The Ronin's Mistress (31 page)

“If he did, I’ll kill him.” Reiko’s face, visible through the window of her palanquin, was fierce.

Yanagisawa had better pray he never fell into her hands, Sano thought. “I asked around the castle to see if any information has leaked from the supreme court. But even the biggest know-it-alls don’t seem to have heard anything about the judges’ opinions. The confidentiality of the court hasn’t been breached, as far as I can tell. Then I went to the scene of the attack and looked for witnesses.” Sano and the detectives had knocked on every door, questioned every resident. “Some people heard shouting last night, but nobody saw anything.”

None of the people he’d interviewed had mentioned being interviewed before, and many had been surprised to hear about the attack. Shouldn’t Hirata have interviewed them when he’d gone to the crime scene earlier? And where was Hirata?

“I have some information.” Reiko said that her father had told her about a tattoo he’d seen on his attacker’s arm. She showed Sano a list she’d written. “I got these names of repeat offenders from the Court of Justice records.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” Sano was glad for Reiko’s initiative. “But I can’t believe the attack was about a small-time criminal with a grudge against your father.”

“Neither can I, now that I’ve heard your theory. Maybe the repeat offender was hired by someone else.”

As they neared Edo Castle, Sano heard shouting and saw a crowd massed outside the gate. The shouting sounded angry, interspersed with cries of pain. Palanquins bobbed above troops who were fighting a horde of peasants.

“Wait here,” Sano said.

Leaving Reiko with her guards, he and his men rode toward the riot. The troops outside the castle lashed their swords at the peasants. A young man fell, his head cleaved open. People on the ground screamed as the crowd trampled them.

“Get back! Everybody, go home!” Sano herded peasants away from the riot. His men dispersed them with threats and waving swords.

“Help!” Minister Motoori cried from his palanquin.

Beside him were Inspector General Nakae and Lord Nabeshima, on horseback. Lord Nabeshima flailed his sword. Nakae yelled as he dodged his friend’s blows. Nearby, Superintendent Ogiwara struggled to stay on his bucking, whinnying mount. As Sano fought through the mob to rescue the supreme court, Minister Motoori’s bearers went down. The palanquin sank below the riot and crashed.

Someone shouted over the hubbub, “Open the gate!”

It was Hirata. Standing on the roof above the gate, he yelled to the sentries to let the officials inside the castle. The sentries ignored him. They stood with their backs against the gate, keeping the mob out. Hirata jumped down inside the gate and opened it. As officials swarmed in, Sano and his troops scattered the rest of the crowd. The last officials and their entourages fled inside the castle. Sano looked around.

Corpses littered the promenade. Groans came from people who lay injured. Minister Motoori’s palanquin had broken into pieces. Sano jumped off his horse and uncovered the old man. Minister Motoori was curled up on the ground, keening in pain. Attendants carried him into the castle. Sano ordered the sentries to fetch doctors for the wounded, then escorted Reiko’s palanquin through the gate.

“What was that all about?” Reiko asked.

“I’m going to find out,” Sano said.

When she was safely on her way home, Sano and Hirata joined the remaining supreme court judges. The twelve men huddled together inside a guardhouse, unharmed but shaken.

“What happened?” Sano asked.

“We were leaving the castle, and those ruffians got wind of it. They wanted to tell us what they thought our verdict should be. They started a riot.” Inspector General Nakae was furious. “We might have been killed.”

Superintendent Ogiwara looked around, counting heads. “Where’s Minister Motoori?”

Sano explained that Motoori had been hurt. Colonel Hitomi said in dismay, “That’s two of us down now.”

“We’d better not leave the castle until the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
business is settled,” Lord Nabeshima said. “But we’ll have to postpone our verdict until Minister Motoori and Magistrate Ueda can rejoin us.”

The other judges agreed, although they complained about the inconvenience of going into hiding. Sano realized that if Minister Motoori was seriously injured, two judges who favored pardoning the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
would be off the court. That might make it easier to agree on a verdict. But in view of the riot, a verdict that condemned the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
seemed unlikely to settle the controversy. Sano pitied the judges: They were as much in jeopardy as he was. An unpopular verdict could bring doom for them, too. But the future remained to be seen. For now, Sano saw a chance to clear up one matter.

“Have you told anyone about the court’s proceedings?” he asked the judges.

“Certainly not,” Superintendent Ogiwara said. The other men shook their heads.

They all looked offended because Sano had suggested that they’d broken their rule of confidentiality. If they hadn’t, and if his theory that someone was trying to influence the verdict by murdering Magistrate Ueda was correct, then the pool of suspects was limited to himself, Yanagisawa, and the judges themselves. And Sano knew which suspect he still favored.

A messenger entered the guardhouse and said to Sano, “Excuse me, but the shogun wants to see you. Immediately.”

*   *   *

SANO AND HIRATA
found the shogun in his bedchamber. He reclined on cushions, bundled in fur-lined silk robes, his bare feet in a bucket of hot water. A towel swathed his head. His teeth chattered violently; his complexion was ashen. Yoritomo hovered anxiously near him while a physician mixed a pungent medicinal tea.

“What’s wrong, Your Excellency?” Sano asked.

“I’ve just had the, ah, most terrible fright of my life!” The shogun panted. “I went for a walk along the wall, and—” The doctor held the cup of tea to his lips. He coughed as he drank.

Sano was surprised, because the shogun rarely went outside on cold days. “What was His Excellency doing out there?” he asked Yoritomo.

Yoritomo favored Sano with a hate-filled stare. “His Excellency has been wanting to know more about what goes on outside the castle. We were up in the guard tower near the main gate, looking out at the city, when we heard a commotion. We looked down and saw—”

“A mob trying to force its way into my castle!” the shogun exclaimed, sputtering tea. “I was so terrified that I almost fainted!”

“I saw you there.” Yoritomo spoke accusingly to Sano.

“It’s a civil war! I’m under invasion!” The shogun moaned. “My worst nightmare!”

“I advised His Excellency to send for you,” Yoritomo told Sano. “Make him understand that it isn’t a war and he’s not in any danger.” His hostility toward Sano equaled his concern for his lord’s health and his own welfare. “And while you’re at it, explain what that scene outside
was
about.”

“Sano-
san
doesn’t take orders from you,” Hirata said.

Sano gave Hirata a look that warned him not to start an argument with Yoritomo. He didn’t need any more problems from that quarter. He gave an edited version of what had happened: “There’s a lot of public interest in the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
case. People heard that the supreme court was leaving the castle, and they wanted a look at the judges. They got too eager and started pushing.”

“Not a war, then,” the shogun said, relieved.

“Weren’t a lot of people hurt?” Yoritomo asked. “I saw what looked like a stampede.”

“Some.” Sano admitted, “Minister Motoori fell.”

The shogun trembled with fresh anxiety. “Ah, my poor old friend. And what’s going to happen to me? Are those ruffians still out there?”

“No, Your Excellency,” Hirata said. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

“Well, then.” The shogun sighed and relaxed on his cushions. He waved the doctor away. “You can go. I feel so much better.”

“This happened because of the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
affair,” Yoritomo said. “There’s bound to be more trouble unless the affair is settled. And do you know why it’s not settled yet, Your Excellency?” He smiled a cruel, dazzling smile at Sano. He looked like a young incarnation of his father.

“Why not?” the shogun said cautiously.

“Because Sano-
san
is supposed to investigate the case for the supreme court, and he’s not making any progress,” Yoritomo said. “Therefore, the riot was his fault.”

Sano thought that Yanagisawa couldn’t have done a better job of casting blame on him. “The riot was nobody’s fault. It was an accident.”

“Sano-
san
chased the mob away,” Hirata said. “He protected Your Excellency.”

“If he’d done his duty, the riot wouldn’t have happened,” Yoritomo persisted. “While he drags his feet, there could be another riot. Next time the mob might break into the castle!”

“Merciful gods, no!” The shogun clutched Yoritomo’s sleeve. “What should I do?”

“You should get rid of Sano-
san,
” Yoritomo said promptly. “Don’t wait for a verdict on the forty-seven
r
ō
nin.
Send him away now.”

“Maybe I should.” The shogun spoke with unaccustomed firmness.

A peal of doom resonated through Sano. Had the day finally come when he couldn’t escape punishment? Was he soon never to see his family again? At the same time Sano was outraged. Fourteen years of loyal service to the shogun had brought him to this! Bushido had rarely been harder to stomach than it was now. Anger gave Sano the nerve to take a gamble instead of hurrying to placate the shogun.

“If you want me gone, it’s my duty to go,” Sano said. “I’ll leave before the day is done. Then you can find someone else to clean up the mess that the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
made and solve all the other problems that I usually solve for you.” He spoke slowly, giving the shogun time to visualize the consequences of banishing him. “And everyone will know that you punished me for something that Yoritomo-
san
says is my fault even though it isn’t.”

“Ahh. Well, ahh.” The shogun shrank into his robes, like a quail hiding in the grass from a hunter. Losing a man he’d always depended on was too much for the shogun, who didn’t like to think that he was being manipulated. “I guess that’s not, ahh, quite what I want.” He turned a baleful look on Yoritomo.

Sano breathed. Hirata hid a smile. Lacking his father’s talent for the quick comeback, Yoritomo spluttered. His face red with rage, he huffed out of the room.

“What’s wrong with him?” the shogun said.

“I don’t know.” Sano thought it best to beat a retreat before the shogun changed his mind about sparing him. “If Your Excellency doesn’t mind, we’ll be getting back to the investigation.”

“Very well,” the shogun said. As Sano and Hirata departed, he called, “If this, ahh, forty-seven
r
ō
nin
business isn’t resolved soon…”

They didn’t need to hear him complete his threat.

29

YORITOMO WAS WAITING
for Sano in the corridor, his hands on his hips, his legs spread wide, his chin out-thrust. Sano said to Hirata, “Meet me at home. We need to talk.”

He faced Yoritomo. The corridor was empty but for them. “You think you’re so smart.” Yoritomo’s voice trembled with rage. “I bet you’re laughing at me inside. Well, just wait until next time.” He jabbed his finger at Sano. “You won’t ever laugh at me again.”

Despite the fact that Yoritomo had worked hard to destroy him, Sano felt a compassion for the young man that was tinged by guilt. Yanagisawa had made Yoritomo a political pawn, and on him lay the blame for Yoritomo’s unhappy life. But it was Sano’s trick that had changed Yoritomo into a bitter, hate-consumed, obsessive man like his father.

“I’m not laughing,” Sano said. He fervently wished he could take back his trick, no matter that Yoritomo had deserved it, and not only because he was paying the price now. He deplored himself for killing what was good in a youth he’d liked and hadn’t wanted to hurt. He would also hate for anyone to treat Masahiro the way he’d treated Yoritomo. “And I don’t want there to be a next time. Can’t we call a truce?”

“After what you did to me? Never!”

“I’ve apologized,” Sano said. “I miss the friendship we once had. Don’t you remember how we used to talk and practice martial arts together?”

“Yes, when my father was exiled.” Rancor pervaded Yoritomo’s voice. “After he came back, he told me that you’d been pretending to like me, because you wanted to use me to get back at him.” Yoritomo chuckled at his own innocence. “My father was right. You were never my friend.”

“Your father was wrong. He sees everything through his own warped vision. Don’t always trust his judgment. Don’t be like him.”

As Sano spoke, it occurred to him that Masahiro had inherited many of Sano’s own traits—his individuality, his willingness to take dangerous risks—and maybe Yoritomo wasn’t the only son who would be better off for not imitating his father.

“Don’t you criticize my father!” Yoritomo was so angry that spittle frothed out of his mouth. “He’s the only person who cares about me. You’re the one who’s untrustworthy! You betrayed me! And now you’re trying to turn me against my father!”