47 Ronin Read online

  “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.

  Chapter Three

  “Why aren’t you with our master?” was Oishi’s first angry response when the dirty, sweat-covered Hara was brought before him in the middle of the night. In the old warrior’s present condition he was a disgrace to the rank of samurai, and Oishi suffered the shame he knew Lord Asano would feel to see one of his men like this. But at Hara’s first wild-eyed cry, when the servant who had brought him was gone, such trivial considerations were forgotten.

  “Our master is dead,” Hara blurted out, “and the castle is to be confiscated!”

  Oishi felt as though water had been poured into his ears while he was asleep. He was stunned, speechless, sure that he must still be asleep and dreaming the most horrible dream imaginable. He wanted to call out to Hara to say no more, but he forced himself to listen, incredible as it all seemed. Lord Asano had been like his brother; his loss was insupportable.

  Hara, kneeling on the floor of the anteroom, rocked his head alternately down and up again as he sobbed out his story while the ungainly Mimura, who had accompanied him, nodded tearfully.

  “It was Kira who did it! Kira, the court Master of Cere-monies, who provoked our master into an attack in the castle. Our master was forced to draw his sword and strike him down, even though he knew as we all do the penalty for drawing one’s sword in the castle of the Shogun!”

  “And the sentence was carried out so soon?” Oishi cried, even as he took a silent oath of vengeance against those responsible.

  “The same day,” Hara said hopelessly. “Before we even knew what was happening.”

  “What about Lady Asano?” Oishi asked quickly. “Do you know what’s happened to her?”

  “Gone,” said Hara with a sob. “As soon as our Lord was dead, the soldiers of the court came to the mansion and confiscated everything. All of us were turned out and Lady Asano was sent back to her parents’ home. She is not to return to Ako or attempt to contact any member of the family on pain of death.”

  Oishi felt a stab at his heart as he thought of the little girl asleep in a nearby room, waiting trustfully for her mother and father. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by the enormity of the tragedy that had struck at the house of Asano and all its members. He turned to Mimura and sent him to fetch old Chuzaemon Yoshida, one of the elder samurai of Ako whose counsel would be welcome.

  “How did you learn all this?” Oishi asked Hara, who was now beginning to show extreme fatigue after his arduous journey.

  “Kataoka was there when our master committed seppuku at Lord Tamura’s—at least he was permitted that kind of death. The rest of us were too late. The palanquin bearers were delayed in the crowded streets and when we got the message, we went there but it was all over. We then hurried back to our own mansion to protect our mistress, but the Shogun’s forces arrived with the official order and at her command we obeyed it. There was nothing we could save. The order read ‘immediate confiscation of all property’ and it was carried out to the letter.”

  “And the castle here in Ako is to be confiscated, too?”

  “Yes,” said Hara in a barely audible tone. “A force will be arriving from Edo to carry out those instructions.”

  “And what of the men you left behind in Edo? Are they on their way back? We should not be divided at a time like this.”

  Hara looked up at him and explained. “I left young Horibe in charge. He and the others are closing out our Edo accounts as I thought you would wish them to. They are also watching to see when the enemy—I mean the Shogun’s troops—leave Edo.”

  Oishi looked at him sharply. Hara’s attitude was not hard to fathom. He meant they should prepare to stand a siege of the castle and go down fighting. And Hara might be right—at least it was a positive plan of action to redeem their lost honor—but still Oishi felt he should not make any such weighty decisions before he was in full possession of all the facts.

  They were interrupted by the arrival of the gray-haired old Yoshida, whose Buddha-like face was, for once, wrinkled in concern. They told him what had happened and he crumpled to the floor, trying to control his cries of lamentation. In his whole lifetime as a samurai, he had never known a moment so agonizing. Oishi felt his own stomach knot in despair and frustration but he refused to give way to an emotional outbreak. He was in charge, the others looked to him as an example, and he must remain coldly in charge of himself if his decisions were to have the merit of his best thinking.

  To give the old man time to recover himself, Oishi asked Mimura to bring a hibachi without disturbing any of the other servants. For the time being, until they decided on a course of action, it would be better if no one else knew what terrible problems they faced. Mimura had been in the Asanos’ service since childhood and could be trusted to say nothing.

  When the charcoal-burning hibachi was brought, Oishi directed that it be placed by Yoshida, who now sat with tears streaming down his cheeks. Oishi and Hara sat close to him for warmth while Mimura folded his long legs under him and sat by the door as a guard against eavesdroppers.

  “Perhaps we should call Ono,” Yoshida suggested uncertainly. As treasurer of the clan, Ono had considerable say in fiscal matters, but at the moment Oishi did not think his advice would count for much. Ono would be inclined to put matters of justice and honor below those of finances and Oishi was in no mood for quibbling.

  “The matter does not concern Ono,” he told Yoshida. “We can decide what must be done among ourselves.”

  Oishi glanced at Hara as he finished speaking and saw the big man nod vigorously. He had no more use for Ono than his leader did.

  There was silence for a while as each sat busy with his own thoughts. To dull his bitter sense of loss, Oishi deliberately turned his mind to the past, to memories of the instructions he had received as a young samurai. His lessons had been given in this very room and he could hear old Yamaga Soko’s warnings that the times were getting soft and that the strict observance of Confucian ethics was being undermined by the preachers of “new Confucianism” who were beginning to infest the court. That was why Yamaga had been exiled to the countryside—because he was out of step with the times—but he found willing listeners in the samurai of Ako, who were far removed from the softness and politics of the court. Oishi heard his condemnation of the Edo court again as though they were being spoken at this moment: “The sacrifice of the noble to the elegant.” And that had turned out to be a prophec
y of Lord Asano’s death.

  He thought of the circumstances of his master’s attack on Kira. He had no doubt it was justified, but if only it had taken place somewhere else!

  It was not his place to criticize the Shogun, no matter what the circumstances, but it was disturbing to consider how inconsistent their ruler was in his observation of the teachings of Buddha. True, a Buddha-like detestation of violence and cruelty was at the core of his Life Preservation Laws, but had they been applied equally to the life of Lord Asano? And what of the vanity of wealth and power, the duty of abstinence from the grosser pleasures, the beauty of the life of seclusion and pious meditation? No, Tsunayoshi took from Buddhism only what suited his own purposes and this left his policies open to question by anyone bold enough to do so.

  Oishi raised his eyes from the pictures he had been seeing in the glowing coals of the hibachi and saw that old Yoshida was watching him. No doubt he had been thinking the same thoughts and there was no need to say them aloud. Yoshida shivered and shook his head, then rubbed his hand over his close-cropped hair.

  “We must make some sort of plan,” he offered in a vague manner.

  The words struck Oishi strangely. He had been counting strongly on the old man’s advice but now he saw that there was little to hope for from this direction. Nothing like this had ever happened before in the history of the clan, and Yoshida was no more able to cope with it than the youngest samurai in the castle. Oishi would be glad to have the old man’s counsel, but he knew that from now on all decisions must come from him as chief retainer. He had no fear of not being strong enough to make them and to see that they were carried out; he only hoped that his judgments would be carefully arrived at and truly best for the house of Asano and the spirit of his departed master.

  Hara rubbed his hands together and restlessly changed his position. In his mind this meeting was a council of war and its object was to map a plan of defense for the castle.

  “Shouldn’t we summon all the men?” he growled.

  Oishi hesitated and was glad when Yoshida cleared his throat as a signal that he would answer.

  “Let’s wait until daybreak,” the old man said. “If our warriors are to be needed for any extraordinary purposes, even if it is only to receive the announcement of their master’s death, it would be just as well to let them get all the rest they can beforehand.”

  “I agree with Yoshida-sensei,” said Oishi, giving the old man the honorific title of “teacher” to lend his remarks more weight. “In the morning we will all be able to think more clearly and can face our new problems with more assurance.”

  “We should begin now to think of our defenses,” Hara muttered doggedly, and Oishi, turning aside in annoyance, caught a troubled glance thrown at the grizzled old warrior by Mimura. He sensed that something about Hara’s attitude was upsetting his servant, but he hesitated to ask for fear of embarrassing the clumsy young man. Instead he turned to Hara.

  “Have you told me everything, Hara? Everything I need to know about this tragic affair? Kira was killed and our master was condemned to death and loss of property—is that the whole story?”

  Hara hesitated. “On one point there is some doubt. . . . Kira was taken away in a hurry and it’s possible he could have survived the attack, although it’s not very likely. Otherwise I’ve told you all I know. I still don’t see why you hesitate to plan the defense of the castle. The Shogun’s troops will be arriving any day now and we must be ready to give a good account of ourselves.”

  “We’ll be ready for whatever comes, don’t worry. Now I think the best plan for all of us is to try to get some sleep. I must have more time to think before I can make any sort of worthwhile plans.”

  He rose and stretched, then bowed a polite good-night to the bent form of Yoshida and nodded more casually in Hara’s direction. As he left the room he was followed by Mimura, although there was no real reason for the servant to accompany him. He kept silent until they reached the door of his room, then turned to the gangling young man.

  “Bathe yourself and get some rest,” he told him. “Tomorrow will be a hard day for all of us. I appreciate all you have done and know that you always have the best welfare of the house of Asano at heart.”

  He half-turned to go but was stopped by Mimura’s sudden action of dropping to his knees and touching his head to the floor.

  “I must tell you,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I was forced by Hara to promise to say nothing, but I feel that would be unfair to you who carries the final responsibility!”

  Oishi gently lifted the boy by the shoulder of his ragged cloak until they were standing eye to eye. He said nothing, waiting for the boy to resolve the conflict within him.

  “Before we left Edo,” Mimura finally blurted out, “we went to visit Daigaku Asano, our Lord’s younger brother, and his uncle Lord Toda, the daimyo of Ogaki. They were holding up under their sorrow as well as could be expected, although as you know Daigaku is a rather frail young man and Lord Toda is now quite old. They knew all that had happened. They knew about the order to surrender the castle at Ako to the Shogun’s representatives.”

  “And?”

  “And they advised Hara to tell you that we should surrender peaceably in order not to increase the disgrace that has already fallen on the family.”

  Oishi let go of the boy and nodded that he might go. Mi­­mu­­ra hurried away down the corridor, praying that he had done the right thing. Even so, Hara might kill him if he found out he had broken his promise.

  Oishi had been given another unpleasant surprise and he appreciated more than ever the complexity of the problems he had to solve. He could not oppose the wishes of the family and yet he could see why a man of action like Hara would refuse to carry their message. When there were two valid viewpoints to reconcile, it was not always easy to choose the side that was right.

  He went to his room and got a warm cloak. He had been profoundly shaken by the news about his master and he knew there was no use trying to sleep. There was only one place where he might get some help for the questions that were troubling him, and he quietly slipped outside the castle to go there. The guard on duty at the main gate let him out a small side door and politely concealed his surprise at such unusual actions on the part of his superior.

  The night was dark with a cold breeze and Oishi shivered as he started to climb a small hill behind the castle. As he ascended, the wind grew stronger and he pulled his cloak more tightly around him. Looking back as he walked, he could see the dim outlines of the castle towers against the night sky; looking ahead he began to make out the shadows of a small cluster of gravestones on top of the hill. This was Kegaku-ji, the temple in Ako that constituted the Asano family burial grounds.

  He made his way to the center of the tiny fenced area and looked around. Here were buried the ashes of all the members of the Asano family he had ever known and many that had died before he was born. He moved slowly around, reading the familiar inscriptions on the pointed stone markers, then paused to look upward at the sky.

  “My Lord Asano,” he said with great intensity, “I call to you in the spirit world.”

  There was no answer but the moan of the wind and the nervous friction of leafless branches, but still Oishi felt closer to his lord than he would anywhere else and took some comfort in being able to openly express his thoughts.

  “If only I’d been with you,” Oishi cried as he knelt with his hands pressed together and lifted upward in a gesture that asked for forgiveness. Then he dropped his hands to his knees and cast his eyes down in humility.

  “Please know, my lord, that we attach no blame to your action. You did what any man would have done to protect his honor. The blame is all on the other side.”

  Oishi was thinking that he had known Lord Asano all his life and that in spite of his occasional outbursts of temper, there was no more worthy daimyo in all Japan. This section of the country was known for its strong adherence to the traditional virtues of the samurai and th
ere was no one more generous, more brave, more earnest in trying to live up to those ideals than Lord Asano. Oishi would follow such a master anywhere, even to the grave if necessary, and he would have no hesitation in drawing his dirk and joining him at this very moment if he thought the gesture would accomplish anything.

  His hand went to the blade of the knife at his belt but then dropped away. His primary duty now was to the living. To Lord Asano’s widow and little daughter and to all the retainers and people in the castle town who would look to him for guidance. If the time came when his suicide would serve a purpose, he would be ready.

  Now there were decisions to be made and he was depending on the spirit of Lord Asano to guide him in making the right ones. Would his master want him to peaceably give up the castle or would he want him to stand a siege, fighting to the last man? Or should they simply all kneel in front of the castle and commit seppuku together as a protest against an unfair sentence? Oishi was used to carrying out orders, not formulating policy, and this was a difficult experience for him. He realized how much depended on his ability to decide what was best for all and the responsibility weighed on him heavily. Who could judge if his choices were the right ones? The silent voice of Lord Asano would guide him, but in the end he knew he must judge himself. The path of honor was easy to follow when it was easy to see. When there were conflicts between choice of action, such as Hara had raised, the solutions could not be expected to satisfy everyone.

  In the deep woods, higher up the mountain, a fox barked at the wind and Oishi lifted his eyes. He saw the grave markers standing around him like an impenetrable fence and he imagined that this was how the spirit of Lord Asano saw them, too. His soul was in torment because of the dishonor his act had brought on Ako, and he would find true repose only when some resolution to the present state of affairs could be found. It was up to Oishi to find a way to bring this about.