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

by Laura Joh Rowland

  He spoke with conviction, but his words struck a dissonant chord in Reiko. She tilted her head and frowned.

  “It’s not true,” Okaru said, breathless with desperation. “You don’t know what you’re saying, you’re not yourself. You must be ill. Darling, you need me.” She stood, lifted her hand, and stroked Oishi’s cheek. “Let me make you all better.”

  Oishi swatted at Okaru. He might have intended only to repel her touch, but his hand struck her face hard enough that she shrieked and fell.

  Reiko caught Okaru. Goza assailed Oishi, seized his neck, and began to throttle him. As he tried to pry her hands off him, his eyes bulged. He choked. His complexion turned purple before he drove his knee into Goza’s stomach and broke her hold.

  She retreated but stood ready to charge again, her face murderous, her fingers curled, and her knees flexed like a wrestler’s. Oishi wheezed as he said to Okaru, “Never come near me again.”

  Okaru collapsed, wailing, in Reiko’s arms. As Oishi started to walk out of the room, Reiko realized why his words hadn’t sounded right. She called to him, “You say your love for Okaru was just an act, and you only divorced your wife in order to protect her. But that’s not what my husband says you told him. Why have you changed your story?”

  Oishi left without answering her question.

  * * *

  “I THOUGHT HE loved me!” Okaru wailed as the palanquin carried her and Reiko and Goza through the city. “How could he be so cruel? How could I be so stupid?”

  Reiko tried to comfort her, but by the time they arrived at Sano’s estate, she was in hysterics. “I can’t breathe!” Okaru wheezed and clutched her throat.

  “Just calm down,” Reiko urged. “You’ll be fine.”

  Okaru fell out of the palanquin, sobbing. Goza picked her up and carried her toward the house. Chiyo and Masahiro appeared at the door and gazed with concern at Okaru flailing and gasping in Goza’s arms.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Masahiro asked.

  Reiko explained, then said, “Fetch the doctor. Be quick.”

  Masahiro ran off. Reiko and Chiyo put Okaru to bed. Okaru writhed under the quilt, mussing her hairdo. Her tears had melted her makeup into a red and gray mess.

  “I’m so miserable, I want to die!” A fit of coughing and choking ensued.

  Reiko pleaded with her to lie still and try to breathe normally. At last Masahiro arrived with an Edo Castle physician, who made Okaru drink a potion made from dates, sprouted wheat, and licorice to relieve her grief, and a tincture of opium to sedate her. After a while her breathing evened, her struggles ceased, and she drowsed. Reiko, Goza, and Chiyo knelt around her bed. Masahiro hovered anxiously in the doorway.

  “Will she be all right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Reiko said, although she wondered if it was possible to die of a broken heart.

  “We should let her rest.” Chiyo spoke to Reiko, but her gaze was on Masahiro.

  Reiko saw an uneasy expression appear on his face as he slipped away. She remembered Chiyo’s mysterious hints about Okaru. Again she didn’t have time to ask what they meant, because when she and Chiyo left the room they met Sano in the corridor. Chiyo greeted him, then excused herself, leaving Reiko and Sano alone.

  “I saw the doctor coming out of the house,” Sano said. “Is somebody sick?”

  “It’s Okaru.” Reiko described what had happened between Okaru and Oishi.

  Sano immediately grasped the significance of Oishi’s words. “He changed his story.”

  “Yes,” Reiko said. “I asked him why, but he didn’t answer.”

  Sano massaged his head as if it ached from the barrage of conflicting evidence. “Oishi’s new story corroborates his son Chikara’s statement that his relationship with Okaru was just a ploy to protect his wife and trick Kira.”

  Reiko’s anger at Oishi resurged. “He may be a hero for avenging Lord Asano, but he was cruel to Okaru, who didn’t deserve it. He’s lost much of my sympathy.”

  “A samurai’s duty to his master takes priority over obligations to everyone else.” Sano clearly didn’t like her criticism. “You know that.”

  Reiko felt the familiar, uncomfortable tension that arose when she and Sano had different opinions about a subject in a case. She started to say that she hoped this case wouldn’t come between them, when a manservant appeared and said, “Honorable Master, you have a visitor. It’s Ohgami Kaoru, from the Council of Elders.”

  “I’d better not keep him waiting,” Sano said as he headed toward the reception room.

  The manservant said to Reiko, “This message came for you today,” and offered her a scroll in a lacquer container.

  Reiko took the scroll and followed Sano. She stood outside the reception room door, which was open wide enough for her to see Sano kneeling opposite a white-haired samurai with an oddly youthful face. She eavesdropped on their conversation.

  * * *

  ELDER OHGAMI REFUSED Sano’s offer of refreshments. “I can’t stay long.”

  That was a bad sign. Sano braced himself for news he didn’t want to hear.

  “The Council of Elders is concerned that the supreme court is taking too long to announce a verdict,” Ohgami said.

  “The judges only convened for the first time yesterday,” Sano pointed out.

  “The Council is aware of that,” Ohgami said. “But certain members feel that because the case is so politically sensitive, expediency is of utmost importance.”

  Sano deduced that “certain members” meant Kato and Ihara, his and Ohgami’s opponents. “The judges want to be sure they make the right decision.”

  “The judges aren’t the problem.” Ohgami fixed a pointed look on Sano. “Some of us think it’s your investigation that’s holding things up.”

  “I’m working as fast as I can.” Sano thought, Here we go again. His superiors never ceased expecting him to produce instant miracles.

  “I have complete confidence that you are. But your detractors wonder if you’re being deliberately slow about providing evidence to the court, because you want to delay the verdict and spare the lives of the forty-seven rōnin for as long as possible and you’re afraid of how the reaction will affect you.”

  Offense leaped in Sano. “I admit that I’m partial toward letting the forty-seven rōnin go free.” Even though Reiko’s news about Oishi changing his story had reminded Sano that he needed to maintain his objectivity. “And I can’t deny that I have a stake in the verdict. But I would never compromise an investigation on account of my personal feelings.”

  “I know. But others don’t have as much faith in you as I do. They think you’re using your investigation to control the court.”

  “I’m not,” Sano said flatly.

  “Thank you for the assurance,” Ohgami said. “I will relay it to my colleagues. But some of them strongly believe that the forty-seven rōnin should be condemned to death.”

  “Ihara and Kato made that clear while we were discussing the case with the shogun.”

  Ohgami winced because Sano had bluntly named names. “And I made it clear that I share your belief that the forty-seven rōnin should be pardoned. But our position is becoming dangerous. Your political opponents are gaining support, and they have much influence with the shogun.”

  Sano could imagine Yoritomo whispering in the shogun’s ear, pouring in poison about Sano. “There are many influential people on my side, too.”

  “If the forty-seven rōnin are pardoned, you won’t have enough allies to protect you. The other side will be out for blood.” Ohgami clearly feared for himself as much as for Sano.

  This prediction didn’t exactly raise Sano’s spirits after a difficult day. “Yanagisawa and Yoritomo were kind enough to explain to me what will happen if the verdict goes against the forty-seven rōnin. I’ll lose the allies who want them pardoned. I’ll also become the target of a popular uprising by commoners protesting the death of their heroes.”

  “That could come to pass, yes
.”

  “Which means that no matter the verdict, I’m damned,” Sano said, as much vexed by the rampant political opportunism around him as troubled by his dilemma. “I’ll be run out of the regime as well as lose my family for causing an uproar that displeases the shogun.”

  Ohgami shrugged and spread his hands.

  * * *

  AFTER OHGAMI LEFT, Sano discovered Reiko standing in the corridor outside the reception chamber. She clutched a scroll container tightly enough to crack it. Her face wore a look of dismay and guilt.

  “I suppose you heard my whole talk with Ohgami,” Sano said.

  Reiko nodded. “I hope you’re not angry at me for eavesdropping.”

  “No,” Sano said as they walked toward their private quarters. “You spared me the trouble of telling you the bad news.”

  “Are things really so bad?” Fear shrank Reiko’s voice.

  Sano held his breath for a moment, then let it ease out. “I won’t lie. But remember, things have often looked bad for us. We’ve always come out all right.” He attempted a joke. “Besides, wouldn’t life be dull without a little trouble once in a while?”

  Reiko didn’t laugh. “It seems worse this time than it ever was.”

  It did, partly because his position had already been precarious. But Sano suspected that the current situation disturbed Reiko, and himself, more than past difficulties because they’d had their faces rubbed in the consequences of a samurai losing his status. Oishi’s story of Lord Asano’s suicide and his own hardships had struck too close to home for Sano, and he gathered that Reiko had been deeply affected by the tales of woe she’d heard from Lady Asano and Oishi’s wife.

  The corridor was cold, as if from the shadow of the cloud that hung over them, the threat of separation. Sano took off his surcoat, wrapped it around Reiko, and said, “We’ll get through this.”

  She managed a smile. He felt her inhale, draw strength from their closeness, and brace herself up. He loved her for her courage and fortitude that had sustained them both during their twelve often tumultuous years together. His love moved him so much that he felt uncomfortable and sought a change of subject.

  “What’s that you’re holding?” he asked.

  Reiko opened the bamboo container, unrolled the scroll, and read the written message. Her expression grew more troubled. “It’s from Lady Wakasa. She says marriage prospects for Masahiro have completely dried up. Some of the clans she approached are in favor of condemning the forty-seven rōnin and they don’t want to be associated with us because they think you’re trying to influence the verdict the other way. The other clans are in favor of pardoning, but nobody would agree to a miai.” A miai was the ritual first meeting between a prospective bride and groom and their families. “Everybody thinks you’re on the way out. So she’s giving up searching for a bride for Masahiro until the business is settled.”

  She lifted her gaze to Sano. A wry smile twisted her mouth. “She’s deserting us just when we need her most.”

  “Who cares about that old busybody?” Sano said, although her letter had added more weight to a heavy pile of worries. “Nobody died and put her in charge.”

  As he and Reiko enjoyed a laugh at Lady Wakasa’s expense, wails drifted through the house. Reiko sighed. “That’s Okaru. It’s going to be a difficult night.”

  “Things will look better in the morning,” Sano promised.

  23

  THE JUDGES DEBATED far into the night. They included Inspector General Nakae and Lord Nabeshima, whom Magistrate Ueda had allowed to rejoin the court. Their chamber was thick with smoke from their tobacco pipes. They shook their fists and pounded on the floor while they argued loudly, until Magistrate Ueda said, “Let’s take another vote.” His eyes were bleary from the smoke; his head ached. “All in favor of pardoning the forty-seven rōnin, raise your hands.”

  Seven hands went up.

  “All in favor of condemning?”

  The other seven judges raised their hands.

  “This is the third time we’ve come out divided half and half,” Nakae said.

  “We’re getting nowhere,” Colonel Hitomi said crossly.

  “We have to keep at it until we’re all on the same side,” Superintendent Ogiwara said.

  Lord Nabeshima combined a laugh with a snort. “I’m not changing my mind.” He folded his arms and glared at the seven judges who opposed him. “Are you?”

  “Not I,” they chorused.

  Inspector General Nakae’s eyes gleamed with cunning. He said to Superintendent Ogiwara, “The next time I audit your department, I might find a serious discrepancy in the account books.”

  “What?” Superintendent Ogiwara said, puzzled, fearful, and insulted. “There are no discrepancies.”

  “I’m sure I can find something.” Nakae paused, letting the threat of reprimands, fines, demotion, and dismissal hang in the air. “Unless you change your vote.”

  Superintendent Ogiwara gasped. “That’s blackmail!”

  The judges on his side protested. Magistrate Ueda wasn’t shocked because Nakae would stoop to such a low tactic, but because Nakae had done it so openly. Nakae was clearly too impatient to wait until he could get each opposing judge alone and negotiate a private deal.

  “I can play that game.” Minister Motoori said to Lord Nabeshima, “The shogun wants to build new temples. Change your vote, or I’ll advise him that you should provide the money.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Lord Nabeshima looked aghast at the thought of the fortune that the new temples would cost him. He glared at his friend Nakae. “See what you’ve started!”

  “Rule number seven,” Magistrate Ueda said. “No blackmail and no deals. Anyone who breaks it will spend ten days in Edo Jail.”

  Inspector General Nakae shook his head in angry disgust. “So you don’t like my solution to our problem. What’s yours?”

  Magistrate Ueda said the only thing he could. “We hope for new evidence, and in the meantime, we continue debating.” He looked at the men around him. Their faces were puffy with weariness. “We’ve all had enough for one day. The court is adjourned until tomorrow.”

  * * *

  TEMPLE BELLS TOLLED the hour of the boar as Magistrate Ueda traveled home. His portly figure swayed in the saddle while he rode through the Hibiya administrative district, just south of Edo Castle, where he lived in a mansion attached to the Court of Justice. One bodyguard rode in front of him, one behind. The district was dimly lit by lanterns burning in a few of the houses crouched behind earthen walls. The streets were empty. The horses’ hooves crunching on icy snow punctuated the lonely sound of dogs howling.

  Magistrate Ueda breathed vigorously, letting the wintry night air cleanse his system of tobacco smoke and bad will. How fed up he was with that stubborn pack of mules! But he must guide the court to a just verdict. He worried about Sano, Reiko, and their children. Whichever way the case turned out, they could suffer.

  He was so deep in thought, and his bodyguards so sleepy, that they didn’t notice the man who’d followed them from Edo Castle. The man sped along in the shadows along the walls, the noise from the horses muffling his footsteps. Dressed in black, a hood pulled over his head, he moved with sinister stealth.

  Magistrate Ueda and his guards rode down a path that bordered a canal. Steep retaining walls descended to the water, which gleamed in the moonlight. Beyond the canal rose mansions; over it arched a wooden bridge. Magistrate Ueda and his guards rode in single file onto the bridge. He was halfway across when the guard behind him uttered a cry filled with surprise and pain. Startled, Magistrate Ueda reined his horse sideways. He saw the guard clutch his neck, then topple off his mount.

  “Inaba-san!” Magistrate Ueda called. “What—?”

  Another cry shrilled. Magistrate Ueda looked at the guard ahead of him. The guard flailed his arms, then slumped. An arrow protruded from his back. His body listed. He dangled from one stirrup as his horse reared and galloped away.

  Panic filled
Magistrate Ueda: This was an ambush, and he was the next target. But even while he looked around for the archer, while he feared for his own life, he climbed off his horse and hurried to his fallen guard. Inaba was an old friend whom he must try to save. Then he saw the arrow that had pierced Inaba’s throat, the great spill of blood on the bridge, and Inaba’s eyes blankly reflecting the moonlight.

  An arrow whizzed past Magistrate Ueda and struck the bridge’s railing. He looked in the direction from which the arrow had come. On the path along the canal, the shadowy figure of the archer took aim to shoot again.

  Magistrate Ueda ran. He cleared the bridge and fled into an alley between two estates while footsteps thudded behind him. It was so dark that he had to grope his way, stumbling on snow piles. The archer wouldn’t be able to get a good shot, he hoped. He was only a few blocks from his mansion; he would be safe soon. But he was old, fat, and out of shape. He panted and staggered as he neared the end of the alley. The footsteps pounded louder, closer.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder. Crying out, he turned and saw his pursuer’s black-clothed figure. The dim light from the end of the alley gleamed in the man’s eyes. The man raised an object. Magistrate Ueda saw the gloved hand and the club studded with shiny iron spikes. He fumbled for the sword at his waist, but before he could draw it, the club came swinging down.

  A hard blow landed against his forehead. Pain burst in his skull. His vision fragmented into brilliant shards. He fell through space. An instant later he crashed onto the ground. He tried to call for help, but more blows smote him. His last thought was, Who wants me dead?

  * * *

  WHILE SHE SLEPT that night, a part of Reiko remained alert in case her children should cry or danger should threaten her family. The moment she heard Hirata’s voice say, “Excuse me, Sano-san, Lady Reiko,” she was instantly awake.

  “What is it?” Reiko threw off the heavy quilts, shivered in her night robe, and squinted in the light from the lantern that Hirata held. Chiyo stood beside him, her expression grave.