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
