Shōgun (The Asian Saga Book 1)

Now Blackthorne was walking in the castle with his honor guard of twenty vassals surrounded by ten times that number of escorting Grays.  Proudly he wore a new uniform, Brown kimono with the five Toranaga ciphers and, for the first time, a formal, huge-winged overmantle.  His golden wavy hair was tied in a neat queue.  The swords that Toranaga had given him jutted from his sash correctly.  His feet were encased in new tabi and thonged sandals.

Grays in abundance were at every intersection, covering every battlement, in a vast show of Ishido strength, for every daimyo and general and every samurai officer of importance in Osaka had been invited tonight to the Great Hall that the Taikō had built within the inner ring of fortifications.  The sun was down and night arriving quickly.

It’s terrible luck to lose Uraga, Blackthorne was thinking, still not knowing if the attack had been against Uraga or himself.  I’ve lost the best source of knowledge I could ever have.

‘At noon you go castle, Anjin-san,’ Yabu had said this morning, when he had returned to the galley.  ‘Grays come for you.  You understand?’

‘Yes, Yabu-sama.’

‘Quite safe now.  Sorry about attack.  Shigata ga nai!  Grays take you safe place.  Tonight you stay in castle.  Toranaga part of castle.  Also next day we go Nagasaki.’

‘We have permission?’ he had asked.

Yabu shook his head with exasperation.  ‘Pretend go Mishima to collect Lord Hiro-matsu.  Also Lord Sudara and family.  Understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.  Sleep now, Anjin-san.  Don’t worry about attack.  Now all boats ordered stay away from here.  It’s kinjiru here now.’

‘I understand.  Please excuse me, what happens tonight?  Why me to castle?’

Yabu had smiled his twisted smile and told him he was on show, that Ishido was curious to see him again.  ‘As a guest you’ll be safe,’ and he had left the galley once more.

Blackthorne had gone below, leaving Vinck on watch, but the moment he was deeply asleep Vinck was tugging him awake and he rushed on deck again.

A small Portuguese twenty-cannon frigate was barreling into harbor, the bit between her teeth, heeled over under a full press of canvas.

‘Bastard’s in a hurry,’ Vinck said, quaking.

‘Got to be Rodrigues.  No one else’d come in with all that sail.’

‘If I was you, Pilot, I’d get us the hell away from here on the tide, or without the tide.  Christ Jesus, we’re like moths in a grog bottle.  Let’s get out—’

‘We stay!  Can’t you get it through your head?  We stay until we’re allowed to leave.  We stay until Ishido says we can go even if the Pope and the King of Spain come ashore together with the whole God-cursed Armada!’

Again he had gone below but sleep had avoided him.  At noon, Grays arrived.  Heavily escorted, he went with them to the castle.  They wound through the city passing the execution ground, the five crosses still there, figures still being tied up and taken down, each cross with its two spearsmen, the crowd watching.  He had relived that agony and the terror of the ambush, and the feel of his hand on the hilt of his sword, the kimono about him, his own vassals with him, did not lessen his dread.

The Grays had guided him to Toranaga’s part of the castle that he had visited the first time, where Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko and her child were still ensconced, along with the remainder of Toranaga’s samurai.  There he had had a bath and found the new clothes that had been laid out for him.

‘Is Lady Mariko here?’

‘No, Sire, so sorry,’ the servant had told him.

‘Then where can I find her, please?  I have urgent message.’

‘So sorry, Anjin-san, I don’t know.  Please excuse me.’

None of the servants would help him.  All said, ‘So sorry, I don’t know.’

He had dressed, then referred to his dictionary, remembering key words that he would need and prepared as best he could.  Then he went into the garden to watch the rocks growing.  But they never grew.

Now he was walking across the innermost moat.  Flares were everywhere.

He shook off his anxiety and stepped out onto the wooden bridge.  Other guests with Grays were all around heading the same way.  He could feel them watching him covertly.

His feet took him under the final portcullis and his Grays led through the maze again up to the huge door.  Here they left him.  So did his own men.  They went to one side with other samurai to await him.  He went forward into the flare-lit maw.

It was an immense, high-raftered room with a golden ornamented ceiling.  Gold-paneled columns supported the rafters, which were made of rare and polished woods and cherished like the hangings on the walls.  Five hundred samurai and their ladies were there, wearing all the colors of the rainbow, their fragrances mingling with incense perfume from the precious woods that smoked on tiny wall braziers.  Blackthorne’s eyes raced over the crowd to find Mariko, or Yabu, or any friendly face.  But he found none.  To one side was a line of guests who waited to bow before the raised platform at the far end.  The courtier, Prince Ogaki Takamoto, was standing there.  Blackthorne recognized Ishido—tall, lean, and autocratic—also beside the platform, and he remembered vividly the blinding power of the man’s blow on his face, and then his own fingers knotting around the man’s throat.

On the platform, alone, was the Lady Ochiba.  She sat comfortably on a cushion.  Even from this distance he could see the exquisite richness of her kimono, gold threads on the rarest blue-black silk.  ‘The Most High,’ Uraga had called her in awe, telling him much about her and her history during their journey.

She was slight, almost girlish in build, with a luminous glow to her fair skin.  Her sloe eyes were large under painted, arched brows, her hair set like a winged helmet.

The procession of guests crept forward. Blackthorne was standing to one side in a pool of light, a head taller than those nearby. Politely he stepped aside to get out of the way of some passing guests and saw Ochiba’s eyes turn to him. Now Ishido was looking at him too.

They said something to each other and her fan moved.  Their eyes returned to him.  Uneasily he went toward a wall to become less conspicuous but a Gray barred his way.  ‘Dozo,‘ this samurai said politely, motioning at the line.

‘Hai, domo,‘ Blackthorne said and joined it.

Those in front bowed and others that came after him bowed.  He returned their bows.  Soon all conversation died.  Everyone was looking at him.

Embarrassed, the men and women ahead in the line moved out of his way.  Now no one was between him and the platform.  He stood rigid momentarily.  Then, in the utter silence, he walked forward.

In front of the platform he knelt and bowed formally, once to her and once to Ishido as he had seen others do.  He got up again, petrified that his swords would fall or that he would slip and be disgraced, but everything went satisfactorily and he began to back away.

‘Please wait, Anjin-san,’ she said.

He waited.  Her luminosity seemed to have increased, and her femininity.  He felt the extraordinary sensuality that surrounded her, without conscious effort on her part.

‘It is said that you speak our language?’  Her voice was unaccountably personal.

‘Please excuse me, Highness,’ Blackthorne began, using his timetried stock phrase, stumbling slightly in his nervousness.  ‘So sorry, but I have to use short words and respectfully ask you to use very simple words to me so that I may have the honor of understanding you.’  He knew that without doubt his life could easily depend on his answers.  All attention in the room was on them now.  Then he noticed Yabu moving carefully through the throng, coming closer.  ‘May I respectfully congratulate you on your birthday and pray that you live to enjoy a thousand more.’

‘These are hardly simple words, Anjin-san,’ Lady Ochiba said, very impressed.

‘Please excuse me, Highness.  I learn that last night.  The right way to say, neh?‘

‘Who taught you that?’

‘Uraga-noh-Tadamasa, my vassal.’

She frowned, then glanced at Ishido, who bent forward and spoke, too rapidly for Blackthorne to catch anything other than the word ‘arrows.’

‘Ah, the renegade Christian priest who was killed last night on your ship?’

‘Highness?’

‘The man—samurai who was killed, neh?  Last night on ship.  You understand?’

‘Ah, so sorry.  Yes, him.’  Blackthorne glanced at Ishido, then back at her.  ‘Please excuse me, Highness, your permission greet the Lord General?’

‘Yes, you have that permission.’

‘Good evening, Lord General,’ Blackthorne said with studied politeness.  ‘Last time meet, I very terrible mad.  So sorry.’

Ishido returned the bow perfunctorily.  ‘Yes, you were.  And very impolite.  I hope you won’t get mad tonight or any other night.’

‘Very mad that night, please excuse me.’

‘That madness is usual among barbarians, neh?‘

Such public rudeness to a guest was very bad.  Blackthorne’s eyes flashed to Lady Ochiba for an instant and he discerned surprise in her too.  So he gambled.  ‘Ah, Lord General, you are most very right.  Barbarian always same madness.  But, so sorry, now I am samurai—hatamoto—this great, so very great honor to me.  I am no longer barbarian.‘  He used his quarterdeck voice which carried without shouting and filled all the corners of the room.  ‘Now I understand samurai manners—and little bushido.  And wa.  I am no longer barbarian, please excuse.  Neh?‘  He spoke the last word as a challenge, unafraid.  He knew that Japanese understood masculinity and pride, and honored them.

Ishido laughed.  ‘So, samurai Anjin-san,’ he said, jovial now.  ‘Yes, I accept your apology.  Rumors about your courage are true.  Good, very good.  I should apologize also.  Terrible that filthy ronin could do such a thing, you understand?  Attack in night?’

‘Yes, I understand, Sire.  Very bad.  Four men dead.  One of my, three Grays.’

‘Listen, bad, very bad.  Don’t worry, Anjin-san.  No more.’  Thoughtfully Ishido glanced at the room.  Everyone understood him very clearly.  ‘Now I order guards.  Understand?  Very careful guards.  No more assassin attacks.  None.  You very carefully guarded now.  Quite safe in castle.’

‘Thank you.  So sorry for trouble.’

‘No trouble.  You important, neh?  You samurai.  You have special samurai place with Lord Toranaga.  I don’t forget—never fear.’

Blackthorne thanked Ishido again and turned to the Lady Ochiba.  ‘Highness, in my land we has Queen—have Queen.  Please excuse my bad Japanese. . . . Yes, my land rule by Queen.  In my land we have custom always must give lady birthday gift.  Even Queen.’  From the pocket in his sleeve he took out the pink camellia blossom that he had cut off a tree in the garden.  He laid it in front of her, fearful he was overreaching himself.  ‘Please excuse me if not good manners to give.’

She looked at the flower.  Five hundred people waited breathlessly to see how she would respond to the daring and the gallantry of the barbarian—and the trap he had, perhaps, unwittingly placed her in.

‘I am not a Queen, Anjin-san,’ she said slowly.  ‘Only the mother of the Heir and widow of the Lord Taikō.  I cannot accept your gift as a Queen for I am not a Queen, could never be a Queen, do not pretend to be a Queen, and do not wish to be a Queen.’  Then she smiled at the room and said to everyone, ‘But as a lady on her birthday, perhaps I may have your permission to accept the Anjin-san’s gift?’

The room burst into applause.  Blackthorne bowed and thanked her, having understood only that the gift was accepted.  When the crowd was silent again, Lady Ochiba called out, ‘Mariko-san, your pupil does you credit, neh?‘

Mariko was coming through the guests, a youth beside her.  Near them he recognized Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko.  He saw the youth smile at a young girl then, self-consciously, catch up with Mariko.  ‘Good evening, Lady Toda,’ Blackthorne said, then added dangerously in Latin, intoxicated by his success, ‘The evening is more beautiful because of thy presence.’

‘Thank you, Anjin-san,’ she replied in Japanese, her cheeks coloring.  She walked up to the platform, but the youth stayed within the circle of onlookers.  Mariko bowed to Ochiba.  ‘I have done little, Ochiba-sama.  It’s all the Anjin-san’s work and the word book that the Christian Fathers gave him.’

‘Ah yes, the word book!’  Ochiba made Blackthorne show it to her and, with Mariko’s help, explain it elaborately.  She was fascinated.  So was Ishido.  ‘We must get copies, Lord General.  Please order them to give us a hundred of the books.  With these, our young men could soon learn barbarian, neh?‘

‘Yes.  It’s a good idea, Lady.  The sooner we have our own interpreters, the better.’  Ishido laughed.  ‘Let Christians break their own monopoly, neh?‘

An iron-gray samurai in his sixties who stood in the front of the guests said, ‘Christians own no monopoly, Lord General.  We ask the Christian Fathers—in fact we insist that they be interpreters and negotiators because they’re the only ones who can talk to both sides and are trusted by both sides.  Lord Goroda began the custom, neh?  And then the Taikō continued it.’

‘Of course, Lord Kiyama, I meant no disrespect to daimyos or samurai who have become Christian.  I referred only to the monopoly of the Christian priests,’ Ishido said.  ‘It would be better for us if our people and not foreign priests—any priests for that matter—controlled our trade with China.’

Kiyama said, ‘There’s never been a case of fraud, Lord General.  Prices are fair, the trade is easy and efficient, and the Fathers control their own people.  Without the Southern Barbarians there’s no silk, no China trade.  Without the Fathers we could have much trouble.  Very much trouble, so sorry.  Please excuse me for mentioning it.’

‘Ah, Lord Kiyama,’ the Lady Ochiba said, ‘I’m sure Lord Ishido is honored that you correct him, isn’t that so, Lord General?  What would the Council be without Lord Kiyama’s advice?’

‘Of course,’ Ishido said.

Kiyama bowed stiffly, not unpleased.  Ochiba glanced at the youth and fluttered her fan.  ‘How about you, Saruji-san?  Perhaps you would like to learn barbarian?’

The boy blushed under their scrutiny.  He was slim and handsome and tried hard to be more manly than his almost fifteen years.  ‘Oh, I hope I wouldn’t have to do that, Ochiba-sama, oh no—but if it is ordered I will try.  Yes, I’d try very hard.’

They laughed at his ingenuousness.  Mariko said proudly in Japanese, ‘Anjin-san, this is my son, Saruji.’  Blackthorne had been concentrating on their conversation, most of which was too fast and too vernacular for him to comprehend.  But he had heard ‘Kiyama,’ and an alarm went off.  He bowed to Saruji and the bow was formally returned.  ‘He’s a very fine man, neh?  Lucky have such a fine son, Mariko-sama.’  His veiled eyes were looking at the youth’s right hand.  It was permanently twisted.  Then he remembered that once Mariko had told him her son’s birth had been prolonged and difficult.  Poor lad, he thought.  How can he use a sword?  He took his eyes away.  No one had noticed the direction of his glance except Saruji.  He saw embarrassment and pain in the youth’s face.

‘Lucky have fine son,’ he said to Mariko.  ‘But surely impossible, Mariko-sama, you have such big son—not enough years, neh?‘

Ochiba said, ‘Are you always so gallant, Anjin-san?  Do you always say such clever things?’

‘Please?’

‘Ah, always so clever?  Compliments?  Do you understand?’

‘No, so sorry, please excuse me.’  Blackthorne’s head was aching from concentration.  Even so, when Mariko told him what had been said he replied with mock gravity, ‘Ah, so sorry, Mariko-sama.  If Saruji-san is truly your son, please tell the Lady Ochiba I did not know that ladies here were married at ten.’

She translated.  Then added something that made them laugh.

‘What did you say?’

‘Ah!’  Mariko noticed Kiyama’s baleful eyes on Blackthorne.  ‘Please excuse me, Lord Kiyama, may I introduce the Anjin-san to you?’

Kiyama acknowledged Blackthorne’s very correct bow politely.  ‘They say you claim to be a Christian?’

‘Please?’

Kiyama did not deign to repeat it so Mariko translated.

‘Ah, so sorry, Lord Kiyama,’ Blackthorne said in Japanese.  ‘Yes.  I’m Christian—but different sect.’

‘Your sect is not welcome in my lands.  Nor in Nagasaki—or Kyushu, I’d imagine—or in any lands of any Christian daimyos.’

Mariko kept her smile in place.  She was wondering if Kiyama had personally ordered the Amida assassin, and also the attack last night.  She translated, taking the edge off Kiyama’s discourtesy, everyone in the room listening intently.

‘I’m not a priest, Lord,’ Blackthorne said, direct to Kiyama.  ‘If I in your land—only trade.  No priest talk or teach.  Respectfully ask trade only.’

‘I do not want your trade.  I do not want you in my lands.  You are forbidden my lands on pain of death.  Do you understand?’

‘Yes, I understand,’ Blackthorne said.  ‘So sorry.’

‘Good.’  Kiyama haughtily turned to Ishido.  ‘We should exclude this sect and these barbarians completely from the Empire.  I will propose this at the Council’s next meeting.  I must say openly that I think Lord Toranaga was ill-advised to make any foreigner, particularly this man samurai.  It’s a very dangerous precedent.’

‘Surely that’s unimportant!  All the mistakes of the present Lord of the Kwanto will be corrected very soon.  Neh?‘

‘Everyone makes mistakes, Lord General,’ Kiyama said pointedly.  ‘Only God is all-seeing and perfect.  The only real mistake Lord Toranaga has ever made is to put his own interests before those of the Heir.’

‘Yes,’ Ishido said.

‘Please excuse me,’ Mariko said.  ‘But that’s not true.  I’m sorry, but you’re both mistaken about my Master.’

Kiyama turned on her.  Politely.  ‘It’s perfectly correct for you to take that position, Mariko-san.  But, please let’s not discuss that tonight.  So, Lord General, where is Lord Toranaga now?  What’s your latest news?’

‘By yesterday’s carrier pigeon, I heard he was at Mishima.  Now I’m getting daily reports on his progress.’

‘Good.  Then in two days he’ll leave his own borders?’ Kiyama asked.

‘Yes.  Lord Ikawa Jikkyu is ready to welcome him as his position merits.’

‘Good.’  Kiyama smiled at Ochiba.  He was very fond of her.  ‘On that day, Lady, in honor of the occasion, perhaps you would ask the Heir if he would allow the Regents to bow before him?’

‘The Heir would be honored, Sire,’ she replied, to applause.  ‘And afterwards perhaps, you and everyone here would be his guests at a poetry competition.  Perhaps the Regents would be the judges?’

There was more applause.

‘Thank you, but please, perhaps you and Prince Ogaki and some of the ladies would be the judges.’

‘Very well, if you wish.’

‘Now, Lady, what’s the theme to be? And the first line of the poem?’ Kiyama asked, very pleased, for he was renowned for his poetry as well as his swordsmanship and ferocity in war.

‘Please, Mariko-san, would you answer Lord Kiyama?’ Ochiba said, and again many there admired her adroitness—she was an indifferent poetess where Mariko was renowned.

Mariko was glad the time had come to begin.  She thought a moment.  Then she said, ‘It should be about today, Lady Ochiba, and the first line:  ‘On a leafless branch . . .”

Ochiba and all of them complimented her on her choice.  Kiyama was genial now, and said, ‘Excellent, but we’ll have to be very good to compete with you, Mariko-san.’

‘I hope you will excuse me, Sire, but I won’t be competing.’

‘Of course you’ll compete!’ Kiyama laughed.  ‘You’re one of the best in the realm!  It wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t.’

‘So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but I will not be here.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Ochiba said, ‘What do you mean, Mariko-chan?’

‘Oh, please excuse me, Lady,’ Mariko said, ‘but I’m leaving Osaka tomorrow—with the Lady Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko.’

Ishido’s smile vanished.  ‘Leaving for where?’

‘To meet our liege Lord, Sire.’

‘He—Lord Toranaga will be here in a few days, neh?‘

‘It’s months since the Lady Sazuko has seen her husband, and my Lord Toranaga hasn’t yet had the pleasure of seeing his newest son.  Naturally the Lady Kiritsubo will accompany us.  It’s been equally long since he’s seen the Mistress of his Ladies, neh?‘

‘Lord Toranaga will be here so soon that to go to meet him isn’t necessary.’

‘But I think it is necessary, Lord General.’

Ishido said crisply, ‘You’ve only just arrived and we’ve been looking forward to your company, Mariko-san.  The Lady Ochiba particularly.  I agree again with Lord Kiyama, of course you must compete.’

‘So sorry, but I will not be here.’

‘Obviously you’re tired, Lady.  You’ve just arrived.  Certainly this is hardly the time to discuss such a private matter.’  Ishido turned to Ochiba.  ‘Perhaps, Lady Ochiba, you should greet the remainder of the guests?’

‘Yes—yes, of course,’ Ochiba said, flustered.  At once the line began to form up obediently and nervous conversation began, but the silence fell again as Mariko said, ‘Thank you, Lord General.  I agree, but this isn’t a private matter and there’s nothing to discuss.  I am leaving tomorrow to pay my respects to my liege Lord, with his ladies.’

Ishido said coldly, ‘You are here, Lady, at the personal invitation of the Son of Heaven, together with the welcome of the Regents.  Please be patient.  Your lord will be here very soon now.’

‘I agree, Sire.  But His Imperial Majesty’s invitation is for the twenty-second day.  It does not order me—or anyone—confined to Osaka until that time.  Or does it?’

‘You forget your manners, Lady Toda.’

‘Please excuse me, that was the last thing I intended.  So sorry, I apologize.’  Mariko turned to Ogaki, the courtier.  ‘Lord, does the Exalted’s invitation require me to stay here until He arrives?’

Ogaki’s smile was set.  ‘The invitation is for the twenty-second day of this month, Lady.  It requires your presence then.’

‘Thank you, Sire.’  Mariko bowed and faced the platform again.  ‘It requires my presence then, Lord General.  Not before.  So I shall leave tomorrow.’

‘Please be patient, Lady.  The Regents have welcomed you and there are many preparations on which they’ll need your assistance, against the Exalted’s arrival.  Now, Lady Ochi—’

‘So sorry, Sire, but the orders of my liege Lord take precedence.  I must leave tomorrow.’

‘You will not leave tomorrow and you are asked, no, begged, Mariko-san, to take part in the Lady Ochiba’s competition.  Now, Lady—’

‘Then I am confined here—against my will?’

Ochiba said, ‘Mariko-san, let’s leave the matter now, please?’

‘So sorry, Ochiba-sama, but I am a simple person.  I’ve said openly I have orders from my liege Lord.  If I cannot obey them I must know why.  Lord General, am I confined here until the twenty-second day?  If so, by whose orders?’

‘You are an honored guest,’ Ishido told her carefully, willing her to submit.  ‘I repeat, Lady, your lord will be here soon enough.’

Mariko felt his power and she fought to resist it.  ‘Yes, but so sorry, again I respectfully ask:  Am I confined to Osaka for the next eighteen days and if so, on whose orders?’

Ishido kept his eyes riveted on her.  ‘No, you are not confined.’

‘Thank you, Sire.  Please excuse me for speaking so directly,’ Mariko said.  Many of the ladies in the room turned to their neighbors, and some whispered openly what all those held against their will in Osaka were thinking:  ‘If she can go, so can I, neh?  So can you, neh?  I’m going tomorrow—oh, how wonderful!’

Ishido’s voice cut through the undercurrent of whispering.  ‘But, Lady Toda, since you’ve chosen to speak in this presumptuous fashion, I feel it is my duty to ask the Regents for a formal rejection in case others might share your misunderstanding.’  He smiled mirthlessly in the frozen hush, ‘Until that time you will hold yourself in readiness to answer their questions and receive the ruling.’

Mariko said, ‘I would be honored, Sire, but my duty is to my liege Lord.’

‘Of course.  But this will only be for a few days.’

‘So sorry, Sire, but my duty is to my liege Lord for the next few days.’

‘You will possess yourself with patience, Lady.  It will take but a little time.  This matter is ended.  Now, Lord Ki—’

‘So sorry, but I cannot delay my departure for a little time.’

Ishido bellowed, ‘You refuse to obey the Council of Regents?’

‘No, Sire,’ Mariko said proudly.  ‘Not unless they trespass on my duty to my liege Lord, which is a samurai’s paramount duty’

‘You-will-hold-yourself-ready-to-meet-the-Regents-with-filial-patience!’

‘So sorry, I am ordered by my liege Lord to escort his ladies to meet him.  At once.’  She took a scroll out of her sleeve and handed it to Ishido formally.

He tore it open and scanned it.  Then he looked up and said, ‘Even so, you will wait for a ruling from the Regents.’

Mariko looked hopefully to Ochiba but there was only bleak disapproval there.  She turned to Kiyama.  Kiyama was equally silent, equally unmoved.

‘Please excuse me, Lord General, but there’s no war,’ she began.  ‘My Master’s obeying the Regents, so for the next eighteen—’

‘This matter is closed!’

‘This matter is closed, Lord General, when you have the manners to let me finish!  I’m no peasant to be trodden on.  I’m Toda Mariko-noh-Buntaro-noh-Hiro-matsu, daughter of the Lord Akechi Jinsai, my line’s Takashima and we’ve been samurai for a thousand years and I say I will never be captive or hostage or confined.  For the next eighteen days and until the day, by fiat of the Exalted, I am free to go as I please—as is anyone.’

‘Our—our Master, the Taikō, was once a peasant.  Many—many samurai are peasants, were peasants.  Every daimyo was, once, in the past, peasant.  Even the first Takashima.  Everyone was peasant once.  Listen carefully:  You-will-await-the-pleasure-of-the-Regents.’

‘No.  So sorry, my first duty is obedience to my liege Lord.’

Enraged, Ishido began to walk toward her.

Although Blackthorne had understood almost nothing of what had been said, his right hand slid unnoticed into his left sleeve to prepare the concealed throwing knife.

Ishido stood over her. ‘You-will—’

At that moment there was a movement at the doorway.  A tearstained maid weaved through the throng and ran up to Ochiba.  ‘Please excuse me, Mistress,’ she whimpered, ‘but it’s Yodoko-sama—she’s asking for you, she’s. . . . You must hurry, the Heir’s already there. . . .’

Worriedly Ochiba looked back at Mariko and at Ishido, then at the faces staring up at her.  She half bowed to her guests and hurried away.  Ishido hesitated.  ‘I’ll deal with you later, Mariko-san,’ he said, then followed Ochiba, his footsteps heavy on the tatamis.

In his wake the whispering began to ebb and flow again.  Bells tolled the hour change.

Blackthorne walked over to Mariko.  ‘Mariko-san,’ he asked, ‘what’s happening?’

She continued to stare sightlessly at the platform.  Kiyama took his cramped hand off his sword hilt and flexed it.  ‘Mariko-san!’

‘Yes?  Yes, Sire?’

‘May I suggest you go back to your house.  Perhaps I may be permitted to talk to you later—say, at the Hour of the Boar?’

‘Yes, yes, of course.  Please—please excuse me but I had to. . . .’  Her words trailed away.

‘This is an ill-omened day, Mariko-san.  May God take you into His keeping.’  Kiyama turned his back on her and spoke to the room with authority.  ‘I suggest we return to our homes to wait . . . to wait and to pray that the Infinite may take the Lady Yodoko quickly and easily and with honor into His peace, if her time has come.’  He glanced at Saruji, who was still transfixed.  ‘You come with me.’  He walked out.  Saruji began to follow, not wanting to leave his mother, but impelled by the order and intimidated by the attention on him.

Mariko made a half bow to the room and started to leave.  Kiri licked her dry lips.  Lady Sazuko was beside her, tremulously apprehensive.  Kiri took the Lady Sazuko’s hand and together the two women followed Mariko.  Yabu stepped forward with Blackthorne and they strode out behind them, very conscious that they were the only samurai present wearing Toranaga’s uniform.

Outside, Grays awaited them.

‘But what in the name of all gods possessed you to take such a stand?  Stupid, neh?‘  Yabu stormed at her.

‘So sorry,’ Mariko said, hiding the true reason, wishing Yabu would leave her in peace, furious at his foul manners.  ‘It just happened, Sire.  One moment it was a birthday celebration and then . . . I don’t know.  Please excuse me, Yabu-sama.  Please excuse me, Anjin-san.’

Again Blackthorne began to say something but once more Yabu overrode him and he leaned back against the window post, completely aggravated, his head throbbing from the effort of trying to understand.

‘So sorry, Yabu-sama,’ Mariko said, and thought, how tiresome men are, they need everything explained in such detail.  They can’t even see the hairs on their own eyelids.

‘You’ve started a storm that’ll swallow us all!  Stupid, neh?‘

‘Yes, but it’s not right we should be locked up and Lord Toranaga did give me orders that—’

‘Those orders are mad!  Devils must have taken possession of his head!  You’ll have to apologize and back down.  Now security’s going to be tighter than a gnat’s arsehole.  Ishido will certainly cancel our permits to leave and you’ve ruined everything.’  He looked across at Blackthorne.  ‘Now what do we do?’

‘Please?’

The three of them had just arrived in the main reception room of Mariko’s house that was within the outermost ring of fortifications.  Grays had escorted them there and many more than usual were now stationed outside her gate.  Kiri and the Lady Sazuko had gone to their own quarters with another ‘honor’ guard of Grays, and Mariko had promised to join them after her meeting with Kiyama.

‘But the guards won’t let you, Mariko-san,’ Sazuko had said, distraught.

‘Don’t worry,’ she had said.  ‘Nothing’s changed.  Inside the castle we can move freely, though with escorts.’

‘They’ll stop you!  Oh, why did you—’

‘Mariko-san’s right, child,’ Kiri had said, unafraid.  ‘Nothing’s changed.  We’ll see you soon, Mariko-chan.’  Then Kiri had led the way inside their castle wing and Browns had closed the fortified gate and Mariko had breathed again and come to her own house with Yabu and Blackthorne.

Now she was remembering how, when she was standing there alone, carrying the banner alone, she had seen Blackthorne’s right hand readying the throwing knife and she had become stronger because of it.  Yes, Anjin-san, she thought.  You’re the only one I knew I could count on.  You were there when I needed you.

Her eyes went to Yabu, who sat cross-legged opposite her, grinding his teeth.  That Yabu had taken a public stand in her support by following her out had surprised her.  Because of his support, and because losing her own temper with him would achieve nothing, she dismissed his truculent insolence and began to play him.  ‘Please excuse my stupidity, Yabu-sama,’ she said, her voice now penitent and overlaid with tears.  ‘Of course you’re right.  So sorry, I’m just a stupid woman.’

‘I agree!  Stupid to oppose Ishido in his own nest, neh?‘

‘Yes, so sorry, please excuse me.  May I offer you saké or cha?’  Mariko clapped her hands.  At once the inner door opened and Chimmoko appeared, her hair disheveled, her face frightened and puffed from weeping.  ‘Bring cha and saké for my guests.  And food.  And make yourself presentable!  How dare you appear like that!  What do you think this is, a peasant cottage?  You shame me before Lord Kasigi!’

Chimmoko fled in tears.

‘So sorry, Sire.  Please excuse her insolence.’

‘Eh, that’s unimportant, neh?  What about Ishido?  Eeeee Lady . . . your shaft about ‘peasant,’ that hit the mark, that hurt the mighty Lord General.  You’ve made such an enemy there now!  Eeeeee, that took his Fruit and squeezed them before everyone!’

‘Oh, do you think so?  Oh, please excuse me, I didn’t mean to insult him.’

‘Eh, he is a peasant, always has been, always will be, and he’s always hated those of us who are real samurai.’

‘Oh, how clever of you, Lord, to know that.  Oh, thank you for telling me.’  Mariko bowed and appeared to brush away a tear and added, ‘May I please say that I feel so protected now—your strength. . . . If it hadn’t been for you, Lord Kasigi, I think I would have fainted.’

‘Stupid to attack Ishido in front of everyone,’ Yabu said, slightly mollified.

‘Yes.  You’re right.  It’s such a pity all our leaders aren’t as strong and as clever as you, Sire, then Lord Toranaga wouldn’t be in such trouble.’

‘I agree.  But you’ve still put us into a latrine up to our noses.’

‘Please excuse me.  Yes, it’s all my fault.’  Mariko pretended to hold back tears bravely.  She looked down and whispered, ‘Thank you, Sire, for accepting my apologies.  You’re so generous.’

Yabu nodded, believing the praise merited, her servility necessary, and himself peerless.  She apologized again, and soothed and cajoled him.  Soon he was pliant.  ‘May I please explain my stupidity to the Anjin-san?  Perhaps he can suggest a way out of. . . .’  She let her words fade away penitently.

‘Yes.  Very well.’

Mariko bowed her grateful thanks, turned to Blackthorne, and spoke in Portuguese.  ‘Please listen, Anjin-san, listen and don’t ask questions for the moment.  So sorry, but first I had to calm this ill-tempered baasterd—is that how you say it?’  Quickly she told him what had been said, and why Ochiba had hurried off.

‘That’s bad,’ he said, his gaze searching her.  ‘Neh?‘

‘Yes.  Lord Yabu asks for your counsel.  What should be done to overcome the mess my stupidity’s put you both into?’

‘What stupidity?’  Blackthorne was watching her and her disquiet increased.  She looked down at the mats.  He spoke directly to Yabu.  ‘Don’t know yet, Sire.  Now understand—now think.’

Yabu replied sourly, ‘What’s there to think about?  We’re locked in.’

Mariko translated without looking up.

‘That’s true, isn’t it, Mariko-san?’ Blackthorne said.  ‘That’s always been true.’

‘Yes, so sorry.’

He turned away to stare into the night.  Flares were placed in brackets on the stone walls that surrounded the front garden.  Light flickered off the leaves and plants that had been watered for just that purpose.  Westward was the ironbanded gate, guarded by a few Browns.

‘Thou,’ she heard him say, without turning back.  ‘I must speak with thee in private.’

‘Thou.  Yes and I to thee,’ she replied, keeping her face from Yabu, also not trusting herself.  ‘Tonight I will find thee.’  She looked up at Yabu.  ‘The Anjin-san agrees with you, Sire, about my stupidity, so sorry.’

‘But what’s the good of that now?’

‘Anjin-san,’ she said, her voice matter-of-fact, ‘later tonight I’m going to Kiritsubo-san.  I know where your quarters are.  I’ll find you. ‘

‘Yes.  Thank you.’  He still kept his back to her.

‘Yabu-sama,’ she said humbly, ‘tonight I’m going to Kiritsubo-san.  She’s wise—perhaps she’ll have a solution.’

‘There’s only one solution,’ Yabu said with a finality that unnerved her, his eyes coals.  ‘Tomorrow you will apologize.  And you will stay.’

Kiyama arrived punctually.  Saruji was with him and her heart sank.

When the formal greetings were completed, Kiyama said gravely, ‘Now, please explain why, Mariko-chan.’

‘There’s no war, Sire.  We shouldn’t be confined—nor treated as hostages—so I can go as I please.’

‘You don’t have to be at war to have hostages.  You know that.  The Lady Ochiba was hostage in Yedo against your master’s safety here and no one was at war.  Lord Sudara and his family are hostage with his brother today, and they’re not at war.  Neh?‘

She kept her eyes lowered.

‘There are many here who are hostages against the dutiful obedience of their lords to the Council of Regents, the legal rulers of the realm.  That’s wise.  It’s an ordinary custom.  Neh?‘

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘Good.  Now please tell me the real reason.’

‘Sire?’

Kiyama said testily.  ‘Don’t play games with me!  I’m no peasant either!  I want to know why you did what you did tonight.’

Mariko raised her eyes.  ‘So sorry, but the Lord General simply annoyed me with his arrogance, Sire.  I do have orders.  There’s no harm in taking Kiri and Lady Sazuko away for a few days to meet our Master.’

‘You know very well that’s impossible.  Lord Toranaga must know that as well.’

‘So sorry, but my Master gave me orders.  A samurai doesn’t question his lord’s orders.’

‘Yes.  But I question them because they’re nonsense.  Your master doesn’t deal in nonsense, or make mistakes.  And I insist I have the right to question you as well.’

‘Please excuse me, Sire, there’s nothing to discuss.’

‘But there is.  There’s Saruji to discuss.  Also the fact that I’ve known you all your life, have honored you all your life.  Hiro-matsu-sama is my oldest living friend and your father was a cherished friend and an honored ally of mine, until the last fourteen days of his life.’

‘A samurai doesn’t question the orders of a liege lord.’

‘Now you can do only one of two things, Mariko-chan.  You apologize and stay, or you try to leave.  If you try to leave you will be stopped.’

‘Yes.  I understand.’

‘You will apologize tomorrow.  I will call a meeting of the Regents and they will give a ruling about this whole matter.  Then you will be allowed to go with Kiritsubo and the Lady Sazuko.’

‘Please excuse me, how long will that take?’

‘I don’t know.  A few days.’

‘So sorry, I don’t have a few days, I am ordered to leave at once.’

‘Look at me!’  She obeyed.  ‘I, Kiyama Ukon-noh-Odanaga, Lord of Higo, Satsuma, and Osumi, a Regent of Japan, from the line Fujimoto, chief Christian daimyo of Japan, I ask you to stay.’

‘So sorry.  My liege Lord forbids me to stay.’

‘Don’t you understand what I’m telling you?’

‘Yes, Sire.  But I have no choice, please excuse me.’

He motioned toward her son.  ‘The betrothal between my granddaughter and Saruji . . . I can hardly allow this to go forward if you’re disgraced.’

‘Yes, yes, Sire,’ Mariko replied, misery in her eyes.  ‘I understand that.’  She saw the desperation in the boy.  ‘So sorry, my son.  But I must do my duty.’

Saruji started to say something but changed his mind and then, after a moment, he said, ‘Please excuse me, Mother, but isn’t . . . isn’t your duty to the Heir more important than your duty to Lord Toranaga?  The Heir’s our real liege lord, neh?‘

She thought about that.  ‘Yes, my son.  And no.  Lord Toranaga has jurisdiction over me, the Heir does not.’

‘Then doesn’t that mean Lord Toranaga has jurisdiction over the Heir, too?’

‘No, so sorry.’

‘Please excuse me, Mother, I don’t understand, but it seems to me if the Heir gives an order, he must overrule our Lord Toranaga.’

She did not reply.

‘Answer him,’ Kiyama barked.

‘Was that your thought, my son?  Or did someone put it into your head?’

Saruji frowned, trying to remember.  ‘We—Lord Kiyama and—and his Lady—we discussed it.  And the Father-Visitor.  I don’t remember.  I think I thought of it myself.  The Father-Visitor said I was correct, didn’t he, Sire?’

‘He said the Heir is more important than Lord Toranaga in the realm.  Legally.  Please answer him directly, Mariko-san.’

Mariko said, ‘If the Heir was a man, of age, Kwampaku, legal ruler of this realm like the Taikō, his father was, then I would obey him over Lord Toranaga in this.  But Yaemon’s a child, actually and legally, and therefore not capable.  Legally.  Does that answer you?’

‘But—but he’s still the Heir, neh?  The Regents listen to him—Lord Toranaga honors him.  What’s . . . what’s a year, a few years mean, Mother?  If you don’t apol—Please excuse me, but I’m afraid for you.’  The youth’s mouth was trembling.

Mariko wanted to reach out and embrace him and protect him.  But she did not.  ‘I’m not afraid, my son.  I fear nothing on this earth.  I fear only God’s judgment,’ she said, turning to Kiyama.

‘Yes,’ Kiyama said.  ‘I know that.  May the Madonna bless you for it.’  He paused.  ‘Mariko-san, will you apologize publicly to the Lord General?’

‘Yes, gladly, providing he publicly withdraws all troops from my path and gives me, the Lady Kiritsubo, and the Lady Sazuko written permission to leave tomorrow.’

‘Will you obey an order from the Regents?’

‘Please excuse me, Sire, in this matter, no.’

‘Will you honor a request from them?’

‘Please excuse me, in this matter, no.’

‘Will you agree to a request from the Heir and the Lady Ochiba?’

‘Please excuse me, what request?’

‘To visit them, to stay with them for a few days, while we resolve this affair.’

‘Please excuse me, Sire, but what is there to resolve?’

Kiyama’s restraint broke and he shouted, ‘The future and good order of the realm for one thing, the future of the Mother Church for another, and you for another!  It’s clear your close contact with the barbarian has infected you and addled your brain as I knew it would!’

Mariko said nothing, just stared back at him.

With an effort Kiyama brought himself back into control.

‘Please excuse my . . . my temper.  And my bad manners,’ he said stiffly.  ‘My only excuse is that I’m gravely concerned.’  He bowed with dignity.  ‘I apologize.’

‘It was my fault, Sire.  Please excuse me for destroying your harmony and causing you trouble.  But I have no alternative.’

‘Your son’s given you one, I’ve given you several.’

She did not answer him.

The air in the room had become stifling for all of them although the night was cool and a breeze fanned the flares.

‘You’re resolved then?’

‘I have no choice, Sire.’

‘Very well, Mariko-san.  There’s nothing more to be said.  Other than to say again I order you not to force the issue—and I ask it.’

She bowed her head.

‘Saruji-san, please wait for me outside,’ Kiyama ordered.

The youth was distraught, barely able to speak.  ‘Yes, Sire.’  He bowed to Mariko.  ‘Please excuse me, Mother.’

‘May God keep you in His hands for all eternity.’

‘And thou.’

‘Amen to that,’ Kiyama said.

‘Good night, my son.’

‘Good night, Mother.’

When they were alone Kiyama said, ‘The Father-Visitor’s very worried.’

‘About me, Sire?’

‘Yes.  And about the Holy Church— and the barbarian.  And about the barbarian ship.  First tell me about him.’

‘He’s a unique man, very strong and very intelligent.  At sea he’s . . . he belongs there.  He seems to become part of a ship and the sea, and, out to sea, there’s no man who can approach him in bravery and cunning.’

‘Even the Rodrigues-san?’

‘The Anjin-san overcame him twice.  Once here and once on our way to Yedo.’  She told him about Rodrigues arriving in the night during their stay near Mishima and about the concealed weapons and all that she had overheard.  ‘If their ships were equal, the Anjin-san would win.  Even if they were not, I think he’d win.’

‘Tell me about his ship.’

She obeyed.

‘Tell me about his vassals.’

She told him as it had happened.

‘Why would Lord Toranaga give him his ship, money, vassals, and freedom?’

‘My Master never told me, Sire.’

‘Please give me your opinion.’

‘So that he can loose the Anjin-san against his enemies,’ Mariko said at once, then added without apology, ‘Since you ask me, in this case the Anjin-san’s particular enemies are the same as my Lord’s:  the Portuguese, the Holy Fathers prompting the Portuguese, and the Lords Harima, Onoshi, and yourself, Sire.’

‘Why should the Anjin-san consider us his special enemies?’

‘Nagasaki, trade, and your coastal control of Kyushu, Sire.  And because you are the chief Catholic daimyos.’

‘The Church isn’t Lord Toranaga’s enemy.  Nor the Holy Fathers.’

‘So sorry, but I think Lord Toranaga believes the Holy Fathers support the Lord General Ishido, as you do.’

‘I support the Heir.  I’m against your Master because he does not and he will ruin our Church.’

‘I’m sorry, but that’s not true.  Sire, my Master’s so superior to the Lord General.  You’ve fought twenty more times as his ally than against him, you know he can be trusted.  Why side with his avowed enemy?  Lord Toranaga’s always wanted trade, and he’s simply not anti-Christian like the Lord General and the Lady Ochiba.’

‘Please excuse me, Mariko-san, but before God, I believe Lord Toranaga secretly detests our Christian Faith, secretly loathes our Church, and secretly is committed to destroying the succession and obliterating the Heir and the Lady Ochiba.  His lodestone is the Shōgunate—only that!  He secretly wants to be Shōgun, is planning to become Shōgun, and everything is pointed to that sole end.’

‘Before God, Sire, I do not believe it.’

‘I know—but that doesn’t make you right.’  He watched her a moment, then said, ‘By your own admission this Anjin-san and his ship are very dangerous to the Church, neh?  The Rodrigues agrees with you that if the Anjin-san caught the Black Ship at sea it would be very bad.’

‘Yes, I believe that too, Sire.’

‘That would hurt our Mother Church very much, neh?‘

‘Yes.’

‘But you still won’t help the Church against this man?’

‘He is not against the Church, Sire, not really against the Fathers, though he distrusts them.  He’s only against the enemies of his Queen.  And the Black Ship is his goal—for profit.’

‘But he opposes the True Faith and is therefore a heretic.  Neh?‘

‘Yes.  But I don’t believe everything we’ve been told by the Fathers is true.  And much has never been told to us.  Tsukku-san admitted many things.  My liege Lord ordered me to become the Anjin-san’s confidant and friend, to teach him our language and customs, to learn from him what could be of value to us.  And I’ve found—’

‘You mean valuable to Toranaga.  Neh?‘

‘Sire, obedience to a liege lord is the pinnacle of a samurai’s life.  Isn’t obedience what you require from all your vassals?’

‘Yes.  But heresy is terrible and it seems you are allied with the barbarian against your Church and infected by him.  I pray God will open your eyes, Mariko-san, before you lose your own salvation.  Now, last, the Father-Visitor said you have some private information for me.’

‘Sire?’  This was completely unexpected.

‘He said there was a message from the Tsukku-san a few days ago.  A special messenger from Yedo.  You have some information about—about my allies.’

‘I asked to see the Father-Visitor tomorrow morning.’

‘Yes.  He told me.  Well?’

‘Please excuse me, after I’ve seen him tomorrow, I—’

‘Not tomorrow, now!  The Father-Visitor said it had to do with Lord Onoshi and concerned the Church and you were to tell me at once.  Before God that’s what he said.  Have things come to such a filthy pass that you won’t even trust me?’

‘So sorry.  I made an agreement with the Tsukku-san.  He asked me to speak openly to the Father-Visitor, that’s all, Sire.’

‘The Father-Visitor said you were to tell me now.’

Mariko realized she had no alternative.  The die was cast.  She told him about the plot against his life.  All that she knew.  He, too, scoffed at the rumor until she told him exactly where the information had come from.

‘His confessor?  Him?’

‘Yes.  So sorry.’

‘I regret Uraga’s dead,’ Kiyama said, even more mortified that the night attack on the Anjin-san had been such a fiasco—as the other ambush had been—and now had killed the one man who could prove his enemy Onoshi was a traitor.  ‘Uraga will burn in hellfire forever for that sacrilege.  Terrible what he did.  He deserves excommunication and hellfire, but even so, he did me a service by telling it—if it’s true.’  Kiyama looked at her, an old man suddenly.  ‘I can’t believe Onoshi would do that.  Or that Lord Harima would be a party to it.’

‘Yes.  Could you—could you ask Lord Harima if it’s true?’

‘Yes, but he’d never reveal something like that.  I wouldn’t, would you?  So sad, neh?  So terrible are the ways of man.’

‘Yes.’

‘I will not believe it, Mariko-san.  Uraga’s dead so we can never get proof.  I will take precautions but . . . but I cannot believe it.’

‘Yes.  One thought, Sire.  Isn’t it very strange, the Lord General putting a guard on the Anjin-san?’

‘Why strange?’

‘Why protect him?  When he detests him?  Very strange, neh?  Could it be that now the Lord General also sees the Anjin-san as a possible weapon against the Catholic daimyos?‘

‘I don’t follow you.’

‘If, God forbid, you died, Sire, Lord Onoshi becomes supreme in Kyushu, neh?  What could the Lord General do to curb Onoshi?  Nothing—except, perhaps, use the Anjin-san.’

‘It’s possible,’ Kiyama said slowly.

‘There’s only one reason to protect the Anjin-san—to use him.  Where?  Only against the Portuguese—and thus the Kyushu Christian daimyos.  Neh?‘

‘It’s possible.’

‘I believe the Anjin-san’s as valuable to you as to Onoshi or Ishido or my Master.  Alive.  His knowledge is enormous.  Only knowledge can protect us from barbarians, even Portuguese.’

Kiyama said scornfully, ‘We can crush them, expel them any time we like.  They’re gnats on a horse, nothing more.’

‘If the Holy Mother Church conquers and all the land becomes Christian as we pray it will, what then?  Will our laws survive?  Will bushido survive?  Against the Commandments?  I suggest it won’t—like elsewhere in the Catholic world—not when the Holy Fathers are supreme, not unless we are prepared.’

He did not answer her.

Then she said, ‘Sire, I beg you, ask the Anjin-san what has happened elsewhere in the world.’

‘I will not.  I think he’s bewitched you, Mariko-san.  I believe the Holy Fathers.  I think your Anjin-san is taught by Satan, and I beg you to realize his heresy has already infected you.  Three times you used ‘Catholic’ when you meant Christian.  Doesn’t that imply you agree with him there are two Faiths, two equally true versions of the True Faith?  Isn’t your threat tonight a knife in the belly of the Heir?  And against the interests of the Church?’  He got up.  ‘Thank you for your information.  Go with God.’

Mariko took a small, thin, sealed scroll of paper from her sleeve.  ‘Lord Toranaga asked me to give you this.’

Kiyama looked at the unbroken seal.  ‘Do you know what’s in it, Mariko-san?’

‘Yes.  I was ordered to destroy it and pass on the message verbally if I was intercepted.’

Kiyama broke the seal.  The message reiterated Toranaga’s wish for peace between them, his complete support of the Heir and the succession, and briefly gave the information about Onoshi.  It ended, ‘I don’t have proof about Lord Onoshi but Uraga-noh-Tadamasa will have that and, deliberately, he has been made available to you in Osaka for questioning if you wish.  However I do have proof that Ishido has also betrayed the secret agreement between you and him giving the Kwanto to your descendants, once I am dead.  The Kwanto has been secretly promised to my brother, Zataki, in return for betraying me, as he has already done.  Please excuse me, old comrade, but you have been betrayed too.  Once I am dead, you and your line will be isolated and destroyed, as will the whole Christian Church.  I beg you to reconsider.  Soon you will have proof of my sincerity.’

Kiyama reread the message and she watched him as she had been ordered.  ‘Watch him so carefully, Mariko-san,’ Toranaga had told her.  ‘I’m not sure of his agreement with Ishido about the Kwanto.  Spies have reported it but I’m not sure.  You’ll know from what he does—or doesn’t do—if you give him the message at the right time.’  She had seen Kiyama react.  So that’s also true, she thought.

The old daimyo looked up and said flatly, ‘And you are the proof of his sincerity, neh?  The burnt offering, the sacrificial lamb?’

‘No, Sire.’

‘I don’t believe you.  And I don’t believe him.  The Onoshi treason, perhaps.  But the rest . . . Lord Toranaga’s just up to his old tricks of mixing half-truths and honey and poison.  I’m afraid it’s you who’ve been betrayed, Mariko-san.’