Shogun (44 page)

“I say it won’t. It’s a disgusting plan with no honor.”

Yabu turned to Toranaga. “A new era requires clear thinking about the meaning of honor.”

A sea gull soared overhead mewing.

“What did Ishido say to your plan?” Toranaga asked.

“I did not discuss it with him.”

“Why? If you think your plan’s valuable to me, it would be equally valuable to him. Perhaps more so.”

“You gave me a dawn. You’re not a peasant like Ishido. You’re the wisest, most experienced leader in the Empire.”

What’s the real reason? Toranaga was asking himself. Or have you told Ishido too? “If this plan were to be followed, the men would be half yours and half mine?”

“Agreed. I would command them.”

“My appointee would be second-in-command?”

“Agreed. I would need the Anjin-san to train my men as gunners, cannoneers.”

“But he would be my property permanently, you would cherish him as you do the Heir? You’d be totally responsible for him and do with him precisely as I say?”

“Agreed.”

Toranaga watched the crimson clouds for a moment. This planning is all nonsense, he thought. I will have to declare Crimson Sky myself and lunge for Kyoto at the head of all my legions. One hundred thousand against ten times that number. “Who will be interpreter? I can’t detach Toda Mariko-san forever.”

“For a few weeks, Sire? I will see that the barbarian learns our language.”

“That’d take years. The only barbarians who’ve ever mastered it are Christian priests,
neh?
They spend years. Tsukku-san’s been here almost thirty years,
neh?
He won’t learn fast enough, anymore than we can learn their foul languages.”

“Yes. But I promise you, this Anjin-san’ll learn very quickly.” Yabu told them the plan Omi had suggested to him as if it were his own idea.

“That might be too dangerous.”

“It would make him learn quickly,
neh?
And then he’s tamed.”

After a pause, Toranaga said, “How would you maintain secrecy during the training?”

“Izu is a peninsula, security is excellent there. I’ll base near Anjiro, well south and away from Mishima and the border for more safety.”

“Good. We’ll set up carrier pigeon links from Anjiro to Osaka and Yedo at once.”

“Excellent. I need only five or six months and—”

“We’ll be lucky to have six days!” Hiro-matsu snorted. “Are you saying that your famous espionage net has been swept away, Yabu
san? Surely you’ve been getting reports? Isn’t Ishido mobilizing? Isn’t Onoshi mobilizing? Aren’t we locked in here?”

Yabu did not answer.

“Well?” Toranaga said.

Yabu said, “Reports indicate all that is happening and more. If it’s six days then it’s six days and that’s
karma
. But I believe you’re much too clever to be trapped here. Or provoked into an early war.”

“If I agreed to your plan, you would accept me as your leader?”

“Yes. And when you win, I would be honored to accept Suruga and Totomi as part of my fief forever.”

“Totomi would depend on the success of your plan.”

“Agreed.”

“You will obey me? With all your honor?”

“Yes. By
bushido
, by the Lord Buddha, by the life of my mother, my wife, and my future posterity.”

“Good,” Toranaga said. “Let’s piss on the bargain.”

He went to the edge of the battlements. He stepped up on the ledge of the embrasure, then onto the parapet itself. Seventy feet below was the inner garden. Hiro-matsu held his breath, aghast at his master’s bravado. He saw him turn and beckon Yabu to stand beside him. Yabu obeyed. The slightest touch could have sent them tumbling to their deaths.

Toranaga eased his kimono and loincloth aside, as did Yabu. Together they urinated and mixed their urine and watched it dew the garden below.

“The last bargain I sealed this way was with the Taikō himself,” Toranaga said, greatly relieved at being able to empty his bladder. “That was when he decided to give me the Kwanto, the Eight Provinces, as my fief. Of course, at that time the enemy Hojo still owned them, so first I had to conquer them. They were our last remaining opposition. Of course, too, I had to give up my hereditary fiefs of Imagawa, Owari, and Ise at once for the honor. Even so, I agreed and we pissed on the bargain.” He straddled the parapet easily, settling his loincloth comfortably as though he stood in the garden itself, not perched like an eagle so far above. “It was a good bargain for both of us. We conquered the Hojo and took over five thousand heads within the year. Stamped him out and all his tribe. Perhaps you’re right, Kasigi Yabu-san. Perhaps you can help me as I helped the Taikō. Without me, the Taikō would never have become Taikō.”

“I can help to make you sole Regent, Toranaga-sama. But not Shōgun.”

“Of course. That’s the one honor I don’t seek, as much as my enemies say I do.” Toranaga jumped down to the safety of the stone flags. He looked back at Yabu who still stood on the narrow parapet adjusting his sash. He was sorely tempted to give him a quick shove for his insolence. Instead he sat down and broke wind loudly. “That’s better. How’s your bladder, Iron Fist?”

“Tired, Lord, very tired.” The old man went to the side and emptied himself thankfully over the battlements too, but he did not stand where Toranaga and Yabu had stood. He was very glad that he did not also have to seal the bargain with Yabu. That’s one bargain I will never honor. Never.

“Yabu-san. This must all be kept secret. I think you should leave within the next two or three days,” Toranaga said.

“Yes. With the guns and the barbarian, Toranaga-sama?”

“Yes. You will go by ship.” Toranaga looked at Hiro-matsu. “Prepare the galley.”

“The ship is ready. The guns and powder are still in the holds,” Hiro-matsu replied, his face mirroring his disapproval.

“Good.”

You’ve done it, Yabu wanted to shout. You’ve got the guns, the Anjin-san, everything. You’ve got your six months. Toranaga’ll never go to war quickly. Even if Ishido assassinates him in the next few days, you’ve still got everything. Oh, Buddha, protect Toranaga until I’m at sea! “Thank you,” he said, his sincerity openly vast. “You’ll never have a more faithful ally.”

When Yabu was gone, Hiro-matsu wheeled on Toranaga. “That was a bad thing to do. I’m ashamed of that bargain. I’m ashamed that my advice counts for so little. I’ve obviously outlived my usefulness to you and I’m very tired. That little snot-dung
daimyo
knows he’s manipulated you like a puppet. Why, he even had the effrontery to wear his Murasama sword in your presence.”

“I noticed,” Toranaga said.

“I think the gods have bewitched you, Lord. You openly dismiss such an insult and allow him to gloat in front of you. You openly allow Ishido to shame you in front of all of us. You prevent me and all of us from protecting you. You refuse my granddaughter, a samurai lady, the honor and peace of death. You’ve lost control of the Council, your enemy has outmaneuvered you, and now you piss on a solemn
bargain that is as disgusting a plan as I’ve ever heard, and you do this with a man who deals in filth, poison, and treachery like his father before him.” He was shaking with rage. Toranaga did not answer, just stared calmly at him as though he had said nothing. “By all
kami
, living and dead, you are bewitched.” Hiro-matsu burst out, “I question you—and shout and insult you and you only stare at me! You’ve gone mad or I have. I ask permission to commit seppuku or if you won’t allow me that peace I’ll shave my head and become a monk—anything, anything, but let me be gone.”

“You will do neither. But you will send for the barbarian priest, Tsukku-san.”

And then Toranaga laughed.

Father Alvito rode down the hill from the castle at the head of his usual company of Jesuit outriders. All were dressed as Buddhist priests except for the rosary and crucifix they wore at their waists. There were forty outriders, Japanese, all well-born sons of Christian samurai, students from the seminary at Nagasaki who had accompanied him to Osaka. All were well mounted and caparisoned and as disciplined as the entourage of any
daimyo
.

He hurried along in a brisk trot, oblivious of the warm sunshine, through the woods and the city streets toward the Jesuit Mission, a large stone European-style house that stood near the wharves and soared from its clustered outbuildings, treasure rooms, and warehouses, where all of Osaka’s silks were bartered and paid for.

The cortege clattered through the tall iron gates set in the high stone walls and into the paved central courtyard and stopped near the main door. Servants were already waiting to help Father Alvito dismount. He slid out of the saddle and threw them the reins. His spurs jingled on the stone as he strode up the cloistered walk of the main building, turned the corner, passed the small chapel, and went through some arches into the innermost courtyard, which contained a fountain and a peaceful garden. The antechamber door was open. He threw off his anxiety, composed himself, and walked in.

“Is he alone?” he asked.

“No, no, he isn’t, Martin,” Father Soldi said. He was a small, benign, pockmarked man from Naples who had been the Father-Visitor’s secretary for almost thirty years, twenty-five of them in Asia. “Captain-General Ferriera’s with his Eminence. Yes, the peacock’s with him. But his Eminence said you were to go in at once. What’s gone wrong, Martin?”

“Nothing.”

Soldi grunted and went back to sharpening his quill. “‘Nothing,’ the wise Father said. Well, I’ll know soon enough.”

“Yes,” Alvito said, liking the older man. He walked for the far door. A wood fire was burning in a grate, illuminating the fine heavy furniture, dark with age and rich with polish and care. A small Tintoretto of a Madonna and Child that the Father-Visitor had brought with him from Rome, which always pleased Alvito, hung over the fireplace.

“You saw the Ingeles again?” Father Soldi called after him.

Alvito did not answer. He knocked at the door.

“Come in.”

Carlo dell’Aqua, Father-Visitor of Asia, personal representative of the General of the Jesuits, the most senior Jesuit and thus the most powerful man in Asia, was also the tallest. He stood six feet three inches, with a physique to match. His robe was orange, his cross exquisite. He was tonsured, white-haired, sixty-one years old, and by birth a Neapolitan.

“Ah, Martin, come in, come in. Some wine?” he said, speaking Portuguese with a marvelous Italian liquidity. “You saw the Ingeles?”

“No, your Eminence. Just Toranaga.”

“Bad?”

“Yes.”

“Some wine?”

“Thank you.”

“How bad?” Ferriera asked. The soldier sat beside the fire in the high-backed leather chair as proudly as a falcon and as colorful—the
fidaglio
, the Captain-General of the
Nao del Trato
, this year’s Black Ship. He was in his middle thirties, lean, slight, and formidable.

“I think very bad, Captain-General. For instance, Toranaga said the matter of this year’s trade could wait.”

“Obviously trade can’t wait, nor can I,” Ferriera said. “I’m sailing on the tide.”

“You don’t have your port clearances. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

“I thought everything was arranged months ago.” Again Ferriera cursed the Japanese regulations that required all shipping, even their own, to have incoming and outgoing licenses. “We shouldn’t be bound by stupid native regulations. You said this meeting was just a formality—to collect the documents.”

“It should have been, but I was wrong. Perhaps I’d better explain—”

“I must return to Macao immediately to prepare the Black Ship. We’ve already purchased a million ducats’ worth of the best silks at February’s Canton Fair and we’ll be carrying at least a hundred thousand ounces of Chinese gold. I thought I’d made it clear that every penny of cash in Macao, Malacca, and Goa, and every penny the Macao traders and city fathers can borrow is invested in this year’s venture. And every penny of yours.”

“We’re just as aware as you are of its importance,” dell’Aqua said pointedly.

“I’m sorry, Captain-General, but Toranaga’s President of the Regents and it’s the custom to go to him,” Alvito said. “He wouldn’t discuss this year’s trade or your clearances. He said, initially, he did not approve of assassination.”

“Who does, Father?” Ferriera said.

“What’s Toranaga talking about, Martin?” dell’Aqua asked. “Is this some sort of ruse? Assassination? What has that to do with us?”

“He said: ‘Why would you Christians want to assassinate my prisoner, the pilot?’”

“What?”

“Toranaga believes the attempt last night was on the Ingeles, not him. Also he says there was another attempt in prison.” Alvito kept his eyes fixed on the soldier.

“What do you accuse me of, Father?” Ferriera said. “An assassination attempt? Me? In Osaka Castle? This is the first time I’ve ever been in Japan!”

“You deny any knowledge of it?”

“I do not deny that the sooner the heretic’s dead the better,” Ferriera said coldly. “If the Dutch and English start spreading their filth in Asia we’re in for trouble. All of us.”

“We’re already in trouble,” Alvito said. “Toranaga began by saying that he understands from the Ingeles that incredible profits are
being made from the Portuguese
monopoly
of the China trade, that the Portuguese are extravagantly overpricing the silks that only the Portuguese can buy in China, paying for them with the sole commodity the Chinese will accept in exchange, Japanese silver—which again the Portuguese are equally ludicrously underpricing. Toranaga said: ‘Because hostility exists between China and Japan and all direct trade between us is forbidden and the Portuguese alone have their permission to carry the trade, the pilot’s charge of “usury” should be formally replied to—
in writing
—by the Portuguese.’ He ‘invites’ you, Eminence, to provide the Regents with a report on rates of exchange—silver to silk, silk to silver, gold to silver. He added that he does not, of course, object to our making a large profit, providing it comes from the Chinese.”

“You will, of course, refuse such an arrogant request,” Ferriera said.