The Ronin’s Mistress si-15

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Masahiro couldn’t help hoping that she liked him a little, too.

  * * *

  The Sun was setting when Sano left the palace after his meeting with the judges. A golden glow rimmed the western horizon beyond the city. The snow was a pale, vivid blue beneath an indigo sky that sparkled with stars, the moon a brilliant silver half-coin snared in the branches of cypress trees. Sano strode briskly along a path lined with stone lanterns that spilled flame-light onto the snow. He inhaled cold, smoky air that cleansed his lungs; he blew out the tension from a difficult day.

  Two men appeared, walking together toward him. Their identical height, slimness, and imperious carriage told Sano who they were. He bid a regretful good-bye to peace and quiet.

  “Good evening, Sano-san,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said.

  Sano swallowed repugnance and anger as he civilly greeted Yanagisawa and Yoritomo.

  “How goes your investigation?” Yanagisawa asked.

  “I can’t complain,” Sano said.

  “I don’t see why not,” Yoritomo said. “You’ve gotten nowhere with the forty-seven ronin. I hear they have you running in circles, with all the different stories they’re telling.”

  His spite was painful for Sano to bear. Sano could see the hatred corroding Yoritomo inside, destroying everything that was decent in him. Sano wished he hadn’t had to play that cruel trick on Yoritomo.

  “I’ll get to the truth eventually,” Sano said. “I always do.”

  “The truth can sometimes hurt,” Yanagisawa said. “But I shouldn’t need to warn you about that.” He paused for a beat. “I had a little talk with Ohgami Kaoru this afternoon.”

  Ohgami was Sano’s only ally on the council of elders. Apprehension tightened Sano’s nerves.

  Yanagisawa laughed, his breath a malignant white vapor in the cold night. “Some of your other friends joined us. Wouldn’t you like to know what we discussed?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I like it or not,” Sano said.

  “Your friends feel threatened by the forty-seven ronin business. They’d prefer to distance themselves from it.”

  “From you, too, since you’re caught up in it,” Yoritomo said, shrill with gleeful malice.

  Sano had foreseen the possibility of this, but he was still shocked to hear that his allies, who’d stood by him during two troubled years, would withdraw their support so abruptly. “You’ve been quick to capitalize on the situation.”

  The moonlight shone on Yanagisawa’s pale, handsome face; his eyes sparked with amusement. “No one’s ever called me slow. By the way, your friends say they won’t be happy if the supreme court condemns the forty-seven ronin.”

  Sano was uncomfortably aware that the court was leaning in that direction. Did Yanagisawa know, too?

  “You’re going to lose your allies,” Yoritomo taunted. “You’ll be all alone. We’ll crush you.”

  “It’s not just us that you’ll have to worry about, if the forty-seven ronin are put to death,” Yanagisawa said. “The town is rallying around them.” He chuckled. “Commoners love underdogs who defy the powers that be. Imagine how much bad feeling they’ll have toward the judges, and toward you, the investigator that brought their heroes down.”

  “You could become the target of an uprising,” Yoritomo said.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Sano said, regretting their lost friendship.

  “As much as I’ll like it when the shogun gets mad at you and sends you to Kyushu,” Yoritomo said. “When you’re gone, your family will still be here to bear the brunt of his anger.”

  “And we won’t complain,” Yanagisawa mocked. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.” He gazed pointedly at Sano, who was blocking the path.

  Sano waited a moment before he stepped aside. He watched the two tall, slim figures stroll off into the night, shoulders touching, heads tilted toward each other. Sano heard the murmur of their voices and supposed they were cooking up more schemes against him. A wry smile tugged his mouth. The forty-seven ronin affair seemed like a tidal wave that was gathering energy, that would swamp everyone who was trying to ride it. If Yanagisawa and Yoritomo wanted him to take a fall, maybe all they needed to do was wait.

  * * *

  When Reiko was showing Okaru and Goza around the mansion, a servant met them and said, “Excuse me, but Lady Wakasa is here.”

  Reiko told the servant to take Okaru and Goza to her parlor and give them refreshments. Then she hurried to the reception chamber. The old matchmaker sat at the kosatsu. The table was littered with cake crumbs, an empty teacup, a tobacco box, and a metal basket of hot coals. Lady Wakasa looked cross as she puffed on her tobacco pipe.

  “I’ve been waiting two hours,” she said. “Where have you been?”

  “A thousand apologies,” Reiko said, bowing and sitting opposite Lady Wakasa. “I had some business to take care of. I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I just heard that your husband arrested those forty-seven ronin,” Lady Wakasa said, “so I rushed over to see if there was any news.”

  Reiko hesitated to tell Lady Wakasa that she’d just moved the ronin leader’s mistress into her house. Lady Wakasa was a big gossip. Reiko knew that the fact of Okaru’s presence in her home would eventually become public, but she wanted to delay it until she told Sano. Although she risked angering the matchmaker by keeping her in the dark, Reiko said, “Nothing new yet.”

  “Oh.” Disappointed, Lady Wakasa said, “Well, I have news for you. The Chugo clan has withdrawn their marriage proposal.”

  Reiko was glad Masahiro wouldn’t have that dull girl for his wife, but affronted. “Why?”

  “They’re leery of the forty-seven ronin business.” Lady Wakasa grimaced, showing her blackened teeth. “They think it will finish off your husband.”

  Reiko was disconcerted, even though she’d known that the case could jeopardize her family’s future. She’d not realized until this moment that if the worst happened and Sano was sent away, Masahiro-and Akiko-would need marriage agreements more than ever. Now, the only prospect of that security was lost.

  “But it’s not my husband that will decide their fate; it’s the supreme court,” she said.

  Lady Wakasa waved her hand, dispersing the smoke from her pipe. “Makes no difference. He’ll be painted black with the same ink brush.” She seemed to relish delivering this bad news. “Besides, there’s another reason why the Chugo aren’t eager for a connection with your clan. The leader is sympathetic toward the forty-seven ronin. He thinks they’re heroes.” She snorted. “Beasts, that’s what I say they are. He thinks the supreme court is going to condemn them to death, and he’s furious at the judges, and your husband.”

  Vexed, Reiko said, “I suppose that even if I still wanted my son to marry into his clan-which I don’t-there’s no use telling him that nobody knows what’s actually going to happen to the forty-seven ronin.”

  “No use at all.”

  “Are there any new prospects?”

  “I’m beating the bushes. We’ll see what birds fly out. Dear me, it’s late; I’d better go.”

  Reiko escorted Lady Wakasa to the door. As the old woman rode away in her palanquin, Sano strode toward the house. Reiko met him on the veranda. He said, “Was that the matchmaker?” Reiko nodded; he studied her expression. “Your face says that you don’t have good news.”

  “So does yours,” Reiko said. “Let’s go inside and we’ll talk.”

  * * *

  They sat at the kosatsu, warmed their hands on hot bowls of tea, and ate a dinner of buckwheat noodles in fragrant lobster soup and raw sea bream cut in slices and served with soy sauce, pickled ginger, and rice flavored with sugar and vinegar. Through the lattice-and-paper partitions came the sound of their daughter Akiko romping in the corridors with the maids. After Reiko told Sano about the withdrawn marriage proposal, he said, “So it’s happening again. The rats are leaving a ship they think is going to sink.”

/>   He was used to it. Friends and allies had deserted him in droves during past investigations. But it still hurt. Even though the threat of separation from his family was far worse.

  “They’ll come back.” Reiko sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

  Usually the deserters had returned after Sano had surmounted the difficulties and prevailed over his enemies-but not last time, when the kidnapping case had gone so wrong. “There are two people working hard to make sure they don’t,” Sano said, then told Reiko about his encounter with Yanagisawa and Yoritomo.

  Reiko’s expression mixed anger, bitterness, and humor. “I swear that I’ll make sure those two get their comeuppance someday.”

  Sano was amused yet chilled by the determination in her voice. He knew what his wife was capable of, and Yanagisawa and Yoritomo had better pray that they never fell into her hands. “That reminds me of the oath that the forty-seven ronin swore against Kira.”

  “You spoke with them?” Interest brightened Reiko’s mood. “What did they say?”

  Sano related the conflicting stories he’d heard from Oishi, Chikara, and their friends. “I told Yoritomo I would get to the truth, but right now I’m utterly at sea.”

  “Did you report the stories to the supreme court? What do the judges think?”

  “I did. But their proceedings are confidential, so I can’t tell you which way they’re leaning.”

  Reiko studied his face. “I can guess. Things aren’t going well for Oishi.”

  “I can’t deny or confirm that. But I have to admit that I’m biased in his favor.”

  “Even though you know he’s lying to you?” Reiko said, puzzled.

  Sano nodded. He described his impressions of Oishi, then said, “He may be the best example of a samurai that I’ve ever run across.”

  Reiko frowned. “You’ve always warned me against being partial toward people who are subjects in our investigations. Now you’re losing your objectivity.”

  “I know, I know.” Sano was irritated because women always remembered things a man said and threw them back at him later, and because Reiko was right. “But I can’t help hoping that some kind of evidence will turn up, that will absolve Oishi and his friends.”

  “Neither can I,” Reiko confessed.

  At least he and his wife saw eye to eye on the case, Sano thought gratefully. The occasions when they’d disagreed had been difficult times in their marriage. But the apprehension on her face sent a jolt of foreboding through him. “What is it?” he asked.

  “I heard something about Oishi today.” Reiko spoke with halting reluctance. “From Ukihashi, his wife. She found out that her husband’s mistress is in town. She showed up at the inn, to get a look at Okaru. I’m afraid you’re not going to like her version of events.” Reiko told the story of the hardships that Oishi’s family had experienced. She described Oishi’s bitterness toward Kira, the man he held responsible. “Ukihashi thinks the vendetta was personal.”

  “You’re right,” Sano said. “I don’t like it.” Her evidence made the forty-seven ronin sound like every criminal who’d ever lashed out at somebody who’d crossed him. It added substance to the idea that they’d broken the law and deserved to be punished. “Do you think Ukihashi was telling the truth?”

  “She seemed honest,” Reiko said, “but we’ve heard so many contradictory stories that I don’t know whether to believe her or not. Will you tell her story to the supreme court?”

  “I’ll have to. In the meantime, perhaps I can dig up some facts.”

  “Where will you start digging?”

  “At the place where this whole business started. Lord Asano’s attack on Kira.”

  “Wasn’t that investigated at the time?”

  “Not by me.” Sano felt someone watching him. He looked up at a young, pretty woman hovering in the doorway. “Hello?” he said. “Who are you?”

  She smiled, shy and nervous, and bobbed a quick bow. “Please excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt. My name is Okaru.”

  Disconcerted, Sano turned a questioning look on Reiko.

  Her expression was guilty and defensive. “Okaru-san, this is my husband.”

  The ronin’s mistress fell to her knees and touched her forehead to the floor. “I’m very honored to make your acquaintance.”

  “She had to leave the inn where she was staying.” Reiko explained about the mob. “I invited her to stay with us for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Sano wished Reiko had asked him first. Housing under his own roof a witness in a case he was investigating could present serious problems. They’d been down that road before. But Reiko gave him her most trusting look of appeal, and he couldn’t have refused her even if he’d been cruel enough to expel Okaru into the cold, dark night.

  That would be like putting a kitten out to die.

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Sano beckoned. “Come in, join us.”

  “Oh! Thank you!” Okaru crept on her knees toward Sano and Reiko.

  A closer look at her surprised Sano. She was even younger than he’d initially thought. He’d expected someone harder, more brazen. Okaru seemed an incongruous match for Oishi, the tough ronin. Then again, Sano could picture her falling in love with a man old enough to be her father, and Oishi enjoying her charms. She also seemed naive enough to be fooled by an act that Oishi had put on to convince the world that he’d become a no-good bum.

  If indeed it had been an act.

  Sano pitied Okaru, unwittingly caught up in violent, scandalous events. He understood Reiko’s wish to protect her; he felt it himself. “Is there anything you need?” he asked Okaru.

  “Oh, your honorable wife has given me so much already,” Okaru said, breathless with gratitude. “Delicious food, new clothes, a beautiful room to sleep in…” Pensiveness wrinkled her forehead. “But I wish I could see Oishi. I miss him so much.”

  “Can I take her to see him?” Reiko asked.

  Sano didn’t think it would hurt, and maybe it would help his investigation. “That can be arranged.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Okaru exclaimed.

  “There’s something I want you to do for me while you’re there,” Sano said.

  “I’ll do anything for you, anything at all,” Okaru said earnestly.

  “Ask Oishi what he meant when he said that the vendetta isn’t what it seems,” Sano said.

  Maybe she could get him to tell the truth that Sano had failed to extract.

  * * *

  In the middle of the night, Yanagisawa awakened suddenly. He heard the noise that interrupted his sound sleep-footsteps in the corridor, on the “nightingale floor,” which was designed to squeak when someone walked on it. He jumped out of bed, looked down the dimly lit corridor, and saw Yoritomo tiptoeing like a thief.

  “What are you doing home?” Yanagisawa asked. “I thought you were with the shogun.”

  Yoritomo spun around. His face was stricken, pale. His posture drooped. “The shogun didn’t want me. He sent me home.” Guilt, shame, and fear played over his features. “He’s spending the night with one of his other boys.”

  Yanagisawa was alarmed, even though the shogun regularly bedded his other concubines. “Has this been happening more often recently?”

  Yoritomo looked at the floor. He nodded.

  Yanagisawa blew out his breath. He’d known the day would come when Yoritomo grew too old for the shogun’s sexual tastes. It had happened to Yanagisawa when he was about the same age as Yoritomo was now. He’d hoped it wouldn’t happen to his son before he’d firmed up his control over the regime.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Yanagisawa asked.

  “I was afraid you would be angry,” Yoritomo said in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.” Yanagisawa was sad that Yoritomo had borne the burden of his fear alone, yet relieved because Yoritomo wouldn’t have to satisfy the shogun’s desires for much longer. Then he thought of his chart and the names h
e would have to cross off his list of allies when it became known that he was about to lose a major source of his influence over the shogun and his son the chance of becoming the heir to the regime.

  Yoritomo’s gaze lifted to Yanagisawa. His eyes mirrored the consternation that Yanagisawa felt. “What are we going to do?”

  Yanagisawa began to pace the corridor. He thought aloud: “I’ll have to make sure that Sano doesn’t pick up the allies I lose.”

  “How?”

  First Yanagisawa had better find out where the forty-seven ronin business was heading and whether he could count on it to ruin Sano. But he didn’t want to admit that his plans were so vague and worry Yoritomo. “It’s better for you if you don’t know.”

  18

  The dawn was gray and frigid, the sky like a sheet of steel between the earth and the sun. Frozen piles of snow surrounded the courtyard where Sano, Masahiro, and Hirata practiced martial arts. Although they wore thin white cotton jackets and trousers, they didn’t notice the cold. Exertion kept them warm as they engaged in two-against-one combat, Masahiro wielding his sword against Sano and Hirata. Wooden blades clacked. Sano had to admire his son’s valiant endeavors. As he and Hirata steadily backed Masahiro toward the wall, Masahiro made the men work to parry and dodge his strikes. Sano began to feel winded. He would soon be too old to keep up with his son.

  “You’re doing something that will get you killed in real combat with multiple attackers,” Hirata told Masahiro.

  “What?” Masahiro puffed and grunted as he fought.

  “While you strike or defend yourself against one of us, you take your attention off the other,” Hirata said. “You have to stay aware of all your opponents at the same time.”

  Masahiro lunged at Hirata and took a gentle hit on the shoulder from Sano. “How?”

  “Have you been practicing the breathing and meditation techniques I taught you?”

  “Well…”

  “I know you think they’re boring,” Hirata said. “I thought so, too, at first. But they’re essential to training your mind, which is your most important weapon.”