The Ronin's Mistress (19 page)

“This is your house? Oh, it’s so big!”

Chiyo quietly went inside the mansion by herself. As Masahiro dismounted, he saw Taeko, Hirata’s daughter, run toward him.

“Masahiro,” she called, “will you help me make a snowman?”

He would rather have stayed with Okaru, but Reiko said to him, “We’ll have to put Okaru and Goza in your room. You can sleep in Akiko’s room. Please move your things.”

The house was crowded, because after his demotion Sano had had to vacate the chamberlain’s compound and move his family back into his old home, where Hirata’s family lived. Ordinarily, Masahiro would have objected to sharing a room with his sister, but he would gladly make the sacrifice for Okaru.

“I can’t play with you now,” he told Taeko. “I’m busy.”

Taeko helped him move his clothes, bedding, toys, martial arts equipment, and school materials while she talked about a cat that had chased a mouse through the kitchen and tripped a cook, who’d dropped a jar of pickles. Masahiro barely listened. When they made the last trip to his room, Okaru was there. A maid was putting fresh bedding in a cabinet.

“I’ve never slept in such a big, beautiful room,” Okaru said. Smiling at Taeko, she asked Masahiro, “Who’s your little friend?”

“I’m Taeko.” The girl clasped her hands behind her back, regarding Okaru with distrust.

“Well, I’m happy to meet you.” Okaru whirled around the room, exuberant. “I’m so happy to be here! Masahiro-
san,
your mother has been so kind to me. I like her so much!”

Masahiro couldn’t help hoping that she liked him a little, too.

*   *   *

THE SUN WAS
setting when Sano left the palace after his meeting with the judges. A golden glow rimmed the western horizon beyond the city. The snow was a pale, vivid blue beneath an indigo sky that sparkled with stars, the moon a brilliant silver half-coin snared in the branches of cypress trees. Sano strode briskly along a path lined with stone lanterns that spilled flame-light onto the snow. He inhaled cold, smoky air that cleansed his lungs; he blew out the tension from a difficult day.

Two men appeared, walking together toward him. Their identical height, slimness, and imperious carriage told Sano who they were. He bid a regretful good-bye to peace and quiet.

“Good evening, Sano-
san,
” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said.

Sano swallowed repugnance and anger as he civilly greeted Yanagisawa and Yoritomo.

“How goes your investigation?” Yanagisawa asked.

“I can’t complain,” Sano said.

“I don’t see why not,” Yoritomo said. “You’ve gotten nowhere with the forty-seven
r
ō
nin.
I hear they have you running in circles, with all the different stories they’re telling.”

His spite was painful for Sano to bear. Sano could see the hatred corroding Yoritomo inside, destroying everything that was decent in him. Sano wished he hadn’t had to play that cruel trick on Yoritomo.

“I’ll get to the truth eventually,” Sano said. “I always do.”

“The truth can sometimes hurt,” Yanagisawa said. “But I shouldn’t need to warn you about that.” He paused for a beat. “I had a little talk with Ohgami Kaoru this afternoon.”

Ohgami was Sano’s only ally on the council of elders. Apprehension tightened Sano’s nerves.

Yanagisawa laughed, his breath a malignant white vapor in the cold night. “Some of your other friends joined us. Wouldn’t you like to know what we discussed?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I like it or not,” Sano said.

“Your friends feel threatened by the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
business. They’d prefer to distance themselves from it.”

“From you, too, since you’re caught up in it,” Yoritomo said, shrill with gleeful malice.

Sano had foreseen the possibility of this, but he was still shocked to hear that his allies, who’d stood by him during two troubled years, would withdraw their support so abruptly. “You’ve been quick to capitalize on the situation.”

The moonlight shone on Yanagisawa’s pale, handsome face; his eyes sparked with amusement. “No one’s ever called me slow. By the way, your friends say they won’t be happy if the supreme court condemns the forty-seven
r
ō
nin.
”

Sano was uncomfortably aware that the court was leaning in that direction. Did Yanagisawa know, too?

“You’re going to lose your allies,” Yoritomo taunted. “You’ll be all alone. We’ll crush you.”

“It’s not just us that you’ll have to worry about, if the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
are put to death,” Yanagisawa said. “The town is rallying around them.” He chuckled. “Commoners love underdogs who defy the powers that be. Imagine how much bad feeling they’ll have toward the judges, and toward you, the investigator that brought their heroes down.”

“You could become the target of an uprising,” Yoritomo said.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Sano said, regretting their lost friendship.

“As much as I’ll like it when the shogun gets mad at you and sends you to Kyushu,” Yoritomo said. “When you’re gone, your family will still be here to bear the brunt of his anger.”

“And we won’t complain,” Yanagisawa mocked. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.” He gazed pointedly at Sano, who was blocking the path.

Sano waited a moment before he stepped aside. He watched the two tall, slim figures stroll off into the night, shoulders touching, heads tilted toward each other. Sano heard the murmur of their voices and supposed they were cooking up more schemes against him. A wry smile tugged his mouth. The forty-seven
r
ō
nin
affair seemed like a tidal wave that was gathering energy, that would swamp everyone who was trying to ride it. If Yanagisawa and Yoritomo wanted him to take a fall, maybe all they needed to do was wait.

*   *   *

WHEN REIKO WAS
showing Okaru and Goza around the mansion, a servant met them and said, “Excuse me, but Lady Wakasa is here.”

Reiko told the servant to take Okaru and Goza to her parlor and give them refreshments. Then she hurried to the reception chamber. The old matchmaker sat at the
kosatsu
. The table was littered with cake crumbs, an empty teacup, a tobacco box, and a metal basket of hot coals. Lady Wakasa looked cross as she puffed on her tobacco pipe.

“I’ve been waiting two hours,” she said. “Where have you been?”

“A thousand apologies,” Reiko said, bowing and sitting opposite Lady Wakasa. “I had some business to take care of. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I just heard that your husband arrested those forty-seven
r
ō
nin,
” Lady Wakasa said, “so I rushed over to see if there was any news.”

Reiko hesitated to tell Lady Wakasa that she’d just moved the
r
ō
nin
leader’s mistress into her house. Lady Wakasa was a big gossip. Reiko knew that the fact of Okaru’s presence in her home would eventually become public, but she wanted to delay it until she told Sano. Although she risked angering the matchmaker by keeping her in the dark, Reiko said, “Nothing new yet.”

“Oh.” Disappointed, Lady Wakasa said, “Well, I have news for you. The Chugo clan has withdrawn their marriage proposal.”

Reiko was glad Masahiro wouldn’t have that dull girl for his wife, but affronted. “Why?”

“They’re leery of the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
business.” Lady Wakasa grimaced, showing her blackened teeth. “They think it will finish off your husband.”

Reiko was disconcerted, even though she’d known that the case could jeopardize her family’s future. She’d not realized until this moment that if the worst happened and Sano was sent away, Masahiro—and Akiko—would need marriage agreements more than ever. Now, the only prospect of that security was lost.

“But it’s not my husband that will decide their fate; it’s the supreme court,” she said.

Lady Wakasa waved her hand, dispersing the smoke from her pipe. “Makes no difference. He’ll be painted black with the same ink brush.” She seemed to relish delivering this bad news. “Besides, there’s another reason why the Chugo aren’t eager for a connection with your clan. The leader is sympathetic toward the forty-seven
r
ō
nin.
He thinks they’re heroes.” She snorted. “Beasts, that’s what I say they are. He thinks the supreme court is going to condemn them to death, and he’s furious at the judges, and your husband.”

Vexed, Reiko said, “I suppose that even if I still wanted my son to marry into his clan—which I don’t—there’s no use telling him that nobody knows what’s actually going to happen to the forty-seven
r
ō
nin.
”

“No use at all.”

“Are there any new prospects?”

“I’m beating the bushes. We’ll see what birds fly out. Dear me, it’s late; I’d better go.”

Reiko escorted Lady Wakasa to the door. As the old woman rode away in her palanquin, Sano strode toward the house. Reiko met him on the veranda. He said, “Was that the matchmaker?” Reiko nodded; he studied her expression. “Your face says that you don’t have good news.”

“So does yours,” Reiko said. “Let’s go inside and we’ll talk.”

*   *   *

THEY SAT AT
the
kosatsu,
warmed their hands on hot bowls of tea, and ate a dinner of buckwheat noodles in fragrant lobster soup and raw sea bream cut in slices and served with soy sauce, pickled ginger, and rice flavored with sugar and vinegar. Through the lattice-and-paper partitions came the sound of their daughter Akiko romping in the corridors with the maids. After Reiko told Sano about the withdrawn marriage proposal, he said, “So it’s happening again. The rats are leaving a ship they think is going to sink.”

He was used to it. Friends and allies had deserted him in droves during past investigations. But it still hurt. Even though the threat of separation from his family was far worse.

“They’ll come back.” Reiko sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

Usually the deserters had returned after Sano had surmounted the difficulties and prevailed over his enemies—but not last time, when the kidnapping case had gone so wrong. “There are two people working hard to make sure they don’t,” Sano said, then told Reiko about his encounter with Yanagisawa and Yoritomo.

Reiko’s expression mixed anger, bitterness, and humor. “I swear that I’ll make sure those two get their comeuppance someday.”

Sano was amused yet chilled by the determination in her voice. He knew what his wife was capable of, and Yanagisawa and Yoritomo had better pray that they never fell into her hands. “That reminds me of the oath that the forty-seven
r
ō
nin
swore against Kira.”

“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
r
ō
nin
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?”