Laura Rowland - The Ronin’s Mistress

“I suggest that Sano- san be appointed to help the judges investigate,” Yanagisawa said.

“Fine,” the shogun said, before Sano could forestall him. “Sano- san, you are appointed.”

Yanagisawa and Yoritomo smiled identical smiles of cruel satisfaction. Sano’s heart dropped. Now he would share the responsibility for any bad consequences that arose from the court’s decision. His own fate and the forty-seven ronin ’s were intertwined.

“One last thing, Your Excellency,” Yanagisawa said. “Sano- san ’s investigations have a tendency to cause trouble. Last time he got your wife raped. Let’s give him an extra incentive to do better this time.”

Sano saw Yanagisawa getting ready to heap more trouble on him. “There’s no need-”

“What kind of extra incentive?” the shogun interrupted.

“If the supreme court doesn’t reach a satisfactory verdict, then Sano- san should be permanently assigned to a post at some distant location-let’s say Kyushu,” Yanagisawa said, “while his family remains in Edo as hostages to his good behavior.”

“Very well,” the shogun said.

Riding home in her palanquin, Reiko brimmed with thoughts about the ronin ’s mistress, but her companions seemed disinclined toward conversation. Chiyo sat gazing out the window at the street, where pedestrians clambered over snowbanks to enter shops that sold ceramic jars of pickles, root vegetables, salted fish, and fermented tofu. Masahiro rode his horse alongside the palanquin. He looked straight ahead, his expression somber and pensive.

Reiko waited until their procession turned onto the boulevard that led to Edo Castle, then said, “You’re not happy that I agreed to help Okaru.”

Chiyo reluctantly assented. “The whole business disturbs me.”

Reiko cut to the heart of the problem. “You didn’t like Okaru, did you?”

Chiyo hesitated. “She seems very sweet. But her background…”

A pang of disappointment chimed in Reiko. She’d thought her friend was more open-minded about people from other social classes. “Okaru can’t help that her parents died and left her destitute. She became a teahouse girl because there was no other way to make a living.”

“I’m not saying Okaru is a bad person because she’s a teahouse girl.” Chiyo sounded afraid of losing Reiko’s good opinion. “What I mean is that people in her position do whatever they must in order to survive. Sometimes that includes taking advantage of other people.”

“I see your point,” Reiko had to admit. “But Okaru hasn’t asked me for money or a job or a chance to move up in society, the way other people have.”

“We’ve only just met her,” Chiyo said. “We don’t know her very well.”

Reiko also had to admit that she tended to make snap judgments. But she said, “Okaru didn’t strike me as being avaricious. All she wants is help for her friend Oishi.”

“That brings us to another problem,” Chiyo said gently. “We haven’t even met Oishi. How can we say whether he deserves help?”

Logic chastened Reiko. “You’re right. But we do know he performed the ultimate act of loyalty toward his master. That’s a point in his favor.”

“We also know that it’s an illegal vendetta. That makes him a criminal.”

“Not necessarily. Remember, Okaru said he indicated that there’s more to the vendetta than meets the eye.”

Chiyo was looking more uncomfortable by the moment. “We have only her word for that. And I understand that women in her position are often deceptive.”

In order to win customers and earn money, girls like Okaru had to convince the men that they liked them even when they didn’t. They could put that sort of skill to other uses. Still, Reiko prided herself on her intuition, even though she knew Chiyo was right to be wary of Okaru. “I didn’t think Okaru was lying.”

The palanquin neared Edo Castle, and Chiyo leaned forward, as though eager to escape this difficult conversation. “Even if she’s not lying, the truth about the vendetta could be something that puts her-and Oishi-in an even worse light.”

“Okaru is a teahouse girl and Oishi is a murderer,” Reiko said with a touch of irritation. “How could anything be worse?”

“Facts might come out that could cost Oishi his slim chance to get out of his trouble alive,” Chiyo said. “They could also implicate Okaru in Kira’s murder, in which case she would be punished along with Oishi.”

“Maybe so,” Reiko said, “but I think the truth is worth finding out.”

Chiyo regarded Reiko with doubt leavened by fondness. “I wonder if you want a mystery to solve.”

Reiko bristled. She didn’t like Chiyo’s implication that she was solely motivated by selfish desire. “I do,” she confessed. “But I wouldn’t even consider getting involved in this if it weren’t for wanting to help other people.”

“Perhaps you should consider the person who’s most important to you. Your husband. What might you be getting him into on Okaru’s account?”

For the first time Reiko felt uncomfortable with Chiyo. Their friendship was exposing her faults-impulsiveness, too much taste for adventure, and imposing too much on Sano. Still, Reiko believed she’d done right to take the business of Okaru one step further.

“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.