Then came his marriage to the only child of one of the shogun’s chief retainers, achieved partly by flattering his prospective father-in-law, partly by conducting covert smear campaigns against his rivals. He’d taken his wife’s family name, Ogyu, and become his father-in-law’s adopted son and heir. He’d risen to the rank of councillor. When his father-in-law died, the family wealth came to Ogyu, along with the old man’s position: north magistrate of Edo.
With his spy network for eyes and ears, he’d run the city for thirty years, exercising an iron control that he hid under a guise of elegant nonchalance. Never had a hint of scandal stuck to him; he had always managed to hide the small acts of corruption he considered perquisites of his position.
Until recently, when one moment of carelessness and greed had brought him under Lady Niu’s power.
Two years ago, the shogun had issued the first Dog Protection Edicts. Violators had begun appearing in Ogyu’s courtroom. Most were poor peasants whose sentences he’d pronounced without a second thought. Then one day a well-dressed young man had come to see him.
“Magistrate Ogyu, I am the son of Kuheiji, the oil merchant,” the man said, bowing as he knelt on the floor of Ogyu’s office. “My father has been arrested for killing a dog. Tomorrow he will be brought before you for judgment and sentencing. I’m prepared to offer you a large sum in exchange for his release.”
Ogyu studied the merchant’s son, noting the signs of fear that the man’s businesslike manner couldn’t hide: restless shifting one moment, followed by unnatural stillness the next. “And what makes you think I would be open to such an offer?” he asked.
He’d accepted bribes before, but only when an offense was minor and the offender’s guilt questionable. The shogun had informed him-in person, yet-that the Dog Protection Edicts were to be enforced rigorously, with no exceptions. Ogyu could lose his position, or even his life for doing otherwise.
“I meant no insult, Magistrate.” The merchant’s son was trembling visibly now. “As a dutiful son, I am pleading with you for my father’s life and freedom. Here-I give you three hundred koban. And I swear on my own life that I will tell no one.”
Ogyu had started to wave his hand in dismissal. The hand stopped in midair as he stared at the gold coins the man spilled out of a bag and onto the floor. With this much money, he could build a summer villa in the hills. But woe on him if the shogun learned of the bargain! Then he thought: how would His Excellency ever know? The glitter of the coins helped him think of more reasons why he should accept the bribe. He began to rationalize. The dog was already dead; punishing the merchant wouldn’t bring it back to life. One small infraction of the law on Ogyu’s part wouldn’t jeopardize Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s chances of producing an heir.
“Very well,” Ogyu said, gathering up the coins.
He’d freed the merchant, built his villa, and almost forgotten the matter. Then, last spring, he’d called on Lord Niu. Lady Niu waylaid him in the corridor as he was leaving.
After an exchange of pleasantries, she said, “A fine oil adds much to the taste of food. Even the dogs whom the shogun protects would agree, I think. Would you not pay three hundred koban for the best oil a merchant has to offer?”
To anyone else, her comment would have sounded idiotic. But Ogyu realized with horror that it meant she knew about the bribe. He’d lived in fear ever since. Now that fear prevented him from enjoying the memory of all his achievements. He couldn’t think of his spectacular rise to power without fearing that he’d reached the pinnacle of a mountain, only to find himself poised to tumble down its other side. Was this the day Lady Niu would finally use her dangerous knowledge?
The sound of voices outside interrupted his thoughts. Lady Niu had arrived; the servant was ushering her into the tea garden. His mouth dry with anxiety, Ogyu went to meet her. He reassured himself that Lady Niu simply wanted a discussion, as her letter had said. He would talk her out of making trouble for him. Everything would be fine.
When he saw her sitting on the bench, he experienced another qualm. She was dressed with impeccable correctness for the ceremony, as if she, too, saw an advantage in coming prepared to this meeting. Her black outer garment, worn fashionably off the shoulders, covered a black silk kimono patterned with the traditional winter combination of plum blossoms, pine boughs, and bamboo. Regal and beautiful as always, she rose when she saw him.
Ogyu greeted her in the prescribed manner, fighting uneasiness as he bowed. “My lady, welcome to my humble residence. Your acceptance of my invitation to take tea does me a great honor.”
Lady Niu bowed, too. Although she, as a daimyo’s wife, outranked Ogyu, he was a man, a magistrate, and some twenty years her senior. Their bows reflected these considerations, with neither bending lower than the other. They’d begun their sparring as approximate equals, a fact that pleased Ogyu.
“On the contrary, Ogyu-san. It is your hospitality that does me the honor.” Lady Niu’s greeting also followed the conventional pattern. “The tea ceremony offers us a haven from worldly cares.
But havens can be temporary, or even illusory. Is this not so?“ Her lips curved in a smile. The cosmetically blackened teeth, meant to enhance her beauty, made her mouth look like a fount of death.
“Uh, yes. Quite.”
Her remark had no special significance, Ogyu decided as he left her at the cottage’s kneeling entrance and went around to the server’s door. She wasn’t warning him that this peaceful moment must give way to conflict, if it hadn’t already. With increasing trepidation, he passed through the kitchen and knelt in his place at the hearth.
He heard the splash of water as Lady Niu rinsed her hands and mouth at the basin outside, and a rustle of silk as she removed her shoes. Then the door slid open, and she entered on her knees. The humble posture failed to detract from her dignity, as Ogyu had hoped. Nor did her next comment relieve his nervousness.
“ ‘Mountains and plains, all are taken by the snow-nothing remains, ’ ” she recited, reading the haiku on the scroll. She bowed to the alcove and took the seat of honor in front of it.”Ah, such poetry refreshes me. I feel a great sense of leisure, as though I need not hurry back to the bustle of the world. “ She tucked her robes comfortably around herself, as if indeed preparing to stay a good while.
The purpose of the tea ceremony was the ritual Zen purification of body and mind, in surroundings that affirmed man’s oneness with nature. But Ogyu had had another aim in mind when he’d invited Lady Niu. He’d hoped that the ceremony’s rigid confines would somehow defuse a volatile situation. Lady Niu, with her refined manners, wouldn’t speak of unpleasant matters within the sanctuary of the tea cottage. Now he realized that she was fully capable of using the ceremony for her own purposes. She’d already managed to gain an advantage over him by letting him know his scheme had backfired. Caught in a trap of his own making, he was now unable to get rid of her without rushing the ceremony and appearing an ungracious host.
Ogyu’s hands shook as he wiped the inside of the tea bowl with a napkin. “A very astute observation, my lady,” he said weakly.
Please, he thought, let something happen to end this farce of a tea ceremony! Ordinarily he would have taken his time wiping the bowl, enjoying its shape and texture; now, he gave it a few hasty swabs, barely conscious of his actions. Let an earthquake bring down the roof!
The roof didn’t fall. Instead Lady Niu said, “The poem reminds me of a scene from a play that featured Edo ’s foremost onnagata.” She paused, letting him absorb her words. “The play may have also had a line about thunder and lightning. I expect you know it? If not, a certain member of your staff might.”