Kill the Shogun (17 page)

“Why did you run?” he asked again.

“You’re taking me back there!” she spit out.

Kaze looked at her kindly, although he realized she couldn’t see his expression with the komuso headgear on. It was impossible to imagine what kind of life she had led for the last few years. She had been the pampered plaything of sick men, given fine clothes and then abused. It was good she still had the spirit to run away. It showed she had not been completely broken.

“We are going to Ningyo-cho, but not to the Little Flower. We’re going to a place near it, where you can be safe. I have other business to take care of in Edo, but I can’t do it until I know you will be properly cared for, if I’m not in a position to help you. You know, a few nights ago I was in the place I’m taking you to, and I could hear your flute. It was so full of sadness that I think I understand some of what you’re feeling. I know it will be hard for you to trust me, but remember, I was sent by your mother. Even though she is in the next life, your mother still loves you, and she wants me to protect you. She would not send you someone you couldn’t trust.”

Tears filled the child’s eyes. Kaze picked her up and started carrying her in his arms. In a confused blubber, Kiku-chan said, “I left my geta back there.”

“I know. We’ll buy you proper sandals, and clothes that aren’t as fancy, but suitable for a girl of your age. Those geta were the shoes of a prostitute. You are no longer a prostitute. It’s proper for us to leave those shoes behind. You are no longer part of the Little Flower. You are Kiku-chan, the daughter of my Lady, and you’re safe now.”

Hate is a killer.
It kills others and our souls.
Yet, it’s so human!

I
s this your daughter?” Momoko was fussing over Kiku-chan, but clearly curious about the relationship between the girl and Kaze.

“She is my responsibility,” Kaze said. “For a while, I would like her to be your responsibility.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Goro and Hanzo have good hearts, and they’ll help. I have to do something, and I want to make sure Kiku-chan will be taken care of if I don’t succeed. You are the person I can trust with that responsibility, especially if I don’t come back.”

“What are you talking about? Are you going to do something dangerous?”

Kaze smiled. “It can’t be more dangerous than five ninja trying to kill me, yet here I stand, still alive.”

“It is dangerous.”

“Life is dangerous. If I don’t do this, then it will continue to be more dangerous than it needs to be.” Kaze took the remaining gold he had received from Nobu out of his sleeve, gold he had
withheld from Jitotenno to provoke an incident that would get attention. He handed the coins to Momoko.

“Here,” he said, “take this money and do two things. First, get Kiku-chan some different clothes: clothes suitable for a child of her age, so she doesn’t look like she’s going to a bawdy house. Next, rent me a horse.”

“A horse?”

“Yes. Make sure I can get it at any hour of the day or night, and make sure it’s at a stable on the west side of Edo Castle.”

Momoko looked at the gold coins. “This is more than it will take to do that. What do you want me to do with the rest?”

Kaze looked at her strangely, and Momoko realized that a samurai rarely concerned himself with money. He let his wife do that. By giving her his money, Kaze was extending a kind of intimacy to her. She blushed.

“Keep the money,” he said patiently. “If I don’t come back, you will need the money for Kiku-chan. If I do come back, you can use the money to help the theater and Goro and Hanzo. Just don’t tell them you have it, and don’t tell them who gave it to you. The last time I gave them money, they were banging their heads on the ground with bows of gratitude. It was disgusting. I don’t want to see that again.”

“But Goro and Hanzo won’t need the money. The theater is doing better, thanks to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The actors are using the wild makeup, like you did, and the people love it. We can’t show passion on the stage, but we can talk about it, and women seem to like that even better than showing it. I’ve also had the idea that we should include sword fights in our plays, after seeing you with the ninja. I’m sure that will be popular, too! Here. Take the money back. You’ll need it.”

Kaze frowned. Momoko knew she was spoiling the moment,
and she cursed her inability to really understand how the samurai mind worked. Talking to a samurai like Matsuyama-san about money was very bad manners, especially after he had entrusted you with handling his money for him.

“Sumimasen. I’m sorry,” she said, with a deep bow. “I’ll get the clothes and arrange for the horse.”

K
aze sat in the valley where two roofs came together, hidden from the ground but still able to watch the temple. He had been watching for a day and a night and a second day, only leaving briefly to answer calls of nature or to take a drink from the communal well, late at night when he wouldn’t be seen. He had a small store of toasted rice cakes he brought with him, the kind of rations he might have on a hard military campaign.

As in a military campaign, Kaze didn’t consider waiting as wasted time. Every warrior knew how to act, but the good ones also knew how to wait. Timing in a campaign, battle, or fight was crucial. Action and waiting were a natural balance, like breathing in and breathing out. Kaze knew his waiting and watching was just the prelude to action. Of course, Kaze also knew that his waiting might be in vain. Thus it was with battle plans, where sometimes waiting came to nothing because an expected situation didn’t develop.

During the first day, he saw the man he was waiting for. He was staying in the temple because of Edo’s housing shortage. Kaze was able to identify him by the crest on his helmet, which Nobu had described to him. He seemed to be going about his normal duties, so Kaze had no interest in him then.

In the depth of the second night, in the early morning, at the hour of the Tiger, Kaze did have an interest in the man. His waiting paid off. He saw the man leaving the temple with two companions.
They were on horseback, and what interested Kaze was that he carried a musket and he was not wearing his insignia. He and his companions were dressed as charcoal burners.

They must be going into the woods, Kaze thought, where their costumes would allow them to blend in. On the day of the attempted assassination, Kaze was sure he had worn his uniform. With so many soldiers rushing about after the shot was fired, another soldier was almost invisible in the crowd, even one carrying a musket. That’s also why the yagura watchman didn’t cry out when an armed man entered his watch platform. It would not be unusual for a uniformed officer to want to get a good observation perch. It’s also why no one noticed him leaving the scene of the assassination attempt.

Kaze watched what direction they took leaving Edo, and quickly got off the roof and rushed to the stable where his horse was waiting.

Following people undetected on horseback was harder than following them on foot, especially since Kaze didn’t want them to get too far ahead of him. But the darkness helped as they crossed the farms and villages that surrounded Edo, and by the time the dawn arrived, they were off the roads and into the woods to the northwest of Edo, where the trees could screen Kaze.

The trio proceeded into the forest, to a point where the thick groves of trees were broken up by meadows. Then they stopped, with two of them moving forward on foot while the third held the horses.

Kaze tied his own horse and circled around the man holding the horses. Moving with the silence of an experienced hunter, he crept up to the two men, who seemed to be sitting behind a large rock, waiting. Kaze sat and waited, too.

T
his is my favorite time, Honda.” Ieyasu was anxious to get to the hunt. Behind him, several horses with packs that supported perches for birds trailed, led by the bird’s trainers. They were followed by a half-dozen mounted bodyguards.

The hawking party broke out of the forest and into a meadow. It was one of Ieyasu’s favorite hawking sites, and he ordered the birds forward, so he could decide which one he wanted to fly first.

Ieyasu looked up at the blue sky. “It’s a perfect day for the birds,” he remarked.

“It won’t be a perfect day for the prey,” Honda grumped. “Today they’ll die.”

“To live is to die,” Ieyasu said, quoting a proverb. “Besides, when you have to die, it’s probably best to die on a day such as this one. When it is my time to go to the void, I wish it would be on a day just like today.”

K
aze watched one of the men pop his head up over the top of the rock, and then say something to the one with the musket. The man with the gun took out his flint and steel, and
set
the cord on his musket burning. He was getting ready to shoot. Kaze looked in the meadow in front of the rock and saw a party out hawk hunting. He realized the two men on horseback were Ieyasu and Honda.

The man with the musket stood and started taking aim. He was using the most modern gun and technology available. Kaze chose a more ancient weapon. More ancient even than his sword. He picked up a fist-sized rock and threw it with all his strength.

The rock hit Niiya in the side of the head just as he pressed the trigger of his musket. The burning cord hit the touch hole, and the musket fired with a loud crack that shattered the silence of the meadow. Niiya collapsed, his musket ball flying harmlessly into the air.

Niiya’s companion drew his sword and turned to face Kaze, just as the ronin ran from his hiding place to the rock. The man was a good swordsman but not an excellent one, and the duel was over in an instant, the man falling dead to the ground from a cut across his neck and shoulders as Kaze rushed past him.

Kaze wanted Niiya alive, and he knelt down next to the prone man, loosening the man’s jacket sash and using it to tie up Niiya’s hands. Across the meadow, Kaze could see Honda and Ieyasu’s bodyguards springing into action, riding at full tilt toward the sound of the shot and the rock. Honda joined them, the old warrior acting instinctively to defend his Lord. It was over a hundred paces to the rock, so Kaze was able to quickly tie Niiya’s hands as the samurai charged forward.

Just as Kaze was completing the knot securing Niiya, he sensed a presence behind him. Grabbing his sword, which he had laid on the ground next to him, Kaze spun halfway around while still kneeling, just in time to block a cut to his head by the man who had been holding the horses. He had come to investigate when his two companions didn’t come to the horses to make their escape right after the shot was fired.

At a disadvantage because he was still in a kneeling position, Kaze blocked a second cut without having an opportunity to go on the offensive. The man was smart enough not to let up, and he drew back for a third cut before Kaze could regain his feet. A large shadow suddenly blocked out the sun, and Kaze realized that a horse was jumping over the rock, sailing over Kaze and Niiya. The body of the horse blocked Kaze’s view of the blow, but as the horse hit the ground, Kaze was able to see the results. The man’s head was flying through the air, cleanly taken by the horseman while still in the midst of the jump. As other horses drew up on either side of the rock, Kaze glanced at the first horseman and saw it was Honda. Honda’s eyes burned with excitement, and the call to arms had stripped away years from the old warrior’s face.

Honda pulled his horse around and trotted back to Kaze.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“This is the assassin of Lord Nakamura,” Kaze said, pointing to the prone Niiya, who was just beginning to regain his senses.

Honda peered at the bound figure and said, “Nonsense! That’s Captain Niiya. He’s in Lord Yoshida’s service. I know him. It’s impossible that he’s the assassin.” He pointed at Kaze. “Drop your sword!”

Kaze shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do that until I have convinced you that this is the assassin.”

Niiya, who was still shaky, had recovered enough to say, “He lies. He’s the assassin.”

Honda scowled. “Drop your sword,” he growled.

“No.”

“Then, by the Gods, I’ll make you drop your sword or kill you in the process!”

“That wouldn’t be wise.”

Honda looked up. Ieyasu rode up to the tableau in time to offer advice. “I saw you take that man’s head as you cleared the rock, Honda-san, so I know you’ve lost none of your skills, but it’s foolish to fight with this man when you have six other samurai with you, especially since this is the man who won Hideyoshi’s sword-fighting tournament.”

Honda gave a start, and said, “I knew you were lying! You are the assassin!”

Ieyasu shook his head. “Look at the evidence before you, Honda-san. Do you see a bullet pouch on the ronin? Do you see a powder container? He’s not equipped as a musketeer. More important, his weapon is the sword. I was never convinced he would suddenly change to a musket to assassinate me. Now look at Niiya. The ronin has taken off his sash to bind him, but you can clearly see the bullet pouch and powder containers lying next to him.
They were tucked into his sash. Niiya is known to be an expert with a musket. Obviously, he is the assassin.”

At Ieyasu’s words, Kaze returned his sword to its scabbard.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Honda spluttered.

“Nevertheless, it appears to be true,” Ieyasu said.

“You and your master are the worst kind of traitor,” Honda said to Niiya. “Trying to assassinate the Shogun is the worst crime imaginable.”

Niiya said nothing, his face a stoic mask.

“With all respect, Honda-san, I think you’re wrong,” Kaze said.

“What are you talking about? You caught him in the very act of trying to kill Ieyasu-sama.”

“No. I think he was trying to kill you.”

“Me!” Honda exclaimed. “What possible reason would he have for wanting to kill me?”

“The same reason he had for killing Nakamura-san,” Kaze said.

“This is ridiculous,” Honda replied. He looked at Ieyasu. “This man must have gone mad.”

Ieyasu said nothing, studying Kaze intently.

Kaze thought he was being dissected by those eyes. Every portion of his character was being divided into manageable parts, examined, and then put back together so Ieyasu could have a complete catalog of his soul. Ieyasu’s ability to read and manipulate people was the foundation of success for what was otherwise a very ordinary man.

“I know what you’re saying,” Ieyasu said. “But how can such a thing be proved?”

“Niiya is the finest shot in Japan. I was being chased across the roofs of Edo, and he took a shot at me. He hit my kimono sleeve when no one else could possibly do so. I asked who was in charge of the party pursuing me when that shot was taken. I knew that shot was made by the man in charge, and that man could hit whatever he wanted to. Once the thought occurred to me that you
were not the actual target, Ieyasu-sama, I realized that it was the marksman, not the gun, who was the link to the real assassins. At that distance, any man could miss you and hit Nakamura-san by mistake. It would require an extraordinary marksman to ensure he would not hit you, but still kill Nakamura-san, who was standing next to you,” Kaze said. “Niiya is that man. If you’ll allow me to do a demonstration with him, I can prove it.”

“Demonstration! What kind of demonstration?” Honda demanded. “You surely don’t intend to give this man his musket?”

Kaze said nothing, looking to Ieyasu to await his decision.

Finally, Ieyasu said, “Go ahead. If it is true that they are not trying to kill me, then I may be more merciful to Yoshida’s clan. Otherwise, I’ll kill them all—men, women, children, and babies. They’ll all die.”