The Ronin’s Mistress

Chikara blurted out, “We never meant for anybody except Kira to be harmed!”

“We apologize to you and your wife, for what it’s worth,” Oishi said with humble contrition.

Ukihashi turned to Reiko. “Please forgive them! They didn’t even know what Kajikawa was going to do!”

“There’s no need for them to apologize or for me to forgive them,” Reiko said, although visibly struggling to control her temper. “It wasn’t their fault.”

“Kajikawa is responsible for the attack on Magistrate Ueda, not them,” Hirata said.

The apology seemed to Sano like a gift of spoiled fish. Kajikawa’s culpability didn’t negate the fact that much damage had stemmed from Oishi’s actions. In Sano’s eyes, the shine of honor had worn off the vendetta. Nonetheless, Sano could forgive the forty-seven ronin, who had been unwitting servants for Kajikawa.

“Kajikawa is responsible for more than the attack on Magistrate Ueda,” Sano said. “He set the vendetta in motion.”

Reiko gazed at Sano, astounded. “Okaru was right. There was more to the vendetta than met the eye.”

“I lied when I said I didn’t remember telling her that,” Oishi said sheepishly. “When I drink, it’s hard to keep my mouth shut.” He said to Sano, “When you told me that she was in Edo, I was upset because I might have told her more than that, and I was afraid she would remember and tell you.”

Guilt changed Reiko’s expression. “I’ve done Okaru an injustice.”

“So have I.” Oishi said with remorse, “I shouldn’t have used her.”

“But why did Kajikawa set the vendetta in motion?” Reiko asked.

“I suspect he had his own grudge against Kira.” Sano recalled his talk with Kajikawa. “He tried to cast aspersion on Kira twice. First he said that Lord Asano had called Kira a corrupt snake. Then he brought up the rumor about Kira poisoning his brother-in-law the daimyo. It’s time for another talk with Kajikawa. We’re going back to Edo Castle.”

“Do I have to leave, too?” Ukihashi clung to her husband. She held out a hand to her son. Chikara took it, although he was obviously disturbed by the revelations he’d heard. She appealed to Reiko. “May I stay?”

“My hosts will find a room for her,” Oishi said, “and for our daughters.”

“Is that all right?” Reiko asked Sano.

“Yes.” Sano didn’t want to separate the reunited family any more than Reiko did. The fate of the forty-seven ronin was still up in the air, and whatever time they had left, Oishi and his wife and children should spend together. On the verge of being torn from his own family, Sano couldn’t wish the same on anyone else.

34

Back at Edo Castle, Sano, Hirata, Marume, and Fukida went to the office of the keepers of the castle. It was late in the evening; only a few men were still present, tidying their papers, extinguishing lamps. Sano said, “Where is Kajikawa?”

An old assistant with a humped back led Sano to an empty desk enclosed by lattice partitions. “That’s odd. He was here a moment ago.”

“The lamp on the desk is still lit,” Hirata pointed out. “He must have just left.”

Sano felt a chilly draft, which he followed down a passage. He and Hirata and the detectives gazed out an open door onto a courtyard. Barely visible in the twilight were footprints gouged into the snow, left by a man running.

“He heard me asking for him,” Sano deduced. “He guessed that we found out he hired the man who attacked Magistrate Ueda, and he panicked.”

“Shouldn’t you be able to track him down?” Marume asked Hirata in a challenging tone.

“He has a weak aura,” Hirata said. “It’ll be hard to detect, but I’ll try.” He moved swiftly, following the footsteps.

“Organize search parties,” Sano told the detectives. “Comb the castle. I’ll tell the captain of the guard to have all the gates closed. But just in case Kajikawa slips out, send a search party to his home.” Sano turned to the assistant. “Where does he live?”

The assistant gave directions to a house in the district near Edo Castle occupied by the hereditary Tokugawa vassals. As Sano, Marume, and Fukida hurried off, the assistant tagged after them. “Did Kajikawa really hire someone to kill the magistrate?”

“It’s looking that way,” Sano said.

“I can’t believe he would do such a thing. He seems so harmless. Although he hasn’t been quite himself recently. But then it’s understandable.”

“What’s understandable?” Sano slowed down, his curiosity piqued.

“That he would be depressed. His son committed suicide three years ago.”

Was this the event that had turned Kajikawa from a good man into a criminal? “Tell me how it happened,” Sano said.

“Kajikawa’s son was named Tsunamori. He was twelve years old,” the assistant said. “He hanged himself.”

Sano was shocked and grieved that a boy only a little older than Masahiro had taken his own life. He became aware of a recurring pattern in the events that had followed the vendetta: Sano and Masahiro; Oishi and Chikara; Yanagisawa and Yoritomo; fathers and sons. Here was another father-and-son pair, at the heart of the pattern.

“Why did he do it?”

“I don’t know. Kajikawa doesn’t talk about it. But one night soon after it happened, I came upon him crying at his desk. He was cursing and muttering. He didn’t notice me, and I thought it best to leave him alone. But I heard him say something to the effect that he blamed his son’s death on Kira Yoshinaka.”

Sano felt a mounting excitement. Even if he didn’t yet know how Kira was involved in the boy’s suicide, he had Kajikawa’s motive for wanting Kira dead, for setting the vendetta in motion. The forty-seven ronin had been Kajikawa’s tool for his own revenge.

* * *

“I want a game of go,” the shogun announced to the boys gathered in his chamber. Some were playing music on samisens and flutes or singing, some joking among themselves. His gaze settled on Masahiro, who was trying to be unobtrusive. “Bring me my set.”

Carrying the lacquer case, Masahiro mounted the dais. As he passed Yoritomo, who sat beside the shogun, Yoritomo stuck out his foot. Masahiro tripped, went sprawling, and dropped the go set. Black and white marbles flew everywhere. Everyone laughed. Masahiro flushed with embarrassment and seethed with anger as he picked himself up.

“What a clumsy oaf Masahiro is,” Yoritomo said to the shogun. “Shall we send him away before he hurts somebody besides himself, Your Excellency?”

Masahiro knew he should have been paying closer attention to Yoritomo, but he’d been too busy thinking about Goza, the bloody clothes, and the tattoos. He felt a pang of fear. Was Yoritomo finally about to succeed in putting him out of the shogun’s good graces? What would his parents say?

“No, it was just a, ahh, harmless mistake.” The shogun smiled kindly at Masahiro and patted the floor on his other side. “Come sit by me.”

Almost as dismayed as he was relieved, Masahiro sat. The shogun told Yoritomo, “Pick up those marbles. Set up the board. Masahiro and I will play.”

Yoritomo obeyed, looking so furious that Masahiro imagined smoke coming out of his ears. The shogun smiled too fondly at Masahiro as they took turns placing marbles on the gridded board. Masahiro squirmed. He heard the other boys whispering. They were probably betting on whether he would become the shogun’s next favorite. But not even that threat could distract Masahiro from his present dilemma.

He had to tell his parents about Goza. There was no question in his mind. He owed his first loyalty to them. But he hated to get Okaru in trouble, especially since he couldn’t help thinking she was innocent in spite of the