Bundori: A Novel Of Japan

gunholes of every guardhouse, he could see more men on duty; still more patrolled the passage or escorted visitors and officials. Even in peacetime, with the chance of a siege remote, no one moved unwatched through the castle. Sano couldn’t get used to the constant surveillance. He sometimes thought that Edo Castle, for all its splendor and elegance, was nothing but a huge prison.

On a day like this, however, it was a beautiful one. A fresh spring breeze swept down from the mountains to whisper through the pines that swayed above the tiled roof of the guardhouses along the inner walls. Through the windows of the outer ones, Sano caught occasional glimpses of Edo, spread across the plain below. A haze of pale foliage added brightness and life to the city’s drab brown thatched or tiled roofs. Cherry trees, in full blossom now, spread rosy clouds over the banks of the many canals, formed solid bands of radiant color along the broad, muddy Sumida River, and turned the hills beyond the castle into a breathtaking wash of pink and green. Their fragrance scented the air with an elusive, poignant sweetness. In the distance, high above the city to the west, rose Mount Fuji ’s serene, snowcapped peak. Sano hurried on his way. Another time he would savor the beauty of the castle. Another day he might grow comfortable within its walls.

“Wait, if you please, Sano-san!”

The call, accompanied by hurrying footsteps, came from behind him. Sano turned and saw Noguchi Motoori, his immediate superior, huffing and puffing along the path. He waited, then bowed in greeting when Noguchi reached him.

Noguchi, Edo Castle ’s chief archivist, perfectly fit Sano’s picture of the samurai-turned-scholar. His loose trousers and surcoat covered a short body gone soft and pudgy from lack of physical activity. The two swords at his waist seemed like unnatural appendages for a man so awkward and hesitant in his movements and so disinclined to quarrel, let alone fight, with anyone. About fifty years of age, Noguchi had small, vague eyes set in a round, childlike face. When he frowned, as he did now, the wrinkles in his forehead climbed all the way up to his shaven crown. Sano had liked Noguchi from their first acquaintance. The man was kind, helpful, and tolerant, and shared his love of history. Yet Sano, upon assuming the position in which he hoped to make his fortune, had craved a harsher taskmaster.

“Oh, my, I am glad I caught up with you,” Noguchi said, panting.

Hiding his impatience, Sano slowed his pace to match Noguchi’s. He must spare a few moments’ courtesy for his superior.

“You will be pleased to know that your marriage negotiations are proceeding quite satisfactorily,” Noguchi continued. “The Ueda have agreed to a miai-a meeting, so that you and Miss Reiko and your families can become acquainted.”

The news did please Sano. “Your efforts on my behalf are much appreciated, Noguchi- san,” he said, offering the formal but heartfelt expressions of gratitude dictated by convention.

Sano, single at the advanced age of thirty-one, yearned for a wife and family-especially a son, who would carry on his name. He also harbored a romantic, albeit unrealistic wish for the emotional intimacy that an arranged marriage might, but wouldn’t necessarily bring. He hadn’t yet married because his father, eager to improve the family’s economic and social status, had refused to let Sano take a wife of their own class, instead sending proposals only to daughters of wealthy, high-ranking samurai affiliated with major clans. All the proposals had been rejected. But now, with his advancement, Sano found his prospects much improved. And Noguchi, acting as his go- between-as a samurai’s superior often did-had done well by him. Ueda Reiko’s family were hereditary Tokugawa vassals, her father the south magistrate of Edo and a very rich man.

“If all goes well with the miai,” Noguchi said, “why, then, very soon-after the period of mourning for your father is over, of course-I shall have the pleasure of attending your wedding. Oh, my.”

He smiled, but his frown-wrinkles slid higher on his head. Sano waited, sensing that the archivist had concerns unrelated to the marriage negotiations.

Finally Noguchi said, “Sometimes it is possible to convey, without actually saying in so many words, that although you would be glad to perform a task, your time might be spent more profitably otherwise.”

He’d switched from direct speech to the circumspect style used by many members of the refined upper classes. Watching Sano closely, he continued circling his point. “It is also possible to leave the impression that a task would be better given to someone else. Without, of course, casting any doubt upon one’s own willingness or ability. Even not knowing the particular circumstances, I believe that a clever man might manage to bring others around to his own point of view, without risking censure or loss of face.”

Sano was utterly mystified. “Yes, I see,” he said, but only because Noguchi was looking up into his face and leaning against him as they walked, the pressure of his body an unspoken plea for understanding.

Noguchi bobbed his head for emphasis. “And of course, you will remember that His Excellency is a very busy man. Small matters must inevitably slip from his memory now and then. But this is not an entirely bad thing.” His earnest gaze held Sano’s as they reached the gate that led to the palace precinct.

Now his meaning became clear to Sano. Many officials, Noguchi included, were so afraid of disgracing themselves or getting in trouble that they went to great lengths to avoid doing anything, good or bad, that would draw the shogun’s notice. They wouldn’t openly advise their subordinates to ignore a direct order. But Noguchi, having evidently heard that the shogun had summoned Sano-although not the reason-was telling him to use every means available to escape whatever task given to him. Or, failing that, to wait before acting, in hopes that Tokugawa Tsunayoshi would forget about it. Sano understood, but couldn’t share Noguchi’s attitude.

He waited until they’d cleared the checkpoint and entered the palace garden. Then he said, “I appreciate your concern, Noguchi-san, but whatever our lord orders, I must do, without evasion or delay.”

Noguchi gasped at Sano’s bluntness. “Oh, no, I never meant to imply that you should disregard a command from His Excellency!” he blurted. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth and looked around to see if anyone was listening.

The palace garden wore its full spring glory. Guards patrolled white gravel paths that wound through a fresh green lawn studded with flowering cherry and magnolia trees. Gardeners swept the paths and tended azalea bushes bright with red blossoms. Officials and their attendants strolled the garden, their brilliant garments adding more color to the scene. Still more officials lingered outside the palace, a low, vast building with whitewashed plaster walls, dark wooden doors, beams, and window lattices, and a many-gabled roof of gleaming grey tile. Sano knew why Noguchi feared eavesdroppers: even a hint of disobedience or disloyalty could be interpreted as treason and punished by exile or death. Edo abounded with spies and informers, many within the castle itself. Any of those officials or servants could be a metsuke-one of the shogun’s intelligence agents-or simply someone eager to advance himself by discrediting his colleagues.

“I was merely giving you the benefit of my experience,” Noguchi finished in a loud whisper.

Sano couldn’t follow the advice, coming as it did from someone seeking only to live out his remaining years in peace. But Noguchi meant well. “Yes, I know. Thank you for your advice, Noguchi-san. I’ll keep it in mind.”

They reached the palace entrance. After they’d made their farewells, Noguchi shook his head and said in parting, “Young men. You are all so rash and impetuous. I hope you will not come to regret your actions, Sano- san.” Then, more cheerfully: “Well, gambatte kudasai!” Do your best, and good luck.

Sano gained admittance from the guards posted at the palace’s massive, carved door. As he removed his shoes and hung his swords in the huge entry hall, he thought about Noguchi’s warning and felt a twinge of trepidation. He had much to learn about life at the heart of the Tokugawa bakufu-the military government that ruled the land. Would he be making a mistake by trying to do his duty to both his lord and his father? The idea seemed fantastic. He walked along the polished cypress floors of the corridors that led through the building’s outer portion, which served as government offices, trying to shed his unease. But his heart was racing, and his hands turned clammy with nervous sweat. Reaching the heavily guarded doors that led to the No theater, he paused, bracing himself for his encounter with the nation’s supreme military dictator.

“Sosakan Sano Ichiro, to see His Excellency,” he said to the guards.

They bowed, slid open the doors, and stood aside to let him enter. Swallowing his apprehension, Sano went in.

He found himself standing on a veranda overlooking a huge gravel courtyard bordered by rows of pines. Ahead