Gai-Jin (95 page)

“So sorry, Takeda, but this is Hiraga-san’s idea, not mine. Hiraga said that, in future, daimyos will be figureheads only, the good ones, that
power will be exercised through councils of samurai, of all ranks, equally, who will decide everything, from stipends, to which daimyo is worthy and who will succeed him.”

“It will never work. It’s a bad idea,” Takeda said.

Many disagreed with him, the majority for her, but Takeda was unconvinced. Then she said, “Sensei, is it a bad idea?”

“It is a good idea, if all daimyos agreed,” Katsumata said, well pleased that his teachings were bearing such fruit, that correctly they were arriving at the future by consensus. Like the others he was squatting on his heels, saying little, his mind on his close escape, inwardly seething at the new attempt on his life and narrow escape.

Too near this time, he thought, bile again in his mouth. The net is closing. Who is the traitor? The traitor has to be in this room. No other shishi units knew I was spending the night at the Whispering Pines. The traitor has to be here. Who is he—or even she? Who? “Continue, Sumomo.”

“I just wanted to add … Takeda-san, you are Choshu, so is Hiraga-san, others from Tosa, the Sensei and others and me Satsumas, others from other fiefs, but first we are shishi with duties above family, above clan. In the New Order this will be the law—the First law for all Nippon.”

“Well, if that’s going to be the law …” One of them scratched his head. “Sensei, when the Son of Heaven has power again what will we really do? Us? All of us?”

Katsumata glanced at Takeda. “What do you think?”

Takeda said simply, “I will not be alive, it matters not at all.
Sonno-joi
is sufficient and that I tried.”

“Some of us must survive,” Katsumata said, “to be part of the new leadership. More important for now: Toranaga Yoshi. How to eliminate him?”

“Whenever he comes out of his sanctuary we must be ready,” someone said.

“Of course,” Takeda said irritably, “but he will be surrounded by guards and I doubt if we can get near him. The Sensei said not to activate our men inside. It has to be outside but that will be very difficult.”

“Half a dozen of us with bows from rooftops?”

“A pity we have no cannon,” another said.

They sat there in the growing light, each within his own mind: Yoshi a prize. But the next five days were foremost, then the attack on Ogama—the only way to take the Gates.

Sumomo said, “It could be easier for a woman to infiltrate the Toranaga bastion,
neh?
Once inside …” She smiled.

Now clouds covered the sky. The afternoon was gloomy. Even so, the wide streets outside the walls of the Shōgunate barracks were crowded with
townspeople, buying and selling in the market opposite the main entrance, along with orange-clad Buddhist priests, their inevitable begging bowls outstretched, samurai strutting along, singly or in groups. Ogama patrols were prominent, each with the insignia of their fief embroidered on their clothes. Katsumata, Sumomo and half a dozen shishi strolled amongst the crowds, disguised and wearing large conical hats. Housewives, maids, servants and street sweepers and night soil collectors, porters and hawkers, moneylenders, letter writers and fortune-tellers, palanquins and ponies for samurai and highborn and never a wheeled vehicle.

All who passed the Shōgunate gates, open now but heavily guarded, bowed politely according to rank and hurried on. News that the Guardian of the Heir had arrived unbelievably without pomp had flashed through the city—and this, coupled with the never-in-historical-memory imminent arrival of the awesome Shōgun himself, arbiter of the Land, his personage shrouded with almost as much mystery as the Son of Heaven, and who, rumor had it, was even married to one of the Deity’s sisters, was almost too much to bear.

At once samurai worriedly began checking the readiness of their weapons and armor, daimyos and their most trusted counselors trembled at the news, assessing their own positions and what to do and how to avoid taking any decisive action when the inevitable happened: Lord Yoshi clashed with Lord Ogama.

Activity on the street outside the Shōgunate barracks ceased as a heavily armed cortege began to come out of the gates, Yoshi’s banners to the fore, soldiers surrounding a closed palanquin, with more soldiers bringing up the rear. At once everyone within seeing distance put their heads to the earth, all samurai stood still, then bowed deeply until the cortege had passed. Only when Yoshi and his men had vanished did a semblance of normality return. Except that Katsumata and the others were cautiously following.

Half a mile away a similar armored cortege began snaking out of the main Choshu barracks, Ogama’s banners to the fore, to even greater obeisances. Inside the palanquin was Ogama. For days he had been forewarned of his enemy’s arrival, just as he had been monitoring the progress of Shōgun Nobusada. His advisors had recommended waylaying Yoshi and destroying him outside Kyōto but he had refused. “Better he becomes my pawn. Once he’s here, where can he hide, where can he run?”

Details for the urgent meeting he had requested had been settled between their advisors. It was to take place in the courtyard of an empty, neutral barracks, equidistant between their headquarters. Each side to have a hundred guards. Only twenty would be mounted. Ogama and Yoshi would ride in protected, armored palanquins. One counselor each. They would arrive simultaneously.

Within moments spies were hurrying the news to the palace, to shishi
groups, and to daimyos that the two most dangerous men in Nippon were, astonishingly, on the streets in armed columns at the same instant. Quickly a spy found Katsumata and whispered the where of the meeting, and by the time Ogama and Yoshi’s samurai marched through the neutral gates, Katsumata and thirty men were stationed nearby—in case an opening for a suicide attack presented itself.

The courtyard was a hundred metres square with light wooden walls, easy to breach, the one-story barracks and extensive stables also of wood, dark with age. Opposing guards took up their positions, while others brought four folding chairs and placed them carefully in the center of the space.

The two men got out of their palanquins together and strode to the chairs and sat down. Then General Akeda and Basuhiro, Ogama’s chief counselor, sat beside them. Basuhiro was in his forties, a narrow-eyed, scholarly samurai, his family hereditary heads of the Choshu bureaucracy for generations. Formally they bowed. Then the eyes of the two leaders locked.

Yoshi was two years younger than Ogama—twenty-six—and tall where Ogama was short and thickset, his face clean-shaven in contrast to Ogama’s heavy blue-black beard. His blood line was more regal though Ogama’s was equally ancient, equally renowned, both of them balanced in ruthlessness, ambition, and secretiveness.

Leisurely they went through the obligatory compliments and polite questions, fencing, waiting to begin—hands easily on their sword hilts. “Your arrival is a pleasant surprise, Lord Yoshi.”

“I had to come myself to make sure the wild rumors I heard were not true.”

“Rumors?”

“Amongst them that Choshu forces inhibit Shōgunate representatives, legal representatives from their positions around the Gates.”

“A necessary measure to protect the Deity.”

“Not necessary and against the law.”

Ogama laughed. “The Deity prefers my protection to the traitorous Council of Elders who signed gai-jin Treaties against his wishes and continue to treat with them against his wishes instead of expelling them as he has asked.” He motioned to Basuhiro. “Please show Lord Yoshi.”

The scroll, signed by the Emperor, “requested the Lord of Choshu to assume command of the Gates until the distressing matter of the gai-jin was settled.”

“It is not within the Deity’s sphere to dictate matters temporal. That is the law—I must ask you to retire.”

“Law? You refer to Toranaga law, Shōgunate law, all of which the first of your line implanted by force which disavowed the ancient, Heaven-granted rights of the Emperor to rule.”

Yoshi’s lips set into a thin, hard line. “Heaven granted the Emperor rights to intercede between us mortals and the gods in all matters spiritual. Matters temporal were always in the sphere of mortals, of Shoguns. The Emperor granted Shōgun Toranaga and his line perpetual rights to deal with all matters temporal.”

“I repeat that the Emperor was forced to agree an—”

“And I repeat this is the law of the land that has kept the land at peace for two and a half centuries.”

“It is no longer valid.” Ogama waved the paper. “What a previous Emperor was forced to concede, this Emperor has freely cancelled.”

Yoshi’s voice became softer, more deadly. “A temporary mistake. Clearly the Son of Heaven has been given misguided advice by self-seeking malcontents, as he will soon realize.”

“You accuse me?” The grip of all four men tightened on their hilts.

“I merely point out, Lord Ogama, your piece of paper was obtained by false information, and is not according to the law. The Presence is and always has been surrounded by ambitious men—and women. That is why he granted perpetual rights to Shōgun Toranaga and the following Shōgunate to guide him in all matters an—”

A bellow of laughter cut him off and set everyone within the walls even more on edge. “Guide? Guide did you say? The Deity’s to be guided by Anjo Nori, Toyama, Adachi and now that slobbering halfwit Zukumura? By incompetent fools who overrule you at their leisure, make stupid agreements with vile gai-jin, against all daimyo, advice that lay the Land of the Gods and all of us open to destruction?” His face twisted with anger. “Or is he to await guidance from the child Nobusada to pull our nuts from the fire?”

“You and I, we need not wait, Ogama-dono,” Yoshi said smoothly, knowing that his major strength was in his calm. “Let us discuss this in private—the two of us.”

Ogama stared at him. A slight breeze picked up and rustled the banners. “When?”

“Now.”

Thrown off balance a moment, Ogama hesitated. He glanced at Basuhiro. The small man smiled with the front of his face. “I would have thought that important matters should be discussed openly, Sire, not that my poor advice would be of value. Private agreements can sometimes be misinterpreted, by either side—that was your honored father’s rule.”

Ogama’s eyes went back to Yoshi. “This Shōgun visit to the Emperor, to kowtow, to ‘ask advice,’ the first time in the whole Toranaga period, this negates the very kernel of your Toranaga structure, eh? Worse, it clouds any future settlement between the Son of Heaven and … future leaders, for of course mortals will rule, eh?”

“In private, Ogama-dono.”

Ogama hesitated, dark eyes recessed in the weathered face. In spite of himself, in spite of knowing that this man was potentially the only one in the Land who could perhaps gather enough opposition to prevent him reaching the prize he sought, he enjoyed the clash, enjoyed meeting face-to-face. He waved his hand, dismissing Basuhiro, who obeyed at once though clearly disapprovingly. Akeda bowed and also moved away, even more watchful for the expected treachery he had warned against.

“So ka?”

Yoshi bent forward slightly and kept his voice low, his lips hardly moving in case Basuhiro, who had placed himself out of earshot, could lip-read. “The Council vote was four to one against me in favor of the Shōgun visit. Of course the visit is a major mistake, Anjo cannot and will not see that. The present Council will vote as he wishes, on any subject. Nobusada is a puppet until he is eighteen, in two years, when formally he can create many changes and problems if he so wishes. Does that answer all your questions?”

Ogama frowned, astonished that his opponent would be so open. “You said, ‘in private,’ Yoshi-dono, what do you want to say in private that of course I will tell my advisors afterwards and you will tell yours?”

“Some secrets are better kept between leaders, than …” Yoshi added deliberately, “than with certain retainers.”

“Eh? What does that mean?”

“You have spies—retainers—within my gates,
neh,?
How else did you know I arrived when I did? Surely you don’t think I don’t have men here, and spies within your walls?”

Ogama’s face became grimmer. “What secrets?”

“Secrets we should keep. For example, Anjo is very sick and will die within a year—or at the very least will have to resign.” Yoshi had seen the flicker of immediate interest that Ogama could not totally contain. “If you want proof I could tell you how your spies can confirm it.”

“Good, thank you,” Ogama said, docketing that for immediate action without waiting for guidance. “I would like the means to prove such pleasant news. So?”

Yoshi pitched his voice lower. “Within this year—if we were allied—it will be easy to ensure you are appointed an Elder. Then jointly we would approve the other three.”

“I doubt if we could ever agree, Yoshi-dono,” Ogama said with a twisted smile, “neither on a Council, or which of us would be
tairō
, the Leader.”

“Ah, but I will vote for you.”

“Why would you be so stupid?” Ogama said blankly. “You must know I would at once demolish your Shōgunate.”

“As it exists, yes. I agree we should. I would like to do it now. If I had power I would do it now and make reforms together with the advice of a
council of all daimyos, including Outside Lords.” He saw Ogama’s astonishment increase and knew he was gaining. “But I can’t, I must wait until Anjo resigns or dies.”

“Why not sooner than later, eh? If he’s the boil on your balls, lance it! You are both in Yedo Castle, eh?”

“That would precipitate the civil war I do not want, no daimyo wants. I agree the Shōgunate and Bakufu must be reorganized radically—your views and mine are very similar. Without your support I could not achieve reform.” Yoshi shrugged. “It is difficult to believe but it is an offer.”

The other man said, “With Anjo out of the way you could do whatever you wanted. You could tempt Sanjiro and the fool of Tosa, perhaps both together, eh? If you three allied against me, perhaps I am a dead man and my fief ended. Then you divide them and you are the power.” His lips curled into the smile that was not a smile. “Or more likely they stay together and divide you.”