The Ronin’s Mistress

appeared and said, “Honorable Master, you have a visitor. It’s Ohgami Kaoru, from the Council of Elders.”

“I’d better not keep him waiting,” Sano said as he headed toward the reception room.

The manservant said to Reiko, “This message came for you today,” and offered her a scroll in a lacquer container.

Reiko took the scroll and followed Sano. She stood outside the reception room door, which was open wide enough for her to see Sano kneeling opposite a white-haired samurai with an oddly youthful face. She eavesdropped on their conversation.

* * *

Elder Ohgami refused Sano’s offer of refreshments. “I can’t stay long.”

That was a bad sign. Sano braced himself for news he didn’t want to hear.

“The Council of Elders is concerned that the supreme court is taking too long to announce a verdict,” Ohgami said.

“The judges only convened for the first time yesterday,” Sano pointed out.

“The Council is aware of that,” Ohgami said. “But certain members feel that because the case is so politically sensitive, expediency is of utmost importance.”

Sano deduced that “certain members” meant Kato and Ihara, his and Ohgami’s opponents. “The judges want to be sure they make the right decision.”

“The judges aren’t the problem.” Ohgami fixed a pointed look on Sano. “Some of us think it’s your investigation that’s holding things up.”

“I’m working as fast as I can.” Sano thought, Here we go again. His superiors never ceased expecting him to produce instant miracles.

“I have complete confidence that you are. But your detractors wonder if you’re being deliberately slow about providing evidence to the court, because you want to delay the verdict and spare the lives of the forty-seven ronin for as long as possible and you’re afraid of how the reaction will affect you.”

Offense leaped in Sano. “I admit that I’m partial toward letting the forty-seven ronin go free.” Even though Reiko’s news about Oishi changing his story had reminded Sano that he needed to maintain his objectivity. “And I can’t deny that I have a stake in the verdict. But I would never compromise an investigation on account of my personal feelings.”

“I know. But others don’t have as much faith in you as I do. They think you’re using your investigation to control the court.”

“I’m not,” Sano said flatly.

“Thank you for the assurance,” Ohgami said. “I will relay it to my colleagues. But some of them strongly believe that the forty-seven ronin should be condemned to death.”

“Ihara and Kato made that clear while we were discussing the case with the shogun.”

Ohgami winced because Sano had bluntly named names. “And I made it clear that I share your belief that the forty-seven ronin should be pardoned. But our position is becoming dangerous. Your political opponents are gaining support, and they have much influence with the shogun.”

Sano could imagine Yoritomo whispering in the shogun’s ear, pouring in poison about Sano. “There are many influential people on my side, too.”

“If the forty-seven ronin are pardoned, you won’t have enough allies to protect you. The other side will be out for blood.” Ohgami clearly feared for himself as much as for Sano.

This prediction didn’t exactly raise Sano’s spirits after a difficult day. “Yanagisawa and Yoritomo were kind enough to explain to me what will happen if the verdict goes against the forty-seven ronin. I’ll lose the allies who want them pardoned. I’ll also become the target of a popular uprising by commoners protesting the death of their heroes.”

“That could come to pass, yes.”

“Which means that no matter the verdict, I’m damned,” Sano said, as much vexed by the rampant political opportunism around him as troubled by his dilemma. “I’ll be run out of the regime as well as lose my family for causing an uproar that displeases the shogun.”

Ohgami shrugged and spread his hands.

* * *

After Ohgami left, Sano discovered Reiko standing in the corridor outside the reception chamber. She clutched a scroll container tightly enough to crack it. Her face wore a look of dismay and guilt.

“I suppose you heard my whole talk with Ohgami,” Sano said.

Reiko nodded. “I hope you’re not angry at me for eavesdropping.”

“No,” Sano said as they walked toward their private quarters. “You spared me the trouble of telling you the bad news.”

“Are things really so bad?” Fear shrank Reiko’s voice.

Sano held his breath for a moment, then let it ease out. “I won’t lie. But remember, things have often looked bad for us. We’ve always come out all right.” He attempted a joke. “Besides, wouldn’t life be dull without a little trouble once in a while?”

Reiko didn’t laugh. “It seems worse this time than it ever was.”

It did, partly because his position had already been precarious. But Sano suspected that the current situation disturbed Reiko, and himself, more than past difficulties because they’d had their faces rubbed in the consequences of a samurai losing his status. Oishi’s story of Lord Asano’s suicide and his own hardships had struck too close to home for Sano, and he gathered that Reiko had been deeply affected by the tales of woe she’d heard from Lady Asano and Oishi’s wife.

The corridor was cold, as if from the shadow of the cloud that hung over them, the threat of separation. Sano took off his surcoat, wrapped it around Reiko, and said, “We’ll get through this.”

She managed a smile. He felt her inhale, draw strength from their closeness, and brace herself up. He loved her for her courage and fortitude that had sustained them both during their twelve often tumultuous years together. His love moved him so much that he felt uncomfortable and sought a change of subject.

“What’s that you’re holding?” he asked.

Reiko opened the bamboo container, unrolled the scroll, and read the written message. Her expression grew more troubled. “It’s from Lady Wakasa. She says marriage prospects for Masahiro have completely dried up. Some of the clans she approached are in favor of condemning the forty-seven ronin and they don’t want to be associated with us because they think you’re trying to influence the verdict the other way. The other clans are in favor of pardoning, but nobody would agree to a miai.” A miai was the ritual first meeting between a prospective bride and groom and their families. “Everybody thinks you’re on the way out. So she’s giving up searching for a bride for Masahiro until the business is settled.”

She lifted her gaze to Sano. A wry smile twisted her mouth. “She’s deserting us just when we need her most.”

“Who cares about that old busybody?” Sano said, although her letter had added more weight to a heavy pile of worries. “Nobody died and put her in charge.”

As he and Reiko enjoyed a laugh at Lady Wakasa’s expense, wails drifted through the house. Reiko sighed. “That’s Okaru. It’s going to be a difficult night.”

“Things will look better in the morning,” Sano promised.

23

The judges debated far into the night. They included Inspector General Nakae and Lord Nabeshima, whom Magistrate Ueda had allowed to rejoin the court. Their chamber was thick with smoke from their tobacco pipes. They shook their fists and pounded on the floor while they argued loudly, until Magistrate Ueda said, “Let’s take another vote.” His eyes were bleary from the smoke; his head ached. “All in favor of pardoning the forty-seven ronin, raise your hands.”

Seven hands went up.