The Ghost in the Tokaido Inn (21 page)

“You challenged him?” the shogun
asked, surprised.

“He only had a play sword,”
confessed Seikei. “And I lost.”

“But you obtained from him the
information that allowed me to understand his motive,” said the
judge. “I knew that the Takezaki family had been Kirishitans, and
that their neighbor Lord Hakuseki had slain them and taken their
lands. Lord Hakuseki reported that all the members of the family
were dead, but as we saw, he lied.”

“A dishonorable man,” growled the
shogun. ‘You know, he didn’t even have the courage to commit
seppuku properly. One of my samurai had to help him
along.”

Seikei felt a shiver run down his
spine. Of course, that had been what Tomomi intended. By forcing
Lord Hakuseki to draw his sword in the shogun’s presence, he had
condemned him to death. “What happened to the other actors?” he
said, wondering how he dared to ask.

The shogun glanced at him.
“They’re in prison. Should I have them executed?”

“Oh, no,” Seikei said at once.
“They didn’t know anything about what Tomomi was
planning.”

“Hm. You’re sure of
that?”

“Yes. Do you remember when Tomomi
drew his father’s sword at the play? One of the actors, a boy named
Kazuo, warned Lord Hakuseki that it was real.”

“I don’t recall. It was
confusing,” said the shogun. “You don’t think they deserve to be
executed?”

Seikei shook his head.

“Well, then,” said the shogun,
shrugging. “If you wish it, I’ll have them released.” He turned to
Judge Ooka. “But you knew what Tomomi was planning. Why didn’t you
warn me?”

“He would not have admitted his
guilt so openly unless you were present. Tomomi had to be permitted
to follow his own path. My samurai Bunzo followed Seikei, which was
the only way I could learn of Tomomi’s movements. Two nights ago,
as Bunzo watched, Tomomi went to Lord Hakuseki’s palace, disguised
again as a woman.”

“Bunzo followed me?” exclaimed
Seikei.

“Certainly. He would not have let
you come to harm.”

Seikei remembered that Tomomi had
almost choked him to death near Lord Hakuseki’s yashiki that night.
But he fought back the urge to point that out to the
judge.

“Tomomi seems to have met Lord
Hakuseki, convincing him that the performance of a play would
please the shogun, something that Lord Hakuseki wished.”

“You could have told me then and
saved all this trouble,” said the shogun.

“But you would not have had the
pleasure of seeing a criminal confess to his crime in such an
unusual way,” said the judge.

“Hm. Once was enough. Do not
repeat it.”

“You were pleased?” asked the
judge.

“Oh yes, it was exciting.” The
shogun laughed. “Did you see how those officials of mine scrambled
to get out of the way of the fighting? There really aren’t many
true samurai anymore.”

“I hope I will not offend you if I
say that Takezaki Genji was a true samurai.”

The shogun stared at Judge Ooka.
“If so, why did he force me to consent to his execution? Why didn’t
he commit seppuku after drawing his sword in my
presence?”

“I have decided,” replied the
judge, “that it was because he was a Kirishitan. Kirishitans do not
commit seppuku.”

Seikei spoke up. “Tomomi’s mother
committed seppuku, in the play.”

The judge
smiled. “An intelligent comment. But she had not been a Kirishitan
before she married Lord Takezaki. In the end, her samurai honor was
stronger than the religion she adopted to please her husband. But
her son
...”
He
spread his hands.

“You see how dangerous these
Kirishitan ideas are?” said the shogun. “If they were allowed to
spread in Japan, then the samurai traditions would
decay.”

“I hoped you would mention that,”
said the judge. “For I have a favor to ask.”

The shogun looked at him
suspiciously. “I will not ban torture,” he said. “Other judges are
not so clever as you, and cannot do without it. If people didn’t
fear being punished for wrongdoing, the country would be filled
with thieves.”

“Not that,” said the judge. “I
know someone who is devoted to the ideal of bushido. He has shown
himself to be courageous, honorable, and loyal. In every way, he is
a true samurai.”

“Name him,” said the shogun. “I
will make him a judge. Better yet, send him to my court to be an
official, for I need such men.”

“There is only one problem,” said
the judge. “He is not a samurai, but the son of a
merchant.”

Slowly, the shogun’s eyes moved to
Seikei. “You said your father sells tea?”

“And other things,” said
Seikei.

“Don’t tell me about them,” the
shogun said with a wave of his hand. “I have too much to think
about.” He looked at the judge. “Someday you will test my patience
too far,” he said. “I suppose you have thought of some way to make
this possible.”

“Without violating tradition,” the
judge replied. “As you know, it is common for families without a
son to adopt one to carry on their name. I have no son. If you
consent, and if the father of this young man agrees, I will adopt
him.”

Seikei could not believe what he
was hearing. The shogun looked him over slowly. “You wish this?” he
said.

“Oh yes,” said Seikei. “All my
life I have wished to be a samurai.”

“What about your own family? Have
you not an obligation to them?”

Seikei considered. “My father has
always said I have no head for business. In fact, he would be
happier if Denzaburo, my younger brother, could take my place.” He
hesitated, thinking of his mother. She would miss him.

“Would I be able to visit my
family?” he asked Judge Ooka.

The judge smiled. “I would not
have it any other way.” Then he turned to the shogun. “Well, my
friend, what do you say?”

“Hm,” said the shogun, eyeing
Seikei. “Perhaps your father would make me a gift of
tea?”

Seikei nodded, not daring to
mention that his father’s shop had some tea that was even better
than the kind that the shogun had served.

“Make sure that your actions do
not disgrace me,” said the shogun. “I consent.”

Seikei lowered his head, hiding
his tears of joy.

“I see there are some of those
cakes left,” said the judge. “I think I’ll have
another.”

Author’s Note

Judge Ooka was a real person, a
friend and advisor of Yoshimune, the eighth shogun of the Tokugawa
family. Yoshimune served as shogun between 1717 and 1744, and was
eager to revive the samurai tradition and spirit. The story of the
Forty-Seven Ronin is also a true one, which has inspired many
Japanese playwrights and storytellers.

Judge Ooka did in fact oppose
torture as a way of forcing a confession from suspects. The judge’s
ability to solve crimes through his amazing powers of reasoning
made him famous even during his lifetime. Since then, tales about
Judge Ooka have remained popular, causing some to call him the
Sherlock Holmes of Japan. This story, however, comes from the
imagination of the authors.

The cover for the e-book edition
of this book was designed by Ellen Hoobler. The figure in the upper
right-hand corner is a ghost that was painted by Hokusai, one of
Japan’s greatest artists. The symbol at the bottom right-hand
corner is a “one” in the Japanese style of numbering.