47 Ronin. John AllynЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
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