“Well, you’re all under arrest,” Sano said. “You’re coming with us.”
He braced himself for the
Oishi gave Sano a long, enigmatic look. A moment passed. Salty, metallic blood scented the air. Then Oishi nodded to his comrades. Without protest, the forty-seven
Relief and disappointment trickled through Sano.
“That was a little weird,” Fukida said as he and Sano and Marume and Hirata followed their prisoners out.
Marume laughed. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
“Where are we going to put them?” Hirata asked.
“That’s a good question,” Sano said. Edo Jail was reserved for commoners. Samurai criminals were usually kept under house arrest, but these didn’t have a proper home. They’d lost it after the house of Asano had been dissolved.
“At least the case is closed,” Hirata said.
“Maybe not.” Sano had a hunch that it wasn’t. And he suspected that his hunch was more than just wishful thinking.
6
Dressed in padded robes and bundled in quilts, Reiko and Chiyo rode through the city in a palanquin carried by four bearers. Mounted guards from Sano’s army accompanied them. Masahiro rode with the guards. Reiko looked out the window at him and smiled.
“He’s so proud to have his first horse,” she said.
“He’s already so good at riding,” Chiyo said.
Reiko wasn’t sure he could control the horse, a brown stallion that seemed far too big. He might be thrown and get hurt. She felt a tender pain in her heart because soon he would be grown up; she couldn’t keep him safe at home forever.
After a short, cold journey, her procession arrived at the south end of the Nihonbashi Bridge. Quays and warehouses spread along riverbanks lined with boats. Because the bridge was the starting point for the five major roads leading out of town, the area was crammed with inns and shops. Today Reiko saw few travelers in the snow-covered streets. Along the block to which Okaru’s letter had directed Reiko, cheap inns stood side by side, enclosed by bamboo fences. The proprietors looked out their gates in hope of customers. One gate had a tattered paper lantern, which sported a crudely painted dragonfly crest, suspended from its roof. There Reiko’s procession stopped. Her chief bodyguard, the homely, serious Lieutenant Tanuma, announced her to the innkeeper.
“This is Lady Reiko, the wife of the shogun’s
The innkeeper had a mouth that was puckered as if he’d just drunk vinegar. “All right, but please be quiet. My other guests arrived late last night, and they’re still asleep.”
Reiko and Chiyo, Masahiro and Lieutenant Tanuma, followed the innkeeper through a passage to a small garden buried under snow and surrounded by guest rooms in small, shabby wooden buildings. The innkeeper pointed to a room on the right. “She’s in there.”
Reiko and her companions waded through the snow and mounted the steps to the veranda. She knocked on the door. After a moment it was opened by a tall, broad, mannish-looking woman dressed in a brown-and-black- striped kimono and black trousers. A faint mustache darkened her upper lip. She gazed down at Reiko.
“Who are you?” Her voice was high, feminine, and unfriendly.
Disconcerted, Reiko said, “My name is Reiko. I-”
A little scream came from inside the room. A girlish voice said, “It’s Lady Reiko! Let her in, let her in!”
The mannish woman stood aside. Reiko, Chiyo, and Masahiro slipped past her; Lieutenant Tanuma waited on the veranda. The room was barely larger than a closet. Baggage lay stacked against the wall; bedding overflowed from the cabinet. The girl who’d spoken knelt on the floor beside a charcoal brazier, holding a comb. Her long black hair hung damply around her shoulders. She wore a pale pink robe, the sash loose. She’d evidently just bathed. The sweet fragrance of a clean young woman scented the air.
“Honorable Lady Reiko! I prayed and prayed that you would come. I can hardly believe you’re here!” The girl gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners?” She dropped her comb and bowed. “A thousand thanks for coming. I’m Okaru.”
She was younger than Reiko had expected-perhaps sixteen. Small and slim and lithe, she was also beautiful. She had a heart-shaped face with round cheeks, and large, limpid, innocent eyes. Her skin glowed like pearls. Her teeth were white and perfect, her lips soft and pink as peony petals. Her smile was radiant.
“This is my cousin-in-law Chiyo, and my son Masahiro,” Reiko said.
Okaru said breathlessly, “I’m so honored to make your acquaintance!”
Chiyo replied calmly and politely. Reiko couldn’t help liking Okaru, the girl was so sweet; but she knew that first impressions could be erroneous. Masahiro stared at Okaru, his eyes wide and mouth open.
“Please allow me to introduce Goza.” Okaru’s delicate hand gestured toward her companion. “My servant.”
Goza squatted on the floor, like a man.
“Please sit down,” Okaru said.
Reiko and her companions knelt, crowded together in the small space.
“May I offer you some refreshments?” Okaru lifted the lid of a teapot and said, “Oh, no, the tea is all gone. And I’m afraid we’ve finished the rice cakes.”
“You don’t need to give us anything.” Reiko remembered that Okaru was short on money. “We’ve come to help you.”
Okaru’s beautiful face crumpled. “And I’m so thankful. Because I’m in such terrible trouble! Or rather, Oishi is. I’m so afraid.” Tears shone in her limpid eyes.
Chiyo handed Okaru a handkerchief. Reiko could see that Chiyo sympathized with the girl but reserved judgment about her. Okaru wiped her tears, swallowed, and breathed deeply.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Reiko said. “Where did you come from?”
“Miyako,” Okaru said.
Miyako was the imperial capital, a fifteen-day journey from Edo in good weather, perhaps twice as long in winter. “That’s quite far,” Reiko said. “And you came by yourself?”
“I had Goza.” Okaru smiled at her servant. “She protected me.”
“Who is your family?” Reiko couldn’t believe they would let a girl so young travel so far with only one female attendant. The highway was dangerous.
“I haven’t any family.” Sadness filled Okaru’s voice.
“What happened to your parents?” Reiko asked.
“They died four years ago, when I was twelve. I’ve been on my own since then.”
Pity filled Reiko. She happened to glance at Masahiro and saw him leaning toward Okaru as if fascinated. “How have you managed to live?”
“I work at a teahouse.” Okaru spoke in a small but brave voice. Her cheeks flushed.
Reiko understood that Okaru was one of the many teahouse girls who did more than serve drinks. She was a prostitute, the lowly kind that worked outside the licensed pleasure quarters where prostitution was legal. Reiko marveled that Okaru had retained her beauty and innocence for this long. But Chiyo recoiled from Okaru, as many samurai ladies would. Masahiro frowned in confusion. Although Reiko knew he’d seen teahouse girls soliciting customers, he was too young to understand exactly what they did.
