Laura Rowland: The Ronin’s Mistress

Was he playing on her sympathy, trying to get her to spare his life? Or did he truly want her to put him out of his misery? In spite of herself, Reiko pitied Yanagisawa. He had lost his child. His grief was genuine. It transformed him from a villain into a man who deserved compassion. Reiko hesitated.

Yanagisawa’s eyes entreated her. The noise from the crowd rose louder. A horde of troops faced down Kajikawa. The shogun, safe with his guards, pointed at Kajikawa and yelled orders. Kajikawa wailed as he realized that he had nothing left with which to bargain for his escape. As the troops charged at him, he turned and ran for the palace, toward Reiko.

Here came the man responsible for the attack on her father.

With an effort that wrenched her whole spirit, Reiko tore herself away from Yanagisawa. She stood in front of the stairs that led to the door. She watched Kajikawa running toward her, out of breath, his heavy head bobbing, legs pumping, sleeves flapping, his eyes wild with panic. He’d looked bigger when she’d seen him holding the shogun hostage inside a room full of people tied up on the floor. Now, as he desperately fled his pursuers, Reiko noted his smallness, his insignificance. He was nothing but a puny coward!

As he neared Reiko, he waved his sword at her. “Get out of my way!”

But smallness didn’t negate the crime he’d committed. That his evils paled in comparison to Yanagisawa’s didn’t excuse Kajikawa. Reiko felt centuries of samurai heritage rise up like a flaming tidal wave in her blood.

Kajikawa was almost upon her. The troops stampeding after him blurred into the background. The roars from the crowd faded. The world contained only herself and Kajikawa. She didn’t need to think before she acted. A lifetime of martial arts training had prepared her for this moment. Instinct took command of her body.

Reiko flicked out her dagger.

Sano took charge after the debacle. Everyone else was too shocked. Although he himself was still reeling from the day’s events, he ordered the army to disperse the crowd and court physicians to attend to the shogun. He sent servants to clean up the shogun’s chamber and arranged for the dead to be removed. Everyone obeyed Sano for want of any other authority. Officials returned to their duties, troops to their posts. A sad parade moved out the gate-porters carrying three litters bearing the corpses of Kajikawa, Ihara, and Yoritomo. Yanagisawa accompanied his son. Tears streaming down his face, he stumbled like a blind man. Sano walked home with Reiko, Masahiro, Hirata, and Detectives Marume and Fukida, through the strangely deserted, quiet castle.

A pale sun and patches of blue showed through the clouds in the sky. Sheets of ice slid from roofs. Water dripped from trees and eaves and cascaded down the walled passages along which Sano and his companions trudged. The crystalline world was thawing into puddles, slush, and mud.

“That was some show,” Marume said.

“People will be talking about it for a hundred years,” Fukida said.

Sano heard a hollow note beneath their humor. They were as shaken as he was. Reiko asked the question that was on everyone’s mind: “What’s going to happen to me?”

Her face was drawn, frightened. Masahiro held her hand. All present understood the gravity of the situation: She’d drawn a weapon inside Edo Castle, killed a man, and threatened the chamberlain. That would surely have repercussions.

As would Yoritomo’s death.

Marume and Fukida looked at the wet pavement instead of answering Reiko’s question. Hirata brooded in some private, dark study of his own. Sano said, “I doubt you’ll be punished. Nobody will take against you on Kajikawa’s behalf. And I’ll protect you.”

Reiko forced a smile, pretending she was reassured. “At least the mystery of the vendetta is solved. The supreme court can decide the fate of the forty-seven ronin. ”

1703 March

More than two months after the forty-seven ronin killed Kira, their trial finally took place, in the reception room at the Hosokawa estate. Sano knelt at one side of the dais upon which the supreme court judges sat in a row. Magistrate Ueda occupied the place at center stage.

The bruises on his face had faded, although the wound on his head had left an ugly scar. His voice was strong as he said, “We are gathered to render a verdict in the case of the vendetta perpetuated against Kira Yoshinaka by the former retainers of Lord Asano.”

The forty-seven ronin knelt in four rows below the dais, on a sheet of cloth covered with white sand: a makeshift shirasu -white sand of truth, a feature of courtrooms, where the defendants sat. It was the largest shirasu in Japan, for the largest trial in history. Oishi knelt in the front row, his son Chikara beside him. All the men were dressed in formal black silk robes. Their faces wore identical, stoic expressions. Again Sano had the sense that they were one being. He could almost hear their pulses beating in unison. They looked straight ahead at the court, ignoring the spectators who overflowed out the door. These included officials from every government department. They wanted to be among the first to hear the verdict. They were as hushed and still as the forty-seven ronin.

“This is an unprecedented situation,” Magistrate Ueda went on. “Not only was the vendetta particularly violent and not sanctioned by the law, but it had many facets, which raised many questions. Because we the judges of this court have had such difficulty in determining what really happened, we have been unable to agree on a just decision. Until now.”

Sano felt suspense build, a rumbling sensation, as if an underground volcano were about to erupt. He had to force himself to breathe. Every investigation he’d undertaken had brought troubling consequences, but never had the fate of so many people hinged on his actions. This time he’d wielded more influence over fate than in previous cases, because he’d shaped the law to fit his own notion of justice.

It was too late to wonder whether he’d done the right thing.

“At last we know the truth,” Magistrate Ueda declared.

The forty-seven ronin didn’t react, but the spectators’ heads turned toward Sano. He’d told the court the story of the vendetta. The judges had kept it confidential from everyone else except the shogun, although many other people knew some or all the details-those present during Kajikawa’s confession; Hosokawa clan members; the Council of Elders. Accurate and false versions of the story had spread through Edo. And many people knew that Sano was responsible for dragging the truth into the light.

“An unprecedented situation calls for an unprecedented response,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Therefore, we have decided not to render the usual sort of verdict.”

Sano was also responsible for this decision. He’d proposed it to the judges, and after debating it strenuously for two months, they’d agreed that it was the best course of action.

Murmurs of surprise swept through the audience. The forty-seven ronin remained unperturbed: Sano had told them about the decision three days ago, as soon as it had been made.

“We will allow you, the defendants, to decide your own fate,” Magistrate Ueda said. The audience clamored so loudly that he had to raise his voice. “I have ordered each of you to look into your spirit, to let your honor and your conscience be your guide in determining whether you should be punished by death or pardoned and set free.”

Inspector General Nakae and Lord Nabeshima tightened their mouths. Superintendent Ogiwara and Minister Motoori, his broken leg propped on cushions, nodded. Magistrate Ueda had had quite a time convincing all the judges that Sano’s plan was the best way to calm the controversy and prevent the forty-seven ronin ’s supporters from going to war with their detractors. He and his allies had finally prevailed over the Yanagisawa faction, which was in chaos.