47 Ronin

by John Allyn

  He wondered if Oishi would understand. In Ako there was nothing to compare with the Shogun’s court and he himself would not have believed such corruption existed if he had not seen it with his own eyes. Still, Oishi thought like a true samurai and could appreciate his feelings. He doubted that his words would ever be taken as practical advice, but at least it was good to get the matter off his chest.

  He finished eating and rose with a sigh.

  “Time to put on my ‘clown suit,’” he told Kataoka, and together they moved out of the room as Hara sat scowling at the forces that were troubling his master.

  At the castle Kira was up early, too. As Master of Ceremonies for all court functions he was obliged to be impeccable in dress as well as in manner and he took pains to maintain high standards. The robes laid out for him were simi­lar in style to those the visiting daimyo and officials of the court would be wearing, but the color scheme he had chosen of dead black with a huge white crest on each oversized sleeve guaranteed him a more striking appearance than any of them.

  Although scarcely middle aged, Kira affected to be older because he thought it added to his dignity. Except for two deep frown lines creased into his brow, however, his face was free of wrinkles and his heavy-set body was hard and agile. His teeth, in accord with the latest fashion, were blackened so that when he opened his mouth to speak, his listeners saw only a dark, toothless hole.

  Strangely enough, for one in such exalted if temporary power over the daimyo of the land, Kira was worried about the behavior of one of them. Lord Asano was of the old school of samurai and did not seem to realize that in this modern age bribes in the right pockets would do him more good than meaningless affirmations of loyalty to the Shogun. And for this reason he constituted a threat to Kira’s way of life.

  For three days now Kira had tried by flattery, by hints, and finally by insults to convey the idea to Lord Asano that it was customary to bestow gifts of money on the court Master of Ceremonies for his services. But Lord Asano had continued to ignore him, and Kira’s fear was that if he got away with this act of ingratitude it could set a bad precedent. Kira’s stipend as a court officer was not large and he had no desire to lose any extra benefits because of Lord Asano’s stubbornness. Somehow, there must be a way to get to his man. He had never failed in the past to get what he wanted from these noble young fools and he was determined that this time would be no exception.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a breathless servant with the announcement that the Shogun Tsunayoshi wanted to see him immediately. He hurried to put on his robes, cursing because he could not finish dressing in the leisurely way he had planned. Then he hastened out the door and across the palace grounds to the inner palace, wondering all the while what could be troubling the Shogun this early in the morning.

  In the twenty-first year of his reign, Tsunayoshi had every reason to be contented. There had been no uprisings against his office for several decades, mainly because his ancestors had been so thorough in uniting the country, first by conquest and then by assigning fiefs in strategic locations to blood relatives. His predecessors had also done him a favor by expelling all foreigners, except for one small group of Dutch traders on an island at the extreme southern tip of the country. The Christian influence had lingered for some time, even after the expulsion, but sixty years before, at Shimabara, the last large-scale massacre of such deviants had left the country free of even this minor annoyance.

  Now, after years of peace, the towns were growing, the merchants were prospering, and the arts were flourishing. It was true that the price of rice was going up, due to short supplies from the farmers who seemed strangely unable to get the most from their land, but on the whole Tsunayoshi was free from any pressing problems of state. But that is not to say that he had no problems at all.

  As Kira entered, puffing more heavily than was really necessary, he could see that Tsunayoshi was indeed in an anxious state. Kira bowed as low as his robes would permit and then raised his eyes to the tall, thin man in his fifties, who was pacing mincingly up and down the ornate reception room.

  Tsunayoshi’s concern, it turned out, was not with any pressing matters of state, but rather with how the performance of his dancing group would be received at the ceremonies. He had selected and coached the boys himself and was concerned that they give a good account of themselves. So much so that he had decided another rehearsal was in order and this was why he had summoned Kira. He wanted the boys assembled in the Hall of the Thousand Mats as quickly as possible so they could run through their dance once more before the distinguished guests arrived.

  “You don’t know how much this means to me,” he told Kira, with a womanish wave of his kimono sleeve. “I’ve worked so hard to make this performance a success—it’s just got to come off perfectly!”

  Kira bowed his head. “I sympathize with Your Excellency but I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. The ceremonies will be carried out smoothly as always.”

  “The ceremonies, yes—but the dance, that’s what’s important to me. This is something new for such an occasion and if it fails, I’ll be laughed at by everyone.”

  “No one would think of doing such a thing,” Kira re­as­sured him.

  “The experts will laugh behind my back even if they don’t say anything,” Tsunayoshi said knowingly. “But enough of that—everything else is all right, isn’t it? No problems at your end, I hope?”

  “There are always problems, Your Excellency, but nothing I can’t handle myself.”

  “Good,” smiled the Shogun. “That’s what I like to hear from my courtiers. I wish they were all as efficient as you.”

  Kira smiled back at him, revealing his blackened teeth. “All I know was learned from your example.”

  He bowed and started to leave, then hesitated and turned back in feigned reluctance. “There is one rather troublesome young daimyo, but I hope I will be able to correct his awkwardness before it embarrasses us.”

  “You mean Asano, don’t you? I’ve noticed that he doesn’t seem as much at ease as the others. Do you want me to speak to him?”

  “No—I don’t think that will be necessary. He’ll be all right once I get him to understand his proper place.”

  “Yes—well, I leave that to you. But get those young boys over here in a hurry, will you?”

  “I will obey,” Kira answered formally with a bow, and hurried away as fast as his elaborate robes would permit. He knew from experience that Tsunayoshi was not long on patience.

  Dressed in his ceremonial robes, with every detail of his costume checked and double-checked against the rules of dress for the court, Lord Asano was carried to the palanquin that was to take him to the Shogun’s castle. Kataoka, also more splendidly dressed than usual, was about to give the order for the eight burly bearers to pick up their poles when Lord Asano’s wife appeared in the doorway of the mansion and called out. Kataoka called to the bearers to wait, then stepped aside so his master could converse with his wife in privacy.

  “Please,” she said as she leaned in the window to him, “please promise me you’ll keep your temper. Show the court of Edo that we from the country also know our place in society. Perhaps—perhaps it’s not too late even now to put a few coins in the right palms. . . .”

  Lord Asano made a gesture of impatience, but his expression softened as he saw her concern. His words were reproving, but his manner was gentle.

  “In solemn matters of this sort, giving more than a token gift to the court Master of Ceremonies would be a cheap and vulgar act and I refuse to stoop to such a level. My councilors agree. . . .”

  “Your councilors agree because you’ve already made up your own mind and they know it would be useless to oppose you. I can see that if you can’t. . . . At least promise me you’ll take his instructions in good grace and not lose your temper, won’t you?”

  “I promise,” he said, and satisfied that he meant it, she stepped back and forced a smile of farewell. Lord Asano
now motioned to the waiting Kataoka and the bearers were given the signal to move out.

  As they rounded the corner of the house Kataoka saw Hara watching them go and caught an unspoken warning in the big man’s eyes: “Take good care of our master.” Kataoka nodded as he passed and then Hara disappeared behind them.

  They moved through a portion of the immense garden that surrounded the mansion and Lord Asano noticed that even though the trees were bare the grounds were still remarkably beautiful in the early morning light. There was no single distinguishing feature, only a total impression of natural serenity, meticulously planned by his grandfather at a time when there were still wars or threats of war and the daimyo were required to spend long periods in the capital. Now, of course, things were different. There had not been even a minor uprising for as long as Lord Asano could remember. It occurred to him, as it had many times before, that life must have been more exciting in grandfather’s day when a sword was something to settle your differences with and not just a badge of rank.

  The palanquin was carried briskly out the gate, Kataoka trotting alongside, but as they entered the din and crowds in the narrow alleys of the city the bearers were obliged to slow to a walking pace. Most of the tradesmen and shoppers gave way when they recognized the crested palanquin of a daimyo, but in the press of humanity some didn’t notice its presence, or pretended not to, and kept doggedly about their business until they were firmly pushed aside.

  Lord Asano had never gotten used to this flocking together of the classes that one found in Edo. From the highest ranking nobles of the court to the lowest commoner, all gathered at this center of commerce to buy from the prospering merchants. There were other types present, too, including a few threadbare ronin, or masterless samurai. Farmers who could not make a go of it had come to the city to find work and there were plenty of these, proudly disdaining to ask for bread. At the opposite extreme were the professional beggars, calling loudly for alms in the cocky, Edo-like manner that recalled to Lord Asano the boy who had made such a mess of the fire that morning. He might be out of a job now but the chances were he was not worried. Anyone with his brass would require little apprenticeship to take to the streets to cry for handouts or to become a pseudoreligious mendicant and beg in the name of a nobler cause.

  The din was overwhelming now, but over it there came another sound, a chant for the dead, and Kataoka directed the bearers to pull over to the side to let a funeral procession pass. Through the window of the palanquin Lord Asano could see that the funeral group consisted of only two men, both servants, and that the rough casket they carried slung from a pole between them was unusually small. Kataoka was standing perplexedly by the side of the palanquin when Lord Asano spoke and startled him.

  “Not the best omen to begin the day with, eh, Kataoka?”

  Kataoka turned to see that his master was not smiling and felt compelled to do something to alleviate his black mood. The servants with the casket had stopped their chanting now and as they came nearer one of them began to grumble about the load. In desperation, and also in annoyance at the man’s bad manners, Kataoka called out to him.

  “Ho! Your load is small enough. What are you complaining for? Can’t you show more reverence for the dead?”

  The servant laughed roughly at this and shouted to his companion. “The man wants to know why we don’t show more reverence for our passenger. Shall I show him?”

  “Sure,” the other man responded. “Why not?”

  By now they were abreast of the palanquin and they stopped to set the casket down in the middle of the alley. The servant who had spoken first came forward and smiled broadly at Kataoka, then winked and flipped open the lid of the box. In it lay the body of a small dog, cut almost in two in an accident. The servant winked at Kataoka again as the jostling crowd pressed close, all trying to see what was causing such interest.

  “She was never treated so well in all her life,” the servant yelled at Kataoka, who was momentarily at a loss for words.

  “Where are you taking her?” he finally mumbled.

  “To the burying grounds, of course. Where do you think? Don’t you know the law says dogs have to be buried just like people? We’re only carrying out the Shogun’s orders.”

  He covered the box and moved back to the end of the pole.

  “Well, the least you can do is carry them out without complaint,” Kataoka told them both. “You don’t seem to realize how lucky you are that our exalted Shogun was born under the sign of the dog.” He paused for dramatic effect as they lifted the pole to their shoulders. “What do you think you’d be carrying if he’d been born under the sign of the horse?”

  The two men laughed loudly, as did all those in the crowd who overheard, and Kataoka was pleased to see that even Lord Asano smiled. He chuckled at his own cleverness, then gave the bearers the order to move out and once again they were plunged into the tumultuous sea of humanity that flooded the street.

  Inside the palanquin, Lord Asano was thinking about the dead dog. To him it was typical of the topsy-turvy world of Edo that animals should be treated like humans. He knew he would never understand this place and wished again to be out of it. He sighed, then leaned forward to watch with more interest as the palanquin was carried out of the last alleyway and onto a broad street which paralleled the castle moat.

  The waters of the moat were below street level at this point and barely visible. What was most apparent was the high wall of gigantic blocks of granite beyond the water, forming an insurmountable barrier around the unseen castle. Now the bearers turned and moved alongside the moat, jogging up a little hill toward an entrance gate which guarded a narrow high-flung bridge over the still waters below.

  There were guards at the gate who came to attention as the palanquin approached. They were armed with lances and halberds which were held at the ready while Kataoka identified the party and stated the reasons for the visit. Then, waved on with a shout, they crossed the bridge into the grounds of the castle itself. On the right as they entered was a long wooden structure which quartered a full company of on-duty guards. The armed men outside it again challenged the palanquin and again Kataoka had to go through the formality of identification.

  They proceeded at a measured walk, in accordance with security regulations, and next came to an outer castle where the nobles and their families lived, surrounded by the palaces and courts of lesser ranking officials in a square that constituted a small town in itself. There was little activity in the streets, however, as most of the nobles were inside preparing for the events of the day.

  Past this, on higher ground, was the inner castle and official residence of the Shogun himself. It was surrounded by another moat and a thick wall of freestone like the granite one below. A drawbridge was positioned over the moat and Lord Asano’s party moved even more slowly across it, their pace fixed by the court’s immutable rules.

  Inside the wall, wide ramparts of earth supported guardhouses several stories high at each corner of the enclosure. Above the castle itself a white tower rose aloft above all the other buildings, and at sight of this Lord Asano exchanged a quick understanding glance with Kataoka. It was this which reminded them both of home. It was a great square mass of stone and plaster with narrow white-barred windows and tiers of curving roofs zigzagging over one another to a high ridge on each end of which was a bronze fish with an uplifted tail. Although the castle in Ako was not this large or ornate, the tower design was similar and stirred both their memories.

  At the entrance to the castle, the palanquin stopped and Lord Asano got out. He stepped directly onto a low wooden porch so there was no need for him to be lifted out by his bearers. His costume was brilliant green, and he made an expression of distaste as he looked down at himself. Outfits like this were one of his biggest problems in life at the capital. Besides a ridiculous hat that flopped over on one side and threatened to fall off if he inclined his head, he was strapped into a broad-shouldered kamishimo jacket that constricted his a
rm movements. But worst of all were the cumbersome trousers which Kataoka now hastened to adjust for Lord Asano’s entrance into the castle.

  The voluminous legs were overlong by several feet and were supposed to stretch out flatly behind the wearer for aesthetic effect. This required great care in walking and Lord Asano, naturally impatient, felt hemmed in and vulnerable. He had a constant urge to kick holes in the legs and strut in his normal manner instead of mincing along like a woman in a tight kimono. Kataoka finished laying out the cloth so that his master was pointed in the right direction, then bowed deeply and withdrew. He would wait in the vicinity of the guard shack with the bearers until the ceremonies were over. He was not, of course, allowed to enter the castle under any circumstances. No one below the rank of daimyo was invited to the annual reception for the Emperor’s envoys.

  Lord Asano braced himself and started the walk to the door. Although it was only a short distance, it seemed to him interminable as he carefully lifted each foot, kicked it slightly forward, and took a step down onto the trouser legs themselves. There were only a couple of guards watching him at the moment, but Lord Asano walked as carefully for their benefit as he would have before the Shogun himself. He knew that Kira would goad him unmercifully if he made even one false step, and he was determined to show these Edoites that a samurai from the country could play their game.

  As one of the guards held the door open, he entered the waiting room outside the enormous Hall of the Thousand Mats where the official ceremonies would be held. Inside he paused to let his eyes become accustomed to the dimmer light.

  The waiting room was spacious and high ceilinged with gilded beams and carved pillars. As he stepped onto the gold-bordered mats, Lord Asano noticed that, even though he was early, there were several lords there ahead of him. All were dressed in court costume similar to his, differing in detail only to denote rank. One, in an outfit identical to his except that it was golden brown, looked pointedly at him and it was in this man’s direction that he made his way.