Shōgun (The Asian Saga Book 1)

The handler at the pigeon coop held the bird gently but firmly as Toranaga stripped off his sodden clothes.  He had galloped back through the downpour.  Naga and other samurai anxiously crowded the small doorway, careless of the warm rain which still fell in torrents, drumming on the tiled roof.

Carefully Toranaga dried his hands.  The man offered the pigeon.  Two tiny, beaten-silver cylinders were attached to each of her legs.  One would have been usual.  Toranaga had to work hard to keep the nervous tremble out of his fingers.  He untied the cylinders and took them over to the light of the window opening to examine the minute seals.  He recognized Kiri’s secret cipher.  Naga and the others were watching tensely.  His face revealed nothing.

Toranaga did not break the seals at once, much as he wanted to.  Patiently he waited until a dry kimono was brought.  A servant held a large oiled-paper umbrella for him and he walked to his own quarters in the fortress.  Soup and cha were waiting.  He sipped them and listened to the rain.  When he felt calm, he posted guards and went into an inner room.  In privacy he broke the seals.  The paper of the four scrolls was very thin, the characters tiny, the message long and in code.  Decoding was laborious.  When it was completed, he read the message and then reread it twice.  Then he let his mind range.

Night came.  The rain stopped.  Oh, Buddha, let the harvest be good, he prayed.  This was the season when the paddy fields were being flooded and, throughout the land, the pale green rice seedlings were being planted into the weedless, almost liquid fields to be harvested in four or five months, depending on the weather.  And, throughout the land, the poor and the rich, eta and emperor, servant and samurai, all prayed that just the right amount of rain and sun and humidity came correctly in its season.  And every man, woman, and child counted the days to harvest.

We’ll need a great harvest this year, thought Toranaga.

‘Naga!  Naga-san!’

His son came running.  ‘Yes, Father?’

‘At the first hour after dawn fetch Yabu-san and his chief advisers to the plateau.  Also Buntaro and our three senior captains.  And Mariko-san.  Bring them all to the plateau at dawn.  Mariko-san can serve cha.  Yes.  And I want the Anjin-san standing by at the camp.  Guards to ring us at two hundred paces.’

‘Yes, Father.’  Naga turned to obey.  Unable to contain himself he blurted out, ‘Is it war?  Is it?’

Because Toranaga needed a harbinger of optimism throughout the fortress, he did not berate his son for the ill-disciplined impertinence.

‘Yes,’ he said.  ‘Yes—but on my terms.’

Naga closed the shoji and rushed off.  Toranaga knew that, although Naga’s face and manner would now be outwardly composed, nothing would disguise the excitement in his walk or the fire behind his eyes.  So rumor and counterrumor would rush through Anjiro to spread quickly throughout Izu and beyond, if the fires were fed properly.

‘I’m committed now,’ he said aloud to the flowers that stood serenely in the takonama, shadows flickering in the pleasant candlelight.

Kiri had written:  ‘Sire, I pray Buddha you are well and safe.  This is our last carrier pigeon so I also pray Buddha guides her to you—traitors killed all the others last night by firing the coop and this one escaped only because she’s been sick and I was nursing her privately.

‘Yesterday morning Lord Sugiyama suddenly resigned, exactly as planned.  But before he could make good his escape, he was trapped on the outskirts of Osaka by Ishido’s ronin.  Unhappily some of Sugiyama’s family were also caught with him—I heard he was betrayed by one of his people.  Rumor has it that Ishido offered him a compromise:  that if Lord Sugiyama delayed his resignation until after the Council of Regents convened (tomorrow), so that you could be legally impeached, in return Ishido guaranteed that the Council would formally give Sugiyama the whole of the Kwanto and, as a measure of good faith, Ishido would release him and his family at once.  Sugiyama refused to betray you.  Immediately Ishido ordered eta to convince him.  They tortured Sugiyama’s children, then his consort, in front of him, but he still would not abandon you.  They were all given bad deaths.  His, the final one, was very bad.

‘Of course, there were no witnesses to this treachery and it’s all hearsay but I believe it.  Of course Ishido disclaimed any knowledge of the murders or participation in them, vowing that he’ll hunt down the ‘murderers.’  At first Ishido claimed that Sugiyama had never actually resigned, therefore, in his opinion, the Council could still meet.  I sent copies of Sugiyama’s resignation to the other Regents, Kiyama, Ito, and Onoshi, and sent another openly to Ishido and circulated four more copies among the daimyos.  (How clever of you, Tora-chan, to have known that extra copies would be necessary.)  So, from yesterday, exactly as you planned with Sugiyama, the Council is legally no more—in this you’ve succeeded completely.

‘Good news:  Lord Mogami safely turned back outside the city with all his family and samurai.  Now he’s openly your ally, so your far-northern flank is secure.  The Lords Maeda, Kukushima, Asano, Ikeda, and Okudiara all quietly slipped out of Osaka last night to safety—also the Christian Lord Oda.

‘Bad news is that the families of Maeda, Ikeda, and Oda and a dozen other important daimyos did not escape and are now hostage here, as are those of fifty or sixty lesser uncommitted lords.

‘Bad news is that yesterday your half brother, Zataki, Lord of Shinano, publicly declared for the Heir, Yaemon, against you, accusing you of plotting with Sugiyama to overthrow the Council of Regents by creating chaos, so now your northeastern border is breached and Zataki and his fifty thousand fanatics will oppose you.

‘Bad news is that almost every daimyo accepted the Emperor’s ‘invitation.’

‘Bad news is that not a few of your friends and allies here are incensed that you did not give them prior knowledge of your strategy so they could prepare a line of retreat.  Your old friend, the great Lord Shimazu, is one.  I heard this afternoon that he’s openly demanded that all lords should be ordered by the Emperor to kneel before the boy, Yaemon, now.

‘Bad news is that Lady Ochiba is brilliantly spinning her web, promising fiefs and titles and court rank to the uncommitted.  Tora-chan, it’s a great pity she’s not on your side, she’s a worthy enemy.  The Lady Yodoko alone advocates prayer and calm but no one listens, and the Lady Ochiba wants to precipitate war now while she feels you’re weak and isolated.  So sorry, my Lord, but you’re isolated and, I think, betrayed.

‘Worst of all is that now the Christian Regents, Kiyama and Onoshi, are openly together and violently opposed to you.  They issued a joint statement this morning deploring Sugiyama’s ‘defection,’ saying that his action has put the realm into confusion, that ‘we must all be strong for the sake of the Empire.  The Regents have supreme responsibility.  We must be ready to stamp out, together, any lord or group of lords who wish to overthrow the Taikō’s will, or the legal succession.’  (Does this mean they plan to meet as a Council of four Regents?)  One of our Christian spies in the Black Robes’ headquarters here whispered that the priest Tsukku-san secretly left Osaka five days ago, but we don’t know if he went to Yedo or to Nagasaki, where the Black Ship is expected.  Did you know it will be very early this season?  Perhaps within twenty or thirty days?

‘Sire:  I’ve always hesitated about giving quick opinions based on hearsay, rumors, spies, or a woman’s intuition (there, you see, Tora-chan, I have learned from you!) but time is short and I may not be able to speak to you again:  First, too many families are trapped here.  Ishido will never let them go (as he will never let us go).  These hostages are an immense danger to you.  Few lords have Sugiyama’s sense of duty or fortitude.  Very many, I think, will now go with Ishido, however reluctantly, because of these hostages.  Next, I think that Maeda will betray you, also probably Asano.  I tally of all two hundred and sixty-four daimyos in our land, only twenty-four who are certain to follow you, another fifty possibly.  That’s not nearly enough.  Kiyama and Onoshi will sway all or most of the Christian daimyos and I believe they will not join you now.  Lord Mori, the richest and greatest of all, is against you personally, as always, and he’ll pull Asano, Kobayakawa, and perhaps Oda into his net.  With your half brother Lord Zataki against you, your position is terribly precarious.  I counsel you to declare Crimson Sky at once and rush for Kyoto.  It’s your only hope.

‘As to the Lady Sazuko and myself, we’re well and content.  The child quickens nicely and if it’s the child’s karma to be born, thus will it happen.  We’re safe in our corner of the castle, the door tightly locked, the portcullis down.  Our samurai are filled with devotion to you and to your cause and if it is our karma to depart this life then we will depart serenely.  Your Lady misses you greatly, very greatly.  For myself, Tora-chan, I long to see you, to laugh with you, and to see your smile.  My only regret in death would be that I could no longer do these things, and watch over you.  If there is an afterlife and God or Buddha or kami exist, I promise I will somehow bend them all to your side . . . though first I may beseech them to make me slender and young and fruitful for you, yet leave me my enjoyment of food.  Ah, that would indeed be heaven, to be able to eat and eat and yet be perpetually young and thin!

‘I send you my laughter.  May Buddha bless thee and thine.’

Toranaga read them the message, except the private part about Kiri and the Lady Sazuko.  When he had finished they looked at him and each other incredulously, not only because of what the message said but also because he was so openly taking them all into his confidence.

They were seated on mats set in a semicircle around him in the center of the plateau, without guards, safe from eavesdroppers.  Buntaro, Yabu, Igurashi, Omi, Naga, the captains, and Mariko.  Guards were posted two hundred paces away.

‘I want some advice,’ Toranaga said.  ‘My counselors are in Yedo.  This matter is urgent and I want all of you to act in their place.  What’s going to happen and what I should do.  Yabu-san?’

Yabu was in turmoil.  Every path seemed to lead to disaster.  ‘First, Sire, just exactly what is ‘Crimson Sky’?’

‘It’s the code name for my final battle plan, a single violent rush at Kyoto with all my legions, relying on mobility and surprise, to take possession of the capital from the evil forces that now surround it, to wrest the person of the Emperor from the filthy grasp of those who’ve duped him, led by Ishido.  Once the Son of Heaven’s safely released from their clutches, then to petition him to revoke the mandate granted the present Council who are clearly traitorous or dominated by traitors, and grant me his mandate to form a new Council which would put the interests of the realm and the Heir before personal ambition.  I would lead eighty to one hundred thousand men, leaving my lands unprotected, my flanks unguarded, and a retreat unsecured.’  Toranaga saw them staring at him flabbergasted.  He did not mention the cadres of elite samurai who had been so furtively planted in many of the important castles and provinces over the years, and who were to explode simultaneously into revolt to create the chaos essential to the plan.

Yabu burst out, ‘But you’d have to fight every pace of the way.  Ikawa Jikkyu strangles the Tokaidō for a hundred ri.  Then more Ishido strongholds straddle the rest!’

‘Yes.  But I plan to rush northwest along the Koshu-kaidō, then stab down on Kyoto and stay away from the coast lands.’

At once many shook their heads and began to speak but Yabu overrode them.  ‘But, Sire, the message said your kinsman Zataki-san’s already gone over to the enemy!  Now your road north is blocked too.  His province is athwart the Koshu-kaidō.  You’ll have to fight through all Shinano—that’s mountainous and very hard, and his men are fanatically loyal.  You’ll be carved to pieces in those mountains.’

‘That’s the only way, the only way I have a chance.  I agree there are too many hostiles on the coastal road.’

Yabu glanced at Omi, wishing he could consult with him, loathing the message and the whole Osaka mess, hating being first to speak, and utterly detesting the vassal status he had accepted at Omi’s pleading.

‘It’s your only chance, Yabu-sama,’ Omi had urged.  ‘The only way you’ll avoid Toranaga’s trap and leave yourself room to maneuver—’

Igurashi had interrupted furiously.  ‘Better to fall on Toranaga today while he’s got few men here!  Better to kill him and take his head to Ishido while there’s time.’

‘Better to wait, better to be patient—’

‘What happens if Toranaga orders our Master to give up Izu?’ Igurashi had shouted.  ‘As liege lord to vassal, Toranaga has that right!’

‘He’ll never do it.  He needs our Master more than ever now.  Izu guards his southern door.  He can’t have Izu hostile!  He must have our Master on his—’

‘What if he orders Lord Yabu out?‘

‘We rebel!  We kill Toranaga if he’s here or fight any army he sends against us.  But he’ll never do that, don’t you see?  As his vassal, Toranaga must protect–’

Yabu had let them argue and then at length he had seen Omi’s wisdom.  ‘Very well.  I agree!  And offering him my Murasama sword to fix the bargain’s genius, Omi-san,’ he had gloated, taken whole heartedly by the cunning of the plan.  ‘Yes.  Genius.  His Yoshitomo blade more than takes its place.  And of course, I’m more valuable to Toranaga now than ever before.  Omi’s right, Igurashi.  I’ve no choice.  I’m committed to Toranaga from now on.  A vassal!’

‘Until war comes,’ Omi had said deliberately.

‘Of course.  Of course only until war comes!  Then I can change sides—or do a dozen things.  You’re right, Omi-san, again!’

Omi’s the best counselor I’ve ever had, he told himself.  But the most dangerous.  Omi’s clever enough to take Izu if I die.  But what does that matter.  We’re all dead.

‘You’re blocked completely,’ he told Toranaga.  ‘You’re isolated.’

‘Is there any alternative?’ Toranaga asked.

‘Excuse me, Sire,’ Omi said, ‘but how long would it take to ready this attack?’

‘It’s ready now.’

‘Izu’s ready too, Sire,’ Yabu said.  ‘Your hundred and my sixteen thousand and the Musket Regiment—is that enough?’

‘No.  Crimson Sky’s a desperation plan—everything risked on one attack.’

‘You have to risk it, as soon as the rains cease and we can war,’ Yabu insisted.  ‘What choice have you got?  Ishido will form a new Council at once, they still have the mandate.  So you’ll be impeached, today or tomorrow or the next day.  Why wait to be eaten up?  Listen, maybe the Regiment could blast a way through the mountains!  Let it be Crimson Sky!  All men thrown into one great attack.  It’s the Way of the Warrior—it’s worthy of samurai, Toranaga-sama.  The guns, our guns, will blow Zataki out of our way and if you succeed or fail, what does it matter?  The try will live forever!’

Naga said, ‘Yes.  But we’ll win—we will!’  A few of the captains nodded their agreement, relieved that war had come.  Omi said nothing.

Toranaga was looking at Buntaro.  ‘Well?’

‘Lord, I beg you to excuse me from giving an opinion.  I and my men do whatever you decide.  That’s my only duty.  My opinion is no value to you because I do what you alone decide.’

‘Normally I’d accept that but not today!’

‘War then.  What Yabu-san says is right.  Let’s go to Kyoto.  Today, tomorrow, or when the rains stop.  Crimson Sky!  I’m tired of waiting.’

‘Omi-san?’ Toranaga asked.

‘Yabu-sama is correct, Sire.  Ishido will bend the Taikō’s will to appoint a new Council very soon.  The new Council will have the Emperor’s mandate.  Your enemies will applaud and most of your friends will hesitate and so betray you.  The new Council will impeach you at once.  Then—’

‘Then it’s Crimson Sky?’ Yabu interrupted.

‘If Lord Toranaga orders it, then it is.  But I don’t think the impeachment order has any value at all.  You can forget it!’

‘Why?’ Toranaga asked, as all attention went to Omi.

‘I agree with you, Sire.  Ishido’s evil, neh?  Any daimyos who agree to serve him are equally evil.  True men know Ishido for what he is, and also know that the Emperor’s been duped again.’  Omi was prudently treading through the quicksands that he knew could swallow him.  ‘I think he made a lasting mistake murdering Lord Sugiyama.  Because of those foul murders, I think now all daimyos will suspect treachery from Ishido, and very few outside of Ishido’s immediate grasp will bow to the orders of his ‘Council.’  You’re safe.  For a time.’

‘For how much time?’

‘The rains are with us for two months, about.  When the rains cease Ishido will plan to send Ikawa Jikkyu and Lord Zataki against you simultaneously, to catch you in a pincer, and Ishido’s main army will support them over the Tokaidō Road.  Meanwhile, until the rains stop, every daimyo who bears a grudge against any other daimyo will only pay Ishido lip service until he makes the first move, then I think they’ll forget him and they’ll all take revenge or grab territory at their whim.  The Empire will be torn as it was before the Taikō.  But you, Sire, between Yabu-sama and yourself, jointly, with luck you have enough strength to hold the passes to the Kwanto and to Izu against the first wave and beat it off.  I don’t think Ishido could mount another attack—not a great one.  When Ishido and the others have expended their energies, together you and Lord Yabu can cautiously come from behind our mountains and gradually take the Empire into your own hands.’

‘When will that be?’

‘In the time of your children, Sire.’

‘You say fight a defensive battle?’ Yabu asked scornfully.

‘I think jointly you’re both safe behind the mountains.  You wait, Toranaga-sama.  You wait until you have more allies.  You hold the passes.  This can be done!  General Ishido’s evil, but not stupid enough to commit all his force to one battle.  He’ll stay skulking inside Osaka.  So for the time being, we mustn’t use our regiment.  We must tighten security and keep them as a secret weapon, poised and ever ready, until you come from behind your mountains— but now I don’t think I will ever see them used.’  Omi was conscious of the eyes watching him.  He bowed to Toranaga.  ‘Please excuse me for talking at length, Sire.’

Toranaga studied him, then glanced at his son.  He saw the youth’s pent-up excitement and knew it was time to cast him at his prey.  ‘Naga-san?’

‘What Omi-san said is true,’ Naga told him at once, exultantly.  ‘Most of it.  But I say use the two months to gather allies, to isolate Ishido even more, and when the rains cease, attack without warning—Crimson Sky.’

Toranaga asked, ‘You disagree with Omi-san’s opinion about a lengthy war?’

‘No.  But isn’t this—’  Naga stopped.

‘Go on, Naga-san.  Speak openly!’

Naga held his tongue, his face white.

‘You’re ordered to continue!’

‘Well, Sire, it occurred to me that—’  Again he stopped, then said in a gush, ‘Isn’t this your great opportunity to become Shōgun?  If you succeed in taking Kyoto and get the mandate, why form a Council?  Why not petition the Emperor to make you Shōgun?  It would be best for you and best for the realm.’  Naga tried to keep the fear out of his voice for he was speaking treason against Yaemon and most samurai here—Yabu, Omi, Igurashi, and Buntaro particularly—were open loyalists.  ‘I say you should be Shōgun!’  He turned defensively on the others.  ‘If this opportunity is let go. . . . Omi-san, you’re right about a long war, but I say Lord Toranaga must take power, to give power!  A long war will ruin the Empire, split it into a thousand fragments again!  Who wants that?  Lord Toranaga must be Shōgun.  To gift the Empire on to Yaemon, to Lord Yaemon, the realm must be secured first!  There’ll never be another opportunity. . . .’  His words trailed off.  He squared his back, frightened because he had said it, glad that he had said publicly what he had been thinking forever.

Toranaga sighed.  ‘I have never sought to become Shōgun.  How many times do I have to say it?  I support my nephew Yaemon and the Taikō’s will.’  He looked at them all, one by one.  Lastly at Naga.  The youth winced.  But Toranaga said kindly, calling him back to the lure, ‘Your zeal and youth alone excuse you.  Unfortunately, many much older and wiser than you think that’s my ambition.  It isn’t.  There’s only one way to settle that nonsense and that’s put Lord Yaemon into power.  And that I intend to do.’

‘Yes, Father.  Thank you.  Thank you,’ Naga replied in despair.

Toranaga shifted his eyes to Igurashi.  ‘What’s your counsel?’

The one-eyed samurai scratched.  ‘Me, I’m only a soldier, not a counselor, but I wouldn’t advise Crimson Sky, not if we can war on our terms like Omi-san says.  I fought in Shinano years ago.  That’s bad country, and then Lord Zataki was with us.  I wouldn’t want to war in Shinano again and never if Zataki was hostile.  And if Lord Maeda’s suspect, well, how can you plan a battle if your biggest ally may betray you?  Lord Ishido’ll put two, three hundred thousand men against you and still keep a hundred holding Osaka.  Even with the guns we’ve not enough men to attack.  But behind the mountains using the guns, you could hold out forever if it happens like Omi-san says.  We could hold the passes.  You’ve enough rice—doesn’t the Kwanto supply half the Empire?  Well, a third at least—and we could send you all the fish you need.  You’d be safe.  Let Lord Ishido and devil Jikkyu come at us if it’s to happen like Omi-san said, that soon the enemy’ll be feeding on each other.  If not, keep Crimson Sky ready.  A man can die for his lord only once in this life.’

‘Has anyone anything to add?’ Toranaga asked.  No one answered him.  ‘Mariko-san?’

‘It’s not my place to speak here, Sire,’ she replied.  ‘I’m sure everything has been said that should have been said.  But may I be allowed to ask for all your counselors here, what do you think will happen?’

Toranaga chose his words deliberately.  ‘I believe that what Omi-san forecast will happen.  With one exception:  the Council won’t be impotent.  The Council will wield enough influence to gather an invincible allied force.  When the rains cease it will be thrown against the Kwanto, bypassing Izu.  The Kwanto will be gobbled up, then Izu.  Only after I’m dead will the daimyos fight among themselves.’

‘But why, Sire?’ Omi ventured.

‘Because I’ve too many enemies, I own the Kwanto, I’ve warred for more than forty years and never lost a battle.  They’re all afraid of me.  I know that first the vultures will pack together to destroy me.  Later they’ll destroy themselves, but first they’ll join to destroy me if they can.  Know very clearly, all of you, I’m the only real threat to Yaemon, even though I’m no threat at all.  That’s the irony of it.  They all believe I want to be Shōgun.  I don’t.  This is another war that’s not necessary at all!’

Naga broke the silence.  ‘Then what are you going to do, Sire?’

‘Eh?’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Obviously, Crimson Sky,’ Toranaga said.

‘But you said they’d eat us up?’

‘They would—if I gave them any time.  But I’m not going to give them any time.  We go to war at once!’

‘But the rains—what about the rains?’

‘We will arrive in Kyoto wet.  Hot and stinking and wet.  Surprise, mobility, audacity, and timing win wars, neh?  Yabu-san was right.  The guns will blast a way through the mountains.’

For an hour they discussed plans and the feasibility of large-scale war in the rainy season—an unheard of strategy.  Then Toranaga sent them away, except Mariko, telling Naga to order the Anjin-san here.  He watched them walk off.  They had all been outwardly enthusiastic once the decision had been announced, Naga and Buntaro particularly.  Only Omi had been reserved and thoughtful and unconvinced.  Toranaga discounted Igurashi for he knew that, rightly, the soldier would do only what Yabu ordered, and he dismissed Yabu as a pawn, treacherous certainly, but still a pawn.  Omi’s the only one worthwhile, he thought.  I wonder if he’s worked out yet what I’m really going to do?

‘Mariko-san.  Find out, tactfully, how much the courtesan’s contract would cost.’

She blinked.  ‘Kiku-san, Sire?’

‘Yes.’

‘Now, Sire?  At once?’

‘Tonight would do excellently.’  He looked at her blandly.  ‘Her contract’s not necessarily for me, perhaps for one of my officers.’

‘I would imagine the price would depend on whom, Sire.’

‘I imagine it will.  But set a price.  The girl of course has the right of refusal, if she wishes, when the samurai’s named, but tell her mama-san owner that I don’t expect the girl will have the bad manners to mistrust my choice for her.  Tell the owner also that Kiku is a Lady of the First Class of Mishima and not Yedo or Osaka or Kyoto,’ Toranaga added genially, ‘so I expect to pay Mishima prices and not Yedo or Osaka or Kyoto prices.’

‘Yes, Sire, of course.’

Toranaga moved his shoulder to ease the ache, shifting his swords.

‘May I massage it for you, Sire?  Or send for Suwo?’

‘No, thank you.  I’ll see Suwo later.’  Toranaga got up and relieved himself with great pleasure, then sat down again.  He wore a short, light silk kimono, blue patterned, and the simple straw sandals.  His fan was blue and decorated with his crest.

The sun was low, rain clouds building heavily.

‘It’s vast to be alive,’ he said happily.  ‘I can almost hear the rain waiting to be born.’

‘Yes,’ she said.

Toranaga thought a moment.  Then he said as a poem:

‘The sky

Scorched by the sun,

Weeps

Fecund tears.’

Mariko obediently put her mind to work to play the poem game with him, so popular with most samurai, spontaneously twisting the words of the poem that he had made up, adapting them, making another from his.  After a moment she replied:

‘But the forest

Wounded by the wind,

Weeps

Dead leaves.’

‘Well said!  Yes, very well said!’  Toranaga looked at her contentedly, enjoying what he saw.  She was dressed in a pale green kimono with patterns of bamboo, a dark green obi and orange sunshade.  There was a marvelous sheen to the blue-black hair, which was piled high under her wide-brimmed hat.  He remembered nostalgically how they had all—even the Dictator Goroda himself—wanted her when she was thirteen and her father, Akechi Jinsai, had first presented this, his eldest daughter, at Goroda’s court.  And how Nakamura, the Taikō-to-be, had begged the Dictator to give her to him, and then how Goroda had laughed, and publicly called him his randy little monkey general, and told him to ‘stick to fighting battles, peasant, don’t fight to stick patrician holes!’  Akechi Jinsai had openly scorned Nakamura, his rival for Goroda’s favor, the main reason why Nakamura had delighted in smashing him.  And why also Nakamura had delighted in watching Buntaro squirm for years, Buntaro who had been given the girl to cement an alliance between Goroda and Toda Hiro-matsu.  I wonder, Toranaga asked himself mischievously, looking at her, I wonder if Buntaro were dead, would she consent to be one of my consorts?  Toranaga had always preferred experienced women, widows or divorced wives, but never too pretty or too wise or too young or too well-born, so never too much trouble and always grateful.

He chuckled to himself.  I’d never ask her because she’s everything I don’t want in a consort—except that her age is perfect.

‘Sire?’ she asked.

‘I was thinking about your poem, Mariko-san,’ he said, even more blandly.  Then added:

‘Why so wintery?

Summer’s

Yet to come, and the fall of

Glorious autumn.’

She said in answer:

‘If I could use words

Like falling leaves,

What a bonfire

My poems would make!’

He laughed and bowed with mock humility.  ‘I concede victory, Mariko-sama.  What will the favor be?  A fan?  Or a scarf for your hair?’

‘Thank you, Sire,’ she replied.  ‘Yes, whatever pleases you.’

‘Ten thousand koku yearly to your son.’

‘Oh, Sire, we don’t deserve such favor!’

‘You won a victory.  Victory and duty must be rewarded.  How old is Saruji now?’

‘Fifteen—almost fifteen.’

‘Ah, yes—he was betrothed to one of Lord Kiyama’s granddaughters recently, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, Sire.  It was in the eleventh month last year, the Month of the White Frost.  He’s presently at Osaka with Lord Kiyama.’

‘Good.  Ten thousand koku, beginning at once.  I will send the authority with tomorrow’s mail.  Now, enough of poems, please give me your opinion.’

‘My opinion, Sire, is that we are all safe in your hands, as the land is safe in your hands.’

‘I want you to be serious.’

‘Oh, but I am, Sire.  I thank you for the favor to my son.  That makes everything perfect.  I believe whatever you do will be right.  By the Madon—yes, by the Madonna, I swear I believe that.’

‘Good.  But I still want your opinion.’

Immediately she replied, without a care in the world, as an equal to an equal.  ‘First, you should bring Lord Zataki secretly back to your side.  I’d surmise you either know how to do this already, or more probably, you have a secret agreement with your half brother, and you prompted his mythical ‘defection’ in the first place to lull Ishido into a false position.  Next:  You’ll never attack first.  You never have, you’ve always counseled patience, and you only attack when you’re sure to win, so publicly ordering Crimson Sky at once is only another diversion.  Next, timing:  My opinion is you should do what you will do, pretend to order Crimson Sky but never commit it.  This will throw Ishido into confusion because, obviously, spies here and in Yedo will report your plan, and he’ll have to scatter his force like a covey of partridge, in filthy weather, to prepare for a threat that’ll never materialize.  Meanwhile you’ll spend the next two months gathering allies, to undermine Ishido’s alliances and break up his coalition, which you must do by any means.  And of course, you must tempt Ishido out of Osaka Castle.  If you don’t, Sire, he will win, or at least, you will lose the Shōgunate.  You—’

‘I’ve already made my position clear on that,’ Toranaga rapped, no longer amused.  ‘And you forget yourself.’

Mariko said carelessly and happily, ‘I have to talk secrets today, Sire, because of the hostages.  They’re a knife in your heart.’

‘What about them?’

‘Be patient with me please Sire.  I may never be able to talk to you in what the Anjin-san would call an ‘open English private way’ ever again—you’re never alone like we’re alone now.  I beg you to excuse my bad manners.’  Mariko gathered her wits and, astoundingly, continued to speak as an equal.  ‘My absolute opinion is that Naga-san was right.  You must become Shōgun, or you will have failed in your duty to the Empire and to the Minowara.‘

‘How dare you say such a thing!’

Mariko remained quite serene, his open anger touching her not at all.  ‘I counsel you to marry the Lady Ochiba.  It’s eight years before Yaemon’s old enough, legally, to inherit—that’s an eternity!  Who knows what could happen in eight months, let alone eight years.’

‘Your whole family can be obliterated in eight days!’

‘Yes, Sire.  But that has nothing to do with you and your duty, and the realm.  Naga-san’s right.  You must take the power to give power.’  With mock gravity she added breathlessly, ‘And now may your faithful counselor commit seppuku or should I do it later?’ and she pretended to swoon.

Toranaga gawked at her incredible effrontery, then he roared with laughter and pounded his fist on the ground.  When he could talk, he choked out, ‘I’ll never understand you, Mariko-san.’

‘Ah, but you do, Sire,’ she said, patting the perspiration off her forehead.  ‘You’re kind to let this devoted vassal make you laugh, to listen to her requests, to say what must be said, had to be said.  Forgive me my impertinence, please.’

‘Why should I, eh?  Why?’  Toranaga smiled, genial now.

‘Because of the hostages, Sire,’ she said simply.

‘Ah, them!’ He too became serious.

‘Yes.  I must go to Osaka.’

‘Yes,’ he said.  ‘I know.’