Asano felt a tremendous depression settle over him. He knew that his own self-indulgence had once again cost him Kira’s good will. If Kira neglected him now, he would be at a complete loss to know what to do during the ceremony. He felt a moment of panic as he anticipated the disgrace he would bring on his family name if he should commit some terrible breach of etiquette. After all, Kira was the recognized expert on such matters and the least he could do was be civil to the man, even if he despised him.
He was trying to compose some statement of apology when the outside door opened. His pulse quickened at the thought that it might be the Imperial envoys, but he breathed easier when he saw that it was only an attendant of the Shogun’s mother who entered. He was a pop-eyed, plump little man named Kajikawa whom Lord Asano would ordinarily have ignored, but on this occasion he was astute enough not to reveal his true feelings. As Kajikawa looked timidly around the room, Lord Asano smiled encouragingly.
The smile worked and Kajikawa scurried over, sinking into an exaggerated bow of respect as he arrived. Then he lifted his head with a froggy smile. . . .
“Lord Asano,” he said in a lisping rush of words, “I have heard that there’s been a change in the time schedule and I would like to know what it is so that I can tell our exalted Shogun’s mother. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. . . .” he finished on the correct note of uncertainty.
Lord Asano’s eyes went involuntarily to Kira as the only one who could answer and was discomfited to find that Kira was smiling blackly back at him and had obviously heard the question.
“Don’t bother to ask that dolt anything,” Kira said loudly and in his grandest manner. “If it’s a question about the ceremony, ask me or Lord Daté, or one of the servants—even they know more about what’s going on than Lord Asano!”
Kajikawa’s face turned red and his eyes popped wider than ever as he bowed uncertainly, then stood in indecision. Lord Asano had gone dead white and stood as stiffly as if he had been turned to stone. Kajikawa felt a sudden twinge of dread and moved away toward the sliding doors to the assembly hall. He did not want to humiliate Lord Asano any further by going to anyone else in the room, and decided to ask his question of one of the courtiers inside. He had started to open the door when he saw Lord Kira move majestically across the room to stop in front of Lord Asano and say something to him in low tones. He could not be sure but it sounded like Kira was making some reference to Lord Asano’s wife.
Lord Asano, too, had trouble believing his ears as Kira spoke.
“You could have saved yourself all this trouble, you know,” he said insinuatingly. “If your money means so much to you, there are other ways to satisfy my taste for delicacies. I hear you have a pretty wife with a round moonlike face. . . .”
Lord Asano could take no more. The blood drained from his face and pounded in his chest, and his sword arm jerked to the hilt of his weapon. Kira’s hand went instinctively to his own sword, although he had no intention of drawing it, but this was a tragic mistake. Lord Asano saw the move as an acceptance of his challenge and his sword blade flashed naked as he raised it high and slashed down in blind fury. Kira, struck high on the shoulder, stumbled and fell. Lord Asano raised his arm to strike again but Lord Daté and some of the others rushed forward to seize him. There was a second’s stillness, broken only when Kajikawa gulped loudly and hurried away into the inner room.
Lord Asano went slack with a shudder as he looked down at the still figure of Kira and then at the men who took both his swords from him. He was still standing motionless, a glazed look in his eyes, when the sliding doors opened again and the Shogun Tsunayoshi himself stepped into the room. Behind him could be seen a group of boys in dance costume, all strangely silent and grotesquely frozen in position.
Tsunayoshi, more feminine appearing than ever in his dance costume, was not prepared for the sight which greeted him. He caught his breath sharply, then staggered back as though he might fall. Some of those present could guess what was going through his mind.
It was just seventeen years ago that a similar incident had taken place in this very room, and during all these years Tsunayoshi had been haunted by it. It had been his own prime minister who had been struck down at that time, instantly killed by a junior member of the court, who, it was said, resented the prime minister’s taking over too many powers that rightly belonged to the Shogun. It was also said, behind closed doors, that Tsunayoshi himself was responsible for the attack, although this was never proved. The assassin was executed on the spot by the assembled lords, and his motives remained a secret.
Now it was as though the whole scene was being played out again before his eyes and he was plainly unnerved by the sight. A sudden rage took hold of him and the blood rushed to his face as he stamped forward to stand by Kira’s motionless body. With a grimace of distaste, the Shogun ordered two servants to carry his no longer impeccable Master of Cere-monies into an anteroom, then turned to the others.
“What’s happened here?” he demanded to know, but there was no immediate reply. “You, there,” he said to Lord Daté. “Tell me what happened.”
Daté released Lord Asano’s arm and bowed, swallowing hard as he did so. Then he straightened and spoke briefly and formally, as though reporting to a superior on the field of battle.
“Lord Asano evidently took offense at something Lord Kira said. We saw that he was shocked. We saw that he drew his sword and struck Lord Kira. It was as though something beyond him was forcing . . .”
“He drew his sword and struck Kira?” interrupted the Shogun. “Does anyone know what Kira said to him to cause him to behave in such a lawless manner?”
No one answered, least of all Kajikawa, who was peeking through the sliding doors to the inner room and who knew when to keep his mouth shut.
“Very well, then, hold him here,” said Tsunayoshi icily. He turned to Lord Asano. “You have no regard, sir, for the propriety of this court?”
“I’m sorry,” said Lord Asano as he knelt and bowed his head to the floor. “I have no excuse.”
“There are rules for every occasion,” Tsunayoshi went on, “carefully thought out rules which everyone must obey. I make no exceptions in this regard—not even of my own kinsmen. Ignorance of the rules might make some difference, but I’m sure that you, sir, after so many years as a daimyo cannot claim such an exemption.”
“No . . . no,” murmured Lord Asano, feeling sure he must be having a bad dream from which he would soon wake.
Tsunayoshi turned to the others. “The crime is clear enough. So is the penalty. You will please keep this man in custody while I confer with my councilors. In the meantime the ceremony will have to be delayed.”
He made an expression of distaste at the bloodstains on the floor, then turned away and started to go back through the sliding doors to the large hall beyond. One of his retinue of courtiers appeared in the doorway, but stepped back obsequiously to make way for the Shogun.
“It’s terrible,” said the Shogun to the courtier. “All our plans upset because of one irresponsible samurai who never learned how to behave in the castle. It may even mean canceling our dance performance.”
Then they were gone and Lord Asano was left alone with his captors. He continued to kneel and look steadfastly at the floor while the rest of those present watched him in awed silence. His face maintained a stony calm, but inside his stomach was churning so that it was difficult to think straight. He felt close to being sick but took a firmer grip on himself, resolving to show nothing of weakness. His only thought was that he must prove to
