Laura Rowland - The Ronin’s Mistress

* * *

Blood welled from the thin line that Kajikawa’s blade cut on the shogun’s neck. The shogun squealed like the pigs butchered at the wild game market. His eyes bulged so wide that the white rims showed all the way around his pupils. His mouth opened so far that Sano could see down his pinkish-gray gullet. His arms and legs shot out in an involuntary spasm. Sano was astounded as well as horrified.

The shogun’s blood was red like everyone else’s! Sano had been conditioned to think of the shogun as a sort of god, even though he knew the shogun’s human failings all too well. The shogun, although weak and sickly, had been such a constant, dominating force in Sano’s life that Sano was shocked to realize he was mortal.

The shogun touched his neck. He lifted his trembling hand in front of his face and saw the blood on his fingers. His breath sucked inward so fast that he choked. His complexion turned ghastly white. Groans poured from the other people in the room.

Kajikawa posed by the shogun, his sword still holding the shogun captive. His features wavered between a grin like a skull’s rictus and an upside-down smile of tragic woe. He resembled an actor who’d thought he was the hero in the play and has just discovered he’s the villain.

The shogun began to shake violently. He pressed himself against the platform as if he could sink through it and escape the blade that verged on slicing through his windpipe. He screamed, “Help!”

“This is blasphemy!” Yanagisawa exclaimed.

Kajikawa pointed at Yanagisawa and said, “That’s enough from you!” His head bobbled at Yoritomo. “Gag him!”

Yoritomo stared in fresh shock. “What?”

“Take off your sash,” Kajikawa ordered Yanagisawa. When Yanagisawa and Yoritomo started to protest, he said, “Or I’ll finish off the shogun!”

The shogun began shrieking hysterically. He drummed his heels on the platform. Infuriated but cowed, Yanagisawa stripped off his sash, threw it to Yoritomo, and knelt.

“I’m sorry, Father.” Yoritomo’s voice quavered as if he were about to cry. He tied the sash around Yanagisawa’s mouth.

Yanagisawa glared above the red and black cloth that muffled his tongue, that separated his lips and teeth. Sano didn’t dare say a word, lest he be gagged and lose his speech, too. The other people in the room were silent while the shogun shrieked.

“Tie his hands and feet, too,” Kajikawa said. “With your own sash.”

His breath puffed and sweat glistened on his forehead, but he was calmer now. Sano wondered what on earth he thought could possibly save him. Yanagisawa extended his legs and hands. Yoritomo bound Yanagisawa’s ankles.

“Tie his hands behind his back,” Kajikawa instructed.

Until he knew what Kajikawa had planned, Sano couldn’t formulate a counterstrategy. Yanagisawa lay on his side on the platform while Yoritomo tied his hands. The sash connected them to his trussed ankles. Sano waited despite a fever of suspense that was almost as unbearable as the shogun’s screams. He braced himself with the thought that when the moment came for him to act, this was one time when Yanagisawa wouldn’t be able to interfere.

“While you’re at it, tie everybody else up,” Kajikawa said.

As Yoritomo trussed the servants and boys, he looked furious as well as despondent without his father to guide him. When he reached Sano, he tied the knots with vicious yanks, cruelly tight.

“Loosen them,” Sano whispered. “So I can save the shogun.”

Yoritomo uttered a breathy, scornful laugh. “Big talk.”

He pulled the sash so tight between Sano’s ankles and wrists that Sano’s spine curved backward. Sano stifled a cry. He watched in helpless fury while Yoritomo tied up Masahiro, who bravely endured his pain. When Yoritomo was done, the scene resembled a tuna auction. Bodies lay scattered on the floor, as immobile as dead fish for sale. Mouths were open as if gasping last breaths. Sano couldn’t bear to look at Masahiro and see his son’s gaze begging him to do something. The time wasn’t right.

Maybe it never would be.

Kajikawa withdrew his sword from the shogun and said, “Get up.”

The shogun’s screams dwindled into a whimper. He tried to rise, but he shook so hard that he fell back on the platform. “I can’t,” he wailed.

“Get up.” Kajikawa jabbed the point of his sword at the shogun’s nose.

Cross-eyed as he gazed at the blade, the shogun levered himself up on his elbows and got his feet under him. Knees wobbling and arms windmilling, soiled with vomit, he looked like a drunk thrown out of a teahouse. Kajikawa caught him from behind, locking his left arm across the shogun’s chest.

“We’re going to walk out of the palace.” He held his blade against the shogun’s blood-smeared throat.

Kajikawa planned to use the shogun as a hostage and ensure his passage to freedom. Sano thought of everything that could go wrong and end up with the shogun killed. But he saw a glimmer of light, the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

Kajikawa propelled the shogun off the platform. The shogun whimpered and stumbled, his legs as limp as noodles. Kajikawa held him up and urged him toward Yoritomo, who stood beside his trussed, gagged, and fuming father. Yoritomo wrung his hands. His chin trembled.

“Walk ahead of us,” Kajikawa said. “Whoever we meet, tell them to get out of the way, or I’ll kill the shogun.”

With an agonized glance at his father, Yoritomo fell into step. Sano called, “Kajikawa- san. ” He squeezed his voice through the pain growing in his bent spine. He tried not to strain against his bonds and make it worse. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Why not?” Kajikawa kept moving. “I’ve already gotten away with plenty that you never thought I would.” But his steps slowed as he neared the door.

Sano hoped it meant he wanted to be stopped. “By now everybody knows what’s happened. The palace will be surrounded by troops.”

“They won’t touch me as long as I’ve got His Excellency.”

The shogun moaned. “Somebody help me!”

Sano wriggled across the floor and blocked Kajikawa’s path. Agony shot through his spine. His muscles contracted. The sash pulled tighter. He gasped.

“You can’t stop me.” Kajikawa edged around Sano.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sano asked.

“Someplace. Anyplace away from Edo.” Kajikawa sounded forlorn.

“You obviously haven’t thought it through. Let me tell you what will happen when you get outside.” The sash cut into Sano’s flesh. His fingers and toes were going numb. “The army will surround you and follow you wherever you go.”

“I don’t want to die!” the shogun blubbered. “Please!”

The other people in the room lay silent, listening. Sano felt them depending on him. The air stank with their fear of what would happen if he failed to save the shogun. Everyone present would surely be punished. And then a war for control of the regime would begin. Yanagisawa’s gaze shot daggers of hatred, rage, and hope at Sano.

“The army won’t touch me.” Kajikawa grunted with exertion as he pushed the shogun ahead. “As long as I’ve got His Excellency, I’m safe.”

“You can’t hang on to him forever,” Sano pointed out. “You’ll have to rest sooner or later. And then it’ll be over. You should surrender now, while you can.”

Kajikawa abruptly stopped a few paces from the door. Sarcasm, terror, and desperation played with his face like wicked ghosts. His eyes watered. “You’re such a know-it-all! So tell me: I’m doomed if I go through with this, but what good will it do me not to?”

Even though Sano saw how badly Kajikawa wanted to be persuaded to surrender, he had nothing to offer Kajikawa in return. Kajikawa wouldn’t believe false promises; Yanagisawa had proved that. Sano ransacked his imagination.