Gai-Jin (26 page)

Misamoto’s head was on the floor of the palanquin at once. “Thank you, Lord.”

“If you please me. Now, what will happen tomorrow?”

Misamoto hesitated, petrified: the first rule of survival was never to carry bad news to any samurai, to say nothing, volunteer nothing, but if forced, to tell anyone only what you think he wants to hear. Unlike
there
, America, paradise on earth.

The answer’s obvious, he wanted to shout, falling back into his habit of thinking in English—the only thing that had kept him sane all the years of his confinement—if you saw how they treat each other in the gai-jin family I lived with, how they treated me, sure a servant, but even so like a man, better than I ever dreamed possible, how every man can walk tall and carry
a knife or gun, ’cepting most black men, how impatient they all are to solve a problem to hurry on to the next—if necessary by fist or gun or cannonade—where most everyone’s equal under their law, and there are no stinking daimyos or samurai who can kill you when they wish….

Yoshi said softly, reading him: “Answer me truthfully, always, if you value your life.”

“Of course, Lord, always.” Petrified, Misamoto did as he was told blindly. “So sorry, Lord, but unless they get what they want, I think they’ll—they will level Yedo.”

I agree, but only if we’re stupid, Yoshi thought. “Can their cannon do that?”

“Yes, Lord. Not the castle but the city would be fired.”

And that would be a stupid waste of Toranaga resources. We would only have to replace them all, peasants, artisans, courtesans and merchants to service us as usual. “Then how would you give them a little soup but no fish?” Yoshi asked.

“Please excuse me, I don’t know, Lord, I don’t know.”

“Then think. And give me your answer at dawn.”

“But … yes, Lord.”

Yoshi leaned back on his silk cushions and focused his mind on yesterday’s meeting of the Elders. Eventually Anjo had had to withdraw the order to evacuate the castle, for without a clear majority the order would be invalid—so he, as formal Guardian, had forbidden the Shōgun’s departure.

I won, this time, but only because that stubborn old fool, Toyama, insisted on voting for his insane attack plan, thus neither for me or against me. Anjo is right: the other two normally vote with him against me. Not because of merit but because I am who I am—the Toranaga who should have been Shōgun, not that stupid boy.

Because Yoshi was safe in his palanquin, alone but for Misamoto who could not know his inner thoughts, he allowed his mind to open the compartment marked Nobusada, so secret, so volatile, so dangerous, and permanent.

What to do about him?

I cannot contain him much longer. He’s infantile and now in the most dangerous claws of all, those of the Princess Yazu: Emperor’s spy and fanatic against the Shōgunate who broke her engagement to her adored childhood playmate, a handsome and very eligible Prince, the Shōgunate who forced her into permanent exile from Kyōto and all her family and friends and into a marriage to a weakling whose erection is as limp as a banner in summer and may never give her children.

Now she has schemed this State visit to Kyōto to kowtow to the Emperor, a masterstroke that will destroy the delicate balance of centuries:
Authority to subdue the whole Empire is granted by Imperial Edict to the Shōgun
,
and his descendants, who is also appointed Lord High Constable. Therefore orders issued by the Shōgun to the country are its laws
.

One consultation must lead to another, Yoshi thought, and then the Emperor rules and we do not. Nobusada will never realize it, his eyes clouded by her guile.

What to do?

Again Yoshi went down the well-trodden but oh-so-secret path: he is my legal liege lord. I cannot kill him directly. He is too well guarded unless I am prepared to throw away my own life with the deed which, at the moment, I am not. Other means? Poison. But then I would be suspect, correctly, and even if I could escape the bonds that surround me—I’m just as much prisoner as this Misamoto—the land would be plunged into a never-ending civil war, gai-jin will be the only gainers, and worse I would have betrayed my oath of allegiance to the Shōgun, whoever he is, and to the Legacy.

I have to let others kill him for me. The shishi? I could help them, but to help enemies committed to your own destruction is dangerous. One other possibility. The gods.

He permitted himself a smile.
Good luck and bad luck
, wrote Shōgun Toranaga,
fortune and misfortune are to be left to Heaven and natural law—they are not things that can be got by praying or worked by some cunning device
.

Be patient, he heard Toranaga saying to him. Be patient.

Yes, I will be.

Yoshi closed that compartment until the next time and again considered the Council. What shall I tell them? Of course by now they will know I met the gai-jin. I will insist on one absolute rule in future: we must send only clever men to these meetings. What else? Certainly about their soldiers, gigantic, with their scarlet uniforms and short skirts and enormous feathered hats, every man with a breech-loading gun, shining with care, as cherished as any of our blades.

Shall I tell them that these enemies are fools, who have no finesse and can be ruled through their impatience and hatreds—Misamoto told me enough to conclude they are as fractious and hate-ridden as any daimyo? No, this I will keep to myself. But I will tell them tomorrow our Delegation will fail unless we devise a delay gai-jin will be happy to accept.

What should that be?

“That messenger, Misamoto,” he said idly, “the tall man with the big nose, why did he speak like a woman, using women’s words? Was he a half man–half woman?”

“I don’t know, Sire. Maybe he was—they have many aboard ship, Sire, though they hide it.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know, Sire, difficult to understand them. They don’t talk openly
about fornication as we do, of the best position or if a boy is better than a woman. But about speaking like a woman: in their language men and women, they all speak the same, I mean they use the same words, Sire, unlike Japanese. The few sailors I met who could speak some words of our language, men who’d been to Nagasaki, they spoke the same as the big nose did, because the only people they speak with are whores, learning our words from our whores. They don’t know our women speak different from us, that men, Sire, use different words, as civilized persons should.”

Yoshi hid his sudden excitement. Our whores are their only real contact, he thought. And they all have whores, of course. So one way to control them, even attack them, is through their whores, female or male.

“I will not order my fleet to bombard Yedo without a formal written order from the Admiralty, or Foreign Office,” the Admiral said, his face flushed. “My instructions are to be circumspect, like yours. We are not on a punitive mission.”

“For God’s sake, we have had an incident that must be dealt with. Of course it’s a punitive mission!” Sir William was equally angry. The eight bells of midnight sounded, and they were in the Admiral’s quarters aboard the flagship at the round table, the General, Thomas Ogilvy, the only other person present. The cabin was low, large and heavy-beamed, and through the stern windows the riding lights of other vessels could be seen. “Again, I believe without force they will not budge.”

“Get the order, by God, and I’ll budge them.” The Admiral refilled his own glass with port from the almost empty cut-glass decanter. “Thomas?”

“Thanks.” The General held out his glass.

Trying to contain himself, Sir William said, “Lord Russell has already given us instructions to press the Bakufu for damages, twenty-five thousand pounds, over Legation murders, the Sergeant and Corporal last year-he will be even more incensed over the current incident. I know him, you don’t,” he added, exaggerating for effect. “I won’t receive his approval for three months. We must obtain satisfaction now or the murders will continue. Without your support I cannot maneuver.”

“You have my full support, short of war, by God. Bombarding their capital commits us to war. We’re not equipped for that. Thomas? You agree?”

The General said carefully, “To surround a village like Hodogaya and eliminate a few hundred savages and put a minor native potentate into chains is a lot different than trying to secure this vast city and invade the castle.”

Witheringly, Sir William said, “Then what about your ‘no conceivable operation that the forces under my command cannot conclude expeditiously’!”

The General reddened. “What one says in public, as you well know, bears little relation to practice, as you well know! Yedo is different.”

“Quite right.” The Admiral drained his glass.

“Then what do you propose?” The silence grew. Suddenly the stem of Sir William’s glass snapped between his fingers, and the others jumped, unprepared. “Damn!” he said, the destruction somehow diminishing his rage. Carelessly he used the napkin to mop up the wine. “I’m Minister here. If I find it necessary to make it an order and you refuse to obey, which of course you have a right to do, I will ask for your immediate replacement, of course.”

The Admiral’s neck went purple. “I have already put the facts before the Admiralty. But please don’t mistake me: I am more than ready to seek vengeance for the killing of Mr. Canterbury and the attack on the others. If it’s Yedo, I merely require the written order as I have said. There’s no hurry, now or in three months, these savages will pay as we require, with this city or a hundred others.”

“Yes, they will, by God.” Sir William got up.

“One more piece of necessary information before you go: I cannot promise to stay at this anchorage much longer. My fleet is unprotected, the sea bottom dangerously shallow, weather promises to worsen, and we’re safer at Yokohama.”

“How much longer is safe?”

“A day—I don’t know, I’ve no control over weather, which this month is irascible, as you’re aware.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Well, I’ll be off. I require you both at the ten o’clock meeting ashore. Kindly fire a salute at dawn when we break out the colors. Thomas, please land two hundred dragoons to secure the area around the wharf.”

“May I ask why two hundred more men?” the General asked quickly. “I’ve already put a company ashore.”

“Perhaps I may wish to take hostages. Good evening.” He closed the door quietly.

The two men stared after him. “Does he mean it?”

“I don’t know, Thomas. But with the Honorable, impetuous William bloody Aylesbury you never know.”

In deep darkness another detachment of heavily armed samurai came out of the main castle gate, ran silently across the lowered drawbridge, then over the bridge that spanned the wide moat heading for the Legation area. Other companies were also converging. More than two thousand samurai were in place, with another thousand ready to move in when ordered.

Sir William was plodding up from the wharf with his guard, an officer
and ten Highlanders, through the deserted streets. He was depressed and tired, his mind on tomorrow, trying to conceive a way out of this impasse. Another corner and another. At the end of this street was the open space that led up to the Legation.

“My God, sorr, look there!”

The space was crammed with silent samurai, motionless and watching them. All heavily armed. Swords, bows, spears, a few muskets. A slight noise and Sir William’s party glanced around. The road back was blocked with massed, equally silent warriors.

“Christ,” the young officer murmured.

“Yes.” Sir William sighed. This could be one solution, but then God help every man jack of them—the fleet would respond instantly. “Let’s go on. Have your men ready to fight if need be, safety catches off.”

He led the way forward, not feeling brave, just out of himself somehow, observing himself and the others as if above the street. There was a narrow path between the samurai, an officer at the head. As Sir William came within ten feet, the man bowed politely, equal to equal. Sir William watched himself raise his hat with equal politeness, and walk on. The soldiers followed, rifles in hands, fingers on triggers.

All the way up the hill. Same silence, same watching. All the way to the gate. Massed samurai, motionless. But none in their forecourt. The forecourt and gardens were filled with Highlanders, armed and ready, others on the roof and at the windows. Soldiers opened then locked the gate after him.

Tyrer and all the rest of the staff were waiting in the foyer, some in nightclothes, some part dressed, and they crowded around him. “My God, Sir William,” Tyrer said for all of them, “we were petrified they’d captured you.”

“How long have they been here?”

“Since about midnight, sir,” an officer said. “We had sentries at the bottom of the hill. As the enemy arrived, these lads gave us warning and fell back. We’d no way to warn you or signal the fleet. If they wait till dawn we can hold this place until more troops arrive and the fleet opens up.”

“Good,” he said quietly. “In that case I suggest we all go to bed, leave a few men on guard, and let the rest turn in.”

“Sir?” The officer was perplexed.

“If they wanted to do us they would have done so already without the silent treatment and ballyhoo.” Sir William saw them all staring at him and he felt better, no longer depressed. He started up the stairs. “Good night.”

“But, sir, don’t you think …” The words trailed off.

Sir William sighed wearily. “If you wish to keep the men on duty, please do so—if it will make you happier.”

A sergeant hurried into the foyer and called out, “Sorr, they’re all leaving! The wee buggers are scarpering.”

Glancing out of the landing window, Sir William saw that, sure enough, the samurai were melting into the night.

For the first time he became afraid. He had not expected them to disappear. In moments the path down the hill was clear and the space below empty. But he sensed that they had not gone far, that every doorway and nearby street would be crammed with enemies, all waiting confidently to spring the trap.

Thank God the other Ministers and most of our lads are safe aboard. Thank God, he thought, and walked on up the stairs with a step firm enough to encourage those watching him.