Laura Rowland - The Ronin’s Mistress

“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 ronin ? 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 ronin 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 ronin, ” 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.

“Yes, Father.”

“How is the shogun?”

Yoritomo’s smile slipped at the mention of his lord and master. “He’s resting. The doctor gave him a potion to help him sleep.”

Yanagisawa felt guilty because, unlike himself, Yoritomo got no pleasure from sex with men. And the shogun had been far younger and less repulsive when he and Yanagisawa had been lovers than he was now. Yoritomo never complained, but Yanagisawa knew he had to force himself to perform with the shogun, and Yoritomo wasn’t oblivious to the sneers and gossip behind his back. Yoritomo proudly held his head up, but his role of male concubine was wearing on him after nine years. And Yanagisawa hated that he’d put his beloved son in such a position.

Yanagisawa said, “If there were any other way, I would never ask this of you.” He didn’t remember if he’d ever said it before. He felt a need to say it now.

Yoritomo nodded. They were so close, they could read each other’s meanings. “I know, Father. I don’t mind. It’s my part in your plan to secure our future. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

Yanagisawa had explained that unless they could gain control over the Tokugawa regime, their enemies would destroy them. It was true. If Yoritomo hadn’t become the shogun’s concubine, they both would have been dead long ago. Yanagisawa loved his son all the more because of the trust Yoritomo placed in him, because Yoritomo wasn’t bitter, because Yoritomo loved him despite the humiliation Yoritomo had to endure. Yanagisawa wanted to tell Yoritomo how he felt, but he couldn’t. Fathers and sons didn’t speak of such things. Fathers used their sons as they thought right. Sons owed their fathers complete obedience.

Yanagisawa settled for saying, “You’ve done well.”

Yoritomo beamed with delight at the praise, then noticed the chart on the desk. “Is something wrong?” he asked, ever sensitive to Yanagisawa’s moods.

Yanagisawa rolled up the scroll. “No.” He didn’t want Yoritomo to worry or lose faith in him. “I was just counting up our allies. We have plenty.”

“We should have even more, after today. That was brilliant, what you did to Sano. You threw him right into the middle of the forty-seven ronin business, after he thought he was safe. You also thought of just the right punishment for him in the event that he fails. His wife and children are his weakness. He’s sure to lose them, because nobody knows what the right verdict is. However it comes out, it will seem wrong.” Yoritomo’s eyes shone with admiration.

The praise brought Yanagisawa a warm flush of pleasure. A lot of people praised him, but they were just currying favor. Yoritomo was the only one who was sincere. “With luck, the forty-seven ronin should be the end of Sano. All we need to do is let matters run their course.”

Apprehension clouded Yoritomo’s face. “Sano is the one who’s been lucky in the past. You’ve been trying to get rid of him for fourteen years, and he’s still here.” His brow darkened with the memory of the evils that Sano had done to him. “And he usually ends up beating us.”

Yanagisawa was painfully aware of that, but he said, “Never fear. If things go too well for Sano, I can change that.”

The next morning Sano and his troops retraced their path along the southern highway. The weather was even colder than yesterday. The men’s faces were muffled up to their eyeballs in scarves; the horses wore quilted caparisons. Clouds lurked around the edges of a blue sky that seemed paled by a scrim of ice between heaven and earth. The sun was a blinding white crystal that gave off no warmth. The thin top layer of the snow that had melted yesterday had refrozen into a crust that the horses’ hooves broke with loud, jagged sounds. Sano raised his voice above the noise while he told Hirata and Detectives Marume and Fukida about the ronin ’s mistress.

“Do you think Oishi meant that Kira’s murder wasn’t a simple revenge?” Fukida asked.

“Could he and his comrades have had some other motive?” Marume asked.

“Those questions have been on my mind since Reiko told me Okaru’s story,” Sano said. “I hope we’ll find some answers this morning. The supreme court will convene this afternoon, and I’d like to bring the judges some evidence to review.”

He noticed that Hirata wasn’t listening to the conversation. Hirata seemed distracted, perhaps because last night Sano had told him about the shogun’s threat. Hirata must be worried about what it meant for him. Hirata’s eyes darted; he stole glances over his shoulder. Sano knew about the mysterious man who’d been stalking Hirata, and observed that Hirata seemed even more vigilantly on the lookout than usual.