Laura Rowland - The Ronin’s Mistress

“She scolded me until I told her what Kira had done,” Ukihashi said.

It must have been quite an emotional conversation, Reiko thought.

“I realized I’d misjudged her,” Lady Asano said. “We made up.” She and Ukihashi exchanged affectionate smiles.

“When I talked to you before, everything I told you was the truth,” Ukihashi said to Reiko. “I just left out the part about Kira and Lord Asano and me.”

“Me, too,” Lady Asano said.

The implications of their tale stunned Reiko. “Is that why Lord Asano attacked Kira? Because Kira forced him to take part in the tableau?”

“Yes. On top of insulting him and humiliating him.” Lady Asano’s voice was harsh with the rancor she still felt toward Kira. “It must have been the thing that finally made my husband snap. Because he attacked Kira the very next day after the liaison at the inn.”

Reiko was exhilarated. She had discovered the secret that many had speculated upon for almost two years and none had guessed-the motive behind the attack. But the cruelty of the truth lessened her pride in her accomplishment. Kira had turned Lord Asano into a sexual puppet. Lord Asano must have declined to say why he’d attacked Kira because he’d been too ashamed and he’d wanted to protect the women from disgrace. And Kira hadn’t confined himself to tormenting Lord Asano. He’d made Ukihashi and Lady Asano part of his game. Kira had been a monster who’d enjoyed shaming other people and watching them suffer. Reiko could believe he’d deserved to die.

“What will you do, now that you know?” Ukihashi said. She and Lady Asano regarded Reiko with fear that their candor had averted one threat but brought on another that was worse.

“I’ll have to tell my husband,” Reiko said.

Ukihashi leaned her elbows on the table piled with fish and hid her face in her hands, heedless of the viscera on them. “I can’t bear for it to become public! I don’t want Oishi to know what I did!”

Reiko recalled her first talk with Ukihashi, when the woman had expressed such hatred toward her husband. Why should Ukihashi mind what Oishi thought of her now? She must care more for him than she would admit.

“I think that since we gave you what you wanted, you should do something for us,” Lady Asano said. “Can’t you and your husband keep our secret to yourselves?”

Reiko felt that she did owe the women a favor. “We’ll try.”

Ukihashi dropped her hands. Her face was smeared with slime from the fish. “Will it make any difference for the forty-seven ronin ?”

“I don’t know,” Reiko said, honestly at a loss. She hadn’t had time to think of all its ramifications. “Maybe.” Eager to bring Sano her new evidence, she rose.

The women rose, too, as if they didn’t want Reiko to leave without giving them more reassurances. Lady Asano said, “Now do you believe that we had nothing to do with the attack on your father? We won’t get in trouble?”

“Yes.” Reiko truly did. The air around the women seemed clearer than when she’d arrived; her sense that they were hiding something was gone.

“What about my son?” Ukihashi said. “And Oishi?”

“If they’re innocent, they won’t get in trouble, either,” Reiko said.

But someone would pay. The need for vengeance still burned in Reiko.

She thanked the women for their help, then departed, still stunned by the turn of events. She’d solved one mystery but was no closer to discovering who had attacked her father. Nor had she ensured that her family would be safe.

Sano squinted up at the sky as he and his troops gathered outside the Hosokawa estate. The sunlight had changed color from morning’s thin silver to the brass of afternoon. Sano tightened his mouth in frustration because half the day was gone and he had little to show for it. They’d just finished interrogating the forty-seven ronin. All the men claimed they had nothing to do with the attack on Magistrate Ueda.

“We’re up against a conspiracy of silence,” he said to Marume and Fukida.

“Who’s in on it?” Fukida asked.

Sano looked toward the Hosokawa estate; the guards stationed outside gazed stonily back at him. “Oishi, Chikara, and the other fourteen ronin in there.” The men at the other estates had appeared honestly mystified by the attack on Magistrate Ueda, although some had seemed glad that it would delay the supreme court’s verdict. “Also Lord Hosokawa and all his people.”

“What do you think they’re covering up?” Fukida asked.

“Maybe the fact that one of them set up the ambush,” Sano said. “Or maybe something entirely different.”

A samurai on horseback came galloping up to Sano. It was one of Hirata’s retainers. “Hirata- san asks you to come to Edo Jail at once. He’s arrested the criminal who attacked Magistrate Ueda.”

“Well, well,” Marume said to Fukida. “It looks like Hirata has made up for going missing in action.”

* * *

Edo jail was a cold portal to hell. The canal that formed a moat in front of it was partially frozen, with dirty ice chunked up against its banks. A thick pall of smoke from the surrounding slum hung over the high stone walls, the dilapidated buildings inside them, and the guard turrets. The sentries warmed themselves at a bonfire while police officers escorted prisoners with shackled wrists and ankles through the gates. Inside the dungeon, Sano and Hirata stood in a dank, frigid corridor that echoed with the inmates’ groans. They peered through a small barred window set at eye level in an ironclad door. A man crouched inside the cell, his arms hugging his knees, the sleeves of his gray coat pulled over his hands to keep them warm. The toes of sandaled feet in dirty white socks protruded from beneath his gray trousers. His hair was disheveled, his blunt profile sullen.

“So that’s Genzo,” Sano said, filled with anger, revulsion, and disbelief.

The man seemed so ordinary, like thousands of petty criminals who roved Edo. Scratch their surfaces and you would find the reasons why they’d gone wrong-poverty, ignorance, misfortune. But no sad tale could excuse this man who had injured Magistrate Ueda so severely and murdered his guards. Sano thought of his father-in-law’s wisdom, compassion toward the defendants that appeared in the Court of Justice, and integrity. Genzo, in comparison, was too worthless to live.

Hirata unbolted the cell door. He and Sano entered. Genzo shot to his feet. His hairline receded even though he was only in his twenties. His evasive eyes glinted dimly from between flat lids. He had a thin, mean mouth.

“Why did you do it?” Sano asked.

“I didn’t.” Genzo’s voice was a toneless mutter. Slouching, he rocked his weight from one foot to the other. He said to Hirata, “You got the wrong man.”

Now that he’d had time to think, he’d decided to try to weasel out of his confession, Sano observed with disgust.

“That won’t work,” Hirata snapped. “We know it was you.”

“Speaking of getting the wrong man, that’s exactly what you did.” Already Sano had to struggle to control his temper. “You beat up Magistrate Ueda, who happens to be my father-in-law. You killed his two guards. You won’t be let off with a few months in jail and another tattoo this time. You may as well say good-bye to your head now.”

“This is the shogun’s chief investigator,” Hirata told Genzo. “It really wasn’t a smart choice of people to ambush. But then you’re stupid, aren’t you?”

Surprise registered in Genzo’s eyes, then sank into their sullen murk. “That was Magistrate Ueda?”

“Who did you think it was?” Sano asked.

“Uh.”