Now, what did he say happened?”

  A blank expression replaced Okaru’s smile. “He didn’t say.”

  “Did he explain about the vendetta not being what it seems?”

  Okaru shook her head. “I asked him what he meant. He wouldn’t tell me.” She looked anxious. “Does it matter?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Reiko said. “To save Oishi, we would need to prove that his actions were justified.” She was appalled by the violence of his crime; even though she applauded his devotion to the Way of the Warrior, she wasn’t sure he deserved to go free. “The government isn’t going to excuse him without more information. A vague hint isn’t good enough.”

  “Oh. Then I guess Oishi is doomed. And so am I.” Okaru looked forlorn and younger than ever, like a child who’d just discovered that wishes didn’t always come true. Her lips quivered. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She was even prettier when she cried.

  “Mother, do something!” Masahiro blurted out.

  His vehemence surprised Reiko. But she agreed that they couldn’t just leave this poor girl alone to fend for herself. “Listen,” she said to Okaru. “I’ll go to my husband and tell him what you said. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You will?” Now Okaru wept tears of delight. “Oh, thank you!”

  Reiko glanced at Chiyo, who was watching Okaru with a troubled expression. Masahiro beamed. As she rose to depart, Reiko said, “Please don’t hope for too much. Oishi’s situation is very serious. I can’t guarantee that things will turn out
the way you want.”

  7

  Sano and Hirata decided to imprison the forty-seven ronin in the most secure location available near Sengaku Temple, the three samurai estates along the southern highway. While Sano rode back to Edo Castle to report to the shogun, Hirata divided the ronin into two groups of sixteen men and one of fifteen. He sent troops to escort two groups to their makeshift jails while he and a few soldiers accompanied the other. His sixteen ronin included Oishi the leader and his son Chikara. Hirata and the soldiers rode their horses while the ronin trudged down the highway like obedient cattle.

  The estates were private cities carved out of the forest. The barracks that enclosed them had high white plaster walls decorated with black geometric tile patterns. Bushes with spiky, leafless branches grew outside the barracks. Countless other buildings rose from within, their roofs like mountain ranges of snow-covered tile. Along the highway, porters carried litters heaped with charcoal, rice, and other goods in the vast quantities needed to supply the estates. Tokugawa law prohibited all wheeled vehicles except for oxcarts owned by the government; this prevented troop movements and rebellions, at least in theory. The porters stared at Hirata’s group of bloodstained ronin. Soldiers from the estates came out to watch the peculiar parade.

  Hirata led his group to the estate that belonged to the Hosokawa daimyo clan. The Hosokawa was an ancient family that controlled the fief of Higo Province. Higo was a top rice-producing domain and the Hosokawa clan one of Japan’s largest, wealthiest landholders. Their estate was the grandest in the area, with a gate made of wide, iron-studded planks. When Hirata and his companions approached it, two sentries stepped out of an ornate guardhouse.

  Hirata introduced himself. “I’ve got sixteen prisoners. I want you to keep them under house arrest here.”

  The sentries looked nonplussed. One said, “That’s never been done before. We’ll have to get permission.”

  “Go ahead.” Hirata glanced at the sixteen ronin. They gazed straight ahead, their faces impassive. None showed any sign of wanting to bolt. “We’ll wait.”