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
