The Ronin’s Mistress

40

1703 March

More than two months after the forty-seven ronin killed Kira, their trial finally took place, in the reception room at the Hosokawa estate. Sano knelt at one side of the dais upon which the supreme court judges sat in a row. Magistrate Ueda occupied the place at center stage.

The bruises on his face had faded, although the wound on his head had left an ugly scar. His voice was strong as he said, “We are gathered to render a verdict in the case of the vendetta perpetuated against Kira Yoshinaka by the former retainers of Lord Asano.”

The forty-seven ronin knelt in four rows below the dais, on a sheet of cloth covered with white sand: a makeshift shirasu-white sand of truth, a feature of courtrooms, where the defendants sat. It was the largest shirasu in Japan, for the largest trial in history. Oishi knelt in the front row, his son Chikara beside him. All the men were dressed in formal black silk robes. Their faces wore identical, stoic expressions. Again Sano had the sense that they were one being. He could almost hear their pulses beating in unison. They looked straight ahead at the court, ignoring the spectators who overflowed out the door. These included officials from every government department. They wanted to be among the first to hear the verdict. They were as hushed and still as the forty-seven ronin.

“This is an unprecedented situation,” Magistrate Ueda went on. “Not only was the vendetta particularly violent and not sanctioned by the law, but it had many facets, which raised many questions. Because we the judges of this court have had such difficulty in determining what really happened, we have been unable to agree on a just decision. Until now.”

Sano felt suspense build, a rumbling sensation, as if an underground volcano were about to erupt. He had to force himself to breathe. Every investigation he’d undertaken had brought troubling consequences, but never had the fate of so many people hinged on his actions. This time he’d wielded more influence over fate than in previous cases, because he’d shaped the law to fit his own notion of justice.

It was too late to wonder whether he’d done the right thing.

“At last we know the truth,” Magistrate Ueda declared.

The forty-seven ronin didn’t react, but the spectators’ heads turned toward Sano. He’d told the court the story of the vendetta. The judges had kept it confidential from everyone else except the shogun, although many other people knew some or all the details-those present during Kajikawa’s confession; Hosokawa clan members; the Council of Elders. Accurate and false versions of the story had spread through Edo. And many people knew that Sano was responsible for dragging the truth into the light.

“An unprecedented situation calls for an unprecedented response,” Magistrate Ueda said. “Therefore, we have decided not to render the usual sort of verdict.”

Sano was also responsible for this decision. He’d proposed it to the judges, and after debating it strenuously for two months, they’d agreed that it was the best course of action.

Murmurs of surprise swept through the audience. The forty-seven ronin remained unperturbed: Sano had told them about the decision three days ago, as soon as it had been made.

“We will allow you, the defendants, to decide your own fate,” Magistrate Ueda said. The audience clamored so loudly that he had to raise his voice. “I have ordered each of you to look into your spirit, to let your honor and your conscience be your guide in determining whether you should be punished by death or pardoned and set free.”

Inspector General Nakae and Lord Nabeshima tightened their mouths. Superintendent Ogiwara and Minister Motoori, his broken leg propped on cushions, nodded. Magistrate Ueda had had quite a time convincing all the judges that Sano’s plan was the best way to calm the controversy and prevent the forty-seven ronin’s supporters from going to war with their detractors. He and his allies had finally prevailed over the Yanagisawa faction, which was in chaos.

After his son’s funeral, Yanagisawa had secluded himself inside his compound; no one had seen or heard from him since.

“Have you decided?” Magistrate Ueda asked the forty-seven ronin. They’d been given the three days to discuss the matter among themselves.

“Yes, Honorable Magistrate, we have,” Oishi said in a loud, clear voice.

The noise subsided into an expectant hush. “Tell us, then,” Magistrate Ueda ordered.

Oishi spoke in an even tone devoid of melodrama. “We take pride in the fact that by killing Kira, we have discharged our duty to our master. We are certain that it was righteous.”

Sano wholeheartedly agreed. He’d been unable to prove that Kira had connived to destroy Lord Asano and steal his gold, but people had come forward with tales of how Kira had hurt and humiliated them and enjoyed their suffering. Oishi and Kajikawa were among legions.

“But after having examined our consciences, we realized that our reasons were never as straightforward as we purported,” Oishi said. “I myself had a personal grudge against Kira. It played a big part in my decision to carry out the vendetta. And I’m not the only one who confused personal issues with duty. Some of us blamed Kira for their hardships and their disgrace. Others were angry at the world and eager to strike out at any target. Many thought they had nothing to live for, and they wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.”

Oishi paused, swallowed, and struggled to contain his emotions. Sano felt a lump in his own throat. The other forty-six ronin listened, their somber gazes trained on Oishi. He seemed to draw from them the strength to continue.

“Our motives were never as pure as Bushido requires. We did not truly follow the Way of the Warrior; we followed our own selfish hearts. Even though we performed the highest act of loyalty, we are criminals at the bottom of it, a disgrace to the title of samurai. Our vendetta led to a situation in which the shogun’s life was endangered. Therefore-” He drew a deep breath and spoke in a rush: “We have decided to commit seppuku.”

Muted exclamations rippled through the audience. Magistrate Ueda looked saddened but gratified. “So be it,” he said. “Your decision is the court’s verdict.”

The other judges shook their heads in amazement: They’d expected the forty-seven ronin to seize their freedom. Sano hadn’t known what to expect. He felt a mixture of awe and distress. No matter their human failings, Oishi and the other men were sacrificing their lives for the sake of honor. It occurred to Sano that their decision had taken into account other considerations besides those Oishi had mentioned. The unavoidable fact was that they had disobeyed the shogun. The shogun would have had to put them to death-even if it had meant overruling the supreme court-or lose face and authority. Now he didn’t have to make the hard decision that he’d created the supreme court in order to avoid. The forty-seven ronin had made it for him. They’d done their duty to him after all.

They were true heroes, paragons of samurai loyalty, exemplars of Bushido, even though they called themselves criminals. What a tragedy that they must die!

“We thank the honorable judges,” Oishi said, his voice firm. “We apologize for the trouble we have caused.”

“Accepted.” His voice heavy with resignation, Magistrate Ueda said, “Your ritual suicide will take place tomorrow morning.”

The assembly bowed. Sano gazed at the bent backs of the forty-seven ronin. He looked hardest at Oishi and Chikara. Father and son would die together. Sano pictured himself and Masahiro in the same position. He blinked to dispel the vision, but its darkness lingered.

“The supreme court is dissolved,” Magistrate Ueda said.