The Ronin’s Mistress

“We’re getting off track,” Magistrate Ueda said. “I’m closing the discussion.”

Inspector General Nakae raised his hand. “May I make a request?”

“Go ahead.”

“I haven’t heard anything that I think suggests that the forty-seven ronin should be set free,” Nakae said. Sounds of assent and dissent came from judges who hadn’t spoken. “And I’d like to see how many people agree with me. Can we take another vote?”

“Very well,” Magistrate Ueda said. “All for condemning the defendants?”

This time nine of the fourteen judges raised their hands. Again, the votes were divided between Yanagisawa’s allies and enemies. Magistrate Ueda, who hadn’t raised his hand, spoke with reluctance. “I must admit that I don’t get a sense of any extenuating circumstances, either.”

If the most incisive, honest mind in the room didn’t see such circumstances, then maybe there weren’t any. The judges who still favored the defendants were clearly voting with their hearts instead of their heads. But how long could they hold out against the lack of hard evidence to back up their opinions? Sano’s heart sank. All his work had thus far swayed the court further against the men he felt inclined to protect.

Magistrate Ueda asked Sano, “What do you think?”

Sano could say that he commended Oishi and his comrades for their loyalty, but he was reluctant to try to influence the court toward excusing the forty-seven ronin. He remembered the sense of wrongness he’d felt during his first encounter with them, at Lord Asano’s grave, and his feeling that Oishi had been hiding something. And then there was the mistress. Her story seemed akin to the tip of an iceberg. Sano wondered whether the part underwater contained evidence that would justify Kira’s murder or a reason to condemn the killers.

He told the judges the only thing he could honestly say. “The forty-seven ronin are holding something back. I would like to continue my inquiries, with your permission.”

“Permission granted,” Magistrate Ueda said. “This court is adjourned for today. Sano- san, report to us again when we convene tomorrow at the same hour.”

As he left the chamber, Sano was glad he’d bought some time for his family. He wondered if he’d also bought more time for heroes who deserved it or for criminals who didn’t.

17

On the way to Edo Castle, Masahiro rode his horse on one side of the palanquin that carried his mother, Chiyo, and Okaru. The servant Goza plodded on foot on the other side. Hired porters followed behind the mounted guards, lugging Okaru’s trunk. Masahiro kept an eye out for danger. He was ready to protect Okaru if necessary.

When she’d left the inn, the crowd had rushed upon her. She’d hidden her head under a shawl while Reiko hurried her into the palanquin. The crowd followed the procession, collecting more people all the way to Edo Castle.

Okaru opened the window, her eyes shining. “I never dreamed I would ever see the inside of the castle. I’m so excited!”

The sentries at the gate ordered her to step out of the palanquin. One ransacked her trunk for hidden weapons, while two others searched her and Goza. The sentry ran his hands over Okaru, ogling her while he peeked up her sleeves and under her skirts. At last she was allowed to ride through the gate. She watched eagerly as the bearers carried her up through the castle’s walled passages. When she and the other women alighted inside Sano’s estate, she gasped.

“This is your house? Oh, it’s so big!”

Chiyo quietly went inside the mansion by herself. As Masahiro dismounted, he saw Taeko, Hirata’s daughter, run toward him.

“Masahiro,” she called, “will you help me make a snowman?”

He would rather have stayed with Okaru, but Reiko said to him, “We’ll have to put Okaru and Goza in your room. You can sleep in Akiko’s room. Please move your things.”

The house was crowded, because after his demotion Sano had had to vacate the chamberlain’s compound and move his family back into his old home, where Hirata’s family lived. Ordinarily, Masahiro would have objected to sharing a room with his sister, but he would gladly make the sacrifice for Okaru.

“I can’t play with you now,” he told Taeko. “I’m busy.”

Taeko helped him move his clothes, bedding, toys, martial arts equipment, and school materials while she talked about a cat that had chased a mouse through the kitchen and tripped a cook, who’d dropped a jar of pickles. Masahiro barely listened. When they made the last trip to his room, Okaru was there. A maid was putting fresh bedding in a cabinet.

“I’ve never slept in such a big, beautiful room,” Okaru said. Smiling at Taeko, she asked Masahiro, “Who’s your little friend?”

“I’m Taeko.” The girl clasped her hands behind her back, regarding Okaru with distrust.

“Well, I’m happy to meet you.” Okaru whirled around the room, exuberant. “I’m so happy to be here! Masahiro-san, your mother has been so kind to me. I like her so much!”

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.”