Laura Rowland - The Ronin’s Mistress

“… No,” Lord Asano said, puzzled.

Oishi realized that Kira wasn’t satisfied with the gifts, even though they were suitable for the occasion.

“Please allow me to mention that your success depends on me,” Kira said to Lord Asano. “I will ask you again: Are you forgetting something?”

Now Lord Asano understood that Kira was asking for a bribe. Objection lessened his fear. He was an honest man who deplored bribery. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”

Kira sat back in surprised confusion. Oishi saw him wonder if Lord Asano was too stupid to take a hint, then realize that Lord Asano had deliberately defied him. “Very well,” he said in a voice coated with frost. “Suit yourself.”

That night, when Oishi and Lord Asano dined alone together at Lord Asano’s estate in Edo, Oishi said, “You must bribe Kira.”

“No,” Lord Asano said, even though his hands shook so hard with anxiety that he fumbled his chopsticks. “I won’t surrender like a coward.”

“It’s my duty to advise you to bribe him and swallow your pride. If you don’t, Kira is bound to retaliate.”

“Let him.”

The next day, rehearsals for the ceremony began. As Lord Asano practiced marching up to the dais in the reception chamber where the imperial envoys would sit, Kira exclaimed, “You idiot! You’re supposed to take eighteen steps, not nineteen!”

Lord Asano faltered. “You told me nineteen steps.”

“No, I didn’t.” Kira grinned like a bully in a group of smaller children. He had the power of his position; he could destroy lives. Rumor said he’d done it often.

“Yes, you did,” Oishi said from his place by the door. “I heard you, too.”

He and Kira locked gazes. Oishi’s scowl told Kira that if he continued to play games with Lord Asano, he would have to reckon with Oishi. Kira responded with a sniff. His lessons continued to be so confusing, and so peppered with insults, that Lord Asano couldn’t learn the lines of his speech to the envoys.

“If he slips up during the ceremony, it will reflect badly on you,” Oishi told Kira.

“My reputation is unassailable,” Kira scoffed. “He will bear the blame for his mistakes.”

It was true, as far as Oishi could see. If Lord Asano refused to take Kira’s bullying along with the instructions, he must meet the envoys without any idea what to do or say. The audience at the ceremony would witness and scorn his failure. Lord Asano toiled and suffered under Kira’s tutelage, while steadfastly refusing to give Kira a bribe.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Oishi urged as Lord Asano practiced the ritual after the lessons, until late at night.

But the advice was easier given than followed, especially when Kira tormented Lord Asano in public. At a banquet in the palace, Oishi and Lord Asano heard Kira say, “There’s the country boor. They apparently don’t learn any manners in Harima Province.”

The other guests laughed. Lord Asano went pale with rage.

Eventually, he snapped.

* * *

“I can’t describe Lord Asano’s attack on Kira,” Oishi said. “I wasn’t there.”

While listening to Oishi’s story, Sano had found himself too caught up in it to judge it. Oishi had a talent for bringing characters to vivid life. Sano had experienced outrage at Kira’s behavior and sympathy toward Lord Asano. Which was what Oishi had intended, Sano realized now, as they sat together in Lord Hosokawa’s office.

“Your story offers a logical explanation for why Lord Asano attacked Kira and puts you in a good light,” Sano said. “But is it the true one?”

“It’s true,” Oishi said, unruffled by Sano’s skepticism.

Sano began to understand how Oishi had become the leader of the forty-seven ronin . Oishi was a powerful personality. Sano must take care to avoid falling under his thrall. “After the attack, why didn’t Lord Asano say what his quarrel with Kira was?”

“Put yourself in Lord Asano’s position. You were picked on by an old man; you were too weak to make him treat you with respect. Would you want everyone to know? Wouldn’t you rather take it to your grave?”

“That’s a good point.”

“Besides, Lord Asano knew that explaining why he attacked Kira wouldn’t have saved him. He drew a weapon inside Edo Castle. He was going to die. Telling shameful tales on himself wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“It might have made one very important difference,” Sano said. “Kira might have been punished for starting a feud with Lord Asano.”

“Kira was punished.” Triumph resounded in Oishi’s harsh voice. “Lord Asano knew he could depend on me to see that the bastard got his comeuppance.”

“But you took almost two years to do it.” This was another issue that Sano wanted to resolve, in case it had any bearing on the truth about the murder and relevance to the supreme court’s verdict. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I’m getting to that.” Memory coalesced in his eyes, like a flock of ravens gathering around carrion, as Oishi began the next episode in his story.

1701 April

Lanterns glowed in a courtyard, around a square of straw mats covered with a white rug. Lord Asano knelt on the rug, dressed in a white silk robe. A table before him held a short sword on a stand and a scroll bearing the poem he’d written. His youthful face was rigid with terror, misery, and his effort to withhold an unseemly display of emotions. Oishi stood behind Lord Asano, concealing his own anguish behind a grim expression, his sword drawn. Along the courtyard, government officials stood silent under the unearthly radiance of blossoming cherry trees. Petals fell like pink snow, symbols of life’s transience.

Lord Asano opened his robe with hands that shook violently. His ragged breathing was the only sound in the cool, quiet night. As Oishi looked down at Lord Asano, he wasn’t sure he could perform his part in the ritual. But it would be his last service for his beloved lord, and perform it he must. Hoping that Lord Asano’s last words would give him strength, Oishi glanced at the poem.

More than the cherry blossoms,

Inviting a wind to blow them away,

I am wondering what to do

With the remaining springtime.

Tears almost blinded Oishi. That his master wouldn’t live to see the rest of the spring! Justice had been meted out with terrible efficiency. This morning Lord Asano had drawn a sword inside Edo Castle. This afternoon the shogun had ruled that Lord Asano must die tonight.

Lord Asano reached for the sword. He grasped the hilt in both hands, the weapon pointed at his abdomen. The blade wavered. Straining to hold it still, he looked up at Oishi.

A memory seized Oishi. In the Asano clan stronghold of Ako Castle, the previous Lord Asano lay dying. His family and top retainers watched him draw his last breath. Oishi looked across the bed at Lord Asano’s son, the eight-year-old boy who had just become daimyo . The boy turned solemn, frightened, pleading eyes on Oishi, his special friend among his father’s men. Oishi nodded, telling the new Lord Asano that he would be there to guide him and protect him for his whole life. I will do right by you. And Lord Asano nodded, reassured.

Twenty-two years later, Oishi saw the same pleading in Lord Asano’s eyes. Love and heartache flooded Oishi. He nodded. Lord Asano nodded, turned away, and sat straighter. Uttering a loud cry, he thrust the blade into his gut.

Oishi beheaded Lord Asano before he could feel any pain. Blood spattered the poem. The audience gasped. Cherry blossoms fell. Oishi gazed down at the corpse of his master, and rage burned through his grief. He silently vowed, I will do right by you.