Shōgun: Book 6 – Chapter 61

Two dawns later Toranaga was checking the girths of his saddle.  Deftly he kneed the horse in the belly, her stomach muscles relaxed, and he tightened the strap another two notches.  Rotten animal, he thought, despising horses for their constant trickeries and treacheries and ill-tempered dangerousness.  This is me, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Chikitadanoh-Minowara, not some addle-brained child.  He waited a moment and kneed the horse hard again.  The horse grunted and rattled her bridle and he tightened the straps completely.

‘Good, Sire!  Very good,’ the Hunt Master said with admiration.  He was a gnarled old man as strong and weathered as a brine-pickled vat.  ‘Many would’ve been satisfied the first time.’

‘Then the rider’s saddle would’ve slipped and the fool would have been thrown and his back maybe broken by noon.  Neh?‘

The samurai laughed.  ‘Yes, and deserving it, Sire!’

Around them in the stable area were guards and falconers carrying their hooded hawks and falcons.  Tetsu-ko, the peregrine, was in the place of honor and, dwarfing her, alone unhooded, was Kogo the goshawk, her golden, merciless eyes scrutinizing everything.

Naga led up his horse.  ‘Good morning, Father.’

‘Good morning, my son.  Where’s your brother?’

‘Lord Sudara’s waiting at the camp, Sire.’

‘Good.’  Toranaga smiled at the youth.  Then because he liked him, he drew him to one side.  ‘Listen, my son, instead of going hunting, write out the battle orders for me to sign when I return this evening.’

‘Oh, Father,’ Naga said, bursting with pride at the honor of formally taking up the gauntlet cast down by Ishido in his own handwriting, implementing the decision of yesterday’s Council of War to order the armies to the passes.  ‘Thank you, thank you.’

‘Next:  The Musket Regiment is ordered to Hakoné at dawn tomorrow.  Next:  The baggage train from Yedo will arrive this afternoon.  Make sure everything’s ready.’

‘Yes, certainly.  How soon do we fight?’

‘Very soon.  Last night I received news Ishido and the Heir left Osaka to review the armies.  So it’s committed now.’

‘Please forgive me that I can’t fly to Osaka like Tetsu-ko and kill him, and Kiyama and Onoshi, and settle this whole problem without having to bother you.’

‘Thank you, my son.’  Toranaga did not trouble to tell him the monstrous problems that would have to be solved before those killings could become fact.  He glanced around.  All the falconers were ready.  And his guards.  He called the Hunt Master to him.  ‘First I’m going to the camp, then we’ll take the coast road for four ri north.’

‘But the beaters are already in the hills. . . .’  The Hunt Master swallowed the rest of his complaint and tried to recover.  ‘Please excuse my—er—I must have eaten something rotten, Sire.’

‘That’s apparent.  Perhaps you should pass over your responsibility to someone else.  Perhaps your piles have affected your judgment, so sorry,’ Toranaga said.  If he had not been using the hunt as a cover he would have replaced him.  ‘Eh?’

‘Yes, so sorry, Sire,’ the old samurai said.  ‘May I ask—er—do you wish to hunt the areas you picked last night or would you—er—like to hunt the coast?’

‘The coast.’

‘Certainly, Sire.  Please excuse me so I can make the change.’  The man rushed off.  Toranaga kept his eyes on him.  It’s time for him to be retired, he thought without malice.  Then he noticed Omi coming into the stable compound with a young samurai beside him who limped badly, a cruel knife wound still livid across his face from the fight at Osaka.

‘Ah, Omi-san!’  He returned their salute.  ‘Is this the fellow?’

‘Yes, Sire.’

Toranaga took the two of them aside and questioned the samurai expertly.  He did this out of courtesy to Omi, having already come to the same conclusion when he had talked to the man the first night, just as he had been polite to the Anjin-san; asking what was in Mariko’s letter though he had already known what Mariko had written.

‘But please put it in your own words, Mariko-san,’ he had said before she left Yedo for Osaka.

‘I am to give his ship to his enemy, Sire?’

‘No, Lady,’ he had said as her eyes filled with tears.  ‘No.  I repeat:  You are to whisper the secrets you’ve told me to Tsukku-san at once here at Yedo, then to the High Priest and Kiyama at Osaka, and say to them all that without his ship, the Anjin-san is no threat to them.  And you are to write the letter to the Anjin-san as I suggest, now.’

‘Then they will destroy the ship.’

‘They will try to.  Of course they’ll think of the same answer themselves so you’re not giving anything away really, neh?‘

‘Can you protect his ship, Sire?’

‘It will be guarded by four thousand samurai.’

‘But if they succeed . . . the Anjin-san’s worthless without his ship.  I beg for his life.’

‘You don’t have to, Mariko-san.  I assure you he’s valuable to me, with or without a ship.  I promise you.  Also in your letter to him say, if his ship’s lost, please build another.’

‘What?’

‘You told me he can do that, neh?  You’re sure?  If I give him all the carpenters and metalworkers?’

‘Oh, yes.  Oh, how clever you are!  Oh yes, he’s said many times that he was a trained shipbuilder. . . .’

‘You’re quite sure, Mariko-san?’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Good.’

‘Then you think the Christian Fathers will succeed, even against four thousand men?’

‘Yes.  So sorry, but the Christians will never leave the ship alive, or him alive as long as it’s floating and ready for sea.  It’s too much of a threat to them.  This ship is doomed, so there’s no harm in conceding it to them.  But only you and I know and are to know his only hope is to build another.  I’m the only one who can help him do that.  Solve Osaka for me and I’ll see he builds his ship.’

I told her the truth, Toranaga thought, here in the dawn at Yokohama, amid the smell of horses and dung and sweat, his ears hardly listening now to the wounded samurai and Omi, his whole being sad for Mariko.  Life is so sad, he told himself, weary of men and Osaka and games that brought so much suffering to the living, however great the stakes.

‘Thank you for telling me, Kosami,’ he said as the samurai finished.  ‘You’ve done very well.  Please come with me.  Both of you.’

Toranaga walked back to his mare and kneed her a last time.  This time she whinnied but he got no more tightness on the girth.  ‘Horses are far worse than men for treachery,’ he said to no one in particular and swung into the saddle and galloped off, pursued by his guards and Omi and Kosami.

At the camp on the plateau he stopped.  Buntaro was there beside Yabu and Hiro-matsu and Sudara, a peregrine on his fist.  They saluted him.  ‘Good morning,’ he said cheerfully, beckoning Omi to be part of their conversation but waving everyone else well away.  ‘Are you ready, my son?’

‘Yes, Father,’ Sudara said.  ‘I’ve sent some of my men to the mountains to make sure the beaters are perfect for you.’

‘Thank you, but I’ve decided to hunt the coast.’

At once Sudara called out to one of the guards and sent him riding away to pull back the men from the hills and switch them to the coast.  ‘So sorry, Sire, I should have thought of that and been prepared.  Please excuse me.’

‘Yes.  So, Hiro-matsu-san, how’s the training?’

Hiro-matsu, his sword inevitably loose in his hands, scowled.  ‘I still think this is all dishonorable and unnecessary.  Soon we’ll be able to forget it.  We’ll piss all over Ishido without this sort of treachery.’

Yabu said, ‘Please excuse me, but without these guns and this strategy, Hiro-matsu-san, we’ll lose.  This is a modern war, this way we’ve a chance to win.’  He looked back at Toranaga, who had not yet dismounted.  ‘I heard in the night that Jikkyu’s dead.’

‘You’re certain?’  Toranaga pretended to be startled.  He had got the secret information the day he left Mishima.

‘Yes, Sire.  It seems he’s been sick for some time.  My informant reports he died two days ago,’ Yabu said, gloating openly.  ‘His heir’s his son, Hikoju.’

‘That puppy?’ Buntaro said with contempt.

‘Yes—I agree he’s nothing but a whelp.’ Yabu seemed to be several inches taller than usual.  ‘Sire, doesn’t this open up the southern route?  Why not attack along the Tokaidō Road immediately?  With the old devil fox dead, Izu’s safe now, and Suruga and Totomi are as helpless as beached tuna.  Neh?‘

Toranaga dismounted thoughtfully.  ‘Well?’ he asked Hiro-matsu quietly.

The old general replied at once, ‘If we could grab the road all the way to Utsunoya Pass and all the bridges and get over the Tenryu quickly—with all our communications secure—we’d slice into Ishido’s underbelly.  We could contain Zataki in the mountains and reinforce the Tokaidō attack and rush on to Osaka.  We’d be unbeatable.’

Sudara said, ‘So long as the Heir leads Ishido’s armies we’re beatable.’

‘I don’t agree,’ Hiro-matsu said.

‘Nor I, so sorry,’ Yabu said.

‘But I agree,’ Toranaga said, as flat and as grave as Sudara.  He had not yet told them about Zataki’s possible agreement to betray Ishido when the time was ripe.  Why should I tell them? he thought.  It’s not fact.  Yet.

But how do you propose to implement your solemn agreement with your half brother to marry Ochiba to him if he supports you, and at the same time marry Ochiba yourself, if that’s her price?  That’s a fair question, he said to himself.  But it’s highly unlikely Ochiba would betray Ishido.  If she did and that’s the price, then the answer’s simple:  My brother will have to bow to the inevitable.

He saw them all looking at him.  ‘What?’

There was a silence.  Then Buntaro said, ‘What happens, Sire, when we oppose the banner of the Heir?’

None of them had ever asked that question formally, directly, and publicly.  ‘If that happens, I lose,’ Toranaga said.  ‘I will commit seppuku and those who honor the Taikō’s testament and the Heir’s undoubted legal inheritance will have to submit themselves humbly at once to his pardon.  Those who don’t will have no honor.  Neh?‘

They all nodded.  Then he turned to Yabu to finish the business at hand, and became genial again.  ‘However, we’re not on that battlefield yet, so we continue as planned.  Yes, Yabu-sama, the southern route’s possible now.  What did Jikkyu die of?’

‘Sickness, Sire.’

‘A five-hundred-koku sickness?’

Yabu laughed, but inwardly he was rabid that Toranaga had breached his security net.  ‘Yes,’ he said.  ‘I would presume so, Sire.  My brother told you?’  Toranaga nodded and asked him to explain to the others.  Yabu complied, not displeased, for it was a clever and devious stratagem, and he told them how Mizuno, his brother, had passed over the money that had been acquired from the Anjin-san to a cook’s helper who had been inserted into Jikkyu’s personal kitchen.

‘Cheap, neh?‘ Yabu said happily.  ‘Five hundred koku for the southern route?’

Hiro-matsu said stiffly to Toranaga, ‘Please excuse me but I think that’s a disgusting story.’

Toranaga smiled.  ‘Treachery’s a weapon of war, neh?‘

‘Yes.  But not of a samurai.’

Yabu was indignant.  ‘So sorry, Lord Hiro-matsu, but I presume you mean no insult?’

‘He meant no insult.  Did you, Hiro-matsu-san?’ Toranaga said.

‘No, Sire,’ the old general replied.  ‘Please excuse me.’

‘Poison, treachery, betrayal, assassination have always been weapons of war, old friend,’ Toranaga said.  ‘Jikkyu was an enemy and a fool.  Five hundred koku for the southern route is nothing!  Yabu-sama has served me well.  Here and at Osaka.  Neh, Yabu-san?’

‘I always try to serve you loyally, Sire.’

‘Yes, so please explain why you killed Captain Sumiyori before the ninja attack,’ Toranaga said.

Yabu’s face did not change.  He was wearing his Yoshitomo sword, his hand as usual loose on the hilt.  ‘Who says that?  Who accuses me of that, Sire?’

Toranaga pointed at the pack of Browns forty paces away.  ‘That man!  Please come here, Kosami-san.’  The youthful samurai dismounted, limped forward and bowed.

Yabu glared at him.  ‘Who are you, fellow?’

‘Sokura Kosami of the Tenth Legion, attached to the Lady Kiritsubo’s bodyguard at Osaka, Sire,’ the youth said.  ‘You put me on guard outside your quarters—and Sumiyori-san’s—the night of the ninja attack.’

‘I don’t remember you.  You dare to say I killed Sumiyori?’

The youth wavered.  Toranaga said, ‘Tell him!’

Kosami said in a rush, ‘I just had time before the ninja fell on us, Sire, to open the door and shout a warning to Sumiyori-san but he never moved, so sorry, Sire.’  He turned to Toranaga, quailing under their collective gaze.  ‘He’d—he was a light sleeper, Sire, and it was only an instant after . . . that’s all, Sire.’

‘Did you go into the room?  Did you shake him?’ Yabu pressed.

‘No, Sire, oh no, Sire, the ninja came so quickly we retreated at once and counterattacked as soon as we could, it was as I said. . . .’

Yabu looked at Toranaga.  ‘Sumiyori-san had been on duty for two days.  He was exhausted—we all were.  What does that prove?’ he asked all of them.

‘Nothing,’ Toranaga agreed, still cordial.  ‘But later, Kosami-san, you went back to the room.  Neh?‘

‘Yes, Sire, Sumiyori-san was still lying in the futons as I’d last seen him and . . . and the room wasn’t disturbed, not at all, Sire, and he’d been knifed, Sire, knifed in the back once.  I thought it was ninja at the time and nothing more about it until Omi-sama questioned me.’

‘Ah!’ Yabu turned his eyes on his nephew, his total hara centered on his betrayer, measuring the distance between them.  ‘So you questioned him?’

‘Yes, Sire,’ Omi replied.  ‘Lord Toranaga asked me to recheck all the stories.  This was one strangeness I felt should be brought to our Master’s attention.’

‘One strangeness?  There’s another?’

‘Following Lord Toranaga’s orders, I questioned the servants who survived the attack, Sire.  There were two.  So sorry, but they both said you went through their quarters with one samurai and returned shortly afterward alone, shouting ‘Ninja!‘  Then they—’

‘They rushed us and killed the poor fellow with a spear and a sword and almost overran me.  I had to retreat to give the alarm.’  Yabu turned to Toranaga, carefully putting his feet in a better attack position.  ‘I’ve already told you this, Sire, both personally and in my written report.  What have servants to do with me?’

‘Well, Omi-san?’ Toranaga asked.

‘So sorry, Yabu-sama,’ Omi said, ‘but both saw you open the bolts of a secret door in the dungeon and heard you say to the ninja, ‘I am Kasigi Yabu.’ This alone gave them time to hide from the massacre.’

Yabu’s hand moved a fraction.  Instantly Sudara leapt in front of Toranaga to protect him and in the same moment Hiro-Matsu’s sword was flashing at Yabu’s neck.

‘Hold!’ Toranaga ordered.

Hiro-matsu’s sword stopped, his control miraculous.  Yabu had made no overt motion.  He stared at them, then laughed insolently.  ‘Am I a filthy ronin who’d attack his liege lord?  This is Kasigi Yabu, Lord of Izu, Suruga, and Totomi.  Neh?‘  He looked directly at Toranaga.  ‘What am I accused of, Sire?  Helping ninja?  Ridiculous!  What have servants’ fantasies to do with me?  They’re liars!  Or this fellow—who implies something that can’t be proved and I can’t defend?’

‘There’s no proof, Yabu-sama,’ Toranaga said.  ‘I agree completely.  There’s no proof at all.’

‘Yabu-sama, did you do those things?’ Hiro-matsu asked.

‘Of course not!’

Toranaga said, ‘But I think you did, so all your lands are forfeit.  Please slit your belly today.  Before noon.’

The sentence was final.  This was the supreme moment Yabu had prepared for all his life.

Karma, he was thinking, his brain now working at frantic speed.  There’s nothing I can do, the order’s legal, Toranaga’s my liege lord, they can take my head or I can die with dignity.  I’m dead either way.  Omi betrayed me but that is my karma.  The servants were all to be put to death as part of the plan but two survived and that is my karma.  Be dignified, he told himself, groping for courage.  Think clearly and be responsible.

‘Sire,’ he began with a show of audacity, ‘first, I’m guiltless of those crimes, Kosami’s mistaken, and the servants liars.  Second, I’m the best battle general you have.  I beg the honor of leading the charge down the Tokaidō—or the first place in the first battle—so my death will be of direct use.’

Toranaga said cordially, ‘It’s a good suggestion, Yabu-san, and I agree wholeheartedly that you’re the best general for the Musket Regiment but, so sorry, I don’t trust you.  Please slit your belly by noon.’

Yabu dominated his blinding temper and fulfilled his honor as a samurai and as the leader of his clan with the totality of his self-sacrifice.  ‘I formally absolve my nephew Kasigi Omi-san from any responsibility in my betrayal and formally appoint him my heir.’

Toranaga was as surprised as everyone.

‘Very well,’ Toranaga said.  ‘Yes, I think that’s very wise.  I agree.’

‘Izu is the hereditary fief of the Kasigi.  I will it to him.’

‘Izu is no longer yours to give.  You are my vassal, neh?  Izu is one of my provinces, to give as I wish, neh?‘

Yabu shrugged.  ‘I will it to him, even though . . .’  He laughed.  ‘It’s a lifetime favor.  Neh?‘

‘To ask is fair.  Your request is refused.  And, Yabu-san, all your final orders are subject to my approval.  Buntaro-san, you will be the formal witness.  Now, Yabu-san, whom do you want as your second?’

‘Kasigi Omi-san.’

Toranaga glanced at Omi.  Omi bowed, his face colorless.  ‘It will be my honor,’ he said.

‘Good.  Then everything’s arranged.’

Hiro-matsu said, ‘And the attack down the Tokaidō?’

‘We’re safer behind our mountains.’  Toranaga breezily returned their salutes, mounted his horse, and trotted off.  Sudara nodded politely and followed.  Once Toranaga and Sudara were out of range, Buntaro and Hiro-matsu relaxed but Omi did not, and no one took his eyes off Yabu’s sword arm.

Buntaro said, ‘Where do you want to do it, Yabu-sama?’

‘Here, there, down by the shore, or on a dung heap—it’s all the same to me.  I don’t need ceremonial robes.  But, Omi-san, you will not strike till I’ve made the two cuts.’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘With your permission, Yabu-san, I will also be a witness,’ Hiro-matsu said.

‘Are your piles up to it?’

The general bristled and said to Buntaro, ‘Please send for me when he’s ready.’

Yabu spat.  ‘I’m already ready.  Are you?’

Hiro-matsu turned on his heel.

Yabu thought for a moment, then took his scabbarded Yoshitomo sword out of his sash.  ‘Buntaro-san, perhaps you’d do me a favor.  Give this to the Anjin-san.’  He offered him the sword, then frowned.  ‘On second thought, if it’s no trouble, will you please send for him, then I can give it to him myself?’

‘Certainly.’

‘And please fetch that stinking priest as well so I can talk directly with the Anjin-san.’

‘Good.  What arrangements do you want made?’

‘Just some paper and ink and a brush for my will and death poem, and two tatamis—there’s no reason to hurt my knees or to kneel in the dirt like a stinking peasant.  Neh?‘  Yabu added with bravado.

Buntaro walked over to the other samurai, who were shifting from one foot to the other with suppressed excitement.  Carelessly Yabu sat cross-legged and picked his teeth with a grass stalk.  Omi squatted nearby, warily out of sword range.

‘Eeeeee,’ Yabu said.  ‘I was so near success!’  Then he stretched out his legs and hammered them against the earth in a sudden flurry of rage.  ‘Eeeeee, so near!  Eh, karma, neh?  Karma!‘ Then he laughed uproariously and hawked and spat, proud that he still had saliva in his mouth.  ‘That on all gods living or dead or yet to be born!  But, Omi-san, I die happy.  Jikkyu’s dead and when I cross the Last River and see him waiting there, gnashing his teeth, I’ll be able to spit in his eye forever.’

Omi said, meaning it, though watching him like a hawk, ‘You have done Lord Toranaga a great service, Sire.  The coastal route’s open now.  You’re right, Sire, and Iron Fist’s wrong and Sudara’s wrong.  We should attack at once—the guns will get us through.’

‘That old manure heap!  Fool!’  Yabu laughed again.  ‘Did you see him go purple when I mentioned his piles?  Ha!  I thought they were going to burst on him then and there.  Samurai?  I’m more samurai than he is!  I’ll show him!  You will not strike until I give the order.’

‘May I thank you humbly for giving me that honor, and also for making me your heir?  I formally swear the Kasigi honor is safe in my hands.’

‘If I didn’t think so I wouldn’t have suggested it.’  Yabu lowered his voice.  ‘You were right to betray me to Toranaga.  I’d have done the same if I’d been you, though it’s all lies.  It’s Toranaga’s excuse.  He’s always been jealous of my battle prowess, and my understanding the guns and the value of the ship.  It’s all my idea.’

‘Yes, Sire, I remember.’

‘You’ll save the family.  You’re as cunning as a scabby old rat.  You’ll get back Izu and more—that’s all that’s important now and you’ll hold it for your sons.  You understand the guns.  And Toranaga.  Neh?‘

‘I swear I will try, Sire.’

Yabu’s eyes dropped to Omi’s sword hand, noting his alertly defensive kneeling posture.  ‘You think I’ll attack you?’

‘So sorry, of course not, Sire.’

‘I’m glad you’re on guard.  My father was like you.  Yes, you’re a lot like him.’  Without making a sudden movement he put both of his swords on the ground, just out of reach.  ‘There!  Now I’m defenseless.  A few moments ago I wanted your head—but not now.  Now you’ve no need to fear me.’

‘There’s always a need to fear you, Sire.’

Yabu chortled softly and sucked another grass stalk.  Then he threw it away.  ‘Listen, Omi-san, these are my last orders as Lord of the Kasigis.  You will take my son into your household and use him if he’s worth using.  Next:  Find good husbands for my wife and consort, and thank them deeply for serving me so well.  About your father, Mizuno:  He’s ordered to commit seppuku at once.’

‘May I request that he be given the alternative of shaving his head and becoming a priest?’

‘No.  He’s too much of a fool, you’ll never be able to trust him—how dare he pass on my secrets to Toranaga!—and he’ll always be in your way.  As to your mother . . .’  He bared his teeth.  ‘She’s ordered to shave her head and become a nun and join a monastery outside Izu and spend the rest of her life saying prayers for the future of the Kasigis.  Buddhist or Shinto—I prefer Shinto.  You agree, Shinto?’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Good.  That way,’ Yabu added with malicious delight, ‘she’ll stop distracting you from Kasigi matters with her constant whining.’

‘It will be done.’

‘Good.  You are ordered to avenge the lies against me by Kosami and those treacherous servants.  Soon or later, I don’t care, so long as you do it before you die.’

‘I will obey.’

‘Is there anything I’ve forgotten?’

Carefully Omi made sure they were not overheard.  ‘What about the Heir?’ he asked cautiously.  ‘When the Heir’s in the field against us, we lose, neh?‘

‘Take the Musket Regiment and blast a way through and kill him, whatever Toranaga says.  Yaemon’s your prime target.’

‘That was my conclusion too.  Thank you.’

‘Good.  But better than waiting all that time, put a secret price on his head now, with ninja . . . or the Amida Tong.’

‘How do I find them?’ Omi asked, a tremor in his voice.

‘The old hag Gyoko, the Mama-san, she’s one of those who knows how.’

‘Her?’

‘Yes.  But beware of her, and Amidas.  Don’t use them lightly, Omi-san.  Never touch her, always protect her.  She knows too many secrets and the pen’s a long arm from the other side of death.  She was my father’s unofficial consort for a year . . . it may even be that her son is my half brother.  Eh, beware of her, she knows too many secrets.’

‘But where do I get the money?’

‘That’s your problem.  But get it.  Anywhere, anyhow.’

‘Yes.  Thank you.  I will obey.’

Yabu leaned closer.  At once Omi readied suspiciously, his sword almost out of the scabbard.  Yabu was gratified that even defenseless he was still a man to beware of.  ‘Bury that secret very deep.  And listen, nephew, remain very good friends with the Anjin-san.  Try to get control of the navy he will bring back one day.  Toranaga doesn’t understand the Anjin-san’s real value, but he’s right to stay behind the mountains.  That gives him time and you time.  We’ve got to get off the land and out to sea—our crews in their ships—with Kasigis in overall command.  The Kasigis must go to sea, to command the sea.  I order it.’

‘Yes—oh, yes,’ Omi said.  ‘Trust me.  That will happen.’

‘Good.  Lastly, never trust Toranaga.’

Omi said with his complete being, ‘I don’t, Sire.  I never have.  And never will.’

‘Good.  And those filthy liars, don’t forget, deal with them.  And Kosami.’  Yabu exhaled, at peace with himself.  ‘Now please excuse me, I must consider my death poem.’

Omi got to his feet and backed off and when he was well away he bowed and went another twenty paces.  Within the safety of his own guards he sat down once more and began to wait.

Toranaga and his party were trotting along the coast road that circled the vast bay, the sea coming almost up to the road and on his right.  Here the land was low-lying and marshy with many mud flats.  A few ri north this road joined with the main artery of the Tokaidō Road.  Northward twenty ri more was Yedo.

He had a hundred samurai with him, ten falconers and ten birds on their gloved fists.  Sudara had twenty guards and three birds, and rode as advance guard.

‘Sudara!’ Toranaga called out as though it was a sudden idea.  ‘Stop at the next inn.  I want some breakfast!’

Sudara waved acknowledgment and galloped ahead.  By the time Toranaga rode up, maids were bowing and smiling, the innkeeper bobbing with all his people.  Guards covered north and south, and his banners were planted proudly.

‘Good morning, Sire, please what can I get for you to eat?’ the innkeeper asked.  ‘Thank you for honoring my poor inn.’

‘Cha—and some noodles with a little soya, please.’

‘Yes, Sire.’

The food was produced in a fine bowl almost instantly, cooked just the way he liked it, the innkeeper having been forewarned by Sudara.  Without ceremony, Toranaga squatted on a veranda and consumed the simple peasant dish with gusto and watched the road ahead.  Other guests bowed and went about their own business contentedly, proud that they were staying in the same inn as the great daimyo.  Sudara toured the outposts, making sure everything was perfect.  ‘Where’re the beaters now?’ he asked the Master of the Hunt.

‘Some are north, some south, and I’ve got extra men in the hills there.’  The old samurai pointed back inland toward Yokohama, miserable and sweating.  ‘Please excuse me but have you any idea where our Master’ll wish to go?’

‘None at all.  But don’t make any more mistakes today.’

‘Yes, Sire.’

Sudara finished his rounds then reported to Toranaga.  ‘Is everything satisfactory, Sire?  Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘No, thank you.’  Toranaga finished the bowl and drank the last of the soup.  Then he said in a flat voice, ‘You were correct to say that about the Heir.’

‘Please excuse me, I was afraid I might have offended you, without meaning to.’

‘You were right—so why should I be offended?  When the Heir stands against me—what will you do then?’

‘I will obey your orders.’

‘Please send my secretary here and come back with him.’

Sudara obeyed.  Kawanabi, the secretary—once a samurai and priest—who always traveled with Toranaga, was quickly there with his neat traveling box of papers, inks, seal chops, and brush pens that fitted into his saddled pannier.

‘Sire?’

‘Write this:  ‘I, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara, reinstate my son Yoshi Sudara-noh-Minowara as my heir with all his revenues and titles restored.’

Sudara bowed.  ‘Thank you, Father,’ he said, his voice firm, but asking himself, why?

‘Swear formally to abide by all my dictates, testaments—and the Legacy.’

Sudara obeyed.  Toranaga waited silently until Kawanabi had written the order, then he signed it and made it legal with his chop.  This was a small square piece of ivory with his name carved in one end.  He pressed the chop against the almost solid scarlet ink, then onto the bottom of the rice paper.  The imprint was perfect.  ‘Thank you, Kawanabi-san, date it yesterday.  That’s all for the moment.’

‘Please excuse me but you’ll need five more copies, Sire, to make your succession inviolate:  one for Lord Sudara, one for the Council of Regents, one for the House of Records, one for your personal files, and one for the archives.’

‘Do them at once.  And give me an extra copy.’

‘Yes, Sire.’  The secretary left them.  Now Toranaga glanced at Sudara and studied the narrow expressionless face.  When he had made the deliberately sudden announcement nothing had shown on Sudara, neither on his face nor in his hands.  No gladness, thankfulness, pride—not even surprise, and this saddened him.  But then, Toranaga thought, why be sad, you have other sons who smile and laugh and make mistakes and shout and rave and pillow and have many women.  Normal sons.  This son is to follow after you, to lead after you’re dead, to hold the Minowaras tight and to pass on the Kwanto and power to other Minowaras.  To be ice and calculating, like you.  No, not like me, he told himself truthfully.  I can laugh sometimes and be compassionate sometimes, and I like to fart and pillow and storm and dance and play chess and Nōh, and some people gladden me, like Naga and Kiri and Chano and the Anjin-san, and I enjoy hunting and winning, and winning, and winning.  Nothing gladdens you, Sudara, so sorry.  Nothing.  Except your wife, the Lady Genjiko.  The Lady Genjiko’s the only weak link in your chain.

‘Sire?’ Sudara asked.

‘I was trying to remember when I last saw you laugh.’

‘You wish me to laugh, Sire?’

Toranaga shook his head, knowing he had trained Sudara to be the perfect son for what had to be done.  ‘How long would it take you to be sure if Jikkyu is really dead?’

‘Before I left camp I sent a top-priority cipher to Mishima in case you didn’t already know if it was true or not, Father.  I will have a reply within three days.’

Toranaga blessed the gods that he had had advance knowledge of the Jikkyu plot from Kasigi Mizuno and a few days’ notice of that enemy’s death.  For a moment he reexamined his plan and could find no flaw in it.  Then, faintly nauseated, he made the decision.  ‘Order the Eleventh, Sixteenth, Ninety-fourth, and Ninety-fifth Regiments in Mishima on instant alert.  In four days fling them down the Tokaidō.’

‘Crimson Sky?’ Sudara asked, thrown off balance.  ‘You’re attacking?‘

‘Yes.  I’m not waiting for them to come against me.’

‘Then Jikkyu’s dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ Sudara said.  ‘May I suggest you add the Twentieth and Twenty-third.’

‘No.  Ten thousand men should be enough—with surprise.  I’ve still got to hold all my border in case of failure, or a trap.  And there’s also Zataki to contain.’

‘Yes,’ Sudara said.

‘Who should lead the attack?’

‘Lord Hiro-matsu.  It’s a perfect campaign for him.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s direct, simple, old-fashioned, and the orders clear, Father.  He will be perfect for this campaign.’

‘But no longer suitable as commander-in-chief?’

‘So sorry, Yabu-san was right—guns have changed the world.  Iron Fist is out of date now.’

‘Who then?’

‘Only you, Sire.  Until after the battle I counsel you to have no one between you and the battle.’

‘I’ll consider it,’ Toranaga said.  ‘Now, go to Mishima.  You’ll prepare everything.  Hiro-matsu’s assault force will have twenty days to get across the Tenryu River and secure the Tokaidō Road.’

‘Please excuse me, may I suggest their final objective be a little farther, the crest of the Shiomi Slope.  Allow them in all thirty days.’

‘No.  If I make that an order, some men will reach the crest.  But the majority will be dead and won’t be able to throw back the counterattack, or harass the enemy as our force retreats.’

‘But surely you’ll send reinforcements at once hard on their heels?’

‘Our main attack goes through Zataki’s mountains.  This is a feint.’ Toranaga was appraising his son very carefully.  But Sudara revealed nothing, neither surprise nor approval nor disapproval.

‘Ah. So sorry.  Please excuse me, Sire.’

‘With Yabu gone, who’s to command the guns?’

‘Kasigi Omi.’

‘Why?’

‘He understands them.  More than that, he’s modern, very brave, very intelligent, very patient—also very dangerous, more dangerous than his uncle.  I counsel that if you win, and if he survives, then find some excuse to invite him Onward.’

‘If I win?’

‘Crimson Sky has always been a last plan.  You’ve said it a hundred times.  If we get mauled on the Tokaidō, Zataki will sweep down into the plains.  The guns won’t help us then.  It’s a last plan.  You’ve never liked last plans.’

‘And the Anjin-san?  What do you advise about him?’

‘I agree with Omi-san and Naga-san.  He should be bottled up.  The rest of his men are nothing—they’re eta and they’ll cannibalize themselves soon, so they’re nothing.  I advise that all foreigners should be bottled up or thrown out.  They’re a plague—to be treated as such.’

‘Then there’s no silk trade.  Neh?‘

‘If that was the price then I’d pay it.  They’re a plague.’

‘But we must have silk and, to protect ourselves, we must learn about them, learn what they know, neh?‘

‘They should be confined to Nagasaki, under very close guard, and their numbers strictly limited.  They could still trade once a year.  Isn’t money their essential motive?  Isn’t that what the Anjin-san says?’

‘Ah, then he is useful?’

‘Yes.  Very.  He’s taught us the wisdom of the Expulsion Edicts.  The Anjin-san is very wise, very brave.  But he’s a toy.  He amuses you, Sire, like Tetsu-ko, so he’s valuable, though still a toy.’

Toranaga said, ‘Thank you for your opinions.  Once the attack is launched you will return to Yedo and wait for further orders.’  He said it hard and deliberately.  Zataki still held the Lady Genjiko, and their son and three daughters hostage at his capital of Takato.  At Toranaga’s request Zataki had granted Sudara a leave of absence, but only for ten days, and Sudara had solemnly agreed to the bargain and to return within that time.  Zataki was famous for his narrowmindedness about honor.  Zataki would and could legally obliterate all the hostages on this point of honor, irrespective of any overt or covert treaty or agreement.  Both Toranaga and Sudara knew without any doubt Zataki would do that if Sudara did not return as promised.  ‘You will wait at Yedo for further orders.’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘You will leave for Mishima at once.’

‘Then it will save time if I go that way.’  Sudara pointed at the junction ahead.

‘Yes.  I’ll send you a dispatch tomorrow.’

Sudara bowed and went to his horse and, with his twenty guards, rode off.

Toranaga picked up the bowl and took a remaining morsel of the now cold noodles.  ‘Oh, Sire, so sorry, do you want some more?’ the young maid said breathlessly, running up.  She was round-faced and not pretty, but sharp and observant—just as he liked his serving maids, and his women.  ‘No, thank you.  What’s your name?’

‘Yuki, Sire.’

‘Tell your master he makes good noodles, Yuki.’

‘Yes; Sire, thank you.  Thank you, Sire, for honoring our house.  Just raise a knuckle joint for whatever you require and you’ll have it instantly.’  He winked at her and she laughed, collected his tray, and hurried off.  Containing his impatience, he checked the far bend in the road, then examined his surroundings.  The inn was in good repair, the tiled surrounds to the well clean and the earth broomed.  Out in the courtyard and all around, his men waited patiently but he could detect nervousness in the Hunt Master and decided that today was the man’s last day of active duty.  If Toranaga had been seriously concerned with the hunt for itself alone, he would have told him to go back to Yedo now, giving him a generous pension, and appointed another in his place.

That’s the difference between me and Sudara, he thought without malice.  Sudara wouldn’t hesitate.  Sudara would order the man to commit seppuku now, which would save the pension and all further bother and increase the expertise of the replacement.  Yes, my son, I know you very well.  You’re most important to me.

What about Lady Genjiko and their children, he asked himself, bringing to the fore that vital question.  If the Lady Genjiko were not sister to Ochiba—her favorite and cherished sister—I would regretfully allow Zataki to eliminate them all now and so save Sudara an enormous amount of danger in the future, if I die soon, because they are his only weak link.  But fortunately Genjiko is Ochiba’s sister, and so an important piece in the Great Game, and I don’t have to allow that to happen.  I should but I won’t.  This time I have to gamble.  So I’ll remind myself Genjiko’s valuable in other ways—she’s as sharp as a shark’s spine, makes fine children, and is as fanatically ruthless over her nest as Ochiba, with one enormous difference:  Genjiko is loyal to me first, Ochiba to the Heir first.

So that’s decided.  Before the tenth day Sudara must be back in Zataki’s hands.  An extension?  No, that might make Zataki even more suspicious than he is now, and he’s the last man I want suspicious now.  Which way will Zataki jump?

You were wise to settle Sudara.  If there’s a future, the future will be safe in his hands and Genjiko’s, providing they follow the Legacy to the letter.  And the decision to reinstate him now was correct and will please Ochiba.

He had already written the letter this morning that he would send off to her tonight with a copy of the order.  Yes, that will remove one fish bone from her gullet that was making her choke, deliberately set there so long ago for that purpose.  It’s good to know Genjiko is one of Ochiba’s weak links, perhaps her only one.  What’s Genjiko’s weakness?  None.  At least I haven’t found one yet, but if there is one, I’ll find it.

He was scrutinizing his falcons.  Some were prating, some preening themselves, all in good fettle, all hooded except Kogo, her great yellow eyes darting, watching everything, as interested as he was.

What would you say, my beauty, he asked her silently, what would you say if I told you I must be impatient and break out and my main thrust will be along the Tokaidō, and not through Zataki’s mountains, as I told Sudara?  You’d probably say, why?  Then I’d answer, because I don’t trust Zataki as far as I can fly.  And I can’t fly at all.  Neh?

Then he saw Kogo’s eyes snap to the road.  He squinted into the distance and smiled as he saw the palanquins and baggage horses approaching around the bend.

‘So, Fujiko-san?  How are you?’

‘Good, thank you, Sire, very good.’  She bowed again and he noticed she was not in pain from her burn scars.  Now her limbs were as supple as ever, and there was a pleasing bloom on her cheeks.  ‘May I ask how the Anjin-san is?’ she said.  ‘I heard the journey from Osaka was very bad, Sire.’

‘He’s in good health now, very good.’

‘Oh, Sire, that’s the best news you could have given me.’

‘Good.’  He turned to the next palanquin to greet Kiku and she smiled gaily and saluted him with great fondness, saying that she was so pleased to see him and how much she had missed him.  ‘It’s been so long, Sire.’

‘Yes, please excuse me, I’m sorry,’ he said, heated by her astounding beauty and inner joy in spite of his overwhelming anxieties.  ‘I’m very pleased to see you.’  Then his eyes went to the last litter.  ‘Ah, Gyoko-san, it’s been a long time,’ he added, dry as tinder.

‘Thank you, Lord, yes, and I’m reborn now that these old eyes have had the honor of seeing you again.’  Gyoko’s bow was impeccable and she was carefully resplendent, and he caught the merest flash of a scarlet under kimono of the most expensive silk.  ‘Ah, how strong you are, Sire, a giant among men,’ she crooned.

‘Thank you.  You’re looking well too.’

Kiku clapped her hands at the sally and they all laughed with her.  ‘Listen,’ he said, happy because of her, ‘I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here for a while.  Now, Fujiko-san, please come with me.

He took Fujiko aside and after giving her cha and refreshments and chatting about unimportant things he came to the point.  ‘You agreed half a year and I agreed half a year.  So sorry, but I must know today if you will change that agreement.’

The square little face became unattractive as the joy went out of it.  The tip of her tongue touched her sharp teeth for a moment.  ‘How can I change that agreement, Sire?’

‘Very easy.  It’s finished.  I order it.’

‘Please excuse me, Sire,’ Fujiko said, her voice toneless, ‘I didn’t mean that.  I made that agreement freely and solemnly before Buddha with the spirit of my dead husband and my dead son.  It cannot be changed.’

‘I order it changed.’

‘So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but then bushido releases me from obedience to you.  Your contract was equally solemn and binding and any change must be agreed by both parties without duress.’

‘Does the Anjin-san please you?’

‘I am his consort.  It is necessary for me to please him.’

‘Could you continue to live with him if the other agreement did not exist?’

‘Life with him is very, very difficult, Sire.  All formalities, most politenesses, every kind of custom that makes life safe and worthy and rounded and bearable has to be thrown away, or maneuvered around, so his household is not safe, it has no wa—no harmony for me.  It’s almost impossible to get servants to understand, or for me to understand . . . but, yes, I could continue to do my duty to him.’

‘I ask you to finish with the agreement.’

‘My first duty is to you.  My second duty is to my husband.’

‘My thought, Fujiko-san, was that the Anjin-san would marry you.  Then you would not be a consort.’

‘A samurai cannot serve two lords or a wife two husbands.  My duty is to my dead husband.  Please excuse me, I cannot change.’

‘With patience everything changes.  Soon the Anjin-san will know more of our ways and his household will also have wa.  He’s learned incredibly since he’s been—’

‘Oh, please, Sire, don’t misunderstand me, the Anjin-san’s the most extraordinary man I’ve ever known, certainly the kindest.  He’s given me great honor and, oh yes, I know his house will be a real house soon, but . . . but please excuse me, I must do my duty.  My duty is to my husband, my only husband. . . .’  She fought for control.  ‘It must be, neh?  It must be, Sire, or then all . . . all the shame and the suffering and dishonor are meaningless, neh?  His death, my child’s, his swords broken and buried in the eta village. . . .  Without duty to him, isn’t all our bushido an immortal joke?’

‘You must answer one question now, Fujiko-san:  Doesn’t your duty to a request from me, your liege lord, and to an astonishingly brave man who is becoming one of us and is your master, and,’ he added, believing he recognized the bloom in her face, ‘your duty to his unborn child, doesn’t all that take precedence over a previous duty?’

‘I’m . . . I’m not carrying his child, Sire.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘No, not sure.’

‘Are you late?’

‘Yes . . . but only a little and that could be . . .’

Toranaga watched and waited.  Patiently.  There was much yet to do before he could ride away and cast Tetsu-ko or Kogo aloft and he was avid for that pleasure, but that would be for himself alone and therefore unimportant.  Fujiko was important and he had promised himself that at least for today he would pretend that he won, that he had time and could be patient and arrange matters it was his duty to arrange.  ‘Well?’

‘So sorry, Sire, no.’

‘Then it’s no, Fujiko-san.  Please excuse me for asking you but it was necessary.’  Toranaga was neither angry nor pleased.  The girl was only doing what was honorable and he had known when he had agreed to the bargain with her that there would never be a change.  That’s what makes us unique on earth, he thought with satisfaction.  A bargain with death is a bargain that is sanctified.  He bowed to her formally.  ‘I commend you for your honor and sense of duty to your husband, Usagi Fujiko,’ he said, mentioning the name that had ceased to be.

‘Oh, thank you, Sire,’ she said at the honor he did to her, her tears streaming from the complete happiness that possessed her, knowing this simple gesture cleansed the stigma from the only husband she would have in this life.

‘Listen, Fujiko, twenty days before the last day you are to leave for Yedo—whatever happens to me.  Your death may take place during the journey and must appear to be accidental.  Neh?‘

‘Yes, yes, Sire.’

‘This will be our secret.  Yours and mine only.’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Until that time you will remain head of his household.’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Now, please tell Gyoko to come here.  I’ll send for you again before I go.  I have some other things to discuss with you.’

‘Yes, Sire.’  Fujiko bowed deeply and said, ‘I bless you for releasing me from life.’  She went away.

Curious, Toranaga thought, how women can change like chameleons—one moment ugly, the next attractive, sometimes even beautiful, though in reality they’re not.

‘You sent for me, Sire?’

‘Yes, Gyoko-san.  What news have you for me?’

‘All sorts of things, Sire,’ Gyoko said, her well-made-up face unafraid, a glint in her eyes, but her bowels in upheaval.  She knew it was no coincidence that this meeting was taking place and her instinct told her Toranaga was more dangerous than usual.  ‘Arrangements for the Guild of Courtesans progress satisfactorily and rules and regulations are being drawn up for your approval.  There is a fine area to the north of the city that would—’

‘The area I’ve already chosen is nearer the coast.  The Yoshiwara.’

She complimented him on his choice, groaning inwardly.  The Yoshiwara—Reed Moor—was presently a bog and mosquitoed and would have to be drained and reclaimed before it could be fenced and built on.  ‘Excellent, Sire.  Next:  Rules and regulations for the gei-sha are also being prepared for your perusal.’

‘Good.  Make them short and to the point.  What sign are you going to put over the gateway to the Yoshiwara?’

”Lust will not keep—something must be done about it.”

He laughed, and she smiled but did not relax her guard, though she added seriously, ‘Again may I thank you on behalf of future generations, Sire.’

‘It’s not for you or them I agreed,’ Toranaga told her, and quoted one of his comments in the Legacy:  ‘Virtuous men throughout history have always decried bawdy houses and Pillow Places, but men aren’t virtuous and if a leader outlaws houses and pillowing he’s a fool because greater evils will soon erupt like a plague of boils.’

‘How wise you are.’

‘And as to putting all the Pillow Places in one area, that means all the unvirtuous may be watched, taxed, and serviced, all at the same time.  You’re right again, Gyoko-san, ‘Lust will not keep.’  It soon gets addled.  Next?’

‘Kiku-san has regained her health, Sire.  Perfectly.’

‘Yes, I saw.  How delightful she is!  I’m sorry—Yedo’s certainly hot and unkind in the summer.  You’re sure she’s fine now?’

‘Yes, oh yes, but she has missed you, Sire.  We are to accompany you to Mishima?’

‘What other rumors have you heard?’

‘Only that Ishido’s left Osaka Castle.  The Regents have formally declared you outlaw—what impertinence, Sire.’

‘Which way’s he planning to attack me?’

‘I don’t know, Sire,’ she said cautiously.  ‘But I imagine a two-forked attack, along the Tokaidō with Ikawa Hikoju now that his father, Lord Jikkyu, is dead, and along the Koshu-kaidō, from Shinano, as Lord Zataki has foolishly sided with Lord Ishido against you.  But behind your mountains you’re safe.  Oh, yes, I’m sure you’ll live to a ripe old age.  With your permission, I’m shifting all my affairs to Yedo.’

‘Certainly.  Meanwhile see if you can find out where the main thrust will be.’

‘I’ll try, oh yes, Sire.  These are terrible times, Sire, when brother will go against brother, son against father.’

Toranaga’s eyes were veiled and he made a note to increase vigilance on Noboru, his eldest son, whose final allegiance was with the Taikō.  ‘Yes,’ he agreed.  ‘Terrible times.  Times of great change.  Some bad, some good.  You, for example, you’re rich now and your son, for example.  Isn’t he in charge of your saké factory at Odawara?’

‘Yes, Sire.’  Gyoko went gray under her makeup.

‘He’s been making great profits, neh?‘

‘He’s certainly the best manager in Odawara, Sire.’

‘So I hear.  I have a job for him.  The Anjin-san’s going to build a new ship.  I’m providing all craftsmen and materials, so I want the business side handled with very great care.’

Gyoko almost collapsed with relief.  She had presumed Toranaga was going to obliterate them all before he left for the war, or tax her out of existence, because he’d found out she’d lied to him about the Anjin-san and the Lady Toda, or about Kiku’s unfortunate miscarriage, which was not by chance as she had reported so tearfully a month ago, but by careful inducement, at her insistence with Kiku’s dutiful agreement.  ‘Oh ko, Sire, when do you want my son in Yokohama?  He will ensure it’s the cheapest ship ever built.’

‘I don’t want it cheap.  I want it the very best—for the most reasonable price.  He’s to be overseer and responsible under the Anjin-san.’

‘Sire, you have my guarantee, my future, my future hopes that it will be as you wish.’

‘If the ship is built perfectly, exactly as the Anjin-san wants, within six months from the first day, then I will make your son samurai.’

She bowed low and for a moment was unable to talk.  ‘Please excuse a poor fool, Sire.  Thank you, thank you.’

‘He has to learn everything the Anjin-san knows about building the ship so others can be taught when he leaves.  Neh?‘

‘It will be done.’

‘Next:  Kiku-san.  Her talents merit a better future than just being alone in a box, one of many women.’

Gyoko looked up, again expecting the worst.  ‘You’re going to sell her contract?’

‘No, she shouldn’t be a courtesan again or even one of your gei-sha.  She should be in a household, one of few ladies, very few.’

‘But, Sire, seeing you even occasionally, how could she possibly have a better life?’

He allowed her to compliment him and he complimented her back, and Kiku, then said, ‘Frankly, Gyoko-san, I’m getting too fond of her and I can’t afford to be distracted.  Frankly she’s far too pretty for me—far too perfect. . . .  Please excuse me, but this must be another of our secrets.’

‘I agree, Sire, of course, whatever you say,’ Gyoko said fervently, dismissing it all as lies, racking her brain for the real reason.  ‘If the person could be someone Kiku could admire, I would die content.’

‘But only after seeing the Anjin-san’s ship under sail within the six months,’ he said dryly.

‘Yes—oh yes.’  Gyoko moved her fan for the sun was hot now and the air sticky and breathless, trying to fathom why Toranaga was being so generous with both of them, knowing that the price would be heavy, very heavy.  ‘Kiku-san will be distraught to leave your house.’

‘Yes, of course.  I think there should be some compensation for her obedience to me, her liege lord.  Leave that with me—and don’t mention this to her for the present.’

‘Yes, Sire.  And when do you want my son in Yokohama?’

‘I’ll let you know that before I leave.’

She bowed and tottered away.  Toranaga went for a swim.  Northward the sky was very dark and he knew it would be raining heavily there.  When he saw the small group of horsemen coming from the direction of Yokohama he returned.

Omi dismounted and unwrapped the head.  ‘Lord Kasigi Yabu obeyed, Sire, just before noon.’  The head had been freshly washed, the hair groomed, and it was stuck on the spike of a small pedestal that was customarily used for the viewing.

Toranaga inspected an enemy as he had done ten thousand times before in his lifetime, wondering as always how his own head would look after death, viewed by his conqueror, and whether terror would show, or agony or anger or horror or all of them or none of them.  Or dignity.  Yabu’s death mask showed only berserk wrath, the lips pulled back into a ferocious challenge.  ‘Did he die well?’

‘The best I have ever seen, Sire.  Lord Hiro-matsu said the same.  The two cuts, then a third in the throat.  Without assistance and without a sound.’  Omi added, ‘Here is his will.’

‘You took off the head with one stroke?’

‘Yes, Sire.  I asked the Anjin-san’s permission to use Lord Yabu’s sword.’

‘The Yoshitomo?  The one I gave Yabu?  He gave it to the Anjin-san?’

‘Yes, Sire.  He spoke to him through the Tsukku-san.  He said, ‘Anjin-san, I give you this to commemorate your arrival at Anjiro and as a thank you for the pleasure that little barbarian gave me.’  At first the Anjin-san refused to take it, but Yabu begged him to and said, ‘None of these manure eaters deserves such a blade.’  Eventually he agreed.’

Curious, Toranaga thought.  I expected Yabu to give the blade to Omi.

‘What were his last instructions?’ he asked.

Omi told him.  Exactly.  If they had not all been also written in the will that had been given publicly to the formal witness, Buntaro, he would not have passed all of them on, and indeed, would have invented others.  Yabu was right, he thought furiously, reminding himself to remember forever that the pen’s a long arm from the grave.

‘To honor your uncle’s death bravery, I should honor his death wishes.  All of them, without change, neh?‘  Toranaga said, testing him.

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Yuki!’

‘Yes, Sire,’ the maid said.

‘Bring cha, please.’

She scurried away and Toranaga let his mind weigh Yabu’s last wishes.  They were all wise.  Mizuno was a fool and completely in Omi’s way.  The mother was an irritating, unctuous old hag, also in Omi’s way.  ‘Very well, since you agree, they’re confirmed.  All of them.  And I also wish to approve your father’s death wishes before they become final.  As a reward for your devotion you are appointed Commander of the Musket Regiment.’

‘Thank you, Sire, but I don’t deserve such an honor,’ Omi said, exulting.

‘Naga will be second-in-command.  Next:  You’re appointed head of the Kasigis and your new fief will be the border lands of Izu, from Atami on the east to Nimazu on the west, including the capital, Mishima, with a yearly income of thirty thousand koku.’

‘Yes, Sire, thank you.  Please . . . I don’t know how to thank you.  I’m not worthy of such honors.’

‘Make sure you are, Omi-sama,’ Toranaga said good-naturedly.  ‘Take possession of the castle at Mishima at once.  Leave Yokohama today.  Report to Lord Sudara at Mishima.  The Musket Regiment will be sent to Hakoné and be there in four days.  Next, privately, for your knowledge alone:  I’m sending the Anjin-san back to Anjiro.  He’ll build a new ship there.  You’ll pass over your present fief to him.  At once.’

‘Yes, Sire.  May I give him my house?’

‘Yes, you may,’ Toranaga said, though of course a fief contained everything therein, houses, property, peasants, fishermen, boats.  Both men looked off as Kiku’s trilling laugh came through the air and they saw her playing the fan-throwing game in the far courtyard with her maid, Suisen, whose contract Toranaga had also bought as a consolation gift to Kiku after the unfortunate miscarriage of his child.

Omi’s adoration was clear for all the world to see, much as he tried to hide it, so sudden and unexpected had been her appearance.  Then they saw her look toward them.  A lovely smile spread over her face and she waved gaily and Toranaga waved back and she returned to her game.

‘She’s pretty, neh?‘

Omi felt his ears burning.  ‘Yes.’

Toranaga had originally bought her contract to exclude Omi from her, because she was one of Omi’s weaknesses and clearly a prize, to give or withhold, until Omi had declared and proved his real allegiance and had assisted or not assisted in Yabu’s removal.  And he had assisted, miraculously, and proved himself many times.  Investigating the servants had been Omi’s suggestion.  Many, if not all, of Yabu’s fine ideas had come from Omi.  Omi had, a month ago, uncovered the details of Yabu’s secret plot with some of the Izu officers in the Musket Regiment to assassinate Naga and the other Brown officers during battle.

‘There’s no mistake, Omi-san?’ he had asked when Omi reported to him secretly at Mishima, while he was awaiting the outcome of Mariko’s challenge.

‘No, Sire.  Kiwami Matano of the Third Izu Regiment is outside.’

The Izu officer, a jowly, heavyset, middle-aged man, had laid out the whole plot, given the passwords, and explained how the scheme would work.  ‘I couldn’t live with the shame of this knowledge anymore, Sire.  You are our liege lord.  Of course, in fairness I should say the plan was only if necessary.  I supposed that meant if Yabu-sama decided to change sides suddenly during the battle.  So sorry, you were to be the prime target, then Naga-san.  Then Lord Sudara.’

‘When was this plan first ordered and who knows about it?’

‘Shortly after the regiment was formed.  Fifty-four of us know—I’ve given all the names in writing to Omi-sama.  The plan, code name ‘Plum Tree,’ was confirmed personally by Kasigi Yabu-sama before he left for Osaka the last time.’

‘Thank you.  I commend your loyalty.  You are to keep this secret until I tell you.  Then you will be given a fief worth five thousand koku.’

‘Please excuse me, I deserve nothing, Sire.  I beg permission to commit seppuku for having held this shameful secret so long.’

‘Permission is refused.  It will be as I ordered.’

‘Please excuse me, I do not deserve such reward.  At least allow me to remain as I am.  This is my duty and merits no reward.  Truly I should be punished.’

‘What’s your income now?’

‘Four hundred koku, Sire.  It’s enough.’

‘I’ll consider what you say, Kiwami-san.’

After the officer had left he had said, ‘What did you promise him, Omi-san?’

‘Nothing, Sire.  He came to me of his own accord yesterday.’

‘An honest man?  You’re telling me he’s an honest man?’

‘I don’t know about that, Sire.  But he came to me yesterday, and I rushed here to tell you.’

‘Then he will really be rewarded.  Such loyalty’s more important than anything, neh?‘

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Say nothing of this to anyone.’

Omi had left and Toranaga had wondered if Mizuno and Omi had trumped up the plot to discredit Yabu.  At once he put his own spies to find out the truth.  But the plot had been true, and the burning of the ship had been a perfect excuse to remove the fifty-three traitors, all of whom had been placed among the Izu guards on that night.  Kiwami Matano he had sent to the far north with a good, though modest, fief.

‘Surely this Kiwami is the most dangerous of all,’ Sudara had said, the only one admitted to the plot.

‘Yes.  And he’ll be watched all his life and not trusted.  But generally there’s good in evil people and evil in good people.  You must choose the good and get rid of the evil without sacrificing the good.  There’s no waste in my domains to be cast away lightly.’

Yes, Toranaga thought with great satisfaction, you certainly deserve a prize, Omi.

‘Listen, Omi-san, the battle will begin in a few days.  You’ve served me loyally.  On the last battlefield, after my victory, I’ll appoint you Overlord of Izu, and make your line of the Kasigi hereditary daimyos again.’

‘So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but I don’t deserve such honor,’ Omi said.

‘You’re young but you show great promise, beyond your years.  Your grandfather was very like you, very clever, but he had no patience.’  Again the sound of the ladies’ laughter, and Toranaga watched Kiku, trying to decide about her, his original plan now cast aside.

‘May I ask what you mean by patience, Sire?’ Omi said, instinctively feeling that Toranaga wanted the question to be asked.

Toranaga still looked at the girl, warmed by her.  ‘Patience means restraining yourself.  There are seven emotions, neh?  Joy, anger, anxiety, adoration, grief, fear, and hate.  If a man doesn’t give way to these, he’s patient.  I’m not as strong as I might be but I’m patient.  Understand?’

‘Yes, Sire.  Very clearly.’

‘Patience is very necessary in a leader.’

‘Yes.’

‘That lady, for example.  She’s a distraction to me, too beautiful, too perfect for me.  I’m too simple for such a rare creature.  So I’ve decided she belongs elsewhere.’

‘But, Sire, even as one of your lesser ladies . . .’  Omi mouthed the politeness that both men knew a sham, though obligatory, and all the time Omi was praying as he had never prayed before, knowing what was possible, knowing that he could never ask.

‘I quite agree,’ Toranaga said.  ‘But great talent merits sacrifice.’  He was still watching her throwing her fan, catching her maid’s fan in return, her gaiety infectious.  Then both the ladies were obscured by the horses.  So sorry, Kiku-san, he thought, but I have to pass you on, to settle you out of reach quickly.  The truth is, I really am getting too fond of you, though Gyoko would never believe I had told her the truth, nor will Omi, nor even you yourself.  ‘Kiku-san is worthy of a house of her own.  With a husband of her own.’

‘Better a consort of the lowest samurai than wife of a farmer or merchant, however rich.’

‘I don’t agree.’

For Omi those words ended the matter.  Karma, he told himself, his misery overwhelming him.  Put your sadness away, fool.  Your liege lord has decided, so that is the end of it.  Midori is a perfect wife.  Your mother is to become a nun, so now your house will have harmony.

So much sadness today.  And happiness:  daimyo of Izu-to-be; Commander of the Regiment; the Anjin-san’s to be kept in Anjiro, therefore the first ship is to be built within Izu—in my fief.  Put aside your sadness.  Life is all sadness.  Kiku-san has her karma, I have mine, Toranaga has his, and my Lord Yabu shows how foolish it is to worry about this or that or anything.

Omi looked up at Toranaga, his mind clear and everything compartmentalized.  ‘Please excuse me, Sire, I beg your forgiveness.  I wasn’t thinking clearly.’

‘You may greet her if you wish, before you leave.’

‘Thank you, Sire.’  Omi wrapped up Yabu’s head.  ‘Do you wish me to bury it—or display it?’

‘Put it on a spear, facing the wreck.’

‘Yes Sire’

‘What was his death poem?’

Omi said:

‘What are clouds

But an excuse for the sky?

What is life

But an escape from death?’

Toranaga smiled.  ‘Interesting,’ he said.

Omi bowed and gave the wrapped head to one of his men and went through the horses and samurai to the far courtyard.

‘Ah, Lady,’ he said to her with kind formality.  ‘I’m so pleased to see you well and happy.’

‘I’m with my Lord, Omi-san, and he’s strong and content.  How can I be anything but happy.’

‘Sayonara, Lady.’

‘Sayonara, Omi-sama.’  She bowed, aware of a vast finality now, never quite realizing it before.  A tear welled and she brushed it aside and bowed again as he walked away.

She watched his tall, firm stride and would have wept aloud, her heart near breaking, but then, as always, she heard the so-many-times-said words in her memory, kindly spoken, wisely spoken, ‘Why do you weep, child?  We of the Floating World live only for the moment, giving all our time to the pleasures of cherry blossoms and snow and maple leaves, the calling of a cricket, the beauty of the moon, waning and growing and being reborn, singing our songs and drinking cha and saké, knowing perfumes and the touch of silks, caressing for pleasure, and drifting, always drifting.  Listen, child:  never sad, always drifting as a lily on the current in the stream of life.  How lucky you are, Kiku-chan, you’re a Princess of Ukiyo, the Floating World, drift, live for the moment. . . .’

Kiku brushed away a second tear, a last tear.  Silly girl to weep.  Weep no more! she ordered herself.  You’re so incredibly lucky!  You’re consort to the greatest daimyo himself, even though a very lesser, unofficial one, but what does that matter—your sons will be born samurai.  Isn’t this the most incredible gift in the world?  Didn’t the soothsayer predict such an incredible good fortune, never to be believed?  But now it’s true, neh?  If you must weep there are more important things to weep about.  About the growing seed in your loins that the weird-tasting cha took out of you.  But why weep about that?  It was only an ‘it’ and not a child and who was the father?  Truly?

‘I don’t know, not for certain, Gyoko-san, so sorry, but I think it’s my Lord’s,’ she had said finally, wanting his child so much to bind the promise of samurai.

‘But say the child’s born with blue eyes and a fair skin?  It may, neh?  Count the days.’

‘I’ve counted and counted, oh, how I’ve counted!’

‘Then be honest with yourself. So sorry, but both of our futures depend on you now.  You’ve many a birthing year ahead of you.  You’re just eighteen, child, neh?  Better to be sure, neh?‘

Yes, she thought again, how wise you are, Gyoko-san, and how silly I was, bewitched.  It was only an ‘it’ and how sensible we Japanese are to know that a child is not a proper child until thirty days after birth when its spirit is firmly fixed in its body and its karma inexorable.  Oh, how lucky I am, and I want a son and another and another and never a girl child.  Poor girl children!  Oh gods, bless the soothsayer and thank you thank you thank you for my karma that I am favored by the great daimyo, that my sons will be samurai and oh, please make me worthy of such marvelousness. . . .

‘What is it, Mistress?’ little Suisen asked, awed by the joy that seemed to pour out of Kiku.

Kiku sighed contentedly.  ‘I was thinking about the soothsayer and my Lord and my karma, just drifting, drifting. . . .’

She went farther out into the courtyard, shading herself with her scarlet umbrella, to seek Toranaga.  He was almost hidden by the horses and samurai and falcons in the courtyard, but she could see he was still on the veranda, sipping cha now, Fujiko bowing before him again.  Soon it’ll be my turn, she thought.  Perhaps tonight we can begin a new ‘it.’  Oh, please. . . .  Then, greatly happy, she turned back to her game.

Outside the gateway Omi was mounting his horse and he galloped off with his guards, faster and ever faster, the speed refreshing him, cleansing him, the pungent sweat-smell of his horse pleasing.  He did not look back at her because there was no need.  He knew that he had left all his life’s passion, and everything that he had adored, at her feet.  He was sure he would never know passion again, the spirit-joining ecstasy that ignited man and woman.  But this did not displease him.  On the contrary, he thought with a newfound icy clarity, I bless Toranaga for releasing me from servitude.  Now nothing binds me.  Neither father nor mother nor Kiku.  Now I can be patient too.  I’m twenty-one, I’m almost daimyo of Izu, and I’ve a world to conquer.

‘Yes, Sire?’  Fujiko was saying.

‘You’re to go direct from here to Anjiro.  I’ve decided to change the Anjin-san’s fief from around Yokohama to Anjiro.  Twenty ri in every direction from the village, with a yearly income of four thousand koku.  You’ll take over Omi-san’s house.’

‘May I thank you on his behalf, Sire.  So sorry, do I understand that he doesn’t know about this yet?’

‘No.  I’ll tell him today.  I’ve ordered him to build another ship, Fujiko-san, to replace the one lost, and Anjiro will be a perfect shipyard, much better than Yokohama.  I’ve arranged with the Gyoko woman for her eldest son to be business overseer for the Anjin-san, and all materials and craftsmen will be paid for out of my treasury.  You’ll have to help him set up some form of administration.’

‘Oh ko, Sire,’ she said, immediately concerned.  ‘My time remaining with the Anjin-san will be so short.’

‘Yes.  I’ll have to find him another consort—or wife.  Neh?‘

Fujiko looked up, her eyes narrowing.  Then she said, ‘Please, how may I help?’

Toranaga said, ‘Whom would you suggest?  I want the Anjin-san to be content.  Contented men work better, neh?‘

‘Yes.’  Fujiko reached into her mind.  Who would compare with Mariko-sama?  Then she smiled.  ‘Sire, Omi-san’s present wife, Midori-san.  His mother hates her, as you know, and wants Omi divorced—so sorry, but she had the astounding bad manners to say it in front of me.  Midori-san’s such a lovely lady and, oh, so very clever.’

‘You think Omi wants to be divorced?’  Another piece of the puzzle fell in place.

‘Oh, no, Sire, I’m sure he doesn’t.  What man wants really to obey his mother?  But that’s our law, so he should have divorced her the first time his parents mentioned it, neh?  Even though his mother’s very bad tempered, she surely knows what’s best for him, of course.  So sorry, I have to be truthful as this is a most important matter.  Of course I mean no offense, Sire, but filial duty to one’s parents is the corner post of our law.’

‘I agree,’ Toranaga said, pondering this fortunate new thought.  ‘The Anjin-san would consider Midori-san a good suggestion?’

‘No, Sire, not if you ordered the marriage . . . but, so sorry, there’s no need for you to order him.’

‘Oh?’

‘You could perhaps think of a way to make him think of it himself.  That would certainly be best.  With Omi-san, of course, you just order him.’

‘Of course.  You’d approve of Midori-san?’

‘Oh, yes.  She’s seventeen, her present son’s healthy, she’s from good samurai stock, so she’d give the Anjin-san fine sons.  I suppose Omi’s parents will insist Midori give up her son to Omi-san, but if they don’t the Anjin-san could adopt him.  I know my Master likes her because Mariko-sama told me she teased him about her.  She’s very good samurai stock, very prudent, very clever.  Oh, yes, he’d be very safe with her.  Also her parents are both dead now so there’d be no ill feeling from them about her marrying a—marrying the Anjin-san.’

Toranaga toyed with the idea.  I’ve certainly got to keep Omi off balance, he told himself.  Young Omi can become a thorn in my side too easily.  Well, I won’t have to do anything to get Midori divorced.  Omi’s father will absolutely have definite last wishes before he commits seppuku and his wife will certainly insist the most important last thing he does on this earth will be to get their son married correctly.  So Midori will be divorced within a few days anyway.  Yes, she’d be a very good wife.

‘If not her, Fujiko-san, what about Kiku?  Kiku-san?’

Fujiko gaped at him.  ‘Oh, so sorry, Sire, you’re going to relinquish her?’

‘I might.  Well?’

‘I would have thought Kiku-san would be a perfect unofficial consort, Sire.  She’s so brilliant and wonderful.  Though I can see she would be an enormous distraction for an ordinary man, and, so sorry, it would be years before the Anjin-san would be able to appreciate the rare quality of her singing or dancing or wit.  As wife?’ she asked, with just enough emphasis to indicate absolute disapproval.  ‘Ladies of the Willow World aren’t usually trained the same as . . . as others are, Sire.  Their talents lie elsewhere.  To be responsible for the finances and the affairs of a samurai house is different from the Floating World.’

‘Could she learn?’

Fujiko hesitated a long while.  ‘The perfect thing for the Anjin-san would be Midori-san for wife, Kiku-san as consort.’

‘Could they learn to live with all his—er—different attitudes?’

‘Midori-san’s samurai, Sire.  It would be her duty.  You would order her.  Kiku-san also.’

‘But not the Anjin-san?’

‘You know him better than I, Sire.  But in pillow things and . . . it would be better for him to, well, think of it himself.’

‘Toda Mariko-sama would have made a perfect wife for him.  Neh?‘

‘That’s an extraordinary idea, Sire,’ Fujiko replied, without blinking.  ‘Certainly both had an enormous respect for each other.’

‘Yes,’ he said dryly.  ‘Well, thank you, Fujiko-san.  I’ll consider what you said.  He’ll be at Anjiro in about ten days.’

‘Thank you, Sire.  If I might suggest, the port of Ito and the Yokosé Spa should be included within the Anjin-san’s fief.’

‘Why?’

‘Ito just in case Anjiro is not big enough.  Perhaps bigger slipways would be necessary for such a big ship.  Perhaps they’re available there.  Yokosé be—’

‘Are they?’

‘Yes, Sire.  An—’

‘Have you been there?’

‘No, Sire.  But the Anjin-san’s interested in the sea.  So are you.  It was my duty to try to learn about ships and shipping, and when we heard the Anjin-san’s ship was burned I wondered if it would be possible to build another, and if so, where and how.  Izu is a perfect choice, Sire.  It will be easy to keep Ishido’s armies out.’

‘And why Yokosé?’

‘And Yokosé because a hatamoto should have a place in the mountains where you could be entertained in the style you have a right to expect.’

Toranaga was watching her closely.  Fujiko appeared so docile and demure but he knew she was as inflexible as he was and not ready to concede either point unless he ordered it.  ‘I agree.  And I’ll consider what you said about Midori-san and Kiku-san.’

‘Thank you, Sire,’ she said humbly, glad that she had done her duty to her master and repaid her debt to Mariko.  Ito for its slipways, and Yokosé where Mariko had said their ‘love’ had really begun.

‘I’m so lucky, Fujiko-chan,’ Mariko had told her at Yedo.  ‘Our journey here has brought me more joy than I have the right to expect in twenty lifetimes.’

‘I beg you to protect him in Osaka, Mariko-san.  So sorry, he’s not like us, not civilized like us, poor man.  His nirvana is life and not death.’

That’s still true, Fujiko thought again, blessing Mariko’s memory.  Mariko had saved the Anjin-san, no one else—not the Christian God or any gods, not the Anjin-san himself, not even Toranaga, no one—only Mariko alone.  Toda Mariko-noh-Akechi Jinsai had saved him.

Before I die I will put up a shrine at Yokosé and leave a bequest for another at Osaka and another at Yedo.  That’s going to be one of my death wishes, Toranaga-sama, she promised herself, looking back at him so patiently, warmed by all the other lovely things yet to be done on the Anjin-san’s behalf.  Midori to wife certainly, never Kiku as wife but only a consort and not necessarily chief consort, and the fief extended to Shimoda on the very south coast of Izu.  ‘Do you want me to leave at once, Sire?’

‘Stay here tonight, then go direct tomorrow.  Not via Yokohama.’

‘Yes. I understand.  So sorry, I can take possession of my Master’s new fief on his behalf—and all it contains—the moment I arrive?’

‘Kawanabi-san will give you the necessary documents before you leave here.  Now, please send Kiku-san to me.’

Fujiko bowed and left.

Toranaga grunted.  Pity that woman’s going to end herself.  She’s almost too valuable to lose, and much too smart.  Ito and Yokosé?  Ito understandable.  Why Yokosé?  And what else was in her mind?

He saw Kiku coming across the sun-baked courtyard, her little feet in white tabi, almost dancing, so sweet and elegant with her silks and crimson sunshade, the envy of every man in sight.  Ah, Kiku, he thought, I can’t afford that envy, so sorry.  I can’t afford you in this life, so sorry.  You should have remained where you were in the Floating World, courtesan of the First Class.  Or even better, gei-sha.  What a fine idea that old hag came up with!  Then you’d be safe, the property of many, the adored of many, the central point of tragic suicides and violent quarrels and wonderful assignations, fawned on and feared, showered with money that you’d treat with disdain, a legend—while your beauty lasts.  But now?  Now I can’t keep you, so sorry.  Any samurai I give you to as consort takes to his bed a double-edged knife:  a complete distraction and the envy of every other man.  Neh?  Few would agree to marry you, so sorry, but that’s the truth and this is a day for truths.  Fujiko was right.  You’re not trained to run a samurai household, so sorry.  As soon as your beauty goes—oh, your voice will last, child, and your wit, but soon you’ll still be cast out on to the dung heap of the world.  So sorry, but that’s also the truth.  Another is that the highest Ladies of the Floating World are best left in their Floating World to run other houses when age is upon them, even the most famous, to weep over lost lovers and lost youth in barrels of saké, watered with your tears.  The lesser ones at best to be wife to a farmer or fisherman or merchant, or rice seller or craftsman, from which life you were born—the rare, sudden flower that appears in the wilderness for no reason other than karma, to blossom quickly and to vanish quickly.

So sad, so very sad.  How do I give you samurai children?

You keep her for the rest of your time, his secret heart told him.  She merits it.  Don’t fool yourself like you fool others.  The truth is you could keep her easily, taking her a little, leaving her a lot, just like your favorite Tetsu-ko, or Kogo.  Isn’t Kiku just a falcon to you?  Prized yes, unique yes, but just a falcon that you feed from your fist, to fly at a prey and call back with a lure, to cast adrift after a season or two, to vanish forever?  Don’t lie to yourself, that’s fatal.  Why not keep her?  She’s only just another falcon, though very special, very high-flying, very beautiful to watch, but nothing more, rare certainly, unique certainly, and, oh, so pillowable. . . .

‘Why do you laugh?  Why are you so happy, Sire?’

‘Because you are a joy to see, Lady.’

Blackthorne leaned his weight on one of the three hawsers that were attached to the keel plate of the wreck.  ‘Hipparuuuu!‘ he called out.  Puuuulll!

There were a hundred samurai naked to their loincloths hauling lustily on each rope.  It was afternoon now and low tide, and Blackthorne hoped to be able to shift the wreck and drag her ashore to salvage everything.  He had adapted his first plan when he had found to his glee that all the cannon had been fished out of the sea the day after the holocaust and were almost as perfect as the day they had left their foundry near Chatham in his home county of Kent.  As well, almost a thousand cannonballs, some grape and chain and many metal things had been recovered.  Most were twisted and scored but he had the makings of a ship, better than he had dreamed possible.

‘Marvelous, Naga-san!  Marvelous!’ he had congratulated him when he had discovered the true extent of the salvage.

‘Oh, thank you, Anjin-san.  Try hard, so sorry.’

‘Never mind so sorry.  All good now!’

Yes, he had rejoiced.  Now The Lady can be just a mite longer and a mite more abeam, but she’ll still have her greyhound look and she’ll be a pisscutter to end all pisscutters.

Ah, Rodrigues, he had thought without rancor, I’m glad you’re safe and away this year and there’ll be another man to sink next year.  If Ferriera’s Captain-General again, that would be a gift from heaven, but I won’t count on it and I’m glad you’re safe away.  I owe you my life and you were a great pilot.

‘Hipparuuuuuuu!‘ he shouted again and hawsers jerked, the sea dripping off them like sweat, but the wreck did not budge.

Since that dawn on the beach with Toranaga, Mariko’s letter in his hands, the cannon discovered so soon afterward, there had not been enough hours in the day.  He had drawn beginning plans and made and remade lists and changed plans and very carefully offered up lists of men and materials needed, not wanting any mistakes.  And after the day, he worked at the dictionary long into the night to learn the new words he would need to tell the craftsmen what he wanted, to find out what they had already and could do already.  Many times, in desperation, he had wanted to ask the priest to help but he knew there was no help there now, that their enmity was inexorably fixed.

Karma, he had told himself without pain, pitying the priest for his misbegotten fanaticism.

‘Hipparuuuuuuuu!‘

Again the samurai strained against the hold of the sand and the sea, then a chant sprang up and they tugged in unison.  The wreck shifted a fraction and they redoubled their efforts, then it jerked loose and they sprawled in the sand.  They picked themselves up, laughing, congratulating themselves, and leaned on the ropes again.  But now the wreck was stuck firm once more.

Blackthorne showed them how to take the ropes to one side, then to the other, trying to ease the wreck to port or starboard but it was as fixed as though anchored.

‘I’ll have to buoy it, then the tide’ll do the work and lift it,’ he said aloud in English.

‘Dozo?‘ Naga said, puzzled.

‘Ah, gomen nasai, Naga-san.’  With signs and pictures in the sand he explained, damning his lack of words, how to make a raft and tie it to the spines at low tide; then the next high tide would float the wreck and they could pull it ashore and beach it.  At the next low tide it would be easy to manage because they would have laid rollers for it to rest on.

‘Ah so desu!‘ Naga said, impressed.  When he explained to the other officers, they also were filled with admiration and Blackthorne’s own vassals were puffed with implied importance.

Blackthorne noticed this and he pointed a finger at one.  ‘Where are your manners?’

‘What?  Oh, so sorry, Sire, please excuse me for offending you.’

‘Today I will, tomorrow no.  Swim out to ship—untie this rope.’

The ronin-samurai quailed and rolled his eyes.  ‘So sorry, Sire, I can’t swim.’

Now it was silent on the beach and Blackthorne knew all were waiting to see what would happen.  He was furious with himself, for an order was an order and involuntarily he had given a death sentence that was not merited this time.  He thought a moment.  ‘Toranaga-sama’s orders, all men learn swim.  Neh?  All my vassals swim within thirty days.  Better swim in thirty days.  You, in water—get first lesson now.’

Fearfully the samurai began to walk into the sea, knowing he was a dead man.  Blackthorne joined him and when the man’s head went under he pulled him up, none too kindly, and made him swim, letting him flounder but never dangerously all the way out to the wreck, the man coughing and retching and holding on.  Then he pulled him ashore again and twenty yards from the shallows he shoved him off.  ‘Swim!’

The man made it like a half-drowned cat.  Never again would he act self-important in front of his master.  His fellows cheered and the men on the beach were rolling in the sand with laughter, those who could swim.

‘Very good, Anjin-san,’ Naga said.  ‘Very wise.’  He laughed again, then said, ‘Please, I send men for bamboo.  For raft, neh?  Tomorrow try to get all here.’

‘Thank you.’

‘More pull today?’

‘No, no thank—’  Blackthorne stopped and shaded his eyes.  Father Alvito was standing on a dune, watching them.

‘No, thank you, Naga-san,’ Blackthorne said.  ‘All finish here today.  Please excuse me a moment.’  He went to get his clothes and swords but his men brought them to him quickly.  Unhurriedly, he dressed and stuck his swords in his sash.

‘Good afternoon,’  Blackthorne said, going over to Alvito.  The priest looked drawn but there was friendliness in his face, as there had been before their violent quarrel outside Mishima.  Blackthorne’s caution increased.

‘And to you, Captain-Pilot.  I’m leaving this morning.  I just wanted to talk a moment.  Do you mind?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘What are you going to do, try to float the hulk?’

‘Yes.’

‘It won’t help you, I’m afraid.’

‘Never mind.  I’m going to try.’

‘You really believe you can build another ship?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Blackthorne said patiently, wondering what was in Alvito’s mind.

‘Are you going to bring the rest of your crew here to help you?’

‘No,’ Blackthorne said, after a moment.  ‘They’d rather be in Yedo.  When the ship’s near completion . . . there’s plenty of time to bring them here.’

‘They live with eta, don’t they?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is that the reason you don’t want them here?’

‘One reason.’

‘I don’t blame you.  I heard they’re all very quarrelsome now and drunk most of the time.  Did you know a week or so ago there was a small riot among them and their house burned down, so the story goes?’

‘No.  Was anyone hurt?’

‘No.  But that was only through the Grace of God.  Next time . . . It seems one of them has made a still.  Terrible what drink does to a man. ‘

‘Yes.  Pity about their house.  They’ll build another.’

Alvito nodded and looked back at the spines washed by the waves.  ‘I wanted to tell you before I go, I know what the loss of Mariko-san means to you.  I was greatly saddened by your story about Osaka, but in a way uplifted.  I understand what her sacrifice means . . . Did she tell you about her father, all that other tragedy?’

‘Yes.  Some of it.’

‘Ah.  Then you understand also.  I knew Ju-san Kubo quite well.’

‘What?  You mean Akechi Jinsai?’

‘Oh, sorry, yes.  That’s the name he’s known by now.  Didn’t Mariko-sama tell you?’

‘No.’

‘The Taikō sneeringly dubbed him that:  Ju-san Kubo, Shōgun of the Thirteen Days.  His rebellion—from mustering his men to the great seppuku—lasted only thirteen days.  He was a fine man but he hated us, not because we were Christians but because we were foreigners.  I often wondered if Mariko became Christian just to learn our ways, to destroy us.  He often said I poisoned Goroda against him.’

‘Did you?’

‘No.’

‘What was he like?’

‘A short, bald man, very proud, a fine general and a poet of great note.  So sad to end that way, all the Akechis.  And now the last of them.  Poor Mariko . . . but what she did saved Toranaga, if God wills it.’  Alvito’s fingers touched his rosary.  After a moment he said, ‘Also, Pilot, also before I go I want to apologize for . . . well, I’m glad the Father-Visitor was there to save you.’

‘You apologize for my ship too?’

‘Not for the Erasmus, though I had nothing to do with that.  I apologize only for those, men, Pesaro and the Captain-General.  I’m glad your ship’s gone.’

‘Shigata ga nai, Father.  Soon I’ll have another.’

‘What kind of craft will you try to build?’

‘One big enough and strong enough.’

‘To attack the Black Ship?’

‘To sail home to England—and defend myself against anyone.’

‘It will be a waste, all that labor.’

‘There’ll be another ‘Act of God’?’

‘Yes.  Or sabotage.’

‘If there is and my new ship fails, I’m going to build another, and if that fails, another.  I’m going to build a ship or get a berth and when I get back to England I’m going to beg or borrow or buy or steal a privateer and then I’m coming back.’

‘Yes.  I know.  That’s why you will never leave.  You know too much, Anjin-san.  I told you that before and I say it again, but with no malice.  Truly.  You’re a brave man, a fine adversary, one to respect, and I do, and there should be peace between us.  We’re going to see a lot of each other over the years—if any of us survive the war.’

‘Are we?’

‘Yes.  You’re too good at Japanese.  Soon you’ll be Toranaga’s personal interpreter.  We shouldn’t quarrel, you and I.  I’m afraid our destinies are interlocked.  Did Mariko-san tell you that, too?  She told me.’

‘No.  She never said that.  What else did she tell you?’

‘She begged me to be your friend, to protect you if I could.  Anjin-san, I didn’t come here to goad you, or to quarrel, but to ask a peace before I go.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘First to Nagasaki, by ship from Mishima.  There are trade negotiations to conclude.  Then to wherever Toranaga is, wherever the battle will be.’

‘They’ll let you travel freely, in spite of the war?’

‘Oh, yes.  They need us—whoever wins.  Surely we can be reasonable men, and make peace—you and I.  I ask it because of Mariko-sama.’

Blackthorne said nothing for a moment.  ‘Once we had a truce, because she wanted it.  I’ll offer you that.  A truce, not a peace—providing you agree not to come within fifty miles of where my shipyard is.’

‘I agree, Pilot, of course I agree—but you’ve nothing to fear from me.  A truce, then, in her memory.’  Alvito put out his hand.  ‘Thank you.’

Blackthorne shook the hand firmly.  Then Alvito said, ‘Soon her funeral will take place at Nagasaki.  It’s to be in the cathedral.  The Father-Visitor will say the service himself, Anjin-san.  Part of her ashes are to be entombed there.’

‘That would please her.’  Blackthorne watched the wreck for a moment, then looked back at Alvito.  ‘One thing I . . . I didn’t mention to Toranaga:  Just before she died I gave her a Benediction as a priest would, and the last rites as best I could.  There was no one else and she was Catholic.  I don’t think she heard me, I don’t know if she was conscious.  And I did it again at her cremation.  Would that—would that be the same?  Would that be acceptable?  I tried to do it before God, not mine or yours, but God.’

‘No, Anjin-san.  We are taught that it would not.  But two days before she died she asked for and received absolution from the Father-Visitor and she was sanctified.’

‘Then . . . then she knew all along she had to die . . . whatever happened, she was a sacrifice.’

‘Yes, God bless her and cherish her!’

‘Thank you for telling me,’ Blackthorne said.  ‘I’ve . . . I was always worried my intercession would never work, though I. . . .  Thank you for telling me.’

‘Sayonara, Anjin-san,’ Alvito said, offering his hand again.

‘Sayonara, Tsukku-san.  Please, light a candle for her . . . from me.’

‘I will.’

Blackthorne shook the hand and watched the priest walk away, tall and strong, a worthy adversary.  We’ll always be enemies, he thought.  We both know it, truce or no truce.  What would you say if you knew Toranaga’s plan and my plan?  Nothing more than you’ve already threatened, neh?  Good.  We understand each other.  A truce will do no harm.  But we won’t be seeing much of each other, Tsukku-san.  While my ship’s abuilding I’ll take your place as interpreter with Toranaga and the Regents and soon you’ll be out of trade negotiations, even while Portuguese ships carry the silk.  And all that’ll change too.  My fleet will only be the beginning.  In ten years the Lion of England will rule these seas.  But first The Lady, then all the rest. . . .

Contentedly Blackthorne walked back to Naga and settled plans for tomorrow, then climbed the slope to his temporary house, near Toranaga.  There he ate rice and slivered raw fish that one of his cooks had prepared for him and found them delicious.  He took a second helping and began to laugh.

‘Sire?’

‘Nothing.’  But in his head he was seeing Mariko and hearing her say, ‘Oh, Anjin-san, one day perhaps we’ll even get you to like raw fish and then you’ll be on the road to nirvana—the Place of Perfect Peace.’

Ah, Mariko, he thought, I’m so glad about the real absolution.  And I thank thee.

For what, Anjin-san? he could hear her say.

For life, Mariko my darling.  Thou. . . .

Many times during the days and the nights he would talk to her in his head, reliving parts of their life together and telling her about today, feeling her presence very close, always so close that once or twice he had looked over his shoulder expecting to see her standing there.

I did that this morning, Mariko, but instead of you it was Buntaro, Tsukku-san beside him, both glaring at me.  I had my sword but he had his great bow in his hands.  Eeeee, my love, it took all my courage to walk over and greet them formally.  Were you watching?  You would have been proud of me, so calm and samurai and petrified.  He said so stiffly, talking through Tsukku-san, ‘Lady Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko have informed me how you protected my wife’s honor and theirs.  How you saved her from shame.  And them.  I thank you, Anjin-san.  Please excuse my vile temper of before.  I apologize and thank you.’  Then he bowed to me and went away and I wanted you so much to be there—to know that everything’s protected and no one will ever know.

Many times Blackthorne had looked over his shoulder expecting her there, but she was never there and never would be and this did not disturb him.  She was with him forever, and he knew he would love her in the good times and in the tragic times, even in the winter of his life. She was always on the edge of his dreams.  And now those dreams were good, very good, and intermixed with her were drawings and plans and the carving of the figurehead and sails and how to set the keel and how to build the ship and then, such joy, the final shape of The Lady under full sail, bellied by a sharp sou’wester, racing up the Channel, the bit between her teeth, halyards shrieking, spars stretched on a larboard tack and then, ‘All sails ho!  Tops’ls, mainsails, royals, and top topgallants!’ easing out the ropes, giving her every inch, the cannonade of the sails reaching on the other tack and ‘Steady as she goes!’ every particle of canvas answering his cry, and then at long last, full-bodied, a lady of inestimable beauty turning hard aport near Beachy Head for London . . .

Toranaga came up the rise near the camp, his party grouped around him.  Kogo was on his gauntlet and he had hunted the coast and now he was going into the hills above the village.  There were still two hours of sun left and he did not want to waste the sun, not knowing when he would ever have the time to hunt again.

Today was for me, he thought.  Tomorrow I go to war but today was to put my house in order, pretending that the Kwanto was safe and Izu safe, and my succession—that I will live to see another winter and, in the spring, hunt at leisure.  Ah, today has been very good.

He had killed twice with Tetsu-ko and she had flown like a dream, never so perfectly, not even when she’d made the kill with Naga near Anjiro—that beautiful, never-to-be-forgotten stoop to take that wily old cock pigeon.  Today she had taken a crane several times her own size and come back to the lure perfectly.  A pheasant had been pointed by the dogs and he had cast the falcon to her circling station aloft.  Then the pheasant had been flushed and the soaring, climbing, falling had begun, to last forever, the kill beautiful.  Again Tetsu-ko had come to the lure and fed from his fist proudly.

Now he was after hare.  It had occurred to him that the Anjin-san would enjoy meat.  So, instead of finishing for the day, satisfied, Toranaga had decided to go for game for the pot.  He quickened his pace, not wanting to fail.

His outriders led the way past the camp and up the winding road to the crest above and he was greatly pleased with his day.

His critical gaze swept over the camp, seeking dangers, and found none.  He could see men at weapon training—all regimental training and firing was forbidden while the Tsukku-san was nearby—and that pleased him.  To one side, glinting in the sun, were the twenty cannon that had been salvaged with such care and he noticed that Blackthorne was squatting cross-legged on the ground nearby, concentrating over a low table, now like any normal person would sit.  Below was the wreck and he noted that it had not yet moved, and he wondered how the Anjin-san would bring it ashore if it could not be pulled ashore.

Because, Anjin-san, you will bring it ashore, Toranaga told himself, quite certain.

Oh, yes.  And you will build your ship and I’ll destroy her like I destroyed the other one, or give her away, another sop to the Christians who are more important to me than your ships, my friend, so sorry, and the other ships waiting in your home land.  Your countrymen will bring those out to me, and the treaty with your Queen.  Not you.  I need you here.

When the time’s right, Anjin-san, I’ll tell you why I had to burn your ship, and by then you won’t mind because other things will be occupying you, and you’ll understand what I told you was still the truth:  It was your ship or your life.  I chose your life.  That was correct, neh?  Then we’ll laugh about the ‘Act of God,’ you and I.  Oh, it was easy to appoint a special watch of trusted men aboard with secret instructions to spread gunpowder loosely and liberally on the chosen night, having already told Naga—the moment Omi whispered about Yabu’s plot—to rearrange the roster so that the following shore and deck watch were only Izu men, particularly the fifty-three traitors.  Then a single ninja with a flint out of the darkness and your ship was a torch.  Of course neither Omi nor Naga was ever party to the sabotage.

So sorry, but so necessary, Anjin-san.  I saved your life, which you wanted even above your ship.  Fifty times or more I’ve had to consider giving your life away but so far I’ve always managed to avoid it.  I hope to continue to do that.  Why?  This is a day for truth, neh?  The answer is because you make me laugh and I need a friend.  I daren’t make friends among my own people, or among the Portuguese.  Yes, I will whisper it down a well at noon but only when I’m certain I’m alone; that I need one friend.  And also your knowledge.  Mariko-sama was right again.  Before you go I want to know everything you know.  I told you we both had plenty of time, you and I.

I want to know how to navigate a ship around the earth and understand how a small island nation can defeat a huge empire.  Perhaps the answer could apply to us and China, neh?  Oh yes, the Taikō was right in some things.

The first time I saw you, I said, ‘There’s no excuse for rebellion,’ and you said, ‘There’s one—if you win!’  Ah, Anjin-san, I bound you to me then.  I agree.  Everything’s right if you win.

Stupid to fail.  Unforgivable.

You won’t fail, and you’ll be safe and happy in your large fief at Anjiro, where Mura the fisherman will guard you from Christians and continue to feed them misinformation as I direct.  How naïve of Tsukku-san to believe one of my men, even Christian, would steal your rutters and give them secretly to the priests without my knowledge, or my direction.  Ah, Mura, you’ve been faithful for thirty years or more, soon you’ll get your reward!  What would the priests say if they knew your real name was Akira Tonomoto, samurai—spy at my direction, as well as fisherman, headman, and Christian?  They’d fart dust, neh?

So don’t worry, Anjin-san, I’m worrying about your future.  You’re in good strong hands and, ah, what a future I’ve planned for you.

‘I’m to be consort to the barbarian, oh oh oh?’ Kiku had wailed aloud.

‘Yes, within the month.  Fujiko-san has formally agreed.’  He had told Kiku and Gyoko the truth once more, patiently giving the distraught girl face.  ‘And a thousand koku a year after the birth of the Anjin’s first son.’

‘Eh, a thou—what did you say?’

He had repeated the promise and added sweetly, ‘After all, samurai is samurai and two swords are two swords and his sons will be samurai.  He’s hatamoto, one of my most important vassals, Admiral of all my ships, a close personal adviser—even a friend.  Neh?‘

‘So sorry, but Sire—’

‘First you’ll be his consort.’

‘So sorry, first, Sire?’

‘Perhaps you should be his wife.  Fujiko-san told me she didn’t wish to marry, ever again, but I think he should be married.  Why not you?  If you please him enough, and I imagine you could please him enough, and still, dutifully, keep him building his ship . . . neh?  Yes, I think you should be his wife.’

‘Oh yes oh yes oh yes!’  She had thrown her arms around him and blessed him and apologized for her impulsive bad manners for interrupting and not listening dutifully, and she had left him, walking four paces off the ground where a moment ago she had been ready to throw herself off the nearest cliff.

Ah, ladies, Toranaga thought, bemused and very content.  Now she’s got everything she wants, so has Gyoko—if the ship’s built in time and it will be—so have the priests, so have—

‘Sire!’  One of the hunters was pointing at a clump of bushes beside the road.  He reined in and readied Kogo, loosening the jesses that held her to his fist.  ‘Now,’ he ordered softly.  The dog was sent in.

The hare broke from the brush and raced for cover and at that instant he released Kogo.  With immensely powerful thrusts of her wings she hurtled in pursuit, straight as an arrow, overhauling the panicked animal.  Ahead, a hundred paces across the rolling land was a brambled copse, and the hare twisted this way and that with frantic speed, making for safety, Kogo closing the gap, cutting corners, knifing ever closer a few feet off the ground.  Then she was above her prey and she hacked down and the hare screamed and reared up and darted back, Kogo still in pursuit ek-ek-eking with rage because she had missed.  The hare whirled again in a final dash for sanctuary and shrieked as Kogo struck again and got a firm grip with her talons on its neck and head and bound on fearlessly, closing her wings, oblivious of the animal’s frantic contortions and tumblings as, effortlessly, she snapped the neck.  A last scream.  Kogo let go and leaped into the air for an instant and shook her ruffled feathers into place again with a violent flurry, then settled back onto the warm, twitching body, talons once more in the death grip.  Then and only then did she give her shriek of conquest and hiss with pleasure at the kill.  Her eyes watched Toranaga.

Toranaga trotted up and dismounted, offering the lure.  Obediently the goshawk left her prey and then, as he deftly concealed the lure, she settled on his outstretched gauntlet.  His fingers caught her jesses and he could feel her grip through the steel-reinforced leather of the forefinger perch.

‘Eeeeee, that was well done, my beauty,’ he said, rewarding her with a morsel, part of the hare’s ear that a beater sliced off for him.  ‘There, gorge on that but not too much—you’ve still work to do.’

Grinning, the beater held up the hare.  ‘Master!  It must be three, four times her weight.  Best we’ve seen for weeks, neh?‘

‘Yes.  Send it to the camp for the Anjin-san.’  Toranaga swung into the saddle again and waved the others forward to the hunt once more.

Yes, the kill had been well done, but it had none of the excitement of a peregrine kill.  A goshawk’s only what it is, a cook’s bird, a killer, born to kill anything and everything that moves.  Like you, Anjin-san, neh?

Yes, you’re a short-winged hawk.  Ah, but Mariko was peregrine.

He remembered her so clearly and he wished beyond wishing that it had not been necessary for her to go to Osaka and into the Void.  But it was necessary, he told himself patiently.  The hostages had to be released. Not my kin, but all the others.  Now I’ve another fifty allies committed secretly.  Your courage and Lady Etsu’s courage and self-sacrifice have bound them and all the Maedas to my side, and through them, the whole western seaboard.  Ishido had to be winkled out of his impregnable lair, the Regents split, and Ochiba and Kiyama broken to my fist.  You did all this and more:  You gave me time.  Only time fashions snares and provides lures.

Ah, Mariko-chan, who would have thought a little slip of a woman like you, daughter of Ju-san Kubo, my old rival, the arch-traitor Akechi Jinsai, could do so much and wreak so much vengeance so beautifully and with such dignity on the Taikō, your father’s enemy and killer.  A single awesome stoop, like Tetsu-ko, and you killed all your prey which are my prey.

So sad that you’re no more.  Such loyalty deserves special favor.

Toranaga was at the crest now and he stopped and called for Tetsu-ko.  The falconer took Kogo from him and Toranaga caressed the hooded peregrine on his fist a last time, then he slipped her hood and cast her into the sky.  He watched her spiral upward, ever upward, seeking a prey that he would never flush.  Tetsu-ko’s freedom is my gift to you, Mariko-san, he said to her spirit, watching the falcon circle higher and higher.  To honor your loyalty to me and your filial devotion to our most important rule:  that a dutiful son, or daughter, may not rest under the same heaven while the murderer of her father still lives.

‘Ah, so wise, Sire,’ the falconer said.

‘Eh?’

‘To release Tetsu-ko, to free her.  I thought the last time you flew her she’d never come back but I wasn’t sure.  Ah, Sire, you’re the greatest falconer in the realm, the best, to know, to be so sure when to give her back to the sky.’

Toranaga permitted himself a scowl.  The falconer blanched, not understanding why, quickly offered Kogo back and retreated hastily.

Yes, Tetsu-ko was due, Toranaga thought testily, but, even so, she was still a symbolic gift to Mariko’s spirit and the quality of her revenge.

Yes.  But what about all the sons of all the men you’ve killed?

Ah, that’s different, those men all deserved to die, he answered himself.  Even so, you’re always wary of who comes within arrow range—that’s normal prudence.  This observation pleased Toranaga and he resolved to add it to the Legacy.

He squinted into the sky once more and watched the falcon, no longer his falcon.  She was a creature of immense beauty up there, free, beyond all the tears, soaring effortlessly.  Then some force beyond his ken took her and whirled her northward and she vanished.

‘Ah, Tetsu-ko, thank you.  Bear many daughters,’ he said, and turned his attention to the earth below.

The village was neat in the lowering sun, the Anjin-san still at his table, samurai training, smoke rising from the cooking fires.  Across the bay, twenty ri or so, was Yedo.  Forty ri southeast was Anjiro.  Two hundred and ninety ri westward was Osaka and north from there, barely thirty ri, was Kyoto.

That’s where the main battle should be, he thought.  Near the capital.  Northward, up around Gifu or Ogaki or Hashima, astride the Nakasendō, the Great North Road.  Perhaps where the road turns south for the capital, near the little village of Sekigahara in the mountains.  Somewhere there.  Oh, I’d be safe for years behind my mountains, but this is the chance I’ve waited for:  Ishido’s jugular is unprotected.

My main thrust will be along the North Road and not the Tokaidō, the coastal road, though between now and then I’ll pretend to change fifty times.  My brother will ride with me.  Oh yes, I think Zataki will convince himself Ishido has betrayed him to Kiyama.  My brother’s no fool.  And I will keep my solemn oath to seek Ochiba for him.  During the battle Kiyama will change sides, I think he will change sides, and when he does, if he does, he will fall on his hated rival Onoshi.  That will signal the guns to charge, I will roll up the sides of their armies and I will win.  Oh yes, I will win—because Ochiba, wisely, will never let the Heir take the field against me.  She knows that if she did, I would be forced to kill him, so sorry.

Toranaga began to smile secretly.  The moment I have won I will give Kiyama all Onoshi’s lands, and invite him to appoint Saruji his heir.  The moment I am President of the new Council of Regents we will put Zataki’s proposal to the Lady Ochiba, who will be so incensed at his impertinence that, to placate the First Lady of the Land and the Heir, the Regents will regretfully have to invite my brother Onward.  Who should take his place as Regent?  Kasigi Omi.  Kiyama will be Omi’s prey . . . yes, that’s wise, and so easy because surely by that time Kiyama, Lord of all the Christians, will be flaunting his religion, which is still against our law.  The Taikō’s Expulsion Edicts are still legal, neh?  Surely Omi and the others will say, ‘I vote the Edicts be invoked’?  And once Kiyama is gone, never again a Christian Regent, and patiently our grip will tighten on the stupid but dangerous foreign dogma that is a threat to the Land of the Gods, has always threatened our wa . . . therefore must be obliterated.  We Regents will encourage the Anjin-san’s countrymen to take over Portuguese trade.  As soon as possible the Regents will order all trade and all foreigners confined to Nagasaki, to a tiny part of Nagasaki, under very serious guards.  And we will close the land to them forever . . . to them and to their guns and to their poisons.

So many marvelous things to do, once I’ve won, if I win, when I win.  We are a very predictable people.

It will be a golden age.  Ochiba and the Heir will majestically hold Court in Osaka, and from time to time we will bow before them and continue to rule in his name, outside of Osaka Castle.  Within three years or so, the Son of Heaven will invite me to dissolve the Council and become Shōgun during the remainder of my nephew’s minority.  The Regents will press me to accept and, reluctantly, I will accept.  In a year or two, without ceremony, I will resign in Sudara’s favor and retain power as usual and keep my eyes firmly on Osaka Castle.  I will continue to wait patiently and one day those two usurpers inside will make a mistake and then they will be gone and somehow Osaka Castle will be gone, just another dream within a dream, and the real prize of the Great Game that began as soon as I could think, which became possible the moment the Taikō died, the real prize will be won:  the Shōgunate.

That’s what I’ve fought for and planned for all my life.  I, alone, am heir to the realm.  I will be Shōgun.  And I have started a dynasty.

It’s all possible now because of Mariko-san and the barbarian stranger who came out of the eastern sea.

Mariko-san, it was your karma to die gloriously and live forever.  Anjin-san, my friend, it is your karma never to leave this land.  It is mine to be Shōgun.

Kogo, the goshawk, fluttered on his wrist and settled herself, watching him.  Toranaga smiled at her.  I did not choose to be what I am.  It is my karma.

That year, at dawn on the twenty-first day of the tenth month, the Month without Gods, the main armies clashed.  It was in the mountains near Sekigahara, astride the North Road, the weather foul—fog, then sleet.  By late afternoon Toranaga had won the battle and the slaughter began.  Forty thousand heads were taken.

Three days later Ishido was captured alive and Toranaga genially reminded him of the prophecy and sent him in chains to Osaka for public viewing, ordering the eta to plant the General Lord Ishido’s feet firm in the earth, with only his head outside the earth, and to invite passersby to saw at the most famous neck in the realm with a bamboo saw.  Ishido lingered three days and died very old.