by John Allyn
As it turned out, he had only a short distance to go. The man was staying at an inn on the outskirts of Kyoto, and Kataoka drew his breath in sharply as he watched him take off his basket head-covering and drop it with his long wooden flute in the bushes outside the entrance. No one inside would be able to identify him as a “priest” in case there should be any questioning.
The man, who was tall and thin and had the aloof air of a samurai, now quickly entered the inn and Kataoka drew as close as he dared to watch and listen. Fortunately it was a warm night and the shoji were open all around the building. He saw his man disappear up some stairs and dashed into a side garden to watch him enter a room on the second floor. Kataoka, who was monkey-like in more ways than one, climbed to the roof of an adjoining shed, from which he was able to jump quietly into the corner of a small balcony outside the room. There were two others present and he held his breath as he watched the men’s shadows move on the balcony beside him.
The thin one he had followed wasted no time in telling the others about Oishi’s activities. He had a deep bass voice that Kataoka tried to identify but could not. As he listened, he was impressed with the man’s thoroughness; he even knew the names of all the men who had gathered at the temple. He also reported that he may have been spotted as a spy because of the roundabout route taken by Oishi after he left the temple, but he did not think this would do any harm. If the ex-followers of Asano knew they were being watched, there was that much more reason to think they would not behave rashly.
Now the spy dropped his priest’s robe and took off his haori jacket. As he looked for a place to hang it he told the others that he would send a note to Edo by messenger that night. The meeting at the Reikoin Temple was the first tangible thing he had to report in all the weeks he had been watching Oishi, and he was anxious that his superiors get the message at once. Then he walked to the balcony and flung the coat across the railing almost in Kataoka’s face. The monkey-faced man froze as the thin man’s feet nearly brushed his own, but he was invisible in the shadows and the spy stepped back into the room without noticing him.
The others now began to comment on the report and by their voices Kataoka was able to identify one as a regular worker in Oishi’s household. The other man was unknown to him, but it was apparent that both were in the service of the tall, thin one. Deciding that he had heard enough, Kataoka stood to jump from the balcony when he happened to notice the printed design on the haori hanging on the rail. He drew a quick breath of surprise, then recovered himself and vaulted lightly to the ground.
“It was the crest of Uesugi,” he announced in a rush of words as Oishi let him in the rear entrance. “Uesugi of Yonezawa—you know the clan, they’re famous for their expert archers!”
Oishi frowned. “Uesugi . . . yes. And our enemy Kira’s grandson was adopted into the house of Uesugi not so long ago. . . . Horibe mentioned it in one of his reports. The chief councilor of that house, Chisaka, is very shrewd, I hear. . . . That wasn’t the name of the man you saw tonight, was it?”
“No, the others addressed him as Fujii.”
“He must be a professional spy. Chisaka would employ nothing but the best.”
“But why should Chisaka be so concerned with Kira’s affairs just because his son is in the family now? Do we have to figure on taking on the bowmen of Uesugi, too?”
Oishi was thoughtful. “It could be. It’s my guess, however, that Chisaka is trying to avoid any kind of conflict. He probably considers that if Kira were attacked and killed it would reflect on his own master, Lord Uesugi, and he is therefore taking every precaution to see that such a thing doesn’t happen.”
Kataoka nodded. This made perfect sense; the expense of the spies was worth it if it kept the mind of Chisaka’s master at rest. “But what about our meetings? Will we have to avoid contact with our own men from now on?”
“We can’t afford that,” Oishi said firmly. “We can only hope that our gatherings become accepted as routine rituals commemorating our late master. To cut ourselves off from the men of Ako now would destroy any chance we might have for unified action later.”
Kataoka accepted this but still had an uncomfortable look. Oishi noticed it and asked him what was still troubling him.
“It was the third man in the room,” he said. “I’m afraid it’s someone we thought we could trust.”
Oishi had sickening thoughts of one of his own men going over to the enemy, but Kataoka quickly realized the impression he had given and hastened to correct it. “No, no, I didn’t mean one of us. But it is someone from your household—the cook who was recommended to you by your cousin Shindo!”
“A bird flies up near one’s feet,” came to Oishi’s lips, and he frowned to think that even his own household was not safe.
“I know you think highly of his work; it’ll be too bad to have to terminate his services.”
Kataoka concluded by caressing his sword hilt in an obvious gesture, but Oishi raised his hand. “No, no, you’re as bad as Hara. You want to rush into action that can only get us into more trouble. What surer sign could our enemies have that we are plotting against them than if we kill their spies? No, we will keep this man on and use him for our own purposes. If the time comes that we wish false information to be circulated, we’ll know exactly where to leak it.”
“Excellent,” said Kataoka admiringly. “But we must warn everyone to be on his guard. Your wife and children must know what kind of thing we are concealing in the kitchen.”
Oishi thought for a moment. “No, I think not. I trust them not to say anything they shouldn’t, even now. If they start behaving strangely in front of the cook, he’ll suspect that we suspect him and he will be of little use to us. He must believe that we know nothing. Don’t you agree that that’s best?”
Kataoka reluctantly nodded but still looked downcast.
“What’s the matter now?” Oishi asked.
“I wish I didn’t know about him.”
“And why is that?”
“Because now my appetite will be spoiled thinking about who cooked the meal.”
Oishi laughed. “Then maybe you won’t eat so much and will stop getting so fat.”
Kataoka made a wry face but inwardly he was smiling. He had made Oishi laugh for the first time since they had left Ako and he felt this was accomplishing a great deal under the circumstances.
The next day, however, there were two messages from Edo that stopped all laughter. The first was from Araki, who was now back in Edo. He had personally called on the Shogun’s councilors to ask them to give Oishi’s petition special consideration, but he frankly said there was little cause for hope. The second message was from Horibe, the acting leader of the Edo group, and it was a demand for prompt action against Kira. Oishi felt the sharp pain in his side flare up as he read it. He was sure his men in Edo were under constant surveillance by Chisaka’s spies, and knew an attack at this point would be doomed to failure, but he felt helpless in explaining this to Horibe at such a distance. He was too closely followed to go to Edo himself, but somehow Horibe, an impetuous young man, must be made to understand that they had to wait for results on the petition. He finally decided that the best thing to do was send Hara, who could speak to his former comrade in arms better than anyone else. Accordingly, he asked Kataoka to do something far beyond the call of duty and take over the archery classes in Osaka. Kataoka agreed with a rueful smile, and Hara came to Yamashina for extensive briefing in Oishi’s arguments before he left for Edo. He was also warned to be on guard against any tall, thin strangers with deep voices.
The next few weeks were anxious ones. In spite of Hara’s strong feelings on the subject of what should be done with Kira, Oishi trusted his fierce old lieutenant to faithfully represent the opinion of his leader while dealing with Horibe. In this trust Oishi was not mistaken, but unfortunately Hara was not able to convince the young samurai in Edo that waiting was the best policy. Their tempers were riled daily by their observations of Kira and
they were hot to act without delay. Accordingly, Hara wrote that in spite of all the good reasons why Oishi should not come to Edo, the situation was so serious he had better make the trip anyway.
This message upset Oishi tremendously. He was gravely concerned lest the Edo group go ahead and take action on its own and he finally decided, after first cursing Hara for a fool, that his reasoning was sound and that the sooner he went the better. There were other things he could take care of in Edo at the same time, and so in any event the trip would not be wasted.
Chapter Seven
For his aides on the trip, Oishi decided to take his Kyoto relatives, Shindo and Koyama. Neither of them were to his taste as traveling companions, but because they were not ex-retainers of Lord Asano a visit to Edo with them was less likely to be construed as warlike. Also, although they had sworn allegiance to his cause, he felt they lacked real dedication and that exposure to the fanatical Edo group might heighten their sense of purpose.
They set out on the Tokaido—the road to the eastern sea—in late October, at a time when the hills were afire with the flaming colors of autumn and the days had become cool enough so that the weather on the long journey would be comfortable. It was still an ordeal for Oishi to sit all day on top of a pile of bedding laid over a pack saddle with his legs crossed or else hanging down by the horse’s neck in the cavity between the trunks on each side. The pace was slow and Oishi and his companions rocked endlessly back and forth under their large straw umbrella hats. They made no attempt to disguise themselves, as this would only give an impression of secrecy they were anxious to avoid.
There were fifty-three posts, or barriers, between Kyoto and Edo with the leagues marked by small tree-topped hills. For shade there were straight rows of firs planted on each side of the winding two-lane road. There were also huts of green-leaved branches every two or three leagues where the travelers could relieve themselves in special receptacles in order that the excreta could be used by the local farmers as fertilizer. Oishi was appalled to find that many of them had not been emptied in some time, and horse droppings along the way had also been allowed to stand. It was plain that many farmers along the way had given up the struggle against an army of pests they were forbidden to battle effectively.
The towns they passed through were much alike. There were no walls or moats surrounding them, but generally there were large wooden gates at either end of town with a section of wall extending for a short distance on each side. Some of the villages were merely one long street with shops on both sides. The structures were low with thatched or shingled roofs and open to the street, with rows of straw ropes hanging down to keep the passers-by from looking in. By the side of the entrance there was usually a picture of the household god, generally a dragon or a devil.
The streets in the towns were always crowded and noisy, and Oishi and his party were badgered by more beggars than he had ever seen before. The sellers of various merchandise shouted to them as they passed and there were innumerable funeral processions with loud singing and wailing by the priests and the relatives of the dead. The keepers and inmates of the brothels also cried out loudly for the travelers to stop and enjoy themselves, but Oishi continually kept his face to the front and his companions were obliged to do likewise, at least during the day.
At nightfall Oishi sought a quiet inn on the outskirts of town where he hoped to get a good night’s rest, but in this he was disappointed. Here, too, female companionship was available for those who wanted it. The market was glutted with farmers’ daughters and they had even moved into what were once respectable hotels and inns. For Oishi the visit to Edo where his master was buried had the character of a religious pilgrimage, but for his companions it was merely a holiday and they kept him awake half the night with their drunken parties.
He was awakened one morning by a woman’s shriek that had him scrambling for his sword before the cry turned to giggling, and he realized the party had begun again. He shook his head in disgust and decided the time had come to teach his companions a lesson they would not forget.
They had not been long out of Yamashina when it became apparent to Oishi that they were being followed. A certain tall, thin samurai and a companion came in sight behind them on the road and stopped whenever they did. It was undoubtedly Fujii, as Kataoka had described him.
At first Oishi decided not to mention the matter to Shindo and Koyama, who appeared blissfully unaware of what was happening, but their perpetual party-making caused him to change his mind.
That morning on the road he deliberately shortened the distance between his group and the spy Fujii who was following them. Then he picked an inn for the noonday meal in a place where it would have been awkward for Fujii to turn back or go ahead to eat elsewhere. The two parties thereby found themselves seated side by side on the same open porch facing away from the highway toward the red-and-yellow hills. Shindo and Koyama were enjoying both the scenery and the meal and already making plans for another fun-filled evening when Oishi rose and excused himself to go and wash up. As he walked past Fujii, however, he deliberately tripped himself and fell against the startled spy.
Fujii leaped to his feet with a deep-voiced curse and whipped out his sword in the same motion. He stood glowering at the apologetic Oishi until a sudden suspicion came to his mind that the fall had been no accident. Then he smiled an apology of his own and sat down. He was chagrined that his usefulness as a spy had been impaired, but he knew there were ways to make use of this new situation, too.
As for Shindo and Koyama, the sight of the crest on the thin man’s sword did not escape them. It was plainly the mark of the house of Uesugi, and they lost their appetites when they saw it. Both now recollected that they had seen this man on the road behind them since leaving Yamashina and realized the precariousness of their situation. In the eyes of Oishi’s enemies they were now marked as his collaborators, with whatever consequences that might bring, and their attitudes became more sober and silent.
On another morning, when they were about halfway to their destination, Oishi had another opportunity to teach them a lesson. They came to the outskirts of one more town like the rest, but as they approached it from the west they passed the traditional location of the execution grounds, which had recently been put to use. The body of a crucified prisoner presented a gruesome sight in the sunlight, bound to a wooden cross and pierced with lances.
“I see there is work for the eta, even if the tanning of leather is no longer permitted,” Oishi said in a grim joke about the outcasts of society who were only permitted to hold jobs as leather workers or executioners.
His companions wet their lips and were silent as Oishi guided his horse closer to the corpse.
“‘Executed for counterfeiting,’” he read from the poster. “Well, that’s not uncommon nowadays—when the government keeps debasing our currency, you’re bound to find those willing to take a chance and defy the Shogun’s edicts.”
Shindo and Koyama muttered to each other under their breaths and Oishi pressed home his point about the consequences of illegal acts. “Kill a fox, kill a dog, kill a man—the penalty is the same for all such crimes, no matter what the provocation.”
The sharp-faced Shindo pursed his lips tightly and Koyama’s jaw hung open more slackly than usual as they rode on. They knew what Oishi was telling them; that a similar fate was awaiting for those who followed him and took illegal revenge. Oishi did not want to discourage them but he did want them to realize what might be in store for them. If they were not up to it, the sooner they found out and left his band, the better.
The journey went on, past stately Buddhist tera (temples) with their carved idols and smell of sweet-scented candles, past smaller Shinto miya (shrines), seen through their magnificent torii (decorative gateways). There were also stone images of Jizo along the way. Over the rivers which were not too swift, or did not radically alter their courses from season to season, there were fine cedar bridges with rails. Over others, where the bridges had
been washed out, it was necessary to take flat-bottomed ferryboats, and to cross the Oigawa River between Totomi and Suruga as they neared Edo it was necessary to ford the river as there were neither bridges nor boats available.
They came in sight of Mt. Fuji, dead ahead, then watched it move slowly to their left as they approached the Kanto Plain on which Edo was located. The last climb was over the Hakone Pass where the autumn scenery was magnificent and the view of Fuji unparalleled, but the travelers’ minds were too full of their own problems to appreciate their surroundings. No matter how spectacular their beauty, the deer hunter never sees the mountains.
In Edo, Kira’s mouth went dry with fear when he learned that Oishi was on his way. He went at once to the castle of Uesugi to see Chisaka, whose messenger had brought him the bad news.
“Ah, Chisaka-san, you’re looking well,” he began with a forced smile that showed his blackened teeth.
“And so are you, Lord Kira,” the oily, balding little councilor replied. “Yet there are rumors that you are thinking of retiring because of poor health. Can this be true?”
Kira moved uncomfortably. It was true he had been asked to retire because of the notoriety he had attained in the Asano affair, but he had hoped to keep it a secret a while longer. He might have known that Chisaka would find out before anyone else.
“An old ailment has returned,” he said. “I have no choice. . . . But that reminds me of something I want to ask you about. Since I’ll be leaving the Shogun’s castle, I’ll be needing some place to stay and I wondered if . . .”