“Kill him!” Masahiro jumped up and down with excitement.
Yanagisawa smiled, oddly satisfied. “Go ahead, Lady Reiko. You’ll never have another chance like this.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Sano pleaded.
“He’s a danger to us as long as he lives,” Reiko said, confused because Sano wanted to prevent her from doing what needed to be done. “I have to get rid of him once and for all.”
“Good for you, Lady Reiko.” Yanagisawa breathed hard, his smile fixed. “Your husband hasn’t the courage. You have.”
“He wants you to do it,” Sano warned. “Because you’ll be put to death as punishment. So will I. So will Masahiro.”
“That’s right, Lady Reiko,” Yanagisawa said, laughing although terror clutched his voice.
“You won’t be around to enjoy seeing us punished.” Reiko was furious at his mockery. “You’ll be dead.”
Fresh tears streamed down Yanagisawa’s face. His smile brimmed with pain. “I don’t care. Now that Yoritomo is dead, nothing matters. I’ll gladly die so we can be together.”
Was he playing on her sympathy, trying to get her to spare his life? Or did he truly want her to put him out of his misery? In spite of herself, Reiko pitied Yanagisawa. He had lost his child. His grief was genuine. It transformed him from a villain into a man who deserved compassion. Reiko hesitated.
Yanagisawa’s eyes entreated her. The noise from the crowd rose louder. A horde of troops faced down Kajikawa. The shogun, safe with his guards, pointed at Kajikawa and yelled orders. Kajikawa wailed as he realized that he had nothing left with which to bargain for his escape. As the troops charged at him, he turned and ran for the palace, toward Reiko.
Here came the man responsible for the attack on her father.
With an effort that wrenched her whole spirit, Reiko tore herself away from Yanagisawa. She stood in front of the stairs that led to the door. She watched Kajikawa running toward her, out of breath, his heavy head bobbing, legs pumping, sleeves flapping, his eyes wild with panic. He’d looked bigger when she’d seen him holding the shogun hostage inside a room full of people tied up on the floor. Now, as he desperately fled his pursuers, Reiko noted his smallness, his insignificance. He was nothing but a puny coward!
As he neared Reiko, he waved his sword at her. “Get out of my way!”
But smallness didn’t negate the crime he’d committed. That his evils paled in comparison to Yanagisawa’s didn’t excuse Kajikawa. Reiko felt centuries of samurai heritage rise up like a flaming tidal wave in her blood.
Kajikawa was almost upon her. The troops stampeding after him blurred into the background. The roars from the crowd faded. The world contained only herself and Kajikawa. She didn’t need to think before she acted. A lifetime of martial arts training had prepared her for this moment. Instinct took command of her body.
Reiko flicked out her dagger.
39
Sano took charge after the debacle. Everyone else was too shocked. Although he himself was still reeling from the day’s events, he ordered the army to disperse the crowd and court physicians to attend to the shogun. He sent servants to clean up the shogun’s chamber and arranged for the dead to be removed. Everyone obeyed Sano for want of any other authority. Officials returned to their duties, troops to their posts. A sad parade moved out the gate-porters carrying three litters bearing the corpses of Kajikawa, Ihara, and Yoritomo. Yanagisawa accompanied his son. Tears streaming down his face, he stumbled like a blind man. Sano walked home with Reiko, Masahiro, Hirata, and Detectives Marume and Fukida, through the strangely deserted, quiet castle.
A pale sun and patches of blue showed through the clouds in the sky. Sheets of ice slid from roofs. Water dripped from trees and eaves and cascaded down the walled passages along which Sano and his companions trudged. The crystalline world was thawing into puddles, slush, and mud.
“That was some show,” Marume said.
“People will be talking about it for a hundred years,” Fukida said.
Sano heard a hollow note beneath their humor. They were as shaken as he was. Reiko asked the question that was on everyone’s mind: “What’s going to happen to me?”
Her face was drawn, frightened. Masahiro held her hand. All present understood the gravity of the situation: She’d drawn a weapon inside Edo Castle, killed a man, and threatened the chamberlain. That would surely have repercussions.
As would Yoritomo’s death.
Marume and Fukida looked at the wet pavement instead of answering Reiko’s question. Hirata brooded in some private, dark study of his own. Sano said, “I doubt you’ll be punished. Nobody will take against you on Kajikawa’s behalf. And I’ll protect you.”
Reiko forced a smile, pretending she was reassured. “At least the mystery of the vendetta is solved. The supreme court can decide the fate of the forty-seven ronin.”
40
1703 March
More than two months after the forty-seven ronin killed Kira, their trial finally took place, in the reception room at the Hosokawa estate. Sano knelt at one side of the dais upon which the supreme court judges sat in a row. Magistrate Ueda occupied the place at center stage.
The bruises on his face had faded, although the wound on his head had left an ugly scar. His voice was strong as he said, “We are gathered to render a verdict in the case of the vendetta perpetuated against Kira Yoshinaka by the former retainers of Lord Asano.”
The forty-seven ronin knelt in four rows below the dais, on a sheet of cloth covered with white sand: a makeshift shirasu-white sand of truth, a feature of courtrooms, where the defendants sat. It was the largest shirasu in Japan, for the largest trial in history. Oishi knelt in the front row, his son Chikara beside him. All the men were dressed in formal black silk robes. Their faces wore identical, stoic expressions. Again Sano had the sense that they were one being. He could almost hear their pulses beating in unison. They looked straight ahead at the court, ignoring the spectators who overflowed out the door. These included officials from every government department. They wanted to be among the first to hear the verdict. They were as hushed and still as the forty-seven ronin.
“This is an unprecedented situation,” Magistrate Ueda went on. “Not only was the vendetta particularly violent and not sanctioned by the law, but it had many facets, which raised many questions. Because we the judges of this court have had such difficulty in determining what really happened, we have been unable to agree on a just decision. Until now.”
Sano felt suspense build, a rumbling sensation, as if an underground volcano were about to erupt. He had to force himself to breathe. Every investigation he’d undertaken had brought troubling consequences, but never had the fate of so many people hinged on his actions. This time he’d wielded more influence over fate than in previous cases, because he’d shaped the law to fit his own notion of justice.
It was too late to wonder whether he’d done the right thing.
“At last we know the truth,” Magistrate Ueda declared.
The forty-seven ronin didn’t react, but the spectators’ heads turned toward Sano. He’d told the court the story of the vendetta. The judges had kept it confidential from everyone else except the shogun, although many other people knew some or all the details-those present during Kajikawa’s confession; Hosokawa clan members; the Council of Elders. Accurate and false versions of the story had spread through Edo. And many people knew that Sano was responsible for dragging the truth into the light.
“An unprecedented situation calls for an unprecedented response,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Therefore, we have decided not to render the usual sort of verdict.”
Sano was also responsible for this decision. He’d proposed it to the judges, and after debating it strenuously for two months, they’d agreed that it was the best course of action.
Murmurs of surprise swept through the audience. The forty-seven ronin remained unperturbed: Sano had told them about the decision three days ago, as soon as it had been ma
de.
“We will allow you, the defendants, to decide your own fate,” Magistrate Ueda said. The audience clamored so loudly that he had to raise his voice. “I have ordered each of you to look into your spirit, to let your honor and your conscience be your guide in determining whether you should be punished by death or pardoned and set free.”
Inspector General Nakae and Lord Nabeshima tightened their mouths. Superintendent Ogiwara and Minister Motoori, his broken leg propped on cushions, nodded. Magistrate Ueda had had quite a time convincing all the judges that Sano’s plan was the best way to calm the controversy and prevent the forty-seven ronin’s supporters from going to war with their detractors. He and his allies had finally prevailed over the Yanagisawa faction, which was in chaos.
After his son’s funeral, Yanagisawa had secluded himself inside his compound; no one had seen or heard from him since.
“Have you decided?” Magistrate Ueda asked the forty-seven ronin. They’d been given the three days to discuss the matter among themselves.
“Yes, Honorable Magistrate, we have,” Oishi said in a loud, clear voice.
The noise subsided into an expectant hush. “Tell us, then,” Magistrate Ueda ordered.
Oishi spoke in an even tone devoid of melodrama. “We take pride in the fact that by killing Kira, we have discharged our duty to our master. We are certain that it was righteous.”
Sano wholeheartedly agreed. He’d been unable to prove that Kira had connived to destroy Lord Asano and steal his gold, but people had come forward with tales of how Kira had hurt and humiliated them and enjoyed their suffering. Oishi and Kajikawa were among legions.
“But after having examined our consciences, we realized that our reasons were never as straightforward as we purported,” Oishi said. “I myself had a personal grudge against Kira. It played a big part in my decision to carry out the vendetta. And I’m not the only one who confused personal issues with duty. Some of us blamed Kira for their hardships and their disgrace. Others were angry at the world and eager to strike out at any target. Many thought they had nothing to live for, and they wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.”
Oishi paused, swallowed, and struggled to contain his emotions. Sano felt a lump in his own throat. The other forty-six ronin listened, their somber gazes trained on Oishi. He seemed to draw from them the strength to continue.
“Our motives were never as pure as Bushido requires. We did not truly follow the Way of the Warrior; we followed our own selfish hearts. Even though we performed the highest act of loyalty, we are criminals at the bottom of it, a disgrace to the title of samurai. Our vendetta led to a situation in which the shogun’s life was endangered. Therefore-” He drew a deep breath and spoke in a rush: “We have decided to commit seppuku.”
Muted exclamations rippled through the audience. Magistrate Ueda looked saddened but gratified. “So be it,” he said. “Your decision is the court’s verdict.”
The other judges shook their heads in amazement: They’d expected the forty-seven ronin to seize their freedom. Sano hadn’t known what to expect. He felt a mixture of awe and distress. No matter their human failings, Oishi and the other men were sacrificing their lives for the sake of honor. It occurred to Sano that their decision had taken into account other considerations besides those Oishi had mentioned. The unavoidable fact was that they had disobeyed the shogun. The shogun would have had to put them to death-even if it had meant overruling the supreme court-or lose face and authority. Now he didn’t have to make the hard decision that he’d created the supreme court in order to avoid. The forty-seven ronin had made it for him. They’d done their duty to him after all.
They were true heroes, paragons of samurai loyalty, exemplars of Bushido, even though they called themselves criminals. What a tragedy that they must die!
“We thank the honorable judges,” Oishi said, his voice firm. “We apologize for the trouble we have caused.”
“Accepted.” His voice heavy with resignation, Magistrate Ueda said, “Your ritual suicide will take place tomorrow morning.”
The assembly bowed. Sano gazed at the bent backs of the forty-seven ronin. He looked hardest at Oishi and Chikara. Father and son would die together. Sano pictured himself and Masahiro in the same position. He blinked to dispel the vision, but its darkness lingered.
“The supreme court is dissolved,” Magistrate Ueda said.
41
The summons came a month after the forty-seven ronin died. The shogun had taken that long to recover from his ordeal. He’d spent the time in his chambers, attended by physicians and priests, seeing no one else. Edo Castle was rife with rumors. Some said the shogun was dying; some said he was going to abdicate; others said a major purge and reorganization of the government was imminent. Sano didn’t know which, if any, to believe.
When Sano arrived in the palace reception room, the dais was vacant. The mural on the wall behind it depicted cherry trees in pink bloom, appropriate for the season, too cheerful. Yanagisawa was kneeling below the dais. This was the first time Sano had seen him since the day of Yoritomo’s death. Yanagisawa had completely withdrawn from politics.
Sano knelt a cautious distance from Yanagisawa. Yanagisawa turned. Sano was shocked by the change in him. He’d lost so much weight that his body was like a skeleton under his dark green silk robe. Sharp bones protruded through the waxen skin of his face. His eyes were underlined by shadows, his lips raw. Sano thought of Oishi and Chikara. He wondered if Yanagisawa would trade places with them if he could. If Masahiro died, could Sano bear to live?
The shogun minced onto the dais, accompanied by two adolescent boys. When he sat, they knelt on either side of him. Their rosy, sweet faces and bland smiles were identical. One of the rumors was true, Sano noted. The shogun had twins as his new favorites. Sano glanced at Yanagisawa. How terrible for him to see that Yoritomo had been replaced so quickly!
As Yanagisawa bowed to the shogun, he appeared indifferent to everything except his own pain. Sano bowed, too, observing that another of the rumors was false: The shogun wasn’t dying; rather, he looked healthier than usual. The cut on his neck had healed. His holiday from court responsibilities had done him good.
“Forgive me for, ahh, making you wait such a long time to see me.” The shogun’s perfunctory smile conveyed how little he cared about anyone’s feelings except his own.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Sano replied politely, even though the suspense was killing him. Yanagisawa didn’t answer.
“I suppose you, ahh, think I’ve forgotten what happened the last time we were together.” The shogun’s expression turned peevish. “Well, I haven’t.”
Yanagisawa gazed through the shogun as if he weren’t there. Sano braced himself.
“You,” the shogun said, pointing at Sano, “protected me from Kajikawa. And your wife killed him.” He beamed. “She saved me the trouble. You both served me very well indeed.”
Sano was relieved that apparently Reiko wasn’t going to be punished and their family could stay together. The shogun hadn’t drawn a connection between Sano’s investigation and Kajikawa’s desperate act.
“Whereas you-” The shogun bent a pouty glare on Yanagisawa. “You completely, ahh, lost your wits! You made Kajikawa angry. You got yourself gagged so you couldn’t even speak on my behalf. You were worthless!”
Yanagisawa didn’t protest as the shogun said, “I am relieving you of your post as chamberlain. You’ve been, ahh, neglecting your duties lately, anyway.”
Sano had taken them over because the government needed a chamberlain at the helm.
“I am demoting you to the, ahh, position of my third-in-command. You will vacate your residence immediately.” The shogun added spitefully, “Consider yourself fortunate. If not for our long friendship, I would throw you out of my regime altogether.”
The shogun’s callousness had reached an extreme that Sano could hardly believe. Yanagisawa had lost his son, and the shogun hadn’t offered a single word of condolence! Did
he not recall that Yoritomo had died trying to save his life? He seemed to have forgotten that Yoritomo had ever existed. His turning against Yanagisawa was insult piled upon injury.
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Yanagisawa’s voice was cracked, bereft of strength, an old man’s.
“Sano-san, you will take over as chamberlain,” the shogun said. “You can move back into your compound. Hirata-san will be chief investigator again.”
As Sano bowed and thanked the shogun, his triumph in his and Hirata’s redemption was spoiled because he pitied Yanagisawa so much.
“That’s all,” the shogun said, stroking the sleek heads of the twins. “You’re dismissed.”
Yanagisawa walked from the room as if in a trance. Sano followed. Outside, Sano started to say how sorry he was about Yoritomo. But the look in Yanagisawa’s eyes silenced him. It was fury, hatred, and bitterness transformed into something deadlier than Sano had ever seen.
Someday you’ll wish your wife had killed me.
Yanagisawa turned and walked away, his message delivered without a word.
* * *
“I have good news,” Lady Wakasa told Reiko. “The Todo daimyo clan is very interested in your proposal. They asked me to arrange a miai. Shall I go ahead?”
“Yes. That’s wonderful! Thank you.” Reiko poured tea and handed Lady Wakasa a cup. Outside her chamber, the garden was radiant with pink cherry blossoms. Masahiro, Akiko, and Hirata’s children ran about, catching falling petals. “What’s the bad news?”
“There isn’t any,” Lady Wakasa said. “Your husband’s fortunes are about to rise, I’ve heard. People are glad he settled the forty-seven ronin business.”
But Reiko couldn’t be happy about the outcome. Forty-seven men were dead, and mourned by those they’d left behind.
The day after their ritual suicide, Reiko had gone to visit Lady Asano and Ukihashi. She’d found the women together at Lady Asano’s convent. When Reiko offered her condolences, Lady Asano said, “I don’t think they should have had to die. But it was their choice, so I can’t complain. I’ll always be grateful to them for avenging my husband.”
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