The other judges assented, albeit with reluctance. Lord Nabeshima raised his yellowish hand. When Magistrate Ueda nodded at him, he said, “How will we arrive at a verdict? Will each judge get a vote? What if there’s a tie?”
“Rule number two: The decision will have to be unanimous,” Magistrate Ueda decided. “We’ll deliberate until everyone agrees on the verdict.”
Sano thought this was the best strategy. He didn’t like the idea of the court dispensing liberty or death to the forty-seven ronin based on a scant majority of votes. Nor did he want Yanagisawa’s cronies ramming through a verdict that would hurt his family.
“Now we’ll determine where we stand as of this moment,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Who thinks the forty-seven ronin should be pardoned and set free? Raise your hands.”
No one did.
“Who thinks they should be punished for murdering Kira?” Magistrate Ueda asked.
Everyone kept their hands down.
Sano figured that the judges didn’t want their opinions spread all over town. Nobody wanted to attract censure from those who disagreed with him.
Magistrate Ueda apparently reached the same conclusion that Sano had, for he said, “Rule number three: The proceedings of the supreme court are to be secret. What happens here, stays here. Everyone who’s not on the court and not required to testify before it will leave the room. That means everybody except Sano-san.”
The people in the audience reacted with frowns and mutters: They didn’t want to miss out on the fun. Inspector General Nakae said, “Limiting the number of onlookers is fine, but don’t we need someone to write down the proceedings?”
“That’s a good idea,” Magistrate Ueda said. “I appoint you.”
Nakae pulled a disgruntled face. The attendants departed, leaving Sano as the court’s lone observer. The chamber seemed cavernous and empty, and cold without their body heat.
Magistrate Ueda said, “Let’s try again. Who thinks the forty-seven ronin should go free?”
Four hands rose, including his, then dropped.
“Who thinks they should die?”
Five other hands went up, including the inspector general’s.
“It seems that we have a few abstainers who are uncertain,” Magistrate Ueda said.
The judges looked at one another in concern. They, and Sano, had noticed that opinions differed within the two factions. The case had the potential to shift alliances and change the political landscape.
Inspector General Nakae raised his hand, was recognized, and said, “Am I going to change my opinion? No.” Murmurs of agreement came from the other judges. “How will we even begin to reach a unanimous decision?”
“Our opinions have been shaped by the very little information available to us thus far,” Magistrate Ueda said. “We need new evidence to shed light on the case of the forty-seven ronin. Sano-san is under orders to investigate the case and bring us that evidence.” He nodded to Sano. “Please come forward.”
As Sano walked up the length of the chamber, he discerned that except for Magistrate Ueda, he had no friends here, not even among the men he’d nominated to the court. Scorn, pity, repugnance, and fear lurked behind the other judges’ neutral expressions. He embodied their worst nightmare, as Oishi embodied Sano’s own. Sano represented what could happen to them if their enemies got the better of them. And he still had his reputation as a rogue who would do what he thought was right, in spite of the dangers to himself or anyone else. The judges probably viewed him as a keg of gunpowder dropped in their midst, Sano thought with dour amusement that didn’t ease his trepidation. He realized that the supreme court was, from his perspective, a terrible idea, and his situation was even graver than he’d initially thought. Not only would he share the responsibility for the verdict that the judges rendered, but he couldn’t control them. None of them except Magistrate Ueda had his interests at heart. The others would do as they pleased with the evidence he provided, his family’s welfare be damned.
Sano knelt at the end of the rows of judges, facing them, at Magistrate Ueda’s right. He bowed. They bowed. Sano was in a cold, drafty spot, or maybe that was just his imagination.
“What have you to report?” Magistrate Ueda asked.
“I’ve interviewed the forty-seven ronin, including Oishi Kuranosuke, the leader, and his son Chikara,” Sano said. “I also have a statement from a woman named Okaru, who is Oishi’s mistress.”
While he summarized their stories, he could only hope his work would lead to a just verdict. He wished he were impartial enough to believe that the verdict could be just even if it deemed the forty-seven ronin guilty of unlawful murder and broke up his family.
The instant he finished, hands rose. Magistrate Ueda said, “I’ll allow an open discussion.”
“Oishi and Chikara have conflicting versions of the events,” said Motoori Akihiro, the Minister of Temples and Shrines, a judge on Magistrate Ueda’s side. He was almost blind, his eyes cloudy, and almost crippled by stiff, sore joints. “Which is lying?”
“It doesn’t matter which,” said Lord Nabeshima. “Their stories agree on the most important point, and so do their comrades’ stories: The forty-seven ronin banded together to avenge Lord Asano by killing Kira. I don’t care whether Oishi planned the vendetta immediately after Lord Asano’s death or not until some loudmouth from Satsuma insulted him. Conspiracy is illegal. So, therefore, was the vendetta.”
“The forty-seven ronin didn’t even show any remorse,” said Hitomi Munesuke, a colonel in the Tokugawa army, seated in the inspector general’s row. He was vigorous and fit at age sixty, even though he walked with a cane. He had a pleasant, honest face and disposition. Sano had nothing against him, except that he’d had the bad judgment to fall in with Yanagisawa.
“Why should remorse make any difference?” the inspector general asked his friend. “They broke the law. And let us not forget that Kira wasn’t their only victim. They also killed his retainers. That was murder of innocent citizens, in cold blood.”
“That’s a separate issue,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Our job is to rule on the vendetta against Kira.”
“The vendetta was illegal.” The inspector general seemed stuck on this point, like glue. “End of story.”
“Not so fast,” said a judge from Magistrate Ueda’s side. He was Ogiwara Shigehide, a superintendent of finance. Perhaps forty-five years old, he was handsome in a dramatic way, with large, protuberant eyes, red lips and cheeks, and blue-black hair. He would play well on the Kabuki stage, with his booming voice that would carry to the back of a noisy theater. “There are other parties in the case besides the forty-seven ronin. I’m interested in the mistress.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Lord Nabeshima muttered, and his friends chuckled. The finance superintendent was a notorious womanizer.
Ogiwara cut his eyes at them. “She could be the key to the whole case. We should bring her in to testify.”
“She’s just a whore. She would probably say anything to save her lover,” Lord Nabeshima said.
“That doesn’t mean she’s not telling the truth in this instance,” Ogiwara said. “The fact that there are discrepancies between the forty-seven ronin’s stories indicates that there are indeed things about the vendetta that haven’t come to light.”
“Discrepancies such as the different explanations for why Oishi left his wife and took a mistress?” Inspector General Nakae laughed. “We’re here to rule on a murder, not wallow in sordid domestic details.”
“I thought you liked sordid domestic details,” Ogiwara retorted.