The Ronin's Mistress by Laura Joh Rowland Page A

retainers lived. Sano and his men passed through an entryway crammed with cloaks, shoes, and weapons, just like in the barracks at home. He smelled the same smell of male sweat and tobacco smoke. Talk and laughter issued from a room where a crowd of samurai knelt on the tatami floor, eating their morning meal from tray tables. They looked up as Sano and his comrades crossed the threshold. An abrupt silence fell. The samurai set down teacups, chopsticks, and bowls of noodles. Cheerful expressions sobered. Everyone bowed in stiff, formal unison.
    “My apologies for interrupting your meal.” Sano was puzzled to see many more men than the sixteen prisoners Hirata had brought yesterday. And they bore no resemblance to the scruffy, bloodstained r ō nin he’d arrested.
    They were all clean, dressed in fresh clothes, their faces and the crowns of their heads neatly shaven, their hair oiled and tied in topknots. Then a group of them moved away from their tables to kneel by the walls. Their faces showed guilt, chagrin, and defiance. Sano spotted the crests on their garments: They were Hosokawa clan retainers, fraternizing with the prisoners. It was obvious which side the Hosokawa had taken in the controversy.
    Turning his attention to the r ō nin, Sano caught them staring at him. They dropped their gazes. He counted only fifteen men, most of them in their thirties or forties. Some wore bandages over wounds. He didn’t recognize Oishi among them. They seemed confused: With their leader absent, they didn’t know what to do. Sano again had the sense that they were parts of a single creature. Their heads swiveled toward the youngest r ō nin, who leaped to his feet.
    “What do you want?” His voice was shaky with fear. Sano recognized him as Oishi’s teenaged son, Chikara.
    “Just to talk,” Sano said.
    The seated r ō nin visibly relaxed. They thought he’d come to deliver them to their death, Sano supposed. They seemed less staunchly resigned to their fate than they had while standing over Kira’s head in the graveyard. Sano said, “Where is Oishi?”
    “With Lord Hosokawa,” Chikara said.
    “I’ll talk to Oishi,” Sano told his detectives. “You and Hirata- san will interview these prisoners.”
    A scraping noise and the sound of quick, departing footsteps startled Sano. He looked at the empty space where Chikara had been standing. A partition that had been closed a moment ago was now open. Sano nodded to Hirata, who went after Chikara while the detectives settled themselves among the r ō nin. Sano went in search of Lord Hosokawa and Oishi.
    He found them in the mansion, in Lord Hosokawa’s private office, a grander version of Sano’s own. Heat shimmered up through decorative grilles in the tatami floor, from braziers underneath. Furniture was spangled with gold crests. Oishi and Lord Hosokawa knelt at the desk, conversing over ledgers. When Sano entered the room, they raised their heads.
    Oishi, like the other r ō nin, had washed, shaved, groomed his hair, and dressed in new clothes. His color had improved; he didn’t look as tired or ill. His fierce eyes burned brighter. He gazed at Sano, expectant yet cautious.
    Sano exchanged bows and greetings with Lord Hosokawa, whom he knew slightly.
    “Oishi- san has been giving me ideas for managing my finances.” Lord Hosokawa’s worried face took on a defensive cast. “They worked very well in Harima Province. I’m eager to try them in my domain.”
    “I see.” Sano saw that Oishi had become friends with Lord Hosokawa overnight. He wasn’t surprised, even though Hirata had mentioned that Lord Hosokawa had balked at taking in the prisoners yesterday. Lord Hosokawa probably admired Oishi as an example of samurai loyalty and hoped that if he himself ever needed avenging, his retainers would rise to the occasion as Oishi had for Lord Asano.
    “You’re not taking him away, are you?” Lord Hosokawa sounded upset by the idea.
    “Not yet.” Sano explained about