The Ronin's Mistress (10 page)

“My husband wouldn’t want me to turn my back on Okaru or Oishi,” she said. “He’s always been committed to discovering the truth and serving justice.”

“But in this case?” Troubled, Chiyo shook her head. “It’s bigger than just one girl, one man, and one murder. There are bound to be political repercussions, which could make things worse for your husband.” She added, “I must say that I have a bad feeling about Okaru.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Reiko conceded. “Maybe I shouldn’t bring my husband into this. Maybe I should tell Okaru that I’m sorry, I can’t help her after all.”

The procession entered the main gate of Edo Castle and wound along the stone-walled passage. Masahiro rode his horse beside the palanquin, put his face in the window, and said to Reiko, “But you said you would help Okaru!” He’d been listening in on the conversation. “You and Father have always told me how important it is to keep promises. You always say that breaking a promise is dishonorable.”

Reiko was always irritated yet amused when her clever son threw her own lessons back at her. “This situation is special. It may have been wrong for me to make that promise to Okaru. If so, then breaking it is the only right thing to do.”

Chiyo nodded, but Masahiro exclaimed, “No! It would be unfair and mean.”

“You shouldn’t speak to your mother in that tone of voice,” Chiyo said. She and Reiko and their families were so close that they disciplined each other’s children with no hard feelings.

Masahiro bowed his head, distraught. “I’m sorry.”

Reiko studied him curiously. “Why do you care so much about Okaru?”

“I don’t,” Masahiro said quickly. “It’s just that she’s poor and helpless. I feel sorry for her. That’s all.”

His compassion made Reiko proud of him. He wasn’t growing up to be one of the many samurai who thought the lower classes were dirt under their feet. But she sensed that Masahiro had more on his mind besides mere sympathy for Okaru’s plight.

“What else?” she asked.

Masahiro fiddled with the reins on his horse. He wouldn’t look at Reiko. “When I was kidnapped, some people helped me. They were the two soldiers who let me out of the cage I was locked in. They didn’t have to; they could have let me be killed.”

Reiko listened in consternation. Masahiro rarely talked about that terrible time a little more than three years ago.

“They helped me even though they were risking their own lives.” Masahiro paused. “I think about them sometimes. And I—well, that’s why I want to help Okaru.”

Reiko was so moved that tears stung her eyes. She said to Chiyo, “How can I refuse to come to Okaru’s aid now?”

Chiyo relented with good grace. “Masahiro is right. A promise is a promise.”

Still Reiko felt uncomfortable. Chiyo’s misgivings about Okaru had rubbed off on her. And there was a new distance between her and Chiyo, a little coolness.

The procession arrived inside Sano’s estate. Masahiro and the guards gave their horses over to the stable boys. The late-afternoon sunshine had mellowed to a golden glow that tinted the snow atop the mansion and the pine trees. The sky was a brilliant blue, striped by thin white clouds and crisscrossed by dark tree branches, like a winter quilt. Reiko smiled as she and Chiyo stepped out of their palanquin. On a cold, beautiful winter day like this, home seemed especially inviting.

Akiko ran out of the house to meet them. She hugged Reiko’s legs, then Chiyo’s.

“Then it’s settled,” Reiko said. “I’ll tell my husband about Okaru and her story. He can decide whether to get involved.”

*   *   *

“
GET INVOLVED WITH
what?” Sano walked toward the mansion.

He smiled at Reiko, who smiled back. Masahiro and Akiko hurried to greet him. “Hello, Father,” Masahiro said, while Akiko cried, “Papa, Papa!”

Sano picked up Akiko. He clapped Masahiro on the shoulder and beamed at his son. He loved both his children passionately, but he felt a special pride in Masahiro. Masahiro was not only his firstborn, his only boy, and his heir, who would carry on their clan’s bloodline; he was a fine, intelligent, talented, and good-natured child. One of Sano’s biggest fears was that something would happen to Masahiro.

Chiyo bowed. “Greetings, Honorable Cousin.” She addressed him formally but with affection.

After everyone went into the house, Reiko answered his question: “The forty-seven
r
ō
nin
and their vendetta.”

“So you’ve heard about that,” Sano said, setting Akiko on her feet and hanging his swords in the entryway.

“Yes.” Reiko helped him remove his hat and cloak.

He could tell that she had something on her mind, but she waited while he said, “I suppose the news is everywhere now. But there’s something you apparently haven’t heard yet: I’m already involved with the forty-seven
r
ō
nin.
”

Surprise halted Reiko in the act of hanging up her cloak. “You are? How?”

“The shogun ordered me to investigate Kira’s murder,” Sano said.

Eager for news, Reiko said, “Did you? What happened? Come inside. We’ll talk there.”

Akiko towed Chiyo off to play. Sano, Reiko, and Masahiro went to the private chambers, where they sat around the
kosatsu
and warmed themselves at the fire underneath. Sano explained how he’d tracked down the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
and described the strange confrontation at Lord Asano’s grave.

“So they’re already under arrest,” Reiko said.

“So it’s over,” Masahiro said. They both seemed disappointed.

“Not quite.” Sano watched Reiko’s and Masahiro’s faces brighten. “There’s a controversy about whether the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
are honorable samurai who rightfully avenged their master and should be applauded or criminals who broke the law and should be sentenced to death.” Sano explained about the supreme court. “I’ve just finished notifying the fourteen men who are to serve as judges. One of them is Magistrate Ueda.”

“I’m glad,” Reiko said. “My father is the one man who can absolutely be trusted to be honest and fair. How did he take the news?”

“With more enthusiasm than the other judges,” Sano said. “I ruined their day. But he’s intrigued by the legal issues in the case and he’s excited about convening the court tomorrow.” Although in his sixties, Magistrate Ueda still had a passion for the law.

“Now that there’s a supreme court to decide about the forty-seven
r
ō
nin,
doesn’t that release you from involvement?” Reiko asked.

“Not exactly.” Sano described how he’d been assigned to investigate the case for the supreme court.

“Chamberlain Yanagisawa again! Can’t he leave us alone?”

Sano answered with a wry smile and an eloquent silence.

“But that’s good!” Masahiro exclaimed. “You can save the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
!”

Sano frowned. He wasn’t pleased that his son had taken the
r
ō
nin
’s side so quickly. But then he was partial to them, too, and it was he who’d taught Masahiro the principles of Bushido. “I’m not sure whether they should be saved.”

“But you are going to investigate, aren’t you?” Masahiro said.

“I don’t have much choice,” Sano said. “But I’m glad of the opportunity to see that justice is done.”

He hesitated to mention the threat that came with his opportunity to regain the shogun’s favor. He didn’t want to worry Reiko. He wanted to shield Masahiro from adult problems.

“Maybe I can help.” Reiko told Sano about the letter she’d received and her visit to Okaru.

“Well, you’ve been busy.” It was Sano’s turn to be surprised. “I can always trust you to turn up clues for my investigations, but this time you’ve done it before the investigation has really started.” Drinking his tea, he pondered. “So Oishi’s mistress says Oishi claims that the vendetta isn’t what it seems.”

“I know that’s a vague clue,” Reiko said apologetically.

“But it confirms my own feelings about the vendetta,” Sano said. “The whole business is peculiar.”

“Then you’ll investigate Okaru’s story?” Reiko asked eagerly.

“Yes,” Sano said. “At this point I’m thankful for any clues at all.”

“I’m glad. I’d like to help that poor girl.”

Concern sobered Sano. “What I find out may not be good for her or Oishi. If it isn’t, I can’t protect them because she’s someone you’ve befriended.”

“I know.” Yet it was obvious that Reiko couldn’t help hoping the investigation would turn out well for Okaru. “Can I at least tell Okaru what’s happened to Oishi and let her know you’re looking into the matter?”

Sano nodded.

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” Masahiro jiggled his legs under the table.

Sano smiled at his restlessness. His son didn’t like to sit idle any more than Reiko did. He’d inherited her impatience, her urge to take action.

“Let’s wait and see.” Sano glanced at Reiko, remembering times when she had taken part in his investigations, with near-disastrous results.

She must have seen something in his eyes besides misgivings based on past experience, because her brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“Masahiro, go play with your sister and Cousin Chiyo for a while,” Sano said.

When he and Reiko were alone, there was no use trying to minimize the bad news. “The shogun decreed that if I don’t lead the supreme court to a satisfactory decision, I’ll be permanently assigned to a post in Kyushu. You and the children will be kept in Edo, to make sure I don’t misbehave.” Sano added, “You can guess who was responsible for that.”

Reiko was so shocked that she sputtered. “Kyushu! That’s the end of the earth!”

Sano couldn’t disagree. Kyushu was the island of Japan farthest to the southwest, some two months’ journey from Edo.

Reiko clasped her hands to her chest in horror as she absorbed the full implications of the shogun’s threat. “We would never see you again!” Her fists clenched; bewilderment mixed with the anger that lit her eyes. “I know Yanagisawa is out to get you, but why did he do this?”

“Because he knows I’ve been threatened with death and escaped it so many times that the threat hardly fazes me anymore,” Sano deduced. “The shogun has always balked at killing me. Yanagisawa is hoping that this time the punishment will happen. And he knows that being separated from my family would hurt me worse than death.”

“It would hurt all of us.” Reiko threw her arms around Sano and clung to him. “I can’t bear to lose you. Or for the children to lose their father.”

Sano stroked her hair. “Don’t worry, it won’t come to that. Haven’t I always managed to get out of trouble before?”

She looked up, still distraught. “But this is different from solving a murder. How can you lead the court to a satisfactory verdict? What would be ‘satisfactory’? Condemning or pardoning the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
? What kind of evidence would make either choice the right one?”

“No one knows at this point,” Sano admitted. “But I have faith in the power of the truth. My discovering the truth about Kira’s murder and the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
will make things turn out right, somehow.”

Although clearly doubtful, Reiko nodded, consoled.

Chiyo, Akiko, and Masahiro rejoined them as a maid brought dinner—miso soup with carrots, lotus root, and seaweed; roasted salmon; rice; pickled radish, ginger, and scallions. Sano realized that he was starving; he’d eaten nothing all day except a bowl of noodles from a food-stall. He and Reiko exchanged a glance; they tacitly agreed to keep the shogun’s threat to themselves.

“Where will you begin your investigation?” Reiko asked.

“With the man at the center, the leader of the forty-seven
r
ō
nin,
” Sano said. “If something about their vendetta isn’t what it seems, it may be Oishi himself.”

*   *   *

IN THE OFFICE
of his secluded compound inside Edo Castle, Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat at his desk. The lantern above his head illuminated a scroll spread before him. On the scroll was a chart he’d drawn, that showed which
daimyo
and top government officials were on his side, which were on Sano’s, and which were neutral. Yanagisawa drummed his fingers on the chart. Although Sano had lost many allies, not enough of them had joined Yanagisawa’s camp. There were too many men waiting to see how the political landscape shaped up, biding their time before they committed. Yanagisawa hadn’t managed to recruit a new ally in months. He had too narrow a margin, and he might start to slip before he achieved complete dominance.

Yoritomo came into the room. Yanagisawa’s spirits lifted; he smiled. His son was the strongest weapon in his arsenal, his hold on the shogun, his best hope of ruling Japan. But Yoritomo was even more than a political pawn to Yanagisawa. His son was his pride and joy, the only person Yanagisawa loved, and who loved him. Yanagisawa had had many lovers, admirers, and sycophants over the years, but none had lasted. None had provided the bond of blood and affinity that he shared with Yoritomo. Now, as Yanagisawa beheld Yoritomo, he experienced a fear like cold fingers gripping his heart.

Love made a man vulnerable. He’d often used that fact against his enemies.

“Is everything all right?” Yanagisawa said offhandedly, trying not to show his concern for his son and the future.