That night Toranaga could not sleep. This was rare for him because normally he could defer the most pressing problem until the next day, knowing that if he was alive the next day he would solve it to the best of his ability. He had long since discovered that peaceful sleep could provide the answer to most puzzles, and if not, what did it really matter? Wasn’t life just a dewdrop within a dewdrop?
But tonight, there were too many perplexing questions to ponder.
What will I do about Ishido?
Why has Onoshi defected to the enemy?
How will I deal with the Council?
Have the Christian priests meddled again?
Where will the next assassination attempt come from?
When should Yabu be dealt with?
And what must I do about the barbarian?
Was he telling the truth?
Curious how the barbarian came out of the eastern seas just at this time. Is that an omen? Is it his karma to be the spark that will light the powder keg?
Karma was an Indian word adopted by Japanese, part of Buddhist philosophy that referred to a person’s fate in this life, his fate immutably fixed because of deeds done in a previous life, good deeds giving a better position in this life’s strata, bad deeds the reverse. Just as the deeds of this life would completely affect the next rebirth. A person was ever being reborn into this world of tears until, after enduring and suffering and learning through many lifetimes, he became perfect at long last, going to nirvana, the Place of Perfect Peace, never having to suffer rebirth again.
Strange that Buddha or some other god or perhaps just karma brought the Anjin-san to Yabu’s fief. Strange that he landed at the exact village where Mura, the secret head of the Izu spy system, had been settled so many years ago under the very nose of the Taikō and Yabu’s pox-diseased father. Strange that Tsukku-san was here in Osaka to interpret and not in Nagasaki where he’d normally be. That also the chief priest of the Christians is here in Osaka, and also the Captain-General of the Portuguese. Strange that the pilot, Rodrigues, was also available to take Hiro-matsu to Anjiro in time to capture the barbarian alive and take possession of the guns. Then there’s Kasigi Omi, son of the man who will give me Yabu’s head if I but crook my little finger.
How beautiful life is and how sad! How fleeting, with no past and no future, only a limitless now.
Toranaga sighed. One thing is certain: the barbarian will never leave. Neither alive nor dead. He is part of the realm forever.
His ears heard almost imperceptible approaching footsteps and his sword was ready. Each night he changed his sleeping room, his guards, and the password haphazardly, against the assassins that were always waiting. The footsteps stopped outside the shoji. Then he heard Hiro-matsu’s voice and the beginning of the password: ‘ ‘If the Truth is already clear, what is the use of meditation?’ ‘
‘ ‘And if the Truth is hidden?’ ‘ Toranaga said.
‘ ‘It’s already clear,’ ‘ Hiro-matsu answered correctly. The quotation was from the ancient Tantaric Buddhist teacher, Saraha.
‘Come in.’
Only when Toranaga saw that it was, in truth, his counselor, did his sword relax. ‘Sit down.’
‘I heard you weren’t sleeping. I thought you might need something.’
‘No. Thank you.’ Toranaga observed the deepened lines around the old man’s eyes. ‘I’m glad you’re here, old friend,’ he said.
‘You’re sure you’re all right?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Then I’ll leave you. Sorry to disturb you, Lord.’
‘No, please, come in, I’m glad you’re here. Sit down.’
The old man sat down beside the door, his back straight. ‘I’ve doubled the guards.’
‘Good.’
After a while Hiro-matsu said, ‘About that madman, everything was done as you ordered. Everything.’
‘Thank you.’
‘His wife—as soon as she heard the sentence, my granddaughter asked my permission to kill herself, to accompany her husband and her son into the Great Void. I refused and ordered her to wait, pending your approval.’ Hiro-matsu was bleeding inside. How terrible life is!
‘You did correctly.’
‘I formally ask permission to end my life. What he did put you in mortal danger, but it was my fault. I should have detected his flaw. I failed you.’
‘You may not commit seppuku.’
‘Please. I formally ask permission.’
‘No. You’re needed alive.’
‘I will obey you. But please accept my apologies.’
‘Your apologies are accepted.’
After a time, Toranaga said, ‘What about the barbarian?’
‘Many things, Sire. One: If you hadn’t been waiting for the barbarian today you would have been hawking since first light, and Ishido would never have enmeshed you in such a disgusting meeting. You have no choice now but to declare war on him—if you can get out of this castle and back to Yedo.’
‘Second?’
‘And third and forty-third and a hundred and forty-third? I’m nowhere near as clever as you, Lord Toranaga, but even I could see that everything we’ve been led to believe by the Southern Barbarians is not true.’ Hiro-matsu was glad to talk. It helped ease the hurt. ‘But if there are two Christian religions which hate each other, and if the Portuguese are part of the bigger Spanish nation and if this new barbarian’s country—whatever it was called—wars on both and beats them, and if this same country’s an island nation like ours, and the great ‘if’ of all, if he’s telling the truth and if the priest’s saying accurately what the barbarian was saying. . . . Well, you can put all these ‘ifs’ together and make sense out of them, and a plan. I can’t, so sorry. I only know what I saw at Anjiro, and aboard the ship. That the Anjin-san is very strong in his head—weak in his body presently, though that would be because of the long voyage—and dominating at sea. I don’t understand anything about him. How could he be all of these things yet allow a man to piss on his back? Why did he save Yabu’s life after what the man did to him, and also the life of his self-admitted enemy, the Portuguese Rodrigu? My head spins from so many questions as though I’m sodden with saké.’ Hiro-matsu paused. He was very weary. ‘But I think we should keep him on land and all like him, if others follow, and kill them all very quickly.’
‘What about Yabu?’
‘Order him to commit seppuku tonight.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s got no manners. You foretold what he’d do when I arrived at Anjiro. He was going to steal your property. And he’s a liar. Don’t bother to see him tomorrow as you’ve arranged. Instead, let me take him your order now. You’ll have to kill him sooner or later. Better now when he’s accessible, with none of his own vassals surrounding him. I advise no delay.’
There was a soft knock on the inner door. ‘Tora-chan?’
Toranaga smiled as he always did at that very special voice, with that special diminutive. ‘Yes, Kiri-san?’
‘I’ve taken the liberty, Lord, of bringing cha for you and your guest. May I please come in?’
‘Yes.’
Both men returned her bow. Kiri closed the door and busied herself with the pouring. She was fifty-three and substantial, Matron of Toranaga’s ladies-in-waiting, Kiritsubo-noh-Toshiko, nicknamed Kiri, the oldest of the ladies of his court. Her hair was gray-flecked, her waist thick, but her face sparkled with an eternal joy. ‘You shouldn’t be awake, no, not at this time of night, Tora-chan! It will be dawn soon and I suppose then you’ll be out in the hills with your hawks, neh? You need sleep!’
‘Yes, Kiri-chan!’ Toranaga patted her vast rump affectionately.
‘Please don’t Kiri-chan me!’ Kiri laughed. ‘I’m an old woman and I need lots of respect. Your other ladies give me enough trouble as it is. Kiritsubo-Toshiko-san, if you please, my Lord Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Chikitada!’
‘There, you see, Hiro-matsu. After twenty years she still tries to dominate me.’
‘So sorry, it’s more than thirty years, Tora-sama,’ she said proudly. ‘And you were as manageable then as you are now!’
When Toranaga was in his twenties he had been a hostage, too, then of the despotic Ikawa Tadazaki, Lord of Suruga and Totomi, father of the present Ikawa Jikkyu, who was Yabu’s enemy. The samurai responsible for Toranaga’s good conduct had just taken Kiritsubo as his second wife. She was seventeen then. Together this samurai and Kiri, his wife, had treated Toranaga honorably, given him wise counsel, and then, when Toranaga had rebelled against Tadazuki and joined Goroda, had followed him with many warriors and had fought bravely at his side. Later, in the fighting for the capital, Kiri’s husband had been killed. Toranaga had asked her if she would become one of his consorts and she had accepted gladly. In those days she was not fat. But she was equally protective and equally wise. That was her nineteenth year, his twenty-fourth, and she had been a focus of his household ever since. Kiri was very shrewd and very capable. For years now, she had run his household and kept it free of trouble.
As free of trouble as any household with women could ever be, Toranaga thought.
‘You’re getting fat,’ he said, not minding that she was fat.
‘Lord Toranaga! In front of Lord Toda! Oh, so sorry, I shall have to commit seppuku—or at least, I’ll have to shave my head and become a nun, and I thought I was so young and slender!’ She burst out laughing. ‘Actually I agree I have a fat rump but what can I do? I just like to eat and that’s Buddha’s problem and my karma, neh?‘ She offered the cha. ‘There. Now I’ll be off. Would you like me to send the Lady Sazuko?’
‘No, my thoughtful Kiri-san, no, thank you. We’ll talk for a little, then I’ll sleep.’
‘Good night, Tora-sama. Sweet dreamlessness.’ She bowed to him and to Hiro-matsu and then she was gone.
They sipped their tea appreciatively.
Toranaga said, ‘I’m always sorry we never had a son, Kiri-san and I. Once she conceived but she miscarried. That was when we were at the battle of Nagakudé.’
‘Ah, that one.’
‘Yes.’
This was just after the Dictator Goroda had been assassinated when General Nakamura—the Taikō-to-be—was trying to consolidate all power into his own hands. At that time the issue was in doubt, as Toranaga supported one of Goroda’s sons, the legal heir. Nakamura came against Toranaga near the little village of Nagakudé and his force was mauled and routed and he lost that battle. Toranaga retreated cleverly, pursued by a new army, now commanded for Nakamura by Hiro-matsu. But Toranaga avoided the trap and escaped to his home provinces, his whole army intact, ready to battle again. Fifty thousand men died at Nagakudé, very few of them Toranaga’s. In his wisdom, the Taikō-to-be called off the civil war against Toranaga, though he would have won. Nagakudé was the only battle the Taikō had ever lost and Toranaga the only general who had ever beaten him.
‘I’m glad we never joined battle, Sire,’ Hiro-matsu said.
‘Yes.’
‘You would have won.’
‘No. The Taikō was the greatest general and the wisest, cleverest man that has ever been.’
Hiro-matsu smiled. ‘Yes. Except you.’
‘No. You’re wrong. That’s why I became his vassal.’
‘I’m sorry he’s dead.’
‘Yes.’
‘And Goroda—he was a fine man, neh? So many good men dead.’ Hiro-matsu unconsciously turned and twisted the battered scabbard. ‘You’ll have to move against Ishido. That will force every daimyo to choose sides once and for all. We’ll win the war eventually. Then you can disband the Council and become Shōgun.’
‘I don’t seek that honor,’ Toranaga said sharply. ‘How many times do I have to say it?’
‘Your pardon, Sire. I know. But I feel it would be best for Japan.’
‘That’s treason.’
‘Against whom, Lord? Against the Taikō? He’s dead. Against his last will and testament? That’s a piece of paper. Against the boy Yaemon? Yaemon’s the son of a peasant who usurped the power and heritage of a general whose heirs he stamped out. We were Goroda’s allies, then the Taikō’s vassals. Yes. But they’re both very dead.’
‘Would you advise that if you were one of the Regents?’
‘No. But then I’m not one of the Regents, and I’m very glad. I’m your vassal only. I chose sides a year ago. I did this freely.’
‘Why?’ Toranaga had never asked him before.
‘Because you’re a man, because you’re Minowara and because you’ll do the wise thing. What you said to Ishido was right: we’re not a people to be ruled by committee. We need a leader. Whom should I have chosen to serve of the five Regents? Lord Onoshi? Yes, he’s a very wise man, and a good general. But he’s Christian and a cripple and his flesh is so rotten with leprosy that he stinks from fifty paces. Lord Sugiyama? He’s the richest daimyo in the land, his family’s as ancient as yours. But he’s a gutless turncoat and we both know him from eternity. Lord Kiyama? Wise, brave, a great general, and an old comrade. But he’s Christian too, and I think we have enough gods of our own in this Land of the Gods not to be so arrogant as to worship only one. Ishido? I’ve detested that treacherous peasant’s offal as long as I’ve known him and the only reason I never killed him was because he was the Taikō’s dog.’ His leathery face cracked into a smile. ‘So you see, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara, you gave me no choice.’
‘And if I go against your advice? If I manipulate the Council of Regents, even Ishido, and put Yaemon into power?’
‘Whatever you do is wise. But all the Regents would like you dead. That’s the truth. I advocate immediate war. Immediate. Before they isolate you. Or more probably murder you.’
Toranaga thought about his enemies. They were powerful and abundant.
It would take him all of three weeks to get back to Yedo, traveling the Tokaidō Road, the main trunk road that followed the coast between Yedo and Osaka. To go by ship was more dangerous, and perhaps more time consuming, except by galley which could travel against wind and tide.
Toranaga’s mind ranged again over the plan he had decided upon. He could find no flaw in it.
‘I heard secretly yesterday that Ishido’s mother is visiting her grandson in Nagoya,’ he said and Hiro-matsu was at once attentive. Nagoya was a huge city-state that was, as yet, not committed to either side. ‘The lady should be ‘invited’ by the Abbot to visit the Johji Temple. To see the cherry blossoms.’
‘Immediately,’ Hiro-matsu said. ‘By carrier pigeon.’ The Johji Temple was famous for three things: its avenue of cherry trees, the militancy of its Zen Buddhist monks, and its open, undying fidelity to Toranaga, who had, years ago, paid for the building of the temple and maintained its upkeep ever since. ‘The blossoms will be past their prime but she will be there tomorrow. I don’t doubt the venerable lady will want to stay a few days, it’s so calming. Her grandson should go too, neh?‘
‘No—just her. That would make the Abbot’s ‘invitation’ too obvious. Next: send a secret cipher to my son, Sudara: ‘I leave Osaka the moment the Council concludes this session—in four days.’ Send it by runner and confirm it by carrier pigeon tomorrow.’
Hiro-matsu’s disapproval was apparent. ‘Then can I order up ten thousand men at once? To Osaka?’
‘No. The men here are sufficient. Thank you, old friend. I think I’ll sleep now.’
Hiro-matsu got up and stretched his shoulders. Then at the doorway, ‘I may give Fujiko, my granddaughter, permission to kill herself?’
‘No.’
‘But Fujiko’s samurai, Lord, and you know how mothers are about their sons. The child was her first.’
‘Fujiko can have many children. How old is she? Eighteen-barely nineteen? I will find her another husband.’
Hiro-matsu shook his head, ‘She will not accept one. I know her too well. It’s her innermost wish to end her life. Please?’
‘Tell your granddaughter I do not approve of useless death. Permission is refused.’
At length Hiro-matsu bowed, and began to leave.
‘How long would the barbarian live in that prison?’ Toranaga asked.
Hiro-matsu did not turn back. ‘It depends how cruel a fighter he is.’
‘Thank you. Good night, Hiro-matsu.’ When he was sure that he was alone, he said quietly, ‘Kiri-san?’
The inner door opened, she entered and knelt.
‘Send an immediate message to Sudara: ‘All is well.’ Send it by racing pigeons. Release three of them at the same time at dawn. At noon do the same again.’
‘Yes, Lord.’ She went away.
One will get through, he thought. At least four will fall to arrows, spies, or hawks. But unless Ishido’s broken our code, the message will still mean nothing to him.
The code was very private. Four people knew it. His eldest son, Noboru; his second son and heir, Sudara; Kiri; and himself. The message deciphered meant: ‘Disregard all other messages. Activate Plan Five.’ By prearrangement, Plan Five contained orders to gather all Yoshi clan leaders and their most trusted inner counselors immediately at his capital, Yedo, and to mobilize for war. The code word that signaled war was ‘Crimson Sky.’ His own assassination, or capture, made Crimson Sky inexorable and launched the war—an immediate fanatic assault upon Kyoto led by Sudara, his heir, with all the legions, to gain possession of that city and the puppet Emperor. This would be coupled with secret, meticulously planned insurrections in fifty provinces which had been prepared over the years against such eventuality. All targets, passes, cities, castles, bridges, had long since been selected. There were enough arms and men and resolve to carry it through.
It’s a good plan, Toranaga thought. But it will fail if I don’t lead it. Sudara will fail. Not through want of trying or courage or intelligence, or because of treachery. Merely because Sudara hasn’t yet enough knowledge or experience and cannot carry enough of the uncommitted daimyos with him. And also because Osaka Castle and the heir, Yaemon, stand inviolate in the path, the rallying point for all the enmity and jealousy that I’ve earned in fifty-two years of war.
Toranaga’s war had begun when he was six and had been ordered as hostage into the enemy camp, then reprieved, then captured by other enemies and pawned again, to be repawned until he was twelve. At twelve, he had led his first patrol and won his first battle.
So many battles. None lost. But so many enemies. And now they’re gathering together.
Sudara will fail. You’re the only one who could win with Crimson Sky, perhaps. The Taikō could do it, absolutely. But it would be better not to have to implement Crimson Sky.
