Shogun

ko, Sire, when do you want my son in Yokohama? He will ensure it’s the cheapest ship ever built.”

“I don’t want it cheap. I want it the very best—for the most reasonable price. He’s to be overseer and responsible under the Anjin-san.”

“Sire, you have my guarantee, my future, my future hopes that it will be as you wish.”

“If the ship is built perfectly, exactly as the Anjin-san wants, within six months from the first day, then I will make your son samurai.”

She bowed low and for a moment was unable to talk. “Please excuse a poor fool, Sire. Thank you, thank you.”

“He has to learn everything the Anjin-san knows about building the ship so others can be taught when he leaves. Neh?”

“It will be done.”

“Next: Kiku-san. Her talents merit a better future than just being alone in a box, one of many women.”

Gyoko looked up, again expecting the worst. “You’re going to sell her contract?”

“No, she shouldn’t be a courtesan again or even one of your gei-sha. She should be in a household, one of few ladies, very few.”

“But, Sire, seeing you even occasionally, how could she possibly have a better life?”

He allowed her to compliment him and he complimented her back, and Kiku, then said, “Frankly, Gyoko-san, I’m getting too fond of her and I can’t afford to be distracted. Frankly she’s far too pretty for me—far too perfect.?.?.?. Please excuse me, but this must be another of our secrets.”

“I agree, Sire, of course, whatever you say,” Gyoko said fervently, dismissing it all as lies, racking her brain for the real reason. “If the person could be someone Kiku could admire, I would die content.”

“But only after seeing the Anjin-san’s ship under sail within the six months,” he said dryly.

“Yes—oh yes.” Gyoko moved her fan for the sun was hot now and the air sticky and breathless, trying to fathom why Toranaga was being so generous with both of them, knowing that the price would be heavy, very heavy. “Kiku-san will be distraught to leave your house.”

“Yes, of course. I think there should be some compensation for her obedience to me, her liege lord. Leave that with me—and don’t mention this to her for the present.”

“Yes, Sire. And when do you want my son in Yokohama?”

“I’ll let you know that before I leave.”

She bowed and tottered away. Toranaga went for a swim. Northward the sky was very dark and he knew it would be raining heavily there. When he saw the small group of horsemen coming from the direction of Yokohama he returned.

Omi dismounted and unwrapped the head. “Lord Kasigi Yabu obeyed, Sire, just before noon.” The head had been freshly washed, the hair groomed, and it was stuck on the spike of a small pedestal that was customarily used for the viewing.

Toranaga inspected an enemy as he had done ten thousand times before in his lifetime, wondering as always how his own head would look after death, viewed by his conqueror, and whether terror would show, or agony or anger or horror or all of them or none of them. Or dignity. Yabu’s death mask showed only berserk wrath, the lips pulled back into a ferocious challenge. “Did he die well?”

“The best I have ever seen, Sire. Lord Hiro-matsu said the same. The two cuts, then a third in the throat. Without assistance and without a sound.” Omi added, “Here is his will.”

“You took off the head with one stroke?”

“Yes, Sire. I asked the Anjin-san’s permission to use Lord Yabu’s sword.”

“The Yoshitomo? The one I gave Yabu? He gave it to the Anjin-san?”

“Yes, Sire. He spoke to him through the Tsukku-san. He said, ‘Anjin-san, I give you this to commemorate your arrival at Anjiro and as a thank you for the pleasure that little barbarian gave me.’ At first the Anjin-san refused to take it, but Yabu begged him to and said, ‘None of these manure eaters deserves such a blade.’ Eventually he agreed.”

Curious, Toranaga thought. I expected Yabu to give the blade to Omi.

“What were his last instructions?” he asked.

Omi told him. Exactly. If they had not all been also written in the will that had been given publicly to the formal witness, Buntaro, he would not have passed all of them on, and indeed, would have invented others. Yabu was right, he thought furiously, reminding himself to remember forever that the pen’s a long arm from the grave.

“To honor your uncle’s death bravery, I should honor his death wishes. All of them, without change, neh?” Toranaga said, testing him.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Yuki!”

“Yes, Sire,” the maid said.

“Bring cha, please.”

She scurried away and Toranaga let his mind weigh Yabu’s last wishes. They were all wise. Mizuno was a fool and completely in Omi’s way. The mother was an irritating, unctuous old hag, also in Omi’s way. “Very well, since you agree, they’re confirmed. All of them. And I also wish to approve your father’s death wishes before they become final. As a reward for your devotion you are appointed Commander of the Musket Regiment.”

“Thank you, Sire, but I don’t deserve such an honor,” Omi said, exulting.

“Naga will be second-in-command. Next: You’re appointed head of the Kasigis and your new fief will be the border lands of Izu, from Atami on the east to Numazu on the west, including the capital, Mishima, with a yearly income of thirty thousand koku.”

“Yes, Sire, thank you. Please .?.?. I don’t know how to thank you. I’m not worthy of such honors.”

“Make sure you are, Omi-sama,” Toranaga said good-naturedly. “Take possession of the castle at Mishima at once. Leave Yokohama today. Report to Lord Sudara at Mishima. The Musket Regiment will be sent to Hakone and be there in four days. Next, privately, for your knowledge alone: I’m sending the Anjin-san back to Anjiro. He’ll build a new ship there. You’ll pass over your present fief to him. At once.”

“Yes, Sire. May I give him my house?”

“Yes, you may,” Toranaga said, though of course a fief contained everything therein, houses, property, peasants, fishermen, boats. Both men looked off as Kiku’s trilling laugh came through the air and they saw her playing the fan-throwing game in the far courtyard with her maid, Suisen, whose contract Toranaga had also bought as a consolation gift to Kiku after the unfortunate miscarriage of his child.

Omi’s adoration was clear for all the world to see, much as he tried to hide it, so sudden and unexpected had been her appearance. Then they saw her look toward them. A lovely smile spread over her face and she waved gaily and Toranaga waved back and she returned to her game.

“She’s pretty, neh?”

Omi felt his ears burning. “Yes.”

Toranaga had originally bought her contract to exclude Omi from her, because she was one of Omi’s weaknesses and clearly a prize, to give or withhold, until Omi had declared and proved his real allegiance and had assisted or not assisted in Yabu’s removal. And he had assisted, miraculously, and proved himself many times. Investigating the servants had been Omi’s suggestion. Many, if not all, of Yabu’s fine ideas had come from Omi. Omi had, a month ago, uncovered the details of Yabu’s secret plot with some of the Izu officers in the Musket Regiment to assassinate Naga and the other Brown officers during battle.

“There’s no mistake, Omi-san?” he had asked when Omi reported to him secretly at Mishima, while he was awaiting the outcome of Mariko’s challenge.

“No, Sire. Kiwami Matano of the Third Izu Regiment is outside.”

The Izu officer, a jowly, heavyset, middle-aged man, had laid out the whole plot, given the passwords, and explained how the scheme would work. “I couldn’t live with the shame of this knowledge anymore, Sire. You are our liege lord. Of course, in fairness I should say the plan was only if necessary. I supposed that meant if Yabu-sama decided to change sides suddenly during the battle. So sorry, you were to be the prime target, then Naga-san. Then Lord Sudara.”

“When was this plan first ordered and who knows about it?”