Shogun

“Yes, so please explain why you killed Captain Sumiyori before the ninja attack,” Toranaga said.

Yabu’s face did not change. He was wearing his Yoshitomo sword, his hand as usual loose on the hilt. “Who says that? Who accuses me of that, Sire?”

Toranaga pointed at the pack of Browns forty paces away. “That man! Please come here, Kosami-san.” The youthful samurai dismounted, limped forward and bowed.

Yabu glared at him. “Who are you, fellow?”

“Sokura Kosami of the Tenth Legion, attached to the Lady Kiritsubo’s bodyguard at Osaka, Sire,” the youth said. “You put me on guard outside your quarters—and Sumiyori-san’s—the night of the ninja attack.”

“I don’t remember you. You dare to say I killed Sumiyori?”

The youth wavered. Toranaga said, “Tell him!”

Kosami said in a rush, “I just had time before the ninja fell on us, Sire, to open the door and shout a warning to Sumiyori-san but he never moved, so sorry, Sire.” He turned to Toranaga, quailing under their collective gaze. “He’d—he was a light sleeper, Sire, and it was only an instant after .?.?. that’s all, Sire.”

“Did you go into the room? Did you shake him?” Yabu pressed.

“No, Sire, oh no, Sire, the ninja came so quickly we retreated at once and counterattacked as soon as we could, it was as I said.?.?.?.”

Yabu looked at Toranaga. “Sumiyori-san had been on duty for two days. He was exhausted—we all were. What does that prove?” he asked all of them.

“Nothing,” Toranaga agreed, still cordial. “But later, Kosami-san, you went back to the room. Neh?”

“Yes, Sire, Sumiyori-san was still lying in the futons as I’d last seen him and .?.?. and the room wasn’t disturbed, not at all, Sire, and he’d been knifed, Sire, knifed in the back once. I thought it was ninja at the time and nothing more about it until Omi-sama questioned me.”

“Ah!” Yabu turned his eyes on his nephew, his total hara centered on his betrayer, measuring the distance between them. “So you questioned him?”

“Yes, Sire,” Omi replied. “Lord Toranaga asked me to recheck all the stories. This was one strangeness I felt should be brought to our Master’s attention.”

“One strangeness? There’s another?”

“Following Lord Toranaga’s orders, I questioned the servants who survived the attack, Sire. There were two. So sorry, but they both said you went through their quarters with one samurai and returned shortly afterward alone, shouting ‘Ninja!’ Then they—”

“They rushed us and killed the poor fellow with a spear and a sword and almost overran me. I had to retreat to give the alarm.” Yabu turned to Toranaga, carefully putting his feet in a better attack position. “I’ve already told you this, Sire, both personally and in my written report. What have servants to do with me?”

“Well, Omi-san?” Toranaga asked.

“So sorry, Yabu-sama,” Omi said, “but both saw you open the bolts of a secret door in the dungeon and heard you say to the ninja, ‘I am Kasigi Yabu.’ This alone gave them time to hide from the massacre.”

Yabu’s hand moved a fraction. Instantly Sudara leapt in front of Toranaga to protect him and in the same moment Hiro-matsu’s sword was flashing at Yabu’s neck.

“Hold!” Toranaga ordered.

Hiro-matsu’s sword stopped, his control miraculous. Yabu had made no overt motion. He stared at them, then laughed insolently. “Am I a filthy ronin who’d attack his liege lord? This is Kasigi Yabu, Lord of Izu, Suruga, and Totomi. Neh?” He looked directly at Toranaga. “What am I accused of, Sire? Helping ninja? Ridiculous! What have servants’ fantasies to do with me? They’re liars! Or this fellow—who implies something that can’t be proved and I can’t defend?”

“There’s no proof, Yabu-sama,” Toranaga said. “I agree completely. There’s no proof at all.”

“Yabu-sama, did you do those things?” Hiro-matsu asked.

“Of course not!”

Toranaga said, “But I think you did, so all your lands are forfeit. Please slit your belly today. Before noon.”

The sentence was final. This was the supreme moment Yabu had prepared for all his life.

Karma, he was thinking, his brain now working at frantic speed. There’s nothing I can do, the order’s legal, Toranaga’s my liege lord, they can take my head or I can die with dignity. I’m dead either way. Omi betrayed me but that is my karma. The servants were all to be put to death as part of the plan but two survived and that is my karma. Be dignified, he told himself, groping for courage. Think clearly and be responsible.

“Sire,” he began with a show of audacity, “first, I’m guiltless of those crimes, Kosami’s mistaken, and the servants liars. Second, I’m the best battle general you have. I beg the honor of leading the charge down the Tokaido—or the first place in the first battle—so my death will be of direct use.”

Toranaga said cordially, “It’s a good suggestion, Yabu-san, and I agree wholeheartedly that you’re the best general for the Musket Regiment but, so sorry, I don’t trust you. Please slit your belly by noon.”

Yabu dominated his blinding temper and fulfilled his honor as a samurai and as the leader of his clan with the totality of his self-sacrifice. “I formally absolve my nephew Kasigi Omi-san from any responsibility in my betrayal and formally appoint him my heir.”

Toranaga was as surprised as everyone.

“Very well,” Toranaga said. “Yes, I think that’s very wise. I agree.”

“Izu is the hereditary fief of the Kasigi. I will it to him.”

“Izu is no longer yours to give. You are my vassal, neh? Izu is one of my provinces, to give as I wish, neh?”

Yabu shrugged. “I will it to him, even though?.?.?.” He laughed. “It’s a lifetime favor. Neh? ”

“To ask is fair. Your request is refused. And, Yabu-san, all your final orders are subject to my approval. Buntaro-san, you will be the formal witness. Now, Yabu-san, whom do you want as your second?”

“Kasigi Omi-san.”

Toranaga glanced at Omi. Omi bowed, his face colorless. “It will be my honor,” he said.

“Good. Then everything’s arranged.”

Hiro-matsu said, “And the attack down the Tokaido?”

“We’re safer behind our mountains.” Toranaga breezily returned their salutes, mounted his horse, and trotted off. Sudara nodded politely and followed. Once Toranaga and Sudara were out of range, Buntaro and Hiro- matsu relaxed but Omi did not, and no one took his eyes off Yabu’s sword arm.

Buntaro said, “Where do you want to do it, Yabu-sama?”

“Here, there, down by the shore, or on a dung heap—it’s all the same to me. I don’t need ceremonial robes. But, Omi-san, you will not strike till I’ve made the two cuts.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“With your permission, Yabu-san, I will also be a witness,” Hiro-matsu said.

“Are your piles up to it?”

The general bristled and said to Buntaro, “Please send for me when he’s ready.”

Yabu spat. “I’m already ready. Are you?” Hiro-matsu turned on his heel.

Yabu thought for a moment, then took his scabbarded Yoshitomo sword out of his sash. “Buntaro-san, perhaps you’d do me a favor. Give this to the Anjin-san.” He offered him the sword, then frowned. “On second thought, if it’s no trouble, will you please send for him, then I can give it to him myself?”

“Certainly.”

“And please fetch that stinking priest as well so I can talk directly with the Anjin-san.”

“Good. What arrangements do you want made?”

“Just some paper and ink and a brush for my will and death poem, and two tatamis—there’s no reason to