Shogun

Imperial Court. The Court possessed no revenue of its own. Only samurai possessed revenue and, for hundreds of years, the Court had had to exist on a stipend—always carefully controlled and lean—granted it by the Shogun, Kwampaku, or ruling Junta of the day. So Toranaga had humbly and very cautiously assigned ten thousand koku yearly to Ogaki, through intermediaries, to donate to needy relatives as Ogaki himself wished, saying with due humility that, being Minowara and therefore also descended from Go-Shoko, he was delighted to be of service and trusted that the Exalted would take care of his precious health in so treacherous a climate as Osaka’s, particularly around the twenty-second day.

Of course there was no guarantee that Ogaki could persuade or dissuade the Exalted, but Toranaga had surmised that the advisers to the Son of Heaven, or the Son of Heaven himself, would welcome an excuse to delay—hopefully, at length to cancel. Only once in three centuries had a ruling Emperor ever left his sanctuary at Kyoto. That had been four years ago at the invitation of the Taiko to view the cherry blossoms near Osaka Castle, coincident with his resigning the Kwampaku title in favor of Yaemon—and so, by implication, putting the Imperial Seal on the succession.

Normally no daimyo, not even Toranaga, would have dared to make such an offer to any member of the Court because it insulted and usurped the prerogative of a superior—in this case the Council —and would instantly be construed as treason, as it rightly was. But Toranaga knew he was already indicted for treason.

Tomorrow Ishido and his allies will move against me. How much more time have I left? Where should the battle be? Odawara? Victory depends only on the time and the place, and not on the number of men. They’ll outnumber me three to one at the very least. Never mind, he thought, Ishido’s coming out of Osaka Castle! Mariko pried him out. In the chess game for power I sacrificed my queen but Ishido’s lost two castles.

Yes. But you lost more than a queen in the last play. You lost a ship. A pawn can become a queen—but not a ship!

They were riding downhill in a quick, bone-jarring trot. Below was the sea. They turned a corner on the path and there was Yokohama village, with the wreck just offshore. He could see the plateau where the Musket Regiment were drawn up in battle review with their horses and equipment, muskets in their holsters, other samurai, equally well armed, lining his route as an honor guard nearer the shore. On the outskirts of the village the villagers were kneeling in neat rows waiting to honor him. Beyond them was the galley, the sailors waiting with their captain. On either side of the wharf, fishing boats were beached in meticulous array and he made a mental note to reprimand Naga. He had ordered the regiment ready for instant departure, but to stop fishermen or peasants from fishing or working the fields was irresponsible.

He turned in his saddle and called up a samurai, ordering him to tell Buntaro to go ahead and see that all was safe and prepared. “Then go to the village and dismiss all the villagers to their work, except the headman.”

“Yes, Sire.” The man dug in his spurs and galloped away.

Now Toranaga was near enough to the plateau to distinguish faces. The Anjin-san and Yabu, then Kiri and the Lady Sazuko. His excitement quickened.

Buntaro was galloping down the track, his great bow and two full quivers on his back, half a dozen samurai close behind him. They swung off the track and came out onto the plateau. Instantly he saw Blackthorne and his face became even sterner. Then he reined in and looked around cautiously. A roofed reviewing stand bearing a single cushion was facing the regiment. Another, smaller and lower, was nearby. Kiri and the Lady Sazuko waited under it. Yabu, as the most senior officer, was at the head of the regiment, Naga on his right, the Anjin-san on his left. All seemed safe, and Buntaro waved the main party onward. The advance guard trotted up, dismounted, and spread protectively around the reviewing stand. Then Toranaga rode into the arena. Naga lifted the battle standard on high. At once the four thousand men shouted, “Toranagaaaaaaa!” and bowed.

Toranaga did not acknowledge their salute. In absolute silence he took stock. He noticed that Buntaro was covertly watching the Anjin-san. Yabu was wearing the sword he had given him, but was very nervous. The Anjin- san’s bow was correct and motionless, the haft of his sword broken. Kiri and his youngest consort were kneeling, their hands flat on the tatamis, their faces demurely lowered. His eyes softened momentarily, then he gazed disapprovingly at the regiment. Every man was still bowing. He did not bow back, just nodded curtly and he felt the tremor that went through the samurai as they straightened up again. Good, he thought, dismounting nimbly, glad that they feared his vengeance. A samurai took his reins and led his horse away as he turned his back on the regiment and, sweat stained like all of them in the humidity, he walked over to his ladies. “So, Kiri-san, welcome home!”

She bowed again joyously. “Thank you, Sire. I never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing you ever again.”

“Nor I, Lady.” Toranaga let a glimmer of his happiness show. He glanced at the young girl. “So, Sazuko-san? Where’s my son?”

“With his wet nurse, Sire,” she replied breathlessly, basking in his open favor.

“Please send someone to fetch our child at once.”

“Oh please, Sire, with your permission, may I bring him to you myself?”

“Yes, yes, if you wish.” Toranaga smiled and watched her go for a moment, liking her greatly. Again he looked at Kiri. “Is everything all right with you?” he asked for her ears alone.

“Yes, Lord. Oh, yes—and seeing you so strong fills me with gladness.”

“You’ve lost weight, Kiri-chan, and you’re younger than ever.”

“Ah, so sorry, Sire, it’s not true. But thank you, thank you.”

He grinned at her. “Whatever it is then, it suits you. Tragedy—loneliness—being forsaken.?.?.?. I’m pleased to see you, Kiri-chan.”

“Thank you, Sire. I’m so happy that her obedience and sacrifice unlocked Osaka. It would please her greatly, Sire, to know she was successful.”

“First I have to deal with this rabble, then later we’ll talk. There’s lots to talk about, neh?”

“Yes, oh yes!” Her eyes sparkled. “The Son of Heaven will be delayed, neh?”

“That would be wise. Neh?”

“I have a private message from Lady Ochiba.”

“Ah? Good! But it will have to wait.” He paused. “The Lady Mariko, she died honorably? By choice and not by accident or mistake?”

“Mariko-sama chose death. It was seppuku. If she hadn’t done what she did, they would have captured her. Oh, Sire, she was so marvelous all those evil days. So brave. And the Anjin-san. If it hadn’t been for him, she would have been captured and shamed. We would all have been captured and shamed.”

“Ah yes, the ninja.” Toranaga exhaled, his eyes became jet and she shivered in spite of herself. “Ishido’s got much to answer for, Kiri-chan. Please excuse me.” He stalked over to the reviewing stand and sat, stern and menacing again. His guards surrounded him.

“Omi-san!”

“Yes, Sire?” Omi came forward and bowed, seeming older than before, leaner now.

“Escort the Lady Kiritsubo to her quarters, and make sure mine are adequate. I’ll stay here tonight.”

Omi saluted and walked off and Toranaga was glad to see that the sudden change of plan produced not even a flicker in Omi’s eyes. Good, he thought, Omi’s learning, or his spies have told him I’ve secretly ordered Sudara and Hiro-matsu here so I could not possibly leave until tomorrow.

Now he turned his full attention on the regiment. At his signal Yabu came forward and saluted. He returned the salutation politely. “So, Yabu-san! Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Sire. May I say how happy I am you avoided Ishido’s treachery.”

“Thank you. And you too. Things did not go well at Osaka. Neh?”

“No. My harmony is destroyed, Sire. I had hoped to lead the retreat from Osaka bringing you both your ladies safely, and your son, and also the Lady Toda, the Anjin-san, and seamen for his ship. Unfortunately, so sorry, we were both betrayed—there and here.”