Читать книгу 47 Ronin - John Allyn - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Dawn broke coldly over Edo, the capital city of old Japan. It was to be a bleak, sunless day. The chill wind that rolled down from the high snow-covered mountains rattled the rain doors of the farmhouses on the outskirts, then lifted a billow of dust along the post road from the southwest as it entered the city.

On its way it picked up the stench of human excreta from the rice fields, the incenselike odor of smoke from the charcoal fires in the kitchens of early-rising housewives, and finally the saltiness of the briny sea off the flat waters of Edo Bay.

At ground level the wind lost its force in the narrow alleyways that twisted through the maze of flimsy wooden structures that were both homes and places of business to nearly seven hundred thousand merchants and artisans. Above the tile-topped roofs it continued gustily on toward the higher ground in the center of the city, dipped to cross a rock-lined moat, and became random among the watchtowers and palaces of Edo Castle where the Shogun Tsunayoshi, the supreme ruler of the land, held his court.

As it moved pungently, invisibly along, the wind also acquired a sound. Sweeping through a graveyard and the public execution grounds, it startled a mongrel cur and set him howling, which in turn set off others around him until in no time the air was filled with the dismal wailing of a thousand stray dogs. The sound swelled and became more menacing as it forced its way into the hovels of beggars and the mansions of the nobility, to enter the sleeping ears of poor and rich alike. . . .

Lord Asano, daimyo of the province of Ako, still boyishly good-looking at thirty-five, was riding with his chief retainer Oishi through a misty landscape, running down a deadly wild boar that was menacing the farmers. As they moved into the ever thickening fog, an eerie hum began to throb in Lord Asano’s ears and his horse reacted nervously. Behind him, Oishi pulled up to a prudent halt, but Lord Asano impatiently spurred his own mount forward and disappeared from sight.

“My Lord Asano!” Oishi called in sudden anxiety. “Come back, come back!”

But Lord Asano’s stubborn pride would not let him turn back and he pressed on through the dense vacuum of the fog until the unearthly sound became a screech and then a deafening howl. He felt a stab of terror as he was sucked into the sound and lost all sense of direction. In the dazzling white of the fog he was sightless and felt himself lose his balance and start to fall. The howling grew louder and he knew he must fight for his life to escape the demons that were waiting to devour him. He cried out for help and in that instant he woke in his villa near the Shogun’s castle to hear the howling of the dogs of Edo fading away on the wind that had brought it.

“Husband!” his wife cried out as she raised herself to watch him struggling to draw his sword from the scabbard beside him. “What’s the matter?”

Fully awake now, he shook his head and threw down the sword. “The dogs,” he muttered. “The damned dogs.”

“Go back to sleep,” she said, as a soothing smile came over her pretty round face. “You should be used to them by now.”

“I’ll never get used to them, or to anything else about this miserable place.”

“Only one more day,” she reminded him. “Then we’ll go home to Ako and our daughter.”

“One more day,” he repeated in a tone that was both forlorn and hopeful. “One more rotten day.”

He tried to go back to sleep but his heart was still pounding from his nightmare and his eyes would not close. He watched restlessly as the light of dawn slipped through the window shutters and crept across the tatami mats to his bed on the floor. Lord Asano sighed and rolled out of the heavy quilts to stand shivering for a moment in his underclothes, then put on a padded robe to slide open the paper-paneled door and step into the cold corridor beyond.

He walked with long steps over the slick wood, darkly polished by the passage of countless stockinged feet. At one side the corridor was lined by pillars of fragrant cedar separated by painted shoji panels; on the other side rain doors sheltered it from the garden outside, and Lord Asano shivered as they rattled in the wind and he imagined he heard again the dogs of his dreams.

He opened the sliding door to the kitchen and stepped in. It was a large room, floored with rough boards, with a clay-lined central fireplace sunk in the floor. Here, two topknotted samurai from his retinue sat warming themselves, and as he approached and muttered a greeting they scrambled to their knees and bowed low.

Kataoka, the younger of the two, wiry, with a face like a playful monkey, started to exchange a pleasantry with his master, but changed his mind when he saw his face. Lord Asano was tense by nature, but this morning he appeared more so than usual and Kataoka knew when to keep quiet. The other man, a fierce-looking warrior in his fifties named Hara, was sleepy eyed and not so perceptive; he merely followed Kataoka’s lead in sinking back into a cross-legged position by the fire as their master sat down.

“You needn’t have gotten up so early,” Lord Asano told Hara. “Kataoka is the only escort I’ll need today, and all he can do is stand outside and look up at the castle towers and dream of home.”

Hara grunted and his glittering eyes showed briefly, then his sleepy lids drooped again and he lifted his rice bowl close to his face to eat. Kataoka bobbed his head and grinned his monkey smile of pleasure at the honor of being his lord’s sole companion on such an auspicious occasion, then coughed as the smoke from the fire blew into his face. Lord Asano reached for the teapot hanging over the fire, but the smoke stung his eyes and he cursed as he flung the kettle back onto its hook.

“Mimura!” he called, and a sudden shuffling in the pantry told him that Mimura had heard.

The servant, a tall, awkward young fellow, entered in great haste and bowed low to his master. As he raised his eyes he saw that the smoke was going everywhere except out the opening in the roof made for it, and he quickly reached into the pit to pull out the green sticks that were causing the trouble.

“Who put those in there?” said Lord Asano sharply. “You know better than that, Mimura. Can’t you help get this miserable day off to a better start?”

Mimura apologized in a profusion of polite phrases and muttered under his breath about the stupidity of the new fire boy. Then he crossed to the pantry door and called out.

There was an unexplained delay and he called again. This time he was answered by the appearance of the fire boy’s head in the doorway, a great shock of black unruly hair over an impudent face. Mimura bawled him out for his carelessness, but if he expected an apology he was disappointed. The boy, in a loud raucous voice, told Mimura that if he was so particular he could make the fire himself and abruptly withdrew, slamming the door shut behind him.

The men at the fire were shocked at this display and Hara was so incensed he leaped to his feet and pulled his long sword.

“What does he mean by talking to one of our servants like that?” he exclaimed as he started for the pantry door.

“No, wait,” said Lord Asano in a weary voice of authority. “He’s only a boy. Besides, you’ll get yourself in trouble if you harm him. The laws are different here; we can’t behave as we would at home.”

“But to insult your servant is to insult you, too,” Hara insisted. “I should at least slit his tongue for him if you won’t let me take off his head.”

“Sit down—sit down and drink your tea. You’ve got to get used to the ways of Edo. Here the comings and goings of daimyo from the provinces are so commonplace that they hold no terror for even a lowly fire boy.”

Hara, still muttering, put away his sword and sat down. He watched carefully as Mimura opened the pantry door and stepped through. In a moment there came the sounds of a slap and a yelp of pain, and Hara smiled as Kataoka laughed out loud.

“That’ll take care of the young monkey,” he shouted and made the most monkeylike grin at his command. The others smiled and Kataoka was pleased that he had helped his master forget his troubles, if only temporarily.

“I wish all the Edoites were so easily handled,” said Lord Asano as he sighed and helped himself to some rice. “But I’m afraid that’s not the case. Especially with those who have a little authority.”

The two samurai exchanged glances. They knew what their master meant.

“These court dandies all ought to have their heads removed,” growled Hara, and Kataoka nodded in agreement. “They talk and dress like women and are just as troublesome.”

“Anyway, it’ll all be over after today,” Lord Asano said. “Then we can go home to Ako and forget this place. Think what it must have been like in the old days when daimyo like my father had to stay here half of every year.”

The others agreed that the present arrangement was better than that, and finished eating their rice. Hara looked sorrowfully into the bottom of his bowl and Lord Asano knew what he was thinking.

“At least in the old days we had a little meat and fish to go with our rice, eh, Hara? Well, maybe we will again some day if the Shogun’s Life Preservation Laws are ever rescinded. They may benefit the animals, but they don’t do us humans much good.” He put his bowl down and sighed again. “Most of the laws around here seem only meant to torment us. And the court’s rules of etiquette are completely beyond me. If only I didn’t have to depend for instructions on someone like Kira!”

He spat out the name like a curse and again Hara and Kataoka exchanged worried looks. They knew he would not elaborate on this subject—it would be beneath him to discuss his personal grievances with them—but from what they had heard they knew that Kira, the court Master of Ceremonies, was making his life miserable. And they also knew there was nothing they could do about it.

Kira’s name stuck in Lord Asano’s mind like a bone in his throat. He had never known such a miserable time in the capital before, and it was a place he had never enjoyed visiting. This time, however, he was an unwilling participant in the official proceedings instead of a mere spectator and was thrown into much closer contact with the Shogun’s underlings. Kira was not even of daimyo rank, having no fief of his own and being ruler of nothing. But the fact that he had been sent to Kyoto some years before to study ceremonial procedure at the court of the Emperor gave him prestige and power that he had since used to good advantage in exacting bribes from those who had to depend on his tutelage.

Lord Asano had written about Kira only the night before in a letter to his chief retainer Oishi. Although Oishi was slightly older, he was less experienced in the ways of the court at Edo than his master, and Lord Asano was able to express his feelings about Kira in the guise of offering advice on how to behave in the capital.

“Kira is the man to watch out for,” he had written. “He enjoys the confidence of the Shogun and appears to be a faithful servant, but in truth he is an unscrupulous bribetaker and uses his office solely for his own ends. There is seemingly no way of dealing with such men except to play their game, but this I refuse to do. Consequently, Kira is giving me a rough time of it, even with only one day to go. Regardless of what happens, however, I will not pay Kira for his services, which are supposed to be supplied by the court. This may be a stubborn attitude, but as far as I am concerned it is the only honorable one for a samurai to take. I do not expect that I alone can turn back the wave of decadence that seems to have engulfed the court, but I can try to hold my head above the dirty water as long as there is a breath left in me.”

He wondered if Oishi would understand. In Ako there was nothing to compare with the Shogun’s court and he himself would not have believed such corruption existed if he had not seen it with his own eyes. Still, Oishi thought like a true samurai and could appreciate his feelings. He doubted that his words would ever be taken as practical advice, but at least it was good to get the matter off his chest.

He finished eating and rose with a sigh.

“Time to put on my ‘clown suit,’” he told Kataoka, and together they moved out of the room as Hara sat scowling at the forces that were troubling his master.

At the castle Kira was up early, too. As Master of Ceremonies for all court functions he was obliged to be impeccable in dress as well as in manner and he took pains to maintain high standards. The robes laid out for him were simi­lar in style to those the visiting daimyo and officials of the court would be wearing, but the color scheme he had chosen of dead black with a huge white crest on each oversized sleeve guaranteed him a more striking appearance than any of them.

Although scarcely middle aged, Kira affected to be older because he thought it added to his dignity. Except for two deep frown lines creased into his brow, however, his face was free of wrinkles and his heavy-set body was hard and agile. His teeth, in accord with the latest fashion, were blackened so that when he opened his mouth to speak, his listeners saw only a dark, toothless hole.

Strangely enough, for one in such exalted if temporary power over the daimyo of the land, Kira was worried about the behavior of one of them. Lord Asano was of the old school of samurai and did not seem to realize that in this modern age bribes in the right pockets would do him more good than meaningless affirmations of loyalty to the Shogun. And for this reason he constituted a threat to Kira’s way of life.

For three days now Kira had tried by flattery, by hints, and finally by insults to convey the idea to Lord Asano that it was customary to bestow gifts of money on the court Master of Ceremonies for his services. But Lord Asano had continued to ignore him, and Kira’s fear was that if he got away with this act of ingratitude it could set a bad precedent. Kira’s stipend as a court officer was not large and he had no desire to lose any extra benefits because of Lord Asano’s stubbornness. Somehow, there must be a way to get to his man. He had never failed in the past to get what he wanted from these noble young fools and he was determined that this time would be no exception.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a breathless servant with the announcement that the Shogun Tsunayoshi wanted to see him immediately. He hurried to put on his robes, cursing because he could not finish dressing in the leisurely way he had planned. Then he hastened out the door and across the palace grounds to the inner palace, wondering all the while what could be troubling the Shogun this early in the morning.

In the twenty-first year of his reign, Tsunayoshi had every reason to be contented. There had been no uprisings against his office for several decades, mainly because his ancestors had been so thorough in uniting the country, first by conquest and then by assigning fiefs in strategic locations to blood relatives. His predecessors had also done him a favor by expelling all foreigners, except for one small group of Dutch traders on an island at the extreme southern tip of the country. The Christian influence had lingered for some time, even after the expulsion, but sixty years before, at Shimabara, the last large-scale massacre of such deviants had left the country free of even this minor annoyance.

Now, after years of peace, the towns were growing, the merchants were prospering, and the arts were flourishing. It was true that the price of rice was going up, due to short supplies from the farmers who seemed strangely unable to get the most from their land, but on the whole Tsunayoshi was free from any pressing problems of state. But that is not to say that he had no problems at all.

As Kira entered, puffing more heavily than was really necessary, he could see that Tsunayoshi was indeed in an anxious state. Kira bowed as low as his robes would permit and then raised his eyes to the tall, thin man in his fifties, who was pacing mincingly up and down the ornate reception room.

Tsunayoshi’s concern, it turned out, was not with any pressing matters of state, but rather with how the performance of his dancing group would be received at the ceremonies. He had selected and coached the boys himself and was concerned that they give a good account of themselves. So much so that he had decided another rehearsal was in order and this was why he had summoned Kira. He wanted the boys assembled in the Hall of the Thousand Mats as quickly as possible so they could run through their dance once more before the distinguished guests arrived.

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” he told Kira, with a womanish wave of his kimono sleeve. “I’ve worked so hard to make this performance a success—it’s just got to come off perfectly!”

Kira bowed his head. “I sympathize with Your Excellency but I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. The ceremonies will be carried out smoothly as always.”

“The ceremonies, yes—but the dance, that’s what’s important to me. This is something new for such an occasion and if it fails, I’ll be laughed at by everyone.”

“No one would think of doing such a thing,” Kira re­as­sured him.

“The experts will laugh behind my back even if they don’t say anything,” Tsunayoshi said knowingly. “But enough of that—everything else is all right, isn’t it? No problems at your end, I hope?”

“There are always problems, Your Excellency, but nothing I can’t handle myself.”

“Good,” smiled the Shogun. “That’s what I like to hear from my courtiers. I wish they were all as efficient as you.”

Kira smiled back at him, revealing his blackened teeth. “All I know was learned from your example.”

He bowed and started to leave, then hesitated and turned back in feigned reluctance. “There is one rather troublesome young daimyo, but I hope I will be able to correct his awkwardness before it embarrasses us.”

“You mean Asano, don’t you? I’ve noticed that he doesn’t seem as much at ease as the others. Do you want me to speak to him?”

“No—I don’t think that will be necessary. He’ll be all right once I get him to understand his proper place.”

“Yes—well, I leave that to you. But get those young boys over here in a hurry, will you?”

“I will obey,” Kira answered formally with a bow, and hurried away as fast as his elaborate robes would permit. He knew from experience that Tsunayoshi was not long on patience.

Dressed in his ceremonial robes, with every detail of his costume checked and double-checked against the rules of dress for the court, Lord Asano was carried to the palanquin that was to take him to the Shogun’s castle. Kataoka, also more splendidly dressed than usual, was about to give the order for the eight burly bearers to pick up their poles when Lord Asano’s wife appeared in the doorway of the mansion and called out. Kataoka called to the bearers to wait, then stepped aside so his master could converse with his wife in privacy.

“Please,” she said as she leaned in the window to him, “please promise me you’ll keep your temper. Show the court of Edo that we from the country also know our place in society. Perhaps—perhaps it’s not too late even now to put a few coins in the right palms. . . .”

Lord Asano made a gesture of impatience, but his expression softened as he saw her concern. His words were reproving, but his manner was gentle.

“In solemn matters of this sort, giving more than a token gift to the court Master of Ceremonies would be a cheap and vulgar act and I refuse to stoop to such a level. My councilors agree. . . .”

“Your councilors agree because you’ve already made up your own mind and they know it would be useless to oppose you. I can see that if you can’t. . . . At least promise me you’ll take his instructions in good grace and not lose your temper, won’t you?”

“I promise,” he said, and satisfied that he meant it, she stepped back and forced a smile of farewell. Lord Asano now motioned to the waiting Kataoka and the bearers were given the signal to move out.

As they rounded the corner of the house Kataoka saw Hara watching them go and caught an unspoken warning in the big man’s eyes: “Take good care of our master.” Kataoka nodded as he passed and then Hara disappeared behind them.

They moved through a portion of the immense garden that surrounded the mansion and Lord Asano noticed that even though the trees were bare the grounds were still remarkably beautiful in the early morning light. There was no single distinguishing feature, only a total impression of natural serenity, meticulously planned by his grandfather at a time when there were still wars or threats of war and the daimyo were required to spend long periods in the capital. Now, of course, things were different. There had not been even a minor uprising for as long as Lord Asano could remember. It occurred to him, as it had many times before, that life must have been more exciting in grandfather’s day when a sword was something to settle your differences with and not just a badge of rank.

The palanquin was carried briskly out the gate, Kataoka trotting alongside, but as they entered the din and crowds in the narrow alleys of the city the bearers were obliged to slow to a walking pace. Most of the tradesmen and shoppers gave way when they recognized the crested palanquin of a daimyo, but in the press of humanity some didn’t notice its presence, or pretended not to, and kept doggedly about their business until they were firmly pushed aside.

Lord Asano had never gotten used to this flocking together of the classes that one found in Edo. From the highest ranking nobles of the court to the lowest commoner, all gathered at this center of commerce to buy from the prospering merchants. There were other types present, too, including a few threadbare ronin, or masterless samurai. Farmers who could not make a go of it had come to the city to find work and there were plenty of these, proudly disdaining to ask for bread. At the opposite extreme were the professional beggars, calling loudly for alms in the cocky, Edo-like manner that recalled to Lord Asano the boy who had made such a mess of the fire that morning. He might be out of a job now but the chances were he was not worried. Anyone with his brass would require little apprenticeship to take to the streets to cry for handouts or to become a pseudoreligious mendicant and beg in the name of a nobler cause.

The din was overwhelming now, but over it there came another sound, a chant for the dead, and Kataoka directed the bearers to pull over to the side to let a funeral procession pass. Through the window of the palanquin Lord Asano could see that the funeral group consisted of only two men, both servants, and that the rough casket they carried slung from a pole between them was unusually small. Kataoka was standing perplexedly by the side of the palanquin when Lord Asano spoke and startled him.

“Not the best omen to begin the day with, eh, Kataoka?”

Kataoka turned to see that his master was not smiling and felt compelled to do something to alleviate his black mood. The servants with the casket had stopped their chanting now and as they came nearer one of them began to grumble about the load. In desperation, and also in annoyance at the man’s bad manners, Kataoka called out to him.

“Ho! Your load is small enough. What are you complaining for? Can’t you show more reverence for the dead?”

The servant laughed roughly at this and shouted to his companion. “The man wants to know why we don’t show more reverence for our passenger. Shall I show him?”

“Sure,” the other man responded. “Why not?”

By now they were abreast of the palanquin and they stopped to set the casket down in the middle of the alley. The servant who had spoken first came forward and smiled broadly at Kataoka, then winked and flipped open the lid of the box. In it lay the body of a small dog, cut almost in two in an accident. The servant winked at Kataoka again as the jostling crowd pressed close, all trying to see what was causing such interest.

“She was never treated so well in all her life,” the servant yelled at Kataoka, who was momentarily at a loss for words.

“Where are you taking her?” he finally mumbled.

“To the burying grounds, of course. Where do you think? Don’t you know the law says dogs have to be buried just like people? We’re only carrying out the Shogun’s orders.”

He covered the box and moved back to the end of the pole.

“Well, the least you can do is carry them out without complaint,” Kataoka told them both. “You don’t seem to realize how lucky you are that our exalted Shogun was born under the sign of the dog.” He paused for dramatic effect as they lifted the pole to their shoulders. “What do you think you’d be carrying if he’d been born under the sign of the horse?”

The two men laughed loudly, as did all those in the crowd who overheard, and Kataoka was pleased to see that even Lord Asano smiled. He chuckled at his own cleverness, then gave the bearers the order to move out and once again they were plunged into the tumultuous sea of humanity that flooded the street.

Inside the palanquin, Lord Asano was thinking about the dead dog. To him it was typical of the topsy-turvy world of Edo that animals should be treated like humans. He knew he would never understand this place and wished again to be out of it. He sighed, then leaned forward to watch with more interest as the palanquin was carried out of the last alleyway and onto a broad street which paralleled the castle moat.

The waters of the moat were below street level at this point and barely visible. What was most apparent was the high wall of gigantic blocks of granite beyond the water, forming an insurmountable barrier around the unseen castle. Now the bearers turned and moved alongside the moat, jogging up a little hill toward an entrance gate which guarded a narrow high-flung bridge over the still waters below.

There were guards at the gate who came to attention as the palanquin approached. They were armed with lances and halberds which were held at the ready while Kataoka identified the party and stated the reasons for the visit. Then, waved on with a shout, they crossed the bridge into the grounds of the castle itself. On the right as they entered was a long wooden structure which quartered a full company of on-duty guards. The armed men outside it again challenged the palanquin and again Kataoka had to go through the formality of identification.

They proceeded at a measured walk, in accordance with security regulations, and next came to an outer castle where the nobles and their families lived, surrounded by the palaces and courts of lesser ranking officials in a square that constituted a small town in itself. There was little activity in the streets, however, as most of the nobles were inside preparing for the events of the day.

Past this, on higher ground, was the inner castle and official residence of the Shogun himself. It was surrounded by another moat and a thick wall of freestone like the granite one below. A drawbridge was positioned over the moat and Lord Asano’s party moved even more slowly across it, their pace fixed by the court’s immutable rules.

Inside the wall, wide ramparts of earth supported guardhouses several stories high at each corner of the enclosure. Above the castle itself a white tower rose aloft above all the other buildings, and at sight of this Lord Asano exchanged a quick understanding glance with Kataoka. It was this which reminded them both of home. It was a great square mass of stone and plaster with narrow white-barred windows and tiers of curving roofs zigzagging over one another to a high ridge on each end of which was a bronze fish with an uplifted tail. Although the castle in Ako was not this large or ornate, the tower design was similar and stirred both their memories.

At the entrance to the castle, the palanquin stopped and Lord Asano got out. He stepped directly onto a low wooden porch so there was no need for him to be lifted out by his bearers. His costume was brilliant green, and he made an expression of distaste as he looked down at himself. Outfits like this were one of his biggest problems in life at the capital. Besides a ridiculous hat that flopped over on one side and threatened to fall off if he inclined his head, he was strapped into a broad-shouldered kamishimo jacket that constricted his arm movements. But worst of all were the cumbersome trousers which Kataoka now hastened to adjust for Lord Asano’s entrance into the castle.

The voluminous legs were overlong by several feet and were supposed to stretch out flatly behind the wearer for aesthetic effect. This required great care in walking and Lord Asano, naturally impatient, felt hemmed in and vulnerable. He had a constant urge to kick holes in the legs and strut in his normal manner instead of mincing along like a woman in a tight kimono. Kataoka finished laying out the cloth so that his master was pointed in the right direction, then bowed deeply and withdrew. He would wait in the vicinity of the guard shack with the bearers until the ceremonies were over. He was not, of course, allowed to enter the castle under any circumstances. No one below the rank of daimyo was invited to the annual reception for the Emperor’s envoys.

Lord Asano braced himself and started the walk to the door. Although it was only a short distance, it seemed to him interminable as he carefully lifted each foot, kicked it slightly forward, and took a step down onto the trouser legs themselves. There were only a couple of guards watching him at the moment, but Lord Asano walked as carefully for their benefit as he would have before the Shogun himself. He knew that Kira would goad him unmercifully if he made even one false step, and he was determined to show these Edoites that a samurai from the country could play their game.

As one of the guards held the door open, he entered the waiting room outside the enormous Hall of the Thousand Mats where the official ceremonies would be held. Inside he paused to let his eyes become accustomed to the dimmer light.

The waiting room was spacious and high ceilinged with gilded beams and carved pillars. As he stepped onto the gold-bordered mats, Lord Asano noticed that, even though he was early, there were several lords there ahead of him. All were dressed in court costume similar to his, differing in detail only to denote rank. One, in an outfit identical to his except that it was golden brown, looked pointedly at him and it was in this man’s direction that he made his way.

Lord Daté of Yoshida, a trim athletic-looking fellow in his thirties, was Lord Asano’s counterpart in rank and assignment. Both their names had been drawn by lot to be official representatives of the Shogun at this reception of the Emperor’s envoys from Kyoto, an annual affair that represented one of the few contacts between the Emperor, who was ruler in name only, and the Shogun, whose recent ancestors had unified the country by military action and who was the actual head of the government.

Both Lord Asano and Lord Daté had tried to decline the honor on the grounds that they were unfamiliar with court etiquette, but neither had been successful. They had been put under Kira’s wing to learn the protocol for the occasion and were completely dependent on him to coach them through their various functions. Daté had little trouble with Kira, however, while Lord Asano was constantly being ridiculed about his “country manners.” Now, at the start of the final day, Lord Daté looked cool and complacent while his fellow participant was noticeably apprehensive.

“Good morning,” Lord Asano said, with a perfunctory bow.

“Good morning, Lord Asano,” smiled Daté. “You’re early, aren’t you?”

“So are you,” retorted Lord Asano. “Maybe you’re more nervous than you appear.”

Daté laughed. “You’re the nervous one. Anyone would think you were going into battle.”

“I wish it were a battle,” Lord Asano said testily. “I’m a country boy with no talent for getting along with these fancy-pants courtiers. Men like Kira,” and he spoke the name distastefully, “are of lower rank than we, yet we are supposed to jump when they give the word.” He shook his head. “I just don’t seem to know my place here.”

“I don’t know why you should have so much trouble with Kira,” said Daté with a sly smile. “He’s treated me with respect, even though I’m as clumsy as you about the ceremonies.”

Lord Asano looked at him warily. “Don’t think I don’t know your secret, Lord Daté. You knuckled under to his demands and have paid him off. . . .”

“I did no such thing!” Daté interrupted angrily.

“Then your councilors did it for you and that doesn’t reflect credit on you either—not to know what’s going on in your own house!”

Daté’s face reddened and he was about to respond in kind when the sliding doors to the hall within opened and Lord Kira himself stepped ponderously out. He smiled condescendingly at the group in the waiting room, revealing his fashionably blackened teeth, and Lord Asano shuddered as he always did at such signs of decadence. The nuts chewed to achieve such an effect were expensive and he considered such practice the height of vulgarity, quite contrary to the tenets of frugality taught by Buddha and Confucius alike. In his view, Kira represented the epitome of all that was wrong with the court. He was corrupt, vain, and self-important—about as far from the traditional ideal of a samurai as it was possible to be.

Kira looked pointedly at Lord Asano after the customary bows of greeting had been exchanged, hoping for some sign of a change in attitude. Surely, he thought, there must be some way to get to this noble idiot. Perhaps stronger insults would be more effective with such a proud young man. At least it was worth one more try and there was no better time than the present. He knew he was safe; drawing a sword in the castle, no matter what the circumstances, was a capital offense.

As Kira started to move toward him, Lord Asano instinctively turned away in what could only be interpreted as a gesture of disdain. The black-clad Master of Ceremonies halted in surprise then angrily changed his course to approach Lord Daté instead. This rude act was the last straw and Kira, his blood rising, knew now that it was useless to go on trying to collect his bribe. He resolved that Lord Asano would pay for his incorruptibility—and his rudeness.

As Kira’s instructions to Lord Daté went on, Lord Asano felt a tremendous depression settle over him. He knew that his own self-indulgence had once again cost him Kira’s good will. If Kira neglected him now, he would be at a complete loss to know what to do during the ceremony. He felt a moment of panic as he anticipated the disgrace he would bring on his family name if he should commit some terrible breach of etiquette. After all, Kira was the recognized expert on such matters and the least he could do was be civil to the man, even if he despised him.

He was trying to compose some statement of apology when the outside door opened. His pulse quickened at the thought that it might be the Imperial envoys, but he breathed easier when he saw that it was only an attendant of the Shogun’s mother who entered. He was a pop-eyed, plump little man named Kajikawa whom Lord Asano would ordinarily have ignored, but on this occasion he was astute enough not to reveal his true feelings. As Kajikawa looked timidly around the room, Lord Asano smiled encouragingly.

The smile worked and Kajikawa scurried over, sinking into an exaggerated bow of respect as he arrived. Then he lifted his head with a froggy smile. . . .

“Lord Asano,” he said in a lisping rush of words, “I have heard that there’s been a change in the time schedule and I would like to know what it is so that I can tell our exalted Shogun’s mother. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. . . .” he finished on the correct note of uncertainty.

Lord Asano’s eyes went involuntarily to Kira as the only one who could answer and was discomfited to find that Kira was smiling blackly back at him and had obviously heard the question.

“Don’t bother to ask that dolt anything,” Kira said loudly and in his grandest manner. “If it’s a question about the ceremony, ask me or Lord Daté, or one of the servants—even they know more about what’s going on than Lord Asano!”

Kajikawa’s face turned red and his eyes popped wider than ever as he bowed uncertainly, then stood in indecision. Lord Asano had gone dead white and stood as stiffly as if he had been turned to stone. Kajikawa felt a sudden twinge of dread and moved away toward the sliding doors to the assembly hall. He did not want to humiliate Lord Asano any further by going to anyone else in the room, and decided to ask his question of one of the courtiers inside. He had started to open the door when he saw Lord Kira move majestically across the room to stop in front of Lord Asano and say something to him in low tones. He could not be sure but it sounded like Kira was making some reference to Lord Asano’s wife.

Lord Asano, too, had trouble believing his ears as Kira spoke.

“You could have saved yourself all this trouble, you know,” he said insinuatingly. “If your money means so much to you, there are other ways to satisfy my taste for delicacies. I hear you have a pretty wife with a round moonlike face. . . .”

Lord Asano could take no more. The blood drained from his face and pounded in his chest, and his sword arm jerked to the hilt of his weapon. Kira’s hand went instinctively to his own sword, although he had no intention of drawing it, but this was a tragic mistake. Lord Asano saw the move as an acceptance of his challenge and his sword blade flashed naked as he raised it high and slashed down in blind fury. Kira, struck high on the shoulder, stumbled and fell. Lord Asano raised his arm to strike again but Lord Daté and some of the others rushed forward to seize him. There was a second’s stillness, broken only when Kajikawa gulped loudly and hurried away into the inner room.

Lord Asano went slack with a shudder as he looked down at the still figure of Kira and then at the men who took both his swords from him. He was still standing motionless, a glazed look in his eyes, when the sliding doors opened again and the Shogun Tsunayoshi himself stepped into the room. Behind him could be seen a group of boys in dance costume, all strangely silent and grotesquely frozen in position.

Tsunayoshi, more feminine appearing than ever in his dance costume, was not prepared for the sight which greeted him. He caught his breath sharply, then staggered back as though he might fall. Some of those present could guess what was going through his mind.

It was just seventeen years ago that a similar incident had taken place in this very room, and during all these years Tsunayoshi had been haunted by it. It had been his own prime minister who had been struck down at that time, instantly killed by a junior member of the court, who, it was said, resented the prime minister’s taking over too many powers that rightly belonged to the Shogun. It was also said, behind closed doors, that Tsunayoshi himself was responsible for the attack, although this was never proved. The assassin was executed on the spot by the assembled lords, and his motives remained a secret.

Now it was as though the whole scene was being played out again before his eyes and he was plainly unnerved by the sight. A sudden rage took hold of him and the blood rushed to his face as he stamped forward to stand by Kira’s motionless body. With a grimace of distaste, the Shogun ordered two servants to carry his no longer impeccable Master of Cere-monies into an anteroom, then turned to the others.

“What’s happened here?” he demanded to know, but there was no immediate reply. “You, there,” he said to Lord Daté. “Tell me what happened.”

Daté released Lord Asano’s arm and bowed, swallowing hard as he did so. Then he straightened and spoke briefly and formally, as though reporting to a superior on the field of battle.

“Lord Asano evidently took offense at something Lord Kira said. We saw that he was shocked. We saw that he drew his sword and struck Lord Kira. It was as though something beyond him was forcing . . .”

“He drew his sword and struck Kira?” interrupted the Shogun. “Does anyone know what Kira said to him to cause him to behave in such a lawless manner?”

No one answered, least of all Kajikawa, who was peeking through the sliding doors to the inner room and who knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“Very well, then, hold him here,” said Tsunayoshi icily. He turned to Lord Asano. “You have no regard, sir, for the propriety of this court?”

“I’m sorry,” said Lord Asano as he knelt and bowed his head to the floor. “I have no excuse.”

“There are rules for every occasion,” Tsunayoshi went on, “carefully thought out rules which everyone must obey. I make no exceptions in this regard—not even of my own kinsmen. Ignorance of the rules might make some difference, but I’m sure that you, sir, after so many years as a daimyo cannot claim such an exemption.”

“No . . . no,” murmured Lord Asano, feeling sure he must be having a bad dream from which he would soon wake.

Tsunayoshi turned to the others. “The crime is clear enough. So is the penalty. You will please keep this man in custody while I confer with my councilors. In the meantime the ceremony will have to be delayed.”

He made an expression of distaste at the bloodstains on the floor, then turned away and started to go back through the sliding doors to the large hall beyond. One of his retinue of courtiers appeared in the doorway, but stepped back obsequiously to make way for the Shogun.

“It’s terrible,” said the Shogun to the courtier. “All our plans upset because of one irresponsible samurai who never learned how to behave in the castle. It may even mean canceling our dance performance.”

Then they were gone and Lord Asano was left alone with his captors. He continued to kneel and look steadfastly at the floor while the rest of those present watched him in awed silence. His face maintained a stony calm, but inside his stomach was churning so that it was difficult to think straight. He felt close to being sick but took a firmer grip on himself, resolving to show nothing of weakness. His only thought was that he must prove to all that he did know his place.

An hour passed in silence before the sound of marching men was heard from outside. Lord Tamura, the red-faced and bustling daimyo of Ichinoseki, burst in a side entrance with a squad of samurai and then stood indecisively when he saw Lord Asano’s rigid pose. Lord Tamura had been a former high constable, which was presumably why Tsunayoshi had summoned him, but in this assignment he felt at a loss. It was easy to be commanding when dealing with the thieves and pickpockets of Edo, but to arrest a fellow daimyo was something else again. He approached the kneeling man with reluctance and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“By our Shogun’s order,” he said, and Lord Asano obediently got up to follow him out. There was a palanquin waiting outside along with a dozen samurai and more than thirty servants, but none of the faces were familiar and he looked around in vain for Kataoka. He was about to step into the palanquin when he was stopped by a word from Tamura who, in some embarrassment, handed him a cheap servant’s dress and asked him to put it on over his court robes. Lord Asano was astounded by this effrontery until he realized that it was for his own benefit. In this garb he would not be recognized as he rode through the streets of Edo and would be spared public humiliation. With an expression of distaste he put it on and got in the palanquin, after which Lord Tamura had a large net thrown over it and the whole rig tied around with rope so there could be no chance of his prisoner escaping and bringing disgrace on his keeper. Then the order was given to move out and the procession set off for Lord Tamura’s mansion. As they rounded the corner at the guard shack they passed close by the waiting Kataoka, who knew nothing of what had happened in the castle and had no idea that it was Lord Asano who passed by him as a prisoner.

It was afternoon before Kataoka really began to worry about his master. The ceremonies appeared to be over and the various lords summoned their palanquins and departed, but there was still no sign of Lord Asano. Finally he recognized Lord Daté’s palanquin and hurried forward to intercept him.

Lord Daté was still stunned by the events of the morning and for a moment did not understand Kataoka’s polite question. As to what had happened to Lord Asano he had no clear idea himself except that he had been taken away by Lord Tamura. Then he realized that Kataoka knew nothing of the attack on Kira, and tried to think of some diplomatic way of telling him and in effect breaking the news to all of Lord Asano’s followers and family.

“Your master is at Lord Tamura’s. I suggest you go there immediately.”

“Is something wrong?” asked Kataoka in sudden alarm.

“There was an accident. . . .Lord Kira and your master were involved. . . .”

There was a short silence while Kataoka digested what he had been told. When he understood all the implications he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and his mouth grew dry.

“Then there is no need for the palanquin to wait?” he stammered.

Lord Daté shook his head, then paused for a moment to see that Kataoka was capable of taking some positive action before he moved on. After all, it was the least he could do for a fellow daimyo.

With a quick bow of thanks Kataoka moved away. He did not dare to break the prohibition against running within the castle grounds but he reached Lord Asano’s palanquin within the least possible time. Although his brain was whirling he composed a brief message for the bearers to take back to Hara. The men were from Ako and could be trusted, but still they were of lowly rank and did not have to know all the facts. He told their leader only that Lord Asano had decided to visit Lord Tamura and had gone to his mansion by other means. They were to return to their own quarters and give Hara the message that he was to join Kataoka at Tamura’s immediately. Then he walked briskly beside them out of the castle grounds, back over the bridge across the moat and into the city streets. Now he could set his own pace and he ran as though devils were pursuing him in spite of the crush of the crowd. How could such a thing happen, his mind kept screaming, how could such a thing happen to his beloved master? . . .

At Tamura’s mansion, Lord Asano was treated with politeness and even allowed to borrow a simple robe from his captor to replace his ludicrously out-of-place ceremonial trousers and kamishimo. Those present did not attempt to talk to him, being understandably unsure of his status, and he was put in a small, white-walled anteroom and allowed paper and brush to write a note to his wife. With an effort he managed to collect his thoughts and had begun a brief account of what had happened, stressing the inevitability of his showdown with Kira, when he was interrupted by the sounds of the arrival of one of the censors of Edo and two assistants. As official instruments of the Shogun’s Council they had brought its sentence and Lord Asano heard them whisper it to Lord Tamura in the next room. He knew by Lord Tamura’s shocked reaction that the sentence was a harsh one and that could mean only one thing—death! The rest of their whispers meant little to him: “. . . councilors opposed . . .Tsunayoshi adamant . . . his own chief councilor was struck down in similar fashion some years ago . . . an example must be made. . . .”

Lord Tamura then came respectfully into the room and bowed low. “Our merciful Shogun has decreed that your execution should be swift and you should therefore be grateful to him. You have also been granted the privilege of dying in an honorable manner because of your rank,” he said. Lord Asano remained silent and Tamura regarded his stoical acceptance of the verdict with approval. Then he added the final part of the sentence: “All property held in your name will be confiscated and placed under the protection of the Shogun’s government until further notice.”

In his mind Lord Asano heard the howling of the dogs again and felt the helpless sinking he had known in his dream, but he only stared at the blank white wall in front of him until Lord Tamura bowed and withdrew. After a moment Lord Asano bent forward to continue his letter but he was still not finished when Lord Tamura came back with the censor and his assistants. They waited for him to conclude his message and for the note to dry and be sealed. Then the censor stepped forward and started to help him rise. With dignity and authority Lord Asano shook off his arm and stood unaided. He had already started to follow Lord Tamura out into the garden when there was a commotion in the entry way. Kataoka had arrived and breathlessly asked to be allowed to see his master. Lord Tamura conferred briefly with the censor and the request was granted, although they stood close by, anxious to conclude matters as swiftly as possible. Kataoka hesitated before the others, but could not control his emotions and burst forth in a heartfelt apology for not having been aware of the terrible events in the castle. Lord Asano raised his hand.

“I’m glad to see you, Gengoemon,” he said, calling him by his given name. “Yours is the first friendly face I’ve seen since morning.”

Kataoka felt the tears well into his eyes but Lord Asano pretended not to notice. He handed his follower the note.

“This is my farewell to the others. Please deliver it to . . . to my wife.” He paused for a moment and a faraway look came into his eyes. “Tell everyone . . . tell them . . . Oishi will know what to do.”

In the garden, before Lord Tamura’s entire company of samurai, three mats had been placed on the ground and covered with a white rug. In the early evening it was beginning to grow dark and paper lanterns were lit at each corner of the improvised stage. Lord Asano was led to seat himself in the center of the rug before a small stand on which lay a dirk with a nine-inch blade. Lord Asano picked it up to look at it curiously and saw that it was an heirloom of the Tamura family. He gave Lord Tamura a quick smile of appreciation and then listened without expression as the censor officially read the terms of the offense and the sentence. The dogs were howling in his head again and he felt rather than heard when the reading was finished. He knew what was expected of him and he had confidence in his ability to perform with the dignity required. At least when it came to this, no one would be able to say he did not know his place.

He grasped the dirk in both hands and murmured a quick prayer as he placed it low on the left side of his abdomen. He plunged it in and drew it across, and then all sound stopped as one of the assistant censors stepped forward to behead him with one powerful swing of his long sword.