by John Allyn
The next morning at six o’clock the gates of the castle were opened and Araki’s men marched in to change places with the old guard. The men of Ako and their families came out with hand-drawn carts loaded with their personal possessions and moved slowly onto the plain before the castle. There was a final formal exchange between Oishi and Araki and then the Shogun’s men took possession and the gate was again closed.
Oishi and his men were silent as they looked back for the last time at what had been their invincible stronghold while the women stifled their sobs as was expected of wives and daughters of samurai. Then a baby started to cry, and to escape having to bear the unbearable the families began to move off in one direction or another, depending on where they thought their chances of making a livelihood would be best.
Oishi and his family headed for the main highway that led to Osaka and Kyoto, as did most of the others including Hara, Kataoka, and Mimura. He led his horse beside a cart piled high with luggage and his son Chikara walked beside him. Behind came his wife with three little ones, all dressed in warm traveling clothes that were very much alike. No outsider could have known that one of the three children was Lord Asano’s little daughter, whom Oishi had sworn to protect with his life if necessary. He had been unwilling to give her into anyone else’s care even during the period when he was dealing with Araki, preferring to take the risk and responsibility himself. He had no way of knowing what the Shogun’s orders were regarding the child and preferred to let Araki think she was with her mother, which was where he intended to deliver her when the time was right.
As the castle disappeared in the dust behind them, Oishi glanced back at the little girl and saw that she was dry eyed, even as she had been when told of her father’s death and her mother’s exile. He was impressed by her self-control, worthy of a true daughter of a samurai, and hoped that in the uncertain future they were facing she would continue to bend like the willow before the winds of fortune.
Chapter Six
Kyoto was visited by great floods that spring, which made Oishi’s first move more difficult. The Kamo River, flowing through the central part of the city, overran its banks in nearly a hundred places and brought widespread death and destruction. Most of the principal foot bridges were down, and crisscrossing the area with a small child in tow was not an easy task. The one advantage was that such conditions made it harder for spies from Edo to stay on his trail, if any were in fact present.
He had brought Lord Asano’s little daughter here to find a suitable home where she could be brought up as one of the family. Later, if she could not rejoin her mother, the adoption could be made permanent. The important thing was that no one must know she was an Asano, lest she fall into the Shogun’s hands and be held as a hostage for Oishi and his band’s good behavior.
Kyoto was still Japan’s religious capital and nearly a tenth of its half-million inhabitants were priests of one sort or another. Although the influence of Buddhism was past its peak, there were still temples everywhere, not to mention large numbers of “holy men” who had established their own priesthoods and roamed the streets dressed according to their fancies.
As a city of business, Kyoto could not compare with nearby Osaka in size or capacity, but as a place of pleasure it had no rival anywhere. There were three enormous geisha districts, including the fabulous Gion quarters, and the businessmen from Osaka and other surrounding towns kept them humming with activity.
For Oishi, however, the main attraction in Kyoto was not in either its spiritual or its recreational aspects. He had come to Kyoto because it was the residence of the Emperor Higashiyama and his court, reasoning that it would be in the home of one of the Imperial courtiers that his young charge would be safest. It was well known that the Shogun wished to keep the divine person of the Emperor untroubled by the mundane affairs of government and he had therefore separated the two capitals. It was also part of the unspoken bargain that the Shogun kept his hands off the small isolated realm of the Emperor and would do nothing that could conceivably offend his court. If Lord Asano’s daughter came under the protection of a member of this court, Oishi felt he could rest assured that she would be entirely safe from even the Shogun himself.
The Asano affair was well known throughout Japan by now and Oishi himself was much talked about. Fortunately, few knew him by sight and by dressing as a commoner he could move about without attracting undue attention. He stayed strictly away from his own family to avoid possible exposure to spies, but as time went by and he was still unsuccessful in finding a home for the girl, he grew more and more tempted to give up the search for a foster home and go home.
The candidates on his list of foster parents were eliminated one by one as they found some excuse or other to decline Oishi’s request. Some of the reasons they gave were undoubtedly legitimate, such as simple lack of material resources, but others he suspected were motivated by the fear of becoming involved in any way with a family whose name had come under a shadow. With all his prospects Oishi took the precaution of veiling the little girl’s face so that the family who eventually took her would not be embarrassed in future meetings with fellow courtiers who might remember her.
He had almost despaired of ever finding a place for her when he was directed by relatives to the home of a certain noble of samurai rank who had once been a good friend of the late Lord Asano. The man’s qualifications were excellent: he held fairly high rank in the court; he had financial means to support the girl adequately, and he had several children of his own. He promised to talk the matter over with his wife and meet with Oishi and the girl on the following day.
At the appointed time they arrived at the house near the Emperor’s Palace, and he left the girl in the entrance hall while he went in to discuss her future. He was disconcerted when the couple asked to see the child but he hesitated only a moment, then called her in and asked her to take off the scarf around her head. Dressed in her prettiest kimono, she was so unexpectedly charming in appearance that the family took to her at once and insisted that Oishi search no further. They would absorb her into their family group as a “cousin from the country” and no one would ever be the wiser.
Oishi was satisfied that he could not have found a better home in which to leave her, but the moment of farewell was no less poignant. The couple who were adopting her withdrew so the good-byes could be said privately but, left alone, Oishi and the girl were suddenly silent in the realization that this would be their last meeting. She turned away from him, but he could see the tears she was trying to hide.
“Bees sting a crying face,” he said in as light a tone as he could manage, and the little girl bravely tried to smile.
“Uncle . . . uncle, please give my best regards to my mother.”
Then she broke down completely and threw herself into his arms. He comforted her by assuring her he would deliver her message and then gently reminded her that as the daughter of a samurai she should have better control of her emotions. As for himself, he said, he was the same as a blood relative and did not mind her tears, but the others, the members of her new family, should not be expected to bear her troubles as well as their own. This was part of her obligation for their kindness.
Deliberately she stopped her tears and released him. She stepped back and wiped her eyes, then forced a little smile. “I will do as you say, uncle,” and she delicately bowed her head. “I will do it for you.”
“For your family, child,” he said abruptly. “Let all your actions be guided by the honor of the name of Asano.”
Then he bowed quickly, turned, and went out the door. He knew he should feel some satisfaction in having done so well, but instead found only a larger sense of desolation within himself as he returned to his wife and children.
Local relatives had obtained a house for Oishi and his family at Yamashina, a village a few miles east of Kyoto. This location had seemed ideal because of its proximity to Kyoto and Osaka, where most of the band was located, and because it was closer to Edo than
either of them. The house itself was old but comfortable looking, Oishi saw as he approached it for the first time, and he was sure it could soon be put in good repair. Surrounding the property was a wall of rough stone, topped with a low solid wooden fence. On each side of the heavy wooden gate a plaster wall extended for a short distance, pierced by a long narrow window with wooden bars. There were no guards for the gates and the wall would provide no effective deterrent against a determined attack, but the arrangement did furnish some degree of privacy.
After he greeted his family and young Mimura, who would act as his household steward, Oishi toured the house and was pleased by the many rooms of various sizes, connected by narrow crooked halls. There was something of the feeling of the castle they had left in Ako and it immediately felt like home. He noted that the heavy thatched roof sagged somewhat at the gable joinings and that there were patches in the plaster here and there, but some additional strengthening of the walls should make things right and on the whole he felt grateful to his relatives for finding such a place. He assumed they had come by it through honest means out of the money he had given them, although he could never be sure about such schemers as his Kyoto cousins, the sharp-nosed Shindo and the innocent-eyed Koyama.
He was surprised to find that he had received messages from several prominent daimyo who wanted to employ him as chief retainer, but his dedication to the house of Asano had never been stronger and he answered them all with polite refusals on the grounds that his health was impaired and he would not be able to take on full-time duties of any sort for the time being. The truth was that he did have a recurrent pain in his stomach, brought on by the strain he had been under since the death of Lord Asano, but to his family he made light of it as a minor sickness of the soul that would disappear when the petition was granted.
Their first visitor in the new house was Kataoka. He had been in Osaka with Hara and was now pleased to report that his fierce old friend had found employment as an archery instructor to the townspeople and thus would be able to keep himself in excellent practice for combat.
Kataoka was dismayed to see, however, that Oishi was not pleased at this news. The thought of his prize warrior teaching commoners one of the arts formerly reserved for the samurai class did not sit at all well with him, although he knew he was being foolish. He tried to convince himself that it was all for the best, but he was plainly shocked at first hearing about Hara the warrior as Hara the school teacher.
Kataoka quickly understood what his feelings were and avoided mentioning Hara’s new employment from that time on. He assisted Oishi in lining up a crew of workmen to start the house repairs and for several days they were busy planning and supervising these activities. They were careful in hiring the men to question each one about his experience and place of origin, hoping to screen out any possible spies from Edo, but there was always the possibility that one could have slipped through. For this reason Kataoka kept a close watch on their comings and goings and reported to Oishi daily.
One evening after the workmen had left, Kataoka appeared before his leader with a worried look on his wizened little face. For the past two days he had noticed a flute-playing komuso, or itinerant priest, standing across the road from the house and just now, looking out the long narrow peephole in the wall, he had seen one of the workmen exchange words with him. The suspicious aspect of the encounter was that the priest had then led him away out of sight instead of merely accepting a donation. Oishi was thoughtful as Kataoka led him outside to the wall and showed him that the “priest” had returned. Like all those of the komuso variety he wore a woven reed basket over his entire head to preserve his anonymity. It was the perfect disguise for a spy, if that was indeed his business.
Oishi had to admit that the man was behaving suspiciously, but he did not know what action they could take except to note which workmen appeared to have any connection with him and to get rid of them on some pretext or other. Mindful of the fact that a word once uttered is beyond the reach of galloping horses, from this time on Oishi and Kataoka barely spoke to each other at all for fear of giving something away. Even if there were no spies, there was no point in tempting robbers. For one thing, the chest containing the funds for the “restoration of the house of Asano” was in the house and they dared not jeopardize it under any circumstances.
On August 14, spies or no spies, Oishi decided to visit the Reikoin Temple in the northern part of Kyoto. It had been five months to the day since Lord Asano’s death and as other members of the Asano clan were buried here it seemed the most fitting place to observe the occasion. Besides, Oishi had arranged before leaving Ako that he would meet here with any followers who might be in the Kyoto area at this time.
He arrived early at the temple, which was in a secluded wood, and while Kataoka stayed at the entrance to guide the others to him, he went to stand among the graves of the Asanos to commune again with his lord’s spirit. He respectfully reported on all that had happened to date, including the placement of the girl and the filing of the petition. He imagined that Lord Asano’s spirit would be more composed now that his daughter was safe, but the basic problems remained and Oishi strengthened his resolve to eventually bring peace to his master’s soul.
When the others arrived, he greeted them warmly. He was pleased to see most of the sixty-two who had given their pledge of loyalty, but the kept his remarks confined to the observance of the death day and made no reference to future plans. He did, however, ask them to meet him there each month so that they would not lose contact with one another. He exchanged individual farewells with every man present, trying to solidify the sense of purpose they all must feel if they were to succeed. The men then left by twos and threes until only Oishi and Kataoka remained. It was late at night when they went out the temple gate, but they were startled to see that a basket-headed priest was watching them from across the road.
“It may be only a coincidence,” Oishi whispered. After all, there were dozens of such men in Kyoto. But then, observing Kataoka’s eyes narrow menacingly, he took him by the hand and walked him away. This was not the time for a showdown.
“I’ll go ahead,” Oishi muttered in his companion’s ear. “You wait to see if I’m followed and I’ll meet you at the house.”
Kataoka nodded and they split up. Now they would learn the truth about the man in the basket.
Purposely choosing a zigzag route, Oishi happened to take a turn that led through one of the principal pleasure quarters. This was a shocking experience. These places were nighttime worlds that woke sleepily in the afternoons and only really came to life when the sun went down and the huge red lanterns were lit in the narrow streets. Most apparent were the ordinary houses of prostitution, identifiable by the lone “watch-girl” who waited by the doorway to greet customers. A girl with this assignment was usually being punished by the owner of the house for some misdeed and was obliged to lie with anyone who asked for the cheapest price they offered to pay. This same system was employed all over the country and Oishi was familiar with the sight from his trips through the castle town at Ako.
Deeper into the quarters, however, were things he had never dreamed existed. He had discovered, by accident, the beautifully constructed and landscaped pleasure palaces for which Kyoto was famous—the geisha houses of Gion. Here, on the banks of the Kamo River, were the brightest, most lively spots in all the land and Oishi was uneasy as he passed their secretive walls and brightly lit entrances, so outside his own experience.
But his most vivid and disgusting impression of Gion was inspired by the low behavior of some samurai. They were loud, drunken, and brawling in the streets, and Oishi had to restrain himself from drawing his sword and teaching them a lesson in deportment. He knew, however, that if he was being spied on such an action would be a sure indication to his enemies that he was far from being resigned to a retired status. Bitterly he set his jaw and walked on, but in his heart he was cursing both the softness that had come on men of his class and the temptations
of the city that they seemingly could not resist.
When he arrived back at the house, he had only a short wait until Kataoka appeared. Oishi had indeed been followed and the “priest” had again taken up his position across from the house. Oishi felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as they went out to watch him through the slit in the wall and speculate about his purposes. Whatever they were, he had seen that there was a gathering at the Reikoin Temple and he was bound to report this to his superiors.
While they were watching him, another so-called komuso, identically dressed, took the first man’s place. It was obviously time for the changing of the guard and Kataoka pleaded with Oishi to let him follow the first man so that they could learn the identities of their enemies.
“If we know their faces, Oishi-dono, we will recognize them without their disguises. Otherwise, we will remain in the dark.”
“Very well, then, go. But promise you’ll take no action on your own. Any overt act against a spy will be reported to Edo and the countermeasures which could be taken against us would ruin our chances of ever surprising Kira.”
Kataoka promised and they withdrew into the house where the monkey-faced man put on a dark cloak. Then he left by a rear door and circled the house to come out on the road at a point where he was shielded from view of the man on guard. The first spy had the advantage of a head start, but there was only one road from Yamashina to Kyoto, and Kataoka had no trouble picking up his trail in the bright moonlight.