Gai-Jin (48 page)

“First: please go and listen carefully and calmly as befits an Imperial Princess to what the Lord Chancellor Wakura has to say.”

“I will obey, Imperial Highness.”

“Second, I will not allow this against your will. Third, return on the tenth day, then we will talk again. Go now, Yazu-chan.” It was the first time in her life that her brother had called her by the diminutive.

So she had listened to Wakura.

“The reasons are complicated, Princess.”

“I am accustomed to complications, Chancellor.”

“Very well. In return for the Imperial betrothal, the Bakufu have agreed to the permanent expulsion of all gai-jin and to cancel the Treaties.”

“But Nori Anjo has said this is impossible.”

“True. At this time. But he has agreed at once to start modernizing the army and at once to build an invincible navy. In seven, eight, perhaps ten years he promises we will be strong enough to enforce our will.”

“Or in twenty or fifty or a hundred years! The Toranaga Shōguns are historic liars and not to be trusted. For centuries they have kept the Emperor confined and usurped his heritage. They are not to be trusted.”

“So sorry, now the Emperor is persuaded to trust them. In truth, Princess, we have no temporal power over them.”

“Then I would be a fool to give myself as hostage.”

“So sorry, but I was going to add that your marriage would lead to a healing between Emperor and Shōgunate, which is essential to the tranquility of the State. The Shōgunate would then listen to Imperial advice and obey Imperial wishes.”

“If they became filial. But how would my marriage bring that to pass?”

“Would not the Court, through you, be able to intervene, even to control this youthful Shōgun and his government?”

Her interest had quickened.
“Control?
On behalf of the Emperor?”

“Of course. How could this boy—compared with you, Highness, he a child—how could this boy have any secrets from you? Of course not. Surely the Exalted’s hope is that you, his sister, would be his go-between. As wife of the Shōgun you would know everything, and a remarkable person such as yourself could soon have all the threads of Bakufu power within your hands, through this Shōgun. Since the third Toranaga Shōgun there has never been a strong one. Would you not be perfectly placed to hold the real power?”

She had thought about that for a long time. “Anjo and the Shōgunate aren’t fools. They would have deduced that.”

“They do not know you, Highness. They believe you are only a reed to be twisted and shaped and used at their whim, just like the boy Nobusada, why else did they choose him? They want the marriage, yes, to enhance their prestige, certainly to bring Court and Shōgunate closer. Of course, you, a girl, would be their pliant puppet, to subvert Imperial will.”

“So sorry, you ask too much of a woman. I do not want to leave home, nor give up my Prince.”

“The Emperor asks that you do this.”

“Once again the Shōgunate is forcing him to barter, when they should just obey,” she had said bitterly.

“The Emperor asks that you assist to make them obey.”

“Please excuse me, I cannot.”

“Two years ago, the bad year,” Wakura continued in the same measured way, “the year of famines, the year Ii signed the Treaties, certain Bakufu scholars were searching history for examples of deposed Emperors.”

Yazu gasped. “They would never dare—not that!”

“The Shōgunate is the Shōgunate, they are all-powerful at the moment. Why shouldn’t they consider removing an obstacle, any obstacle? Did he not, his
wa
destroyed, even consider abdicating in favor of his son, Prince Sachi?”

“Rumor,” she burst out, “that cannot be true.”

“I believe it was, Imperial Princess,” he said gravely. “And now, in truth, He asks,
please will you help him?”

Beyond herself, she knew whatever she said, it would always return to the “ask.” No way out. In the end she would have to comply or become a nun. Her mouth opened for the final refusal but it never happened. Something seemed to sever in her mind and, for the first time, she began thinking by a different process, no longer child but adult, and this gave her the answer. “Very well,” she said, deciding to keep her own counsel. “I will agree, providing I continue to live in Yedo as I have lived in the Imperial Palace …”

That conversation had brought her to this night’s silence, broken only by her weeping.

Yazu sat up in the bed and wiped her tears away. Liars, she thought bitterly, they promised me, but even on that they cheated. A slight sound from Nobusada and he turned in his sleep. In the lamplight without which he could not sleep he looked more boyish than ever, more like a younger brother than a husband—so young, so very young. Kind, considerate, always listening to her, taking her advice, no secrets from her, everything that Wakura had foretold. But unsatisfying.

My darling Sugawara, now impossible—in this lifetime.

A shiver went through her. The window was open. She leaned on the lintel, hardly noticing the mansion below that was gutted and smoldering, other fires spotted here and there throughout the city, moonlight on the sea beyond—smell of burning on the wind, dawn lightening the eastern sky.

Her secret resolve had not changed from that day with Wakura: to spend this life wrecking the Shōgunate who had wrecked this lifetime, to rip away their power by any means, to return that power to the Godhead.

I will destroy as they destroyed me, she thought, far too wise now to even whisper it down a well. I begged not to come here, begged not to have to marry this boy, and though I like him, I loathe this hateful place, loathe these hateful people.

I want to go home! I will go home. That will make this life bearable. We will make this visit whatever Yoshi does or says, whatever anyone does or says. We will go home—and we-will-stay-there!

MONDAY, 13TH OCTOBER
:

In brilliant midday sunshine ten days later, Phillip Tyrer sat at a desk on the veranda of the Yedo Legation contentedly practicing Japanese calligraphy, brush and ink and water, surrounded by dozens of filled and discarded pages of rice paper, astonishingly inexpensive here compared with England. Sir William had sent him to Yedo to prepare for the first meeting with the Elders.

His brush stopped abruptly. Captain Settry Pallidar and ten equally immaculate dragoons were riding up the hill. As they came into the square the samurai there, many more than before, parted to allow them access. Slight, stiff bows acknowledged by a slight, stiff salute, clearly a newly established protocol. Redcoat sentries, many more than before, opened the iron gates and closed them after the troops had clattered into the high-walled forecourt.

“Hello, Settry,” Tyrer called out, running down the main steps to greet him. “Good God, you’re a sight for sore eyes, where the devil did you come from?”

“Yokohama, old boy, where else? Came by boat.” As Pallidar dismounted, one of the gardeners, hoe in hand, was already hurrying in a half-bowing run to hold the bridle. When Pallidar saw him, his hand went to his holster. “Get away!”

“He’s all right, Settry. He’s Ukiya, one of our regulars and always very helpful.
Domo, Ukiya,”
Tyrer said.

“Hai, Taira-sama, domo.”
Hiraga put on a vacant smile, his face half obscured by the coolie hat he wore, bowed and did not move.

“Get away,” Pallidar repeated. “Sorry, Phillip, but I don’t like any of the buggers near me, particularly with a bloody hoe in his hand. Grimes!”

Instantly the dragoon was there and he shoved Hiraga away roughly, taking the bridle. “Hop it, Jappo! Piss off!”

Hiraga obediently bobbed his head, kept the vacuous grin in place and moved away. But he stayed within easy listening distance, bottling his desire to avenge the insult instantly—with the razor-sharp hoe, the small stiletto hidden in his hat or with his iron-hard hands.

“Why on earth come by boat?” Tyrer was saying.

“To save time. Patrols report extra Jappo barricades all along the Tokaidō and traffic jams all the way from Hodogaya to Yedo, worse than Piccadilly Circus on the Queen’s birthday, making everyone more nervous than usual. Have a dispatch from Sir William, he’s ordering the Legation closed and you and your staff back—I’m your escort for ‘face.’”

Tyrer stared at him. “But what about the meeting? I’ve been working like the devil to get everything ready.”

“Don’t know, old boy. Here.”

Tyrer broke the seals on the official letter:

“Three cheers! Yokohama here I come.”

“When do you want to leave?”

“Immediately, the Great White Father says, immediately it will be. Can’t wait. How about after lunch? Come and sit down. What’s new in Yokopoko?”

“Not much.” As they strolled up to the veranda and easy chairs, Hiraga moved under the lee and continued hoeing.

Pallidar lit a cheroot. “Sir William, the General and Admiral had another bash at the local governor and Bakufu, swearing they would have his guts for garters if they didn’t produce Canterbury’s murderers—and now Lun’s, pretty bloody awful, what? All they got was the usual fawning and, Ah, so sorry, we’re watching all roads, all paths to catch them, so sorry for delays and inconvenience! Oh, says Sir William, then you know who they are? Oh no, says the Jappos, but if we check all papers and watch everyone, perhaps we’ll find them, we do everything possible, please to help by being more careful of revolutionaries. A lot of balls! They could catch them if they wanted. They’re liars.”

“Terrible about Lun. Ghastly! I went into shock. Sir William almost had a stroke. Still no sign of how the murderers got into our place at Kanagawa?”

“Nothing, any more than last time.” Pallidar had noted the many pages filled with practice characters but did not comment. He loosened his collar. “The Corporal left in charge was demoted and he and the other two given fifty lashes for dereliction of duty. Stupid not to be sharp after the other attack. But why the monkey’s head?”

Tyrer shuddered. “Sir William thinks it was because Lun jeered at their Delegation, called them ‘monkeys’ and it was their form of revenge.”

Pallidar whistled. “That means at least one of them, unbeknownst to our people, secretly understands English—or at the very least pidgin.”

“We came to the same conclusion.” With an effort Tyrer threw off his fear. “To hell with that, I’m delighted to see you. What else is new?”

Pallidar was idly watching Hiraga. “The General believes there’s more to the increased barricades and native troop movements than meets the
eye. The traders say their Jappo contacts whisper that all roads out of Yedo are strangled and that the real reason’s civil war’s brewing. Damn nuisance not knowing. We should be moving around like the Treaty allows, should be finding out for ourselves—the General and Admiral agree for once we should operate here like in India, or anywhere else, send out patrols or a regiment or two to show the flag, by God, and contact some of the discontented kings to use them against the others. Do you have a beer?”

“Oh, of course, sorry. Chen!”

“Yes, Mass’er?”

“Beeru chop chop,” Tyrer said, not at all sure his friend’s militancy was the correct approach. The foreman of the gardeners came nearer and stood in the garden below and bowed deeply. To Pallidar’s surprise Tyrer bowed back though his bow was slight.
“Hai, Shikisha? Nan desu ka?”
Yes, Shikisha, what do you want?

With even more astonishment Pallidar listened as the man asked something, Tyrer replied fluently and their conversation went back and forth. At length the man bowed and left.
“Hai, Taira-sama, domo.”

“My God, Phillip, what was all that about?”

“Eh? Oh, old Shikisha? It was just that he wanted to know if it was all right for the gardeners to prepare the garden in the back. Sir William wants fresh vegetables, cauliflower, onions, brussels sprouts, baking potatoes and…what’s the matter?”

“You’re really speaking Jappo then?”

Tyrer laughed. “Oh, no, not really, but I’ve been cooped up here for ten days with nothing to do so I’ve been swotting and trying to learn words and phrases. Actually, though Sir William read me the Riot Act about pulling my finger out, I’m enjoying it immensely. I get a tremendous charge out of being able to communicate.” Fujiko’s face leapt to the forefront of his mind, communicating with her, the hours spent with her—the last time ten days ago when he had returned to Yokohama for a day and the night. Hooray for Sir William, tonight or tomorrow I’ll see her again, wonderful.

“Wonderful!” he said without thinking, beaming. “Oh,” he added hastily, “oh, er, yes, I enjoy trying to speak and read and write it. Old Shikisha’s given me lots of words, mostly work words, and Ukiya.” He pointed to Hiraga who was gardening industriously, always within distance, not knowing that “Ukiya” was an alias and just meant “gardener.” “He’s helping me with writing—jolly intelligent fellow for a Japanese.”