The Ronin’s Mistress

14

At the inn, Reiko’s guards watched over Ukihashi. The crowd outside chanted, “Okaru, Okaru!” People stood on ladders, to see over the fence. The innkeeper shouted at them, “Go away!”

Ukihashi hunched in her cloak, her hands muffled under it. Her hair hung in wet, lank strands, some stuck to mucus that smeared her face. Her eyes had a vacant, unfocused look.

“I’m going to call the police,” the innkeeper told Reiko. “They’ll arrest her for attacking my guest.”

“Please don’t,” Reiko said. “Nobody was seriously hurt.”

“I don’t want her around here.”

“We’ll take her away.”

Reiko and Lieutenant Tanuma walked the woman out the gate, with Chiyo following, while the other guards pushed back the crowd. “We’ll go to that teahouse.” Reiko pointed down the street, at a building with red lanterns hanging from its eaves.

Soon Reiko and Ukihashi were seated in the private room, a decanter of sake and two cups on a low table between them. Reiko had asked Chiyo and Tanuma to wait in the main room of the teahouse with her other guards. Ukihashi shivered; her teeth chattered. Reiko poured a cup of the heated sake and handed it to her. She gulped the liquor, then let out a tremulous sigh and grew still.

“Do you feel better now?” Reiko asked.

“Yes.” Color reddened Ukihashi’s cheeks, and lucidity returned to her eyes. “I’m sorry I hit your boy,” she said in a quiet, chastened voice. She stole a glance at Reiko. “May I ask who you are?”

“My name is Reiko. I’m the wife of the shogun’s sosakan-sama.”

Ukihashi’s expression combined awe at Reiko’s high rank with shamed gratitude. “Thank you for stopping that man from calling the police. I don’t know what would have become of my little girls, had I been put in jail. Thank you for your kindness.”

Reiko couldn’t, in good conscience, call it kindness. “It was nothing.” Ukihashi had been married to the leader of the forty-seven ronin and might have information that could benefit Sano’s investigation. Yet she did sympathize with Ukihashi and want to help her. This was a woman abandoned by her husband, who’d not only forsaken her for another woman but committed an act that many people considered an atrocious crime, an act that was creating a public uproar. And Ukihashi had young daughters affected by their father’s deeds, as well as a son who was one of the forty-seven ronin.

Ukihashi smiled bitterly. “You’re the first person who has given me any sort of help since my husband became a ronin. In case you don’t know, his name is Oishi. His master was Lord Asano, who was sentenced to death for drawing a weapon inside Edo Castle.”

“I know,” Reiko said.

“I suppose everyone has heard what Oishi and his friends have done. Tongues are wagging all over town. It’s bad enough that the old scandal about Lord Asano has come up again, but since that little whore started blabbing, there’s new dirty laundry for the public to smell.”

Reiko understood how much Okaru’s appearance on the scene had humiliated Oishi’s former wife. “Okaru is sorry. She won’t talk again.”

“That’s closing the stable door after the horses have already escaped,” Ukihashi said with a humorless laugh. “I didn’t intend to attack her. I don’t really care if she stole my husband. I just wanted to see her. I lost control. She’s so young and beautiful.” Envy, like acid, corroded Ukihashi’s voice. “Everybody is paying attention to her. Nobody cares about me.” She thought a moment, then said, “Maybe I should tell my story.”

Here was an opportunity to get Ukihashi talking about her husband and the vendetta. Reiko said, “What would your story be?”

“That my husband served the Asano clan his whole life. So did his family and his ancestors. So did mine. The house of Asano was the reason for our existence.” She must have been storing these thoughts inside her, and now they spilled out. “When it was dissolved, we lost our livelihood, our home, and our honor.” Whatever polite reserve that her breeding had given her, she’d evidently lost it when she’d been cast out of her station. “And it all happened because of that law against drawing weapons in Edo Castle.”

Indignation sparked in her red, watery eyes. “Kira wasn’t even seriously wounded! Why should Lord Asano have had to die? The law is ridiculous, and so was the shogun’s decision!”

Reiko was startled to hear her criticize the shogun so bluntly. Criticism was tantamount to treason, for which the penalty was death. “Keep your voice down,” Reiko warned.

“I’m only saying what many people thought,” Ukihashi retorted.

It was true. Reiko recalled the aftermath of Lord Asano’s attack on Kira. Sano had told her that after Lord Asano’s death there had been much secret discussion, and many government officials thought the law had been applied too harshly. Many said the shogun was so afraid of violence that he wanted to make an example of Lord Asano and prevent similar incidents. Reiko agreed, although she couldn’t say so in public.

“No matter what anybody thinks about what Lord Asano did, it wasn’t his retainers’ fault.” Ukihashi clasped a hand to her bony chest. “We didn’t break the law, yet we paid the price. The government threw us out on the street without a penny to buy rice for our children!”

Reiko knew this was what happened when a samurai became a ronin-his whole family suffered. Ukihashi personified Reiko’s own worst fears, which arose whenever Sano was threatened with losing his place in the Tokugawa regime and his samurai status. Ukihashi’s fate could be Reiko’s, someday. Or at least Reiko had thought it was the worst possible fate, until the shogun had threatened to take Sano away from her and the children. It seemed better to be cast out together than divided permanently.

“We became paupers almost overnight,” Ukihashi went on. “We could barely afford to rent a hovel in the merchant quarter.”

Rapid descent into poverty was typical for ronin after they lost their stipends. Reiko wondered uneasily how much money Sano had. Not that she would know how long it would support their family. Ladies of her class didn’t deal with finances. The first time Sano had ever talked about money with her was after he’d been demoted and he’d had to tell her to spend less.

“Our relatives and friends cut their ties with us,” Ukihashi added.

Custom divided a ronin from the entire samurai class. Friends and kin feared that the taint of disgrace would rub off on them and they might share the outcasts’ misfortune. What a blow this must be! Reiko could hardly bear to ask, “How have you survived?”

“By the labor of my own hands.” Ashamed yet proud, Ukihashi removed her gloves and displayed her hands to Reiko. The skin on them was red, dry, cracked, and calloused. “I’m a maid in a rich salt merchant’s house. Because Oishi refused to work. It was up to me to feed us and keep a roof over our heads. My daughters work, too, even though they’re only eleven and eight years old. My son Chikara helped out before he left. He was fourteen at the time.”

The children were near the same age as her son, Reiko noted. She hated to think of Masahiro losing all his future prospects-which he might indeed, if Sano went away. How terribly Masahiro would miss Sano! They were so close, and a boy needed his father.

“Chikara did odd jobs around town. He’s a good boy.” Ukihashi’s hard voice softened for a moment. Then her anger revived. “It’s bad enough that Oishi took revenge on Kira even though it was illegal, but he had to drag Chikara into it. My son!” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “He’s as good as dead!”

Reiko felt a pity for Ukihashi that was stronger due to a sense of identification with her. Both their families were at stake. And if Sano were ever duty-bound to carry out an illegal vendetta-the gods forbid-Masahiro would have to go along, and Reiko would have to accept it. Now she sought to offer some comfort to Ukihashi.

“Maybe Chikara won’t have to die.” Reiko told Ukihashi that the government couldn’t settle the controversy about what to do with the forty-seven ronin and so had created a supreme court to decide. “My husband is investigating the case for the court. If you can provide him with evidence that the forty-seven ronin should be pardoned, then maybe they will be.”

Ukihashi raised her face. Her eyes streamed with tears but shone with cautious hope. “What sort of evidence?”

“Information that suggests that Kira deserved to be killed, which the shogun didn’t have when he forbade action against Kira. Or another kind of clue that Oishi and the other ronin were justified in breaking the law.”

Ukihashi’s face fell. “Is that what my son’s life depends on? Proving that Oishi did the right thing?” Scorn married the despair in her voice. “Well, it isn’t going to happen.”

“How can you be so certain?” Reiko asked.

“Because I know why Oishi did it. He wasn’t justified.”

Reiko felt compelled to defend the man. “He was loyal to his master. He did his duty as a samurai. That counts for something. Maybe if there were other factors-”

“Is that what you think this is all about?” Ukihashi interrupted. “Loyalty? Duty? Bushido?” She spat the last word as if it revolted her. “Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Listen, and you’ll see.”

1702 June

On a warm, rainy night, Ukihashi trudged up to her house in a row of attached, crowded, ramshackle buildings in a poor district of the merchant quarter. She’d spent a hard day at work. Tired and wet, she lugged a basket of leftovers stolen from her employer’s table, pickings to feed her family.

In the house’s single room that served as parlor, kitchen, and bedchamber, Chikara and the two girls were building a fire in the hearth with bits of coal and wood they’d scavenged. Oishi lounged on the floor, nursing a jar of cheap wine.

Ukihashi dumped her basket beside him. “Have you been sitting there all day?”

“All day today, all day yesterday.” His sarcastic voice was slurred. “And probably all day tomorrow, too.”

“How can you just sit around and let your wife and your children support you?” Ukihashi demanded. “Why can’t you take care of us as you should?”

Oishi gulped wine and flapped his hand. “Why don’t you just shut up?”

Once, Ukihashi had been a quiet, docile wife, but the hardship of their new life had stripped her of respect for her husband. “Not until you go out and work.”

He hurled the jar against the wall. The empty jar shattered. “Didn’t I work hard for Lord Asano? Don’t you think I would be working now if he was alive?”

The children fled. They hated their parents’ quarrels, which often turned ugly.

“Those days are over,” Ukihashi retorted. “It’s time to accept that.”

“I won’t lower myself to do menial labor,” Oishi said stubbornly. “I won’t bring more disgrace on myself.” Lurching to his feet, he shouted, “It’s not my fault that this happened. It’s because of Kira. If not for him, I wouldn’t be a ronin. The bastard!” He punched the wall. The tenants next door yelled.

Ukihashi faced him, hands on her hips. “I’ve had enough of your tantrums and your excuses. Either fulfill your responsibilities as a husband and father or get out.”

“I’ve had enough, too.” Oishi staggered around the room, throwing clothes, shoes, and other personal items into a quilt; he tied up its ends. “I’m going.”

Ukihashi was shocked; she’d not thought he would call her bluff. “Where? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to kill that cursed Kira.”

Ukihashi had heard him say that many times while he’d ranted about Kira and the suffering the man had caused him. Nothing had come of it. But this time she saw new, fierce determination in Oishi’s face. She was suddenly terrified.

“You can’t,” she said. “The shogun forbade action against Kira. You’ll be punished.”

“I don’t care.” Securing his swords at his waist, Oishi headed toward the door.

Ukihashi was appalled that she’d pushed him too far. “Do you realize what will happen to me, and the children, if you do this? We’ll be punished, too.”

His expression hardened into stone. He was beyond caring how his actions affected his family. She resorted to scorn as her weapon. “What makes you think you can do it? You’ve said that Kira is surrounded by guards. And look at you-you’ve become a drunken slob. You’re going to kill him?” She laughed, covering her fright with disdain. “You and who else?”

Oishi shouted, “Chikara!”

The boy appeared in the doorway.

“I’m going to avenge Lord Asano,” Oishi said. “You’re coming with me.”

Horror seized Ukihashi’s throat. “No! You can’t take him!”

“His place is with me,” Oishi said. “Chikara, pack your things.”

Chikara looked from his father to his mother, torn between them, miserable. But he complied. Oishi told Ukihashi, “I’ll get a divorce before we kill Kira. You won’t be troubled any further by anything I do.”

Too late, Ukihashi remembered how much he meant to her. He was her husband that she loved, her children’s father, her life. “No!” she cried, flinging herself at him.

Oishi pushed her away. Their daughters came running; they cried, “Papa, don’t go!”

Ukihashi fell to her knees. “Please, forgive me! I’ll never scold you again, if you’ll just stay!”

She and her daughters wept as Oishi and Chikara walked out into the darkness and rain. She felt her love turn to hatred because Oishi was about to destroy all their lives.

* * *

In the private room of the teahouse, Ukihashi leaned across the table toward Reiko. Her eyes shone with angry triumph as she said, “So you see: The vendetta was Oishi paying Kira back for ruining him. That wasn’t loyalty, or duty, or samurai honor. It was pure selfishness.”

Reiko sat silent, disturbed by what she’d heard. Was this woman’s testimony the critical piece of evidence that would decide the case against the forty-seven ronin? If so, what would it mean for her own family? Reiko also thought of Okaru, who wanted so badly to save her lover.

The expression on Ukihashi’s tearstained face combined a cruel smile with pain. “Here’s what your husband is going to find out during his investigation: Oishi deserves to die. Chikara and the others deserve to die for going along with him. And then, will the supreme court pardon them?” She uttered a dismal laugh. “I would be fooling myself if I thought so.”