Laura Rowland - The Ronin’s Mistress

“I didn’t want to leave him here,” Gorobei said, ashamed and regretful. “But I couldn’t move him by myself, and no one else would touch him.”

“It’s better that you left him until we got here.” Sano was glad to have any clues intact.

Fukida and Marume peeled back the tarp. Bony feet with bunions appeared; next came withered, veined calves, and a beige kimono with blood spatters that grew bigger as the tarp drew away. The whole upper garment was dyed red. Kira’s arms extended out from his sides, fingers stiff. The corpse ended at the neck. Bone, windpipe, and sinews showed through the blood that had clotted around the severed flesh and congealed into a half-frozen puddle.

The detectives let the tarp drop. Fukida sucked air through his teeth. Marume winced. Gorobei wept. Sano and Hirata gazed in silence, paying their respects to their colleague. Sano endured the spiritual pollution that the dead exude. He brushed aside the irreverent thought that he’d stepped in so much blood that he would have to burn his boots when he got home. Then he asked the obvious question.

“Where is Kira’s head?”

“They took it.” Gorobei clarified, “The men who killed him.”

“Who are they?” Sano said. “Did you get a look at them?”

“No. But I know who they must be. They’re former retainers of Lord Asano.”

Sano realized he should have known. Hirata and Fukida nodded in comprehension. Marume said, “Lord Asano. So that’s what this was about. The incident at Edo Castle-when was it? Two years ago?”

“Twenty-two months, exactly.” Sano recited the details of the incident. “Envoys had come from the Emperor’s court in Miyako. The host in charge of entertaining them was Lord Asano Naganori, age thirty-four, daimyo of Ako Castle in Harima Province. Kira’s job as master of ceremonies was to instruct Lord Asano on how to conduct the ritual. An antagonism developed between Lord Asano and Kira.”

“Has anyone ever figured out why?” Hirata asked.

“No. That’s still a mystery,” Sano said. “But one day Lord Asano drew his sword, struck at Kira, and cut his head. Kira survived, but Lord Asano broke the law against drawing a sword inside Edo Castle, which is a capital offense. Lord Asano claimed he and Kira had a personal quarrel, Kira had provoked him, and he had to defend his honor. Kira claimed there was no quarrel and Lord Asano had attacked him for nothing. The shogun believed Kira. He ordered Lord Asano to commit seppuku . The house of Asano was dissolved, its wealth and lands confiscated by the government, and all Lord Asano’s retainers became ronin. ”

That was a serious disgrace for a samurai, even when he lost his warrior status through no fault of his own. Sano knew because it had happened to his own father. His father’s lord had run afoul of the third Tokugawa shogun, who’d confiscated his lands and turned all his retainers, including the Sano family, out to fend for themselves. Sano’s father hadn’t recovered from the humiliation until Sano had gotten into the Tokugawa regime and restored the family’s honor.

“It appears that these ronin blamed Kira for their lord’s death and they’ve taken revenge,” Sano said.

“But didn’t the shogun rule that Kira wasn’t guilty of anything and therefore shouldn’t be punished?” Fukida said. “Didn’t he forbid any action against Kira?”

Marume covered the corpse with the tarp. “Yes, but apparently that didn’t stop the ronin. ”

“This shouldn’t come as a surprise,” Sano said. Loyalty to one’s master was the highest principle of Bushido. Avenging the death of his master was a solemn duty that a good samurai could not neglect.

“Except that it happened so long after Lord Asano’s death,” Hirata said.

“And except that so many ronin were involved and they killed so many people besides Kira,” Fukida said. “I’ve never heard of a vendetta like this.”

Vendettas usually involved only two people-the perpetrator and the individual who’d wronged him-although sometimes relatives or friends would join in on either side. The scale and sheer brutality of this revenge astounded Sano. It would surely cause an uproar.

“I don’t suppose the ronin bothered to register the vendetta,” Hirata said. Vendetta was legal when the perpetrator notified the authorities of his intentions. This notification served as a warning to his target, who was then on his guard and had time to hide.

“You’re right,” Sano said. “The shogun’s orders prohibited a vendetta in this case.”

“My master was always afraid it would happen anyway,” Gorobei said. “That’s why he had so many guards. That’s why his bedchamber had a secret exit.”

“That just goes to show: If someone’s determined to get you, they will,” Marume said.

“Well, at least the mystery appears to be solved,” Sano said. “We know who killed Kira and why.”

He felt a massive letdown. Kira’s murder was supposed to be the big case that he could impress the shogun by solving, the pathway to regaining his status and honor, but it had proved to be disappointingly simple, almost over as soon as he’d begun.

“We still have to arrest the ronin, ” Hirata said, then asked Gorobei, “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” the old man said unhappily.

“We’ll find them.” Sano hoped that he could accomplish some good by finishing the investigation quickly. “Let’s get to work.”

“IHave good news and bad news,” the matchmaker told Lady Reiko. “Which do you want first?”

The two women sat in the reception room in Sano’s mansion, at the kosatsu -a table built over a sunken charcoal brazier. Their feet and legs were warm in the space around the fire. A quilt covered the table and their laps. They wore silk kimonos lined with fur. The old matchmaker’s was dark gray, Reiko’s a plum shade suitable for a matron of thirty-three. A teapot, cups, and a spread of sweet cakes shaped like flowers lay before them on the table.

“Tell me the bad news,” Reiko said.

The matchmaker was Lady Wakasa, the mother of Lord Ikeda, who was one of Sano’s most powerful allies. She was seventy-nine years old but vigilantly preserved, her hair dyed an unnatural black that matched her teeth, which were also colored black in the fashion of samurai wives. Age had shrunken her to the size of a child and withered her face, but she had the energy of a woman twenty years younger. She liked meddling in other people’s business, and when she’d heard that Sano and Reiko were looking for a bride for their son, she’d volunteered to act as the go-between who conveyed proposals to and from families with marriageable daughters.

“The Fukushima clan rejected your proposal,” she said.

That clan was another of Sano’s allies, with a large domain and much wealth. “Oh,” Reiko said, disappointed.

Lady Wakasa jabbed her finger at Reiko. “I told you that you were reaching too high.” She was blunt and outspoken to the point of rudeness, a trait common in old women, a privilege of age. “When your husband was chamberlain, they would have leaped at a chance to intermarry with your family, but now-”

“I know.” Reiko cut Lady Wakasa off before she could chew over the story of how Sano’s troubles had reduced Masahiro’s marriage prospects. A curse on Yanagisawa! Reiko was furious at him for jeopardizing her children.

“Here’s the good news,” Lady Wakasa said. “A representative from the Chugo clan has offered Masahiro the youngest daughter of the main branch of their family.”

“We were hoping for something better,” Reiko said. The Chugo clan were Tokugawa vassals, but their leader was only a captain in the army. An alliance with them would do little to improve the political standing of the Sano clan. Furthermore, Reiko knew the girl, a dull creature.