Shogun

“Why not? He could be ransomed, neh?” Ishido stared back at the daimyo, who was flanked by Ito Teruzumi and Zataki. “Christians in Nagasaki would pay highly for him, dead or alive. Neh?”

“That’s possible,” Zataki agreed. “That’s the way barbarians fight.”

Kiyama said tightly, “Are you suggesting, formally, that Christians planned and paid for this foul attack?”

“I said it was possible. And it is possible.”

“Yes. But unlikely,” Ishido interposed, not wanting the precarious balance of the Regents wrecked by an open quarrel now. He was still apoplectic that spies had not forewarned him about Toranaga’s secret lair, and still did not understand how it could have been constructed with such secrecy and not a breath of rumor about it. “I suggest ninja were after loot.”

“That’s very sensible and most correct,” Ito said with a malicious glint in his eyes. He was a small, middle- aged man, resplendently attired with ornamental swords, even though he had been routed out of bed like all of them. He was made up like a woman and his teeth were blackened. “Yes, Lord General. But perhaps the ninja didn’t mean to ransom him in Nagasaki but in Yedo, to Lord Toranaga. Isn’t he still his lackey?”

Ishido’s brow darkened at the mention of the name. “I agree we should spend our time discussing Lord Toranaga and not ninja. Probably he ordered the attack, neh? He’s treacherous enough to do that.”

“No, he’d never use ninja,” Zataki said. “Treachery yes, but not those filth. Merchants would do that—or barbarians. Not Lord Toranaga.”

Kiyama watched Zataki, hating him. “Our Portuguese friends could not, would not, instigate such an interference in our affairs. Never!”

“Would you believe they and or their priests would conspire with one of the Christian Kyushu daimyos to war on non-Christians—the war supported by a foreign invasion?”

“Who? Tell me. Do you have proof?”

“Not yet, Lord Kiyama. But the rumors are still there and one day I’ll get proof.” Zataki turned back to Ishido. “What can we do about this attack? What’s the way out of the dilemma?” he asked, then glanced at Ochiba. She was watching Kiyama, then her eyes moved to Ishido, then back to Kiyama again, and he had never seen her more desirable.

Kiyama said, “We’re all agreed it’s evident Lord Toranaga plotted that we should be snared by Toda Mariko- sama, however brave she was, however duty bound and honorable, God have mercy on her.”

Ito adjusted a fold in the skirts of his impeccable kimono. “But don’t you agree this would be a perfect stratagem for Lord Toranaga, to attack his own vassals like that? Oh, Lord Zataki, I know he’d never use ninja, but he is very clever at getting others to take his ideas and believe them as their own. Neh?”

“Anything’s possible. But ninja wouldn’t be like him. He’s too clever to use them. Or get anyone to do that. They’re not to be trusted. And why force Mariko-sama? Far better to wait and let us make the mistake. We were trapped. Neh?”

“Yes. We’re still trapped.” Kiyama looked at Ishido. “And whoever ordered the attack was a fool, and did us no service.”

“Perhaps the Lord General’s correct, that it’s not as serious as we think,” Ito said. “But so sad—not an elegant death for her, poor lady.”

“That was her karma and we’re not trapped.” Ishido stared back at Kiyama. “It was fortunate she had that bolt hole to run to, otherwise those vermin would have captured her.”

“But they didn’t capture her, Lord General, and she committed a form of seppuku and so did the others and now, if we don’t let everyone go, there’ll be more protest deaths and we cannot afford that,” Kiyama said.

“I don’t agree. Everyone should stay here—at least until Toranaga-sama crosses into our domains.”

Ito smiled. “That will be a memorable day.”

“You don’t think he will?” Zataki asked.

“What I think has no value, Lord Zataki. We’ll soon know what he’s going to do. Whatever it is makes no difference. Toranaga must die, if the Heir is to inherit.” Ito looked at Ishido. “Is the barbarian dead yet, Lord General?”

Ishido shook his head and watched Kiyama. “It would be bad luck for him to die now, or to be maimed—a brave man like that. Neh?”

“I think he’s a plague and the sooner he dies the better. Have you forgotten?”

“He could be useful to us. I agree with Lord Zataki—and you—Toranaga’s no fool. There’s got to be a good reason for Toranaga’s cherishing him. Neh?”

“Yes, you’re right again,” Ito said. “The Anjin-san did well for a barbarian, didn’t he? Toranaga was right to make him samurai.” He looked at Ochiba. “When he gave you the flower, Lady, I thought that was a poetic gesture worthy of a courtier.”

There was general agreement.

“What about the poetry competition now, Lady?” Ito asked.

“It should be canceled, so sorry,” Ochiba said.

“Yes,” Kiyama agreed.

“Had you decided on your entry, Sire?” she asked.

“No,” he answered.” But now I could say:

“On a withered branch
The tempest fell.?.?.?.
Dark summer’s tears.”

“Let it be her epitaph. She was samurai,” Ito said quietly. “I share this summer’s tears.”

“For me,” Ochiba said, “for me I would have preferred a different ending:

“On a withered branch
The snow listened.?.?.?.
Winter’s silence.

But I agree, Lord Ito. I too think we will all share in this dark summer’s tears.”

“No, so sorry, Lady, but you’re wrong,” Ishido said. “There will be tears all right, but Toranaga and his allies will shed them.” He began to bring the meeting to a close. “I’ll start an inquiry into the ninja attack at once. I doubt if we’ll ever discover the truth. Meanwhile, for security and personal safety, all passes will regretfully be canceled and everyone regretfully forbidden to leave until the twenty- second day.”

“No,” Onoshi the leper, the last of the Regents, said from his lonely place across the room where he lay, unseen, behind the opaque curtains of his litter. “So sorry, but that’s exactly what you can’t do. Now you must let everyone go. Everyone.”

“Why?”

Onoshi’s voice was malevolent and unafraid. “If you don’t, you dishonor the bravest Lady in the realm, you dishonor the Lady Kiyama Achiko and the Lady Maeda, God have mercy on their souls. When this filthy act is common knowledge, only God the Father knows what damage it will cause the Heir—and all of us, if we’re not careful.”

Ochiba felt a chill rush through her. A year ago, when Onoshi had come to pay his respects to the dying Taiko, the guards had insisted the litter curtains be opened in case Onoshi had weapons concealed, and she had