The 47 Knights-Errant
The iniquitous protagonist of this tale is the uncivil courtier Kira Kôtsuké no Suké, who brought about the degradation and death of the lord of Ako yet refused to take his own life, honorably, when fitting vengeance so demanded.
And yet, this uncivil courtier is a man who merits some gratitude, for he awakened priceless loyalties and provided the black yet necessary occasion for an immortal undertaking. The tale of the 47 Knights-Errant is one from far Kozakura, yet inspires all who would call themselves a knight.
In a now faded spring, Asano Takumi no Kami, the illustrious lord of the castle Ako, was obliged to receive an envoy from the emperor.
Two thousand and three hundred years of courtesy had brought the rituals of reception to a fine point of anguished complication. In order to avoid errors which might all too easily prove fatal, an official of Dojyu was sent beforehand to teach the proper ceremonies to be observed.
That official was Kira Kôtsuké no Suké. Far from the comforts of the court and sentenced to this backwater, the assignment must have seemed more a banishment than a holiday. Kira Kôtsuké no Suké imparted his instructions most ungraciously.
The magisterial tone of the courtier bordered on the insolent. His student, the lord of the castle, stoicly ignored these affronts. However, one morning, the ribbons on the courtier's sock came untied, and he requested that the lord of the castle tie it up for him.
The gentleman did so, humbly yet with inward indignation. The uncivil courtier told him that he was truly incorrigible - only an ill-bred country bumpkin was capable of tying a knot as clumsily as that.
At these words, the lord of the castle of Ako drew his sword and slashed at the courtier. Kira Kôtsuké no Suké fled, the graceful flourish of a delicate thread of blood now upon his forehead.
A few days later, a military court handed down its sentence. The lord of the castle of Ako, Asano Takumi no Kami, was allowed to commit ritual suicide.
In the central courtyard, a dais was erected and covered in red felt. To it the condemned man was led; he was given a short knife of gold and gems, confessed his crimes publically, and allowed his upper garments to slip down to his girdle.
He cut open his abdomen with two ritual movements of the dirk and died like a knight. His councillor, Oishi Kuranosuké, offered the mercy blow and took his head.
Asano Takumi no Kami's castle was confiscated, his family ruined and eclipsed, his name linked to execration. His loyal knights became lordless knights-errant. They hungered for revenge, but revenge must have seemed unattainable.
Kira Kôtsuké no Suké, the hated teacher of court etiquette, fortified his manor. A cloud of archers and swordsmen swarmed his palanquin. Among his retinue were incorruptible, secret spies.
Those spies observed, most closely, councillor Kuranosuké. The aged man was the presumed leader of the avenging knights-errant. But by chance Kuranosuké discovered the surveillance, and based his plan for revenge upon that knowledge.
Kuranosuké moved to Gifu, a city unparalleled throughout Shinkoku for the color of its autumns. He allowed himself to descend to the depths of brothels, gambling dens, and taverns. In spite of his age, he consorted with prostitutes and poets, and persons even worse.
Once, Kuranosuké was expelled from a tavern and woke up to find himself on a street, covered with vomit.
It happened that a Tenmei man saw this and said, sadly yet with anger:
"Is this not Oishi Kuranosuké, who was councillor to Asano Takumi no Kami, and who helped him to die? Yet, not having the heart to avenge his lord, he gives himself up to women and wine. Faithless beast! Fool and craven! Unworthy of the name of a knight!"
The man of Tenmei trod on Kuranosuké's face as he slept, and spat on him. When the uncivil courtier's spies reported this passivity, Kira Kôtsuké no Suké felt much relieved.
But things did not stop there. Kuranosuké sent away his wife and two children, and bought a concubine. This scandalous act cheered the heart and relaxed the fearful prudence of his enemy, who dismissed at least half his guards.
Then, during one of the bitter nights of winter, the forty-seven knights-errant met in an unkept garden on the outskirts of Gifu. They carried the pennants and banners of their lord.
Before they began the assault, they informed the inhabitants of the city that they were not raiding the town but embarking on a military mission of strict justice.
Poems record the many moments of that extraordinarily lucid nightmare - the perilous descent of rope ladders, the drum beating the signal to attack, the archers on the rooftops, the unswerving path of arrows to organs, the porcelain dishonored by blood.
Nine of the knights-errants died; the defenders were no less brave, and they would not surrender. Shortly after midnight, all resistance ended.
Kira Kôtsuké no Suké, the ignominious cause of all that loyalty, was found hiding in a tunnel behind his mirror. His forehead bore a scar - the old rubric left by Takumi no Kami's blade.
The bloody knights-errant went down on their knees before the detested nobleman, and told him they were the former retainers of the lord of the castle of Ako, for whose death and perdition he was to blame. They requested that the courtier commit the suicide that befitted the noble-born.
In vain did the retainers propose to Kira Kôtsuké no Suké's servile spirit that act of self-respect. At sunrise, the knights-errant were forced to slit his throat.
Their thirst for vengeance now quenched (but without wrath, or agitation, or regret), the knights-errant made their way to the temple that housed the remains of their lord. Over leagues they crossed, in the honest light of day, carrying the head of the courtier in a brass pail.
Men blessed them and wept. The prince of Hinomoto offered them hospitality, but they replied that their lord had been waiting for them for almost two years. At last did they reach the dark sepulcher, and they offered up the head of their enemy.
The military court handed down a verdict, and it was as expected: the retainers were granted the privilege of suicide. All obeyed, some with ardent serenity, and they lie now beside their lord. Today, men and children come to the sepulcher of those knights to pray.
Among the pilgrims who came, there was one dusty, tired man who journeyed from a great distance. He prostrated himself before the monument to councilor Oishi Kuranosuké and said:
"When I saw you lying drunk by the roadside, I knew not that you were planning to avenge your lord. And, thinking you to be a faithless man, I trampled you and spat in your face as I passed. I have come to offer atonement." He spoke these words, and then committed ritual suicide.
The priest of that temple was greatly moved by the Tenmei man's courage, and buried him by the knights-errant and their lord.
This is the end of the story of the forty-seven loyal retainers - except the story has no ending. We, other knights, who are perhaps not as loyal yet will never entirely lose the hope that we may one day be so, shall continue to honor them with our words. Committed to ink by Shäalira, the younger, on the 10th day of Eleint, 75 AR.