“You spoke with them?” Interest brightened Reiko’s mood. “What did they say?”
Sano related the conflicting stories he’d heard from Oishi, Chikara, and their friends. “I told Yoritomo I would get to the truth, but right now I’m utterly at sea.”
“Did you report the stories to the supreme court? What do the judges think?”
“I did. But their proceedings are confidential, so I can’t tell you which way they’re leaning.”
Reiko studied his face. “I can guess. Things aren’t going well for Oishi.”
“I can’t deny or confirm that. But I have to admit that I’m biased in his favor.”
“Even though you know he’s lying to you?” Reiko said, puzzled.
Sano nodded. He described his impressions of Oishi, then said, “He may be the best example of a samurai that I’ve ever run across.”
Reiko frowned. “You’ve always warned me against being partial toward people who are subjects in our investigations. Now you’re losing your objectivity.”
“I know, I know.” Sano was irritated because women always remembered things a man said and threw them back at him later, and because Reiko was right. “But I can’t help hoping that some kind of evidence will turn up, that will absolve Oishi and his friends.”
“Neither can I,” Reiko confessed.
At least he and his wife saw eye to eye on the case, Sano thought gratefully. The occasions when they’d disagreed had been difficult times in their marriage. But the apprehension on her face sent a jolt of foreboding through him. “What is it?” he asked.
“I heard something about Oishi today.” Reiko spoke with halting reluctance. “From Ukihashi, his wife. She found out that her husband’s mistress is in town. She showed up at the inn, to get a look at Okaru. I’m afraid you’re not going to like her version of events.” Reiko told the story of the hardships that Oishi’s family had experienced. She described Oishi’s bitterness toward Kira, the man he held responsible. “Ukihashi thinks the vendetta was personal.”
“You’re right,” Sano said. “I don’t like it.” Her evidence made the forty-seven ronin sound like every criminal who’d ever lashed out at somebody who’d crossed him. It added substance to the idea that they’d broken the law and deserved to be punished. “Do you think Ukihashi was telling the truth?”
“She seemed honest,” Reiko said, “but we’ve heard so many contradictory stories that I don’t know whether to believe her or not. Will you tell her story to the supreme court?”
“I’ll have to. In the meantime, perhaps I can dig up some facts.”
“Where will you start digging?”
“At the place where this whole business started. Lord Asano’s attack on Kira.”
“Wasn’t that investigated at the time?”
“Not by me.” Sano felt someone watching him. He looked up at a young, pretty woman hovering in the doorway. “Hello?” he said. “Who are you?”
She smiled, shy and nervous, and bobbed a quick bow. “Please excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt. My name is Okaru.”
Disconcerted, Sano turned a questioning look on Reiko.
Her expression was guilty and defensive. “Okaru-san, this is my husband.”
The ronin’s mistress fell to her knees and touched her forehead to the floor. “I’m very honored to make your acquaintance.”
“She had to leave the inn where she was staying.” Reiko explained about the mob. “I invited her to stay with us for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”
Sano wished Reiko had asked him first. Housing under his own roof a witness in a case he was investigating could present serious problems. They’d been down that road before. But Reiko gave him her most trusting look of appeal, and he couldn’t have refused her even if he’d been cruel enough to expel Okaru into the cold, dark night.
That would be like putting a kitten out to die.
“Of course I don’t mind.” Sano beckoned. “Come in, join us.”
“Oh! Thank you!” Okaru crept on her knees toward Sano and Reiko.
A closer look at her surprised Sano. She was even younger than he’d initially thought. He’d expected someone harder, more brazen. Okaru seemed an incongruous match for Oishi, the tough ronin. Then again, Sano could picture her falling in love with a man old enough to be her father, and Oishi enjoying her charms. She also seemed naive enough to be fooled by an act that Oishi had put on to convince the world that he’d become a no-good bum.
If indeed it had been an act.
Sano pitied Okaru, unwittingly caught up in violent, scandalous events. He understood Reiko’s wish to protect her; he felt it himself. “Is there anything you need?” he asked Okaru.
“Oh, your honorable wife has given me so much already,” Okaru said, breathless with gratitude. “Delicious food, new clothes, a beautiful room to sleep in…” Pensiveness wrinkled her forehead. “But I wish I could see Oishi. I miss him so much.”
“Can I take her to see him?” Reiko asked.
Sano didn’t think it would hurt, and maybe it would help his investigation. “That can be arranged.”
“Oh, thank you!” Okaru exclaimed.
“There’s something I want you to do for me while you’re there,” Sano said.
“I’ll do anything for you, anything at all,” Okaru said earnestly.
“Ask Oishi what he meant when he said that the vendetta isn’t what it seems,” Sano said.
Maybe she could get him to tell the truth that Sano had failed to extract.
* * *
In the middle of the night, Yanagisawa awakened suddenly. He heard the noise that interrupted his sound sleep-footsteps in the corridor, on the “nightingale floor,” which was designed to squeak when someone walked on it. He jumped out of bed, looked down the dimly lit corridor, and saw Yoritomo tiptoeing like a thief.
“What are you doing home?” Yanagisawa asked. “I thought you were with the shogun.”
Yoritomo spun around. His face was stricken, pale. His posture drooped. “The shogun didn’t want me. He sent me home.” Guilt, shame, and fear played over his features. “He’s spending the night with one of his other boys.”
Yanagisawa was alarmed, even though the shogun regularly bedded his other concubines. “Has this been happening more often recently?”
Yoritomo looked at the floor. He nodded.
Yanagisawa blew out his breath. He’d known the day would come when Yoritomo grew too old for the shogun’s sexual tastes. It had happened to Yanagisawa when he was about the same age as Yoritomo was now. He’d hoped it wouldn’t happen to his son before he’d firmed up his control over the regime.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yanagisawa asked.
“I was afraid you would be angry,” Yoritomo said in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It’s not your fault.” Yanagisawa was sad that Yoritomo had borne the burden of his fear alone, yet relieved because Yoritomo wouldn’t have to satisfy the shogun’s desires for much longer. Then he thought of his chart and the names he would have to cross off his list of allies when it became known that he was about to lose a major source of his influence over the shogun and his son the chance of becoming the heir to the regime.
Yoritomo’s gaze lifted to Yanagisawa. His eyes mirrored the consternation that Yanagisawa felt. “What are we going to do?”
Yanagisawa began to pace the corridor. He thought aloud: “I’ll have to make sure that Sano doesn’t pick up the allies I lose.”
“How?”
First Yanagisawa had better find out where the forty-seven ronin business was heading and whether he could count on it to ruin Sano. But he didn’t want to admit that his plans were so vague and worry Yoritomo. “It’s better for you if you don’t know.”
18
The dawn was gray and frigid, the sky like a sheet of steel between the earth and the sun. Frozen piles of snow surrounded the courtyard where Sano, Masahiro, and Hirata practiced martial arts. Although they wore thin white cotton jackets and trousers, they didn’t notice the cold. Exertion kept them warm as they engaged in two-against-one combat, Masahiro wielding his sword against Sano and Hirata. Wooden blades clacked. Sano had to admire his son’s valiant endeavors. As he and Hirata steadily backed Masahiro toward the wall, Masahiro made the men work to parry and dodge his strikes. Sano began to feel winded. He would soon be too old to keep up with his son.