47 Ronin Read online

  He sighed, then rose to bow respectfully to all the tombs in the graveyard. He felt the coldness of dread in his bowels as he did so. The sudden extinction of this noble family was almost too awful a thought to bear. If they surrendered, these graves would be neglected and the spirits would search in vain for proper homage and care from their descendants. Those living would be denied the comforts of their ancestors’ blessings and would wander the earth dispossessed of part of their souls. The urge to strike out against those who would bring this to pass came strongly over him, but he knew in his heart that a siege would be a futile gesture. In the end they would lose and the graves of the ancestors would be just as neglected.

  Suddenly the immensity of what was going to happen to himself personally struck home for the first time. He would no longer be a respected samurai; he would be a ronin, a man without a master, one of those pitiful ones whose days of usefulness and glory were gone. He would be forced to become a soldier of fortune or drop out of the military ranks altogether. Either choice was a miserable one. Perhaps Hara was right and he should ignore the orders of Daigaku and Toda. It would be better to go down fighting than to watch his family starve and sink into the bottomless, honorless pit of poverty.

  Then he shook his head free of such thoughts and went back down the hill to the castle to plan what he would say at the meeting that must be called. In the morning he would ask his wife to tell Lord Asano’s little daughter that her father and mother would not be coming home.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning Oishi briefly told his wife what had happened in Edo. In the face of such a tragedy she was naturally shaken, but true to the samurai tradition to which she was born, she did not break down in useless tears. She was given her instructions about the little girl and bowed respectfully as she left to carry them out. The future of their own family was not discussed; there would be time for that later.

  Weary from lack of sleep, Oishi moved slowly toward the front of the castle where the followers were to assemble, but as he passed the door of the room where he had met with Hara and Yoshida the night before, he heard voices and paused.

  Someone was reading from the works of Confucius in a droning monotone and he could not resist the temptation to move silently to the sliding door and push it open a crack.

  The scene inside was just as he had imagined and it took him back nearly thirty years to his own young manhood. His fifteen-year-old son Chikara, already nearly as big as a man, was kneeling on the tatami before a low writing table, patiently practicing the complicated brush strokes of Japanese character writing. Opposite him on a cushion, his pale-faced teacher in a priestly cap and flowing gray robes sat dictating from the works of Confucius. Oishi knew that through this constant exposure to literary culture and moral teachings, the boy would soon be as thoroughly indoctrinated as he himself was in the wisdom of the past.

  Although the barren room was wide and light it was separated from the garden beyond by only a partition of paper shoji and was bitterly cold. Chikara had evidently been sitting stock still for several hours and Oishi noted with pride that although his hands were red with cold, he made no attempt to warm them or to shift his position. His son was following admirably in his own footsteps, and he reflected that the boy would soon be a man with a man’s responsibilities. In view of present events, he would finish his apprenticeship none too soon.

  Quietly, Oishi closed the door and went on down the corridor until the teacher’s voice faded away. When he reached the front door of the castle it was opened for him by a guard and he took a deep breath as he stepped outside into the cold sunlight to face the assembled men.

  All the Asano retainers of samurai rank had been summoned to the meeting. Ordinarily they would have formed in ranks outside the wall, but in the interests of privacy Oishi had summoned them to the front steps of the castle proper and here they gathered, under its soaring towers, over three hundred fighting men surrounding the entrance and overflowing into the paths of the garden beyond.

  In attire they were all alike; semibattle dress, ready to don their armor if it should be necessary. In age they varied widely; from men in their sixties who might be more of a hindrance than a help on the battlefield to boys in their teens who had strength and agility but lacked wisdom and experience. The majority were in their thirties and forties, seasoned in life and combat, and it was to these that Oishi primarily addressed himself.

  In spite of all precautions, rumors had begun to circulate. The precipitate and unexplained arrival of Hara and Mimura in the middle of the night could not help but be noticed and commented on. Conjectures of all kinds passed among them while they waited, but their murmurs were quickly stilled when Oishi raised his hand for silence.

  In the chill morning air, the frost on his breath was appropriate to his cold words: “Our master is dead.” They stared at him in disbelief. Had he shouted it with his sword flung high they would have understood that it was a call to action, but the tone in which he pronounced the words told them the situation was hopeless and that there was nothing to be done. As he went on to explain what had happened, there were tears of sorrow and of anger that came to the eyes of many who had never wept before in their lives.

  He told them how the Shogun’s Master of Ceremonies had goaded their master beyond endurance, and there were angry mutterings among them. He told them that Lady Asano was in exile and that the Shogun’s representatives were coming to take over the castle and all the lands at Ako. There were again murmurs of outrage but they stopped when Oishi concluded, without even a glance in Hara’s direction, that it was the decision of Daigaku Asano, the heir to the title, that they relinquish the castle peaceably.

  Hara looked up quickly at this, then narrowed his eyes as they sought out Mimura. Being only a servant, he was not present at the meeting, but Hara vowed he would make him regret his betrayal when he found him. He had not long to wait for his man. Mimura unexpectedly appeared before them in the doorway to the castle and Oishi broke off to see what emergency had brought him there.

  When he had been officially recognized, Mimura hurried to Oishi’s side and all present turned their eyes on him as he whispered something into their leader’s ear. Oishi looked startled, then nodded and the servant withdrew. Oishi turned to the assembled men.

  “A messenger has arrived from Edo,” he told them. “Gen-goemon Kataoka has brought fresh news from the capital.”

  Kataoka, his monkey face grim and his clothes in tatters, hobbled out on sore legs and bowed deeply to Oishi. He was obviously exhausted and had trouble breathing but did his utmost to hold himself at rigid attention while he was the focal point of the eyes of all of his comrades.

  “Please,” Oishi said, “tell us what you have learned. You may speak to the whole group together. We are all equally involved in this matter.”

  Kataoka hesitated, glanced around to identify some of the faces nearest him, then shouted the fateful words:

  “Kira lives!”

  Instantly the whole tenor of the meeting changed. Sorrow and hopelessness changed to pure rage and Hara was the first to voice it.

  “Then he must die!” he cried, and there was a tremendous answering shout from the assembly. A surge of passion rose within Oishi, too, but he deliberately forced it down and waited for the uproar to subside. When the men saw that he wished to speak they gradually quieted down, although there were puzzled murmurings about his strangely cold response to the news that their dead master’s arch-enemy still lived.

  “I agree that Kira should die,” he said finally. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to launch an assault on him this very minute. But . . .” and he paused as his jaw tightened, “we should not be hasty in rushing into action. I hardly think that this group is sufficient in size or armament to undertake a punitive expedition to Edo to attack someone behind the walls of the Shogun’s castle. We’ll leave such discussions until later. At this meeting we are only concerned with the coming surrender of the castle and
I have certain recommendations to make in this regard.”

  This was more than some of the men could take. Their mutterings sounded mutinously in Oishi’s ears but only Hara was bold enough to stand and speak. He addressed his leader formally, but with an undertone of incredulity in his voice.

  “Please, Oishi-dono, I don’t think I understand you correctly. We have just been told that our lord’s enemy, the one who caused his death, still lives, and you say there are more important things to discuss?”

  He looked to the crowd for approval and received it in their shouts. Bolder now, he continued to lay it on the line. “Does not even the peaceful Confucius say that no man may live under the same sky with the murderer of his lord?”

  The men shouted again in agreement until Oishi held up his hand in a commanding gesture.

  “You forget yourselves,” he said. “Your loyalty is to the house of Asano. Our first duty is to follow the command of our lord’s brother and the rightful heir to this fief.” He paused to look directly at Hara. “Does not Confucius also say that of the five virtues, loyalty dwarfs all other moral obligations?”

  “Our lord’s brother is not our lord!” came a shout from the rear and there were answering murmurs of assent. Hara excitedly took the floor again and addressed Oishi directly.

  “There is no question of loyalty,” he said. “We’re all loyal. The only question is how we can best show that loyalty. And I say that if we don’t take revenge on Kira, we’re bound to appear as cowards and weaklings in the eyes of our countrymen!”

  Oishi answered him icily. “And I say it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks as long as we’re convinced in our own minds that we’re right. Think for a moment of our mistress, Lady Asano, and of her little daughter. Will taking the life of a miserable creature like Kira help regain their home? More likely they would only be executed along with the rest of us for our unsuccessful attempt. Consider also what such open rebellion would mean to Ako. Will the ancestors of the Asano family be pleased to have their tombs desecrated in view of a ruined castle?”

  “Will those ancestors sleep peacefully in death knowing that Lord Asano’s followers were too cowardly to avenge his death?” shouted back Hara. There was a cry of agreement from many of the men and Oishi hesitated, then quietly signaled to Yoshida in the crowd. The gray-haired old man stood and made his way to the front of the group.

  “I must reprimand you, Soemon Hara,” he said sternly, “for what you have just said to our leader. There is no reason to impugn his loyalty, just because he doesn’t agree with you on the best way to show it. For my part, I find his position entirely reasonable. By showing no resistance and obeying the Shogun’s commands to the best of our ability we will gain more toward what we want than by seeking a blood bath. If we remain blameless, the Shogun may in time see where the true blame lies and punish Kira himself.”

  “He ‘may in time?’” mocked Hara. “You’re an old man, Yoshida. Don’t you want to see justice done before you die?”

  “I am an old man,” agreed Yoshida. “And more than anything before I die, I want to see this house restored. I say we should appeal the Shogun’s decision before taking any other action.”

  There was a murmur of approval to this course of action, which Oishi was relieved to hear. At least they were not all against him. There was a possibility now that he could reach a compromise that would satisfy both factions, at least for the time being. He was pleased with himself for having arranged beforehand that Yoshida should propose this plan so that he himself would appear more in the light of an impartial judge.

  Ono, the treasurer, now stood and for a moment Oishi regretted he had not consulted with him beforehand.

  Ono was an elderly man with a studious look, a tight smile, and a mind that clicked away at a problem like the counters on his abacus. His opinions carried considerable weight and he was capable of making trouble, but as Oishi had anticipated he was in accord with Yoshida’s plan. He, too, was for waiting till the last possible moment to make a decision.

  “I agree with both speakers that we should make an appeal,” Oishi told the group when Ono was through. “It is in no way contrary to the wishes of Daigaku Asano—from what I have been able to learn of his views.” He looked directly at Hara who squirmed uncomfortably. “And besides, such a course has the advantage of buying us time to prepare.”

  “Prepare for what?” asked Hara.

  “For a siege, if our petition is denied,” Oishi answered. This was the first time he had hinted at positive action and he could tell by the sharp intakes of breaths around him that it came as a not unwelcome prospect. “I will write the petition myself today and send it by courier to the proper officials in Edo. In the meantime I ask all of you to search your souls to decide the best course of action for yourselves. So much has happened so quickly that I recommend you all take time to think. We will meet tomorrow morning to discuss measures of resistance, if it becomes necessary to offer it, and I suggest that only those prepared to fight to the death attend.”

  A hush fell over the group and Oishi spoke more slowly so that there could be no mistake about what he was saying. “We can fight, we can die, or we may decide, if we are too few in number, that it might be better to simply kneel in front of the castle and commit seppuku as a greeting to the Shogun’s representatives—if that doesn’t seem like too cowardly a gesture.”

  There was complete silence now, even on Hara’s part. Seppuku was their last great resource for combating injustice. It was part of the training of a samurai that he would know how and when to take this ultimate step, yet this was the first time any of them had had it offered as a practical alternative. Oishi had indeed given them much to think about.

  When the meeting was adjourned and the men returned to their duties, Oishi turned to the waiting Kataoka to question him closely about how things were going in Edo.

  “Fine—fine,” Kataoka nodded briskly, in spite of his weariness. “Young Horibe is doing a good job.”

  He went on to tell how Horibe was keeping close watch on the exit routes from the city so that he would know when the troops were being sent to take over the castle at Ako. He was also keeping track of Kira’s movements so that he would know when the moment had arrived to strike. Oishi was concerned that Horibe, who had a reputation for being hotheaded, might take too much into his own hands, but Kataoka assured him that all those in Edo were pledged to follow the orders of their leader in Ako. Relieved to hear this, Oishi sent the exhausted man for food and rest, and started to walk toward the stable area. On the way he was joined by Hara, who was full of apologies.

  “Please believe that I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you,” he said. “I just can’t help myself when I get excited. I know it gets me into nothing but trouble, but I’ve always been like this and I can’t seem to stop.”

  Oishi smiled. “I know you well enough to realize that,” he said. “And don’t you worry about what happened in the meeting. You represent one viewpoint and I’m glad you do it so forcefully. We’re asking these men to consider pledging their lives to our decision and they should have a clear-cut choice offered to them. We must also take care that those who depart from the way of the sword do not lose face with their comrades.”

  Hara looked at him with respect. His own mind was incapable of seeing into the situation so deeply and he was im-pressed by a leader who had both brains and a fighting heart.

  “It must be hard for you,” he said humbly, “to have to consider the views of all. . . .You know you can always rely on me to carry out your orders.”

  Oishi smiled at him. “Thank you, old friend. I know I can count on you in any crisis.”

  Hara bowed his head in gratitude and together they walked on. When they reached the stables, Oishi took a moment to inspect the rows of stalls where the few remaining horses stood unbrushed and with tangled manes. He shook his head in dismay at their condition, then called for the head groom. When the man appeared, as shabby looking as his
charges, Oishi unexpectedly gave orders that the horses were to be combed and their hooves pared so that they would appear at their best. The groom was amazed at his words and happily hurried away before Oishi could change his mind. Hara’s mouth, too, had fallen open at the command.

  “Then you are going to fight?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Not necessarily,” said Oishi. “But even if we decide to evacuate the castle peaceably, it wouldn’t do to post our last guard on shabby mounts, would it?”

  Hara could not help but agree and turned to watch the groom as he briskly started to work. Then he realized that Oishi was staring at him and he faced his leader somewhat uneasily.

  “I’ve forgiven you for your remarks at the meeting,” Oishi said, “but I cannot so easily excuse you for not telling me about your meeting with Daigaku and Lord Toda before you returned to Ako. Without that information I might have made a blunder that could have cost us all our lives for nothing.”

  “I’m sorry,” murmured Hara.

  “I might be more inclined to forgive you, however, if you promise you’ll do nothing to harm Mimura for his brave act.”

  Hara grimaced, then nodded reluctantly. He had been looking forward to the pleasure of beating the talkative servant to within an inch of his life.

  “Keep that promise,” Oishi said gravely, “or I will let everyone know that you tried to deceive me.”

  His manner told Hara that this was no idle threat, and the old warrior bowed thoughtfully as Oishi walked away. Then he scratched his head and sighed.

  Now Oishi faced the first real test of his leadership. If too few appeared at the second meeting, all hope of revenge would be lost. At the appointed hour, he watched from inside the castle door as the samurai assembled. He was intent on counting them when he was startled by the arrival of someone at his side. It was Hara, also anxious to see who was with them and who was not. As they counted together it was soon apparent that the turnout would be much smaller than the day before; when the time came for the meeting to begin there were only sixty or so present out of the original three hundred.