Laura Rowland: The Ronin’s Mistress

After his son’s funeral, Yanagisawa had secluded himself inside his compound; no one had seen or heard from him since.

“Have you decided?” Magistrate Ueda asked the forty-seven ronin. They’d been given the three days to discuss the matter among themselves.

“Yes, Honorable Magistrate, we have,” Oishi said in a loud, clear voice.

The noise subsided into an expectant hush. “Tell us, then,” Magistrate Ueda ordered.

Oishi spoke in an even tone devoid of melodrama. “We take pride in the fact that by killing Kira, we have discharged our duty to our master. We are certain that it was righteous.”

Sano wholeheartedly agreed. He’d been unable to prove that Kira had connived to destroy Lord Asano and steal his gold, but people had come forward with tales of how Kira had hurt and humiliated them and enjoyed their suffering. Oishi and Kajikawa were among legions.

“But after having examined our consciences, we realized that our reasons were never as straightforward as we purported,” Oishi said. “I myself had a personal grudge against Kira. It played a big part in my decision to carry out the vendetta. And I’m not the only one who confused personal issues with duty. Some of us blamed Kira for their hardships and their disgrace. Others were angry at the world and eager to strike out at any target. Many thought they had nothing to live for, and they wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.”

Oishi paused, swallowed, and struggled to contain his emotions. Sano felt a lump in his own throat. The other forty-six ronin listened, their somber gazes trained on Oishi. He seemed to draw from them the strength to continue.

“Our motives were never as pure as Bushido requires. We did not truly follow the Way of the Warrior; we followed our own selfish hearts. Even though we performed the highest act of loyalty, we are criminals at the bottom of it, a disgrace to the title of samurai. Our vendetta led to a situation in which the shogun’s life was endangered. Therefore-” He drew a deep breath and spoke in a rush: “We have decided to commit seppuku. ”

Muted exclamations rippled through the audience. Magistrate Ueda looked saddened but gratified. “So be it,” he said. “Your decision is the court’s verdict.”

The other judges shook their heads in amazement: They’d expected the forty-seven ronin to seize their freedom. Sano hadn’t known what to expect. He felt a mixture of awe and distress. No matter their human failings, Oishi and the other men were sacrificing their lives for the sake of honor. It occurred to Sano that their decision had taken into account other considerations besides those Oishi had mentioned. The unavoidable fact was that they had disobeyed the shogun. The shogun would have had to put them to death-even if it had meant overruling the supreme court-or lose face and authority. Now he didn’t have to make the hard decision that he’d created the supreme court in order to avoid. The forty-seven ronin had made it for him. They’d done their duty to him after all.

They were true heroes, paragons of samurai loyalty, exemplars of Bushido, even though they called themselves criminals. What a tragedy that they must die!

“We thank the honorable judges,” Oishi said, his voice firm. “We apologize for the trouble we have caused.”

“Accepted.” His voice heavy with resignation, Magistrate Ueda said, “Your ritual suicide will take place tomorrow morning.”

The assembly bowed. Sano gazed at the bent backs of the forty-seven ronin. He looked hardest at Oishi and Chikara. Father and son would die together. Sano pictured himself and Masahiro in the same position. He blinked to dispel the vision, but its darkness lingered.

“The supreme court is dissolved,” Magistrate Ueda said.

The summons came a month after the forty-seven ronin died. The shogun had taken that long to recover from his ordeal. He’d spent the time in his chambers, attended by physicians and priests, seeing no one else. Edo Castle was rife with rumors. Some said the shogun was dying; some said he was going to abdicate; others said a major purge and reorganization of the government was imminent. Sano didn’t know which, if any, to believe.

When Sano arrived in the palace reception room, the dais was vacant. The mural on the wall behind it depicted cherry trees in pink bloom, appropriate for the season, too cheerful. Yanagisawa was kneeling below the dais. This was the first time Sano had seen him since the day of Yoritomo’s death. Yanagisawa had completely withdrawn from politics.

Sano knelt a cautious distance from Yanagisawa. Yanagisawa turned. Sano was shocked by the change in him. He’d lost so much weight that his body was like a skeleton under his dark green silk robe. Sharp bones protruded through the waxen skin of his face. His eyes were underlined by shadows, his lips raw. Sano thought of Oishi and Chikara. He wondered if Yanagisawa would trade places with them if he could. If Masahiro died, could Sano bear to live?

The shogun minced onto the dais, accompanied by two adolescent boys. When he sat, they knelt on either side of him. Their rosy, sweet faces and bland smiles were identical. One of the rumors was true, Sano noted. The shogun had twins as his new favorites. Sano glanced at Yanagisawa. How terrible for him to see that Yoritomo had been replaced so quickly!

As Yanagisawa bowed to the shogun, he appeared indifferent to everything except his own pain. Sano bowed, too, observing that another of the rumors was false: The shogun wasn’t dying; rather, he looked healthier than usual. The cut on his neck had healed. His holiday from court responsibilities had done him good.

“Forgive me for, ahh, making you wait such a long time to see me.” The shogun’s perfunctory smile conveyed how little he cared about anyone’s feelings except his own.

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Sano replied politely, even though the suspense was killing him. Yanagisawa didn’t answer.

“I suppose you, ahh, think I’ve forgotten what happened the last time we were together.” The shogun’s expression turned peevish. “Well, I haven’t.”

Yanagisawa gazed through the shogun as if he weren’t there. Sano braced himself.

“You,” the shogun said, pointing at Sano, “protected me from Kajikawa. And your wife killed him.” He beamed. “She saved me the trouble. You both served me very well indeed.”

Sano was relieved that apparently Reiko wasn’t going to be punished and their family could stay together. The shogun hadn’t drawn a connection between Sano’s investigation and Kajikawa’s desperate act.

“Whereas you-” The shogun bent a pouty glare on Yanagisawa. “You completely, ahh, lost your wits! You made Kajikawa angry. You got yourself gagged so you couldn’t even speak on my behalf. You were worthless!”

Yanagisawa didn’t protest as the shogun said, “I am relieving you of your post as chamberlain. You’ve been, ahh, neglecting your duties lately, anyway.”

Sano had taken them over because the government needed a chamberlain at the helm.

“I am demoting you to the, ahh, position of my third-in-command. You will vacate your residence immediately.” The shogun added spitefully, “Consider yourself fortunate. If not for our long friendship, I would throw you out of my regime altogether.”

The shogun’s callousness had reached an extreme that Sano could hardly believe. Yanagisawa had lost his son, and the shogun hadn’t offered a single word of condolence! Did he not recall that Yoritomo had died trying to save his life? He seemed to have forgotten that Yoritomo had ever existed. His turning against Yanagisawa was insult piled upon injury.

“Yes, Your Excellency.” Yanagisawa’s voice was cracked, bereft of strength, an old man’s.