Shogun (159 page)

The Regents were meeting in the Great Room on the second level of the donjon. Ishido, Kiyama, Zataki, Ito, and Onoshi. The dawn sun cast long shadows and the smell of fire still hung heavy in the air.

Lady Ochiba was present, also greatly perturbed.

“So sorry, Lord General, I disagree,” Kiyama was saying in his tight brittle voice. “It’s impossible to dismiss Lady Toda’s seppuku and my granddaughter’s bravery and Lady Maeda’s testimony and formal death—along with one hundred and forty-seven Toranaga dead and that part of the castle almost gutted! It just can’t be dismissed.”

“I agree,” Zataki said. He had arrived yesterday morning from Takato and when he had the details of Mariko’s confrontation with Ishido he had been secretly delighted. “If she’d been allowed to go yesterday as I advised, we wouldn’t be in this snare now.”

“It’s not as serious as you think.” Ishido’s mouth was a hard line and Ochiba loathed him at that moment, loathed him for failing and for trapping them all in this crisis. “The
ninja
were only after loot,” Ishido said.

“The barbarian is loot?” Kiyama scoffed. “They’d mount such a vast attack for one barbarian?”

“Why not? He could be ransomed,
neh?”
Ishido stared back at the
daimyo
, who was flanked by Ito Teruzumi and Zataki. “Christians in Nagasaki would pay highly for him, dead or alive.
Neh?”

“That’s possible,” Zataki agreed. “That’s the way barbarians fight.”

Kiyama said tightly, “Are you suggesting, formally, that Christians planned and paid for this foul attack?”

“I said it was possible. And it is possible.”

“Yes. But unlikely,” Ishido interposed, not wanting the precarious balance of the Regents wrecked by an open quarrel now. He was still apoplectic that spies had not forewarned him about Toranaga’s secret lair, and still did not understand how it could have been constructed with such secrecy and not a breath of rumor about it. “I suggest
ninja
were after loot.”

“That’s very sensible and most correct,” Ito said with a malicious glint in his eyes. He was a small, middle-aged man, resplendently attired with ornamental swords, even though he had been routed out of bed like all of them. He was made up like a woman and his teeth were blackened. “Yes, Lord General. But perhaps the
ninja
didn’t mean to ransom him in Nagasaki but in Yedo, to Lord Toranaga. Isn’t he still his lackey?”

Ishido’s brow darkened at the mention of the name. “I agree we should spend our time discussing Lord Toranaga and not
ninja
. Probably he ordered the attack,
neh?
He’s treacherous enough to do that.”

“No, he’d never use
ninja,”
Zataki said. “Treachery yes, but
not those filth. Merchants would do that—or barbarians. Not Lord Toranaga.”

Kiyama watched Zataki, hating him. “Our Portuguese friends could not, would not, instigate such an interference in our affairs. Never!”

“Would you believe they and or their priests would conspire with one of the Christian Kyushu
daimyos
to war on non-Christians—the war supported by a foreign invasion?”

“Who? Tell me. Do you have proof?”

“Not yet, Lord Kiyama. But the rumors are still there and one day I’ll get proof.” Zataki turned back to Ishido. “What can we do about this attack? What’s the way out of the dilemma?” he asked, then glanced at Ochiba. She was watching Kiyama, then her eyes moved to Ishido, then back to Kiyama again, and he had never seen her more desirable.

Kiyama said, “We’re all agreed it’s evident Lord Toranaga plotted that we should be snared by Toda Mariko-sama, however brave she was, however duty bound and honorable, God have mercy on her.”

Ito adjusted a fold in the skirts of his impeccable kimono. “But don’t you agree this would be a perfect stratagem for Lord Toranaga, to attack his own vassals like that? Oh, Lord Zataki, I know he’d never use
ninja
, but he is very clever at getting others to take his ideas and believe them as their own.
Neh?”

“Anything’s possible. But
ninja
wouldn’t be like him. He’s too clever to use them. Or get anyone to do that. They’re not to be trusted. And why force Mariko-sama? Far better to wait and let us make the mistake. We were trapped.
Neh?”

“Yes. We’re still trapped.” Kiyama looked at Ishido. “And whoever ordered the attack was a fool, and did us no service.”

“Perhaps the Lord General’s correct, that it’s not as serious as we think,” Ito said. “But so sad—not an elegant death for her, poor lady.”

“That was her
karma
and we’re not trapped.” Ishido stared back at Kiyama. “It was fortunate she had that bolt hole to run to, otherwise those vermin would have captured her.”

“But they didn’t capture her, Lord General, and she committed a form of seppuku and so did the others and now, if we don’t let everyone go, there’ll be more protest deaths and we cannot afford that,” Kiyama said.

“I don’t agree. Everyone should stay here—at least until Toranaga-sama crosses into our domains.”

Ito smiled. “That will be a memorable day.”

“You don’t think he will?” Zataki asked.

“What I think has no value, Lord Zataki. We’ll soon know what he’s going to do. Whatever it is makes no difference. Toranaga must die, if the Heir is to inherit.” Ito looked at Ishido. “Is the barbarian dead yet, Lord General?”

Ishido shook his head and watched Kiyama. “It would be bad luck for him to die now, or to be maimed—a brave man like that.
Neh?”

“I think he’s a plague and the sooner he dies the better. Have you forgotten?”

“He could be useful to us. I agree with Lord Zataki—and you—Toranaga’s no fool. There’s got to be a good reason for Toranaga’s cherishing him.
Neh?”

“Yes, you’re right again,” Ito said. “The Anjin-san did well for a barbarian, didn’t he? Toranaga was right to make him samurai.” He looked at Ochiba. “When he gave you the flower, Lady, I thought that was a poetic gesture worthy of a courtier.”

There was general agreement.

“What about the poetry competition now, Lady?” Ito asked.

“It should be canceled, so sorry,” Ochiba said.

“Yes,” Kiyama agreed.

“Had you decided on your entry, Sire?” she asked.

“No,” he answered. “But now I could say:

“Let it be her epitaph. She was samurai,” Ito said quietly. “I share this summer’s tears.”

“For me,” Ochiba said, “for me I would have preferred a different ending:

But I agree, Lord Ito. I too think we will all share in this dark summer’s tears.”

“No, so sorry, Lady, but you’re wrong,” Ishido said. “There will be tears all right, but Toranaga and his allies will shed them.” He
began to bring the meeting to a close. “I’ll start an inquiry into the
ninja
attack at once. I doubt if we’ll ever discover the truth. Meanwhile, for security and personal safety, all passes will regretfully be canceled and everyone regretfully forbidden to leave until the twenty-second day.”

“No,” Onoshi the leper, the last of the Regents, said from his lonely place across the room where he lay, unseen, behind the opaque curtains of his litter. “So sorry, but that’s exactly what you can’t do. Now you must let everyone go. Everyone.”

“Why?”

Onoshi’s voice was malevolent and unafraid. “If you don’t, you dishonor the bravest Lady in the realm, you dishonor the Lady Kiyama Achiko and the Lady Maeda, God have mercy on their souls. When this filthy act is common knowledge, only God the Father knows what damage it will cause the Heir—and all of us, if we’re not careful.”

Ochiba felt a chill rush through her. A year ago, when Onoshi had come to pay his respects to the dying Taikō, the guards had insisted the litter curtains be opened in case Onoshi had weapons concealed, and she had seen the ravaged half-face—noseless, earless, scabbed—the burning, fanatic eyes, the stump of the left hand and the good right hand grasping the short stabbing sword.

Lady Ochiba prayed that neither she nor Yaemon would ever catch leprosy. She, too, wanted an end to this conference, for she had to decide now what to do—what to do about Toranaga and what to do about Ishido.

“Second,” Onoshi was saying, “if you use this filthy attack as an excuse to hold anyone here, you imply you never intended to let them go even though you gave your solemn written undertaking. Third: you—”

Ishido interrupted, “The whole Council agreed to issue the safe conducts!”

“So sorry, the whole Council agreed to the wise suggestion of the Lady Ochiba to offer safe conducts, presuming, with her, that few would take advantage of the opportunity to leave, and even if they did delays would occur.”

“You suggest Toranaga’s women and Toda Mariko wouldn’t have left and that others wouldn’t have followed?”

“What happened to those women wouldn’t swerve Lord Toranaga a jot from his purpose. We’ve got to worry about our allies! Without
the
ninja
attack and the three seppukus this whole nonsense would have been stillborn!”

“I don’t agree.”

“Third and last: If you don’t let everyone go now, after what Lady Etsu said publicly, you’ll be convicted by most
daimyos
of ordering the attack—though not publicly—and we all risk the same fate, and then there’ll be lots of tears.”

“I don’t need to rely on
ninja.”

“Of course,” Onoshi agreed, his voice poisonous. “Neither do I, nor does anyone here. But I feel it is my duty to remind you that there are two hundred and sixty-four
daimyos
, that the Heir’s strength lies on a coalition of perhaps two hundred, and that the Heir cannot afford to have you, his most loyal standard-bearer and commander-in-chief, presumed guilty of such filthy methods and such monstrous inefficiency as the attack failed.”

“You say I ordered that attack?”

“Of course not, so sorry. I merely said you will be convicted by default if you don’t let everyone leave.”

“Is there anyone here who thinks I ordered it?” No one challenged Ishido openly. There was no proof. Correctly, he had not consulted them and had talked only in vague innuendos, even to Kiyama and Ochiba. But they all knew and all were equally furious that he had had the stupidity to fail—all except Zataki. Even so, Ishido was still master of Osaka, and governor of the Taikō’s treasure, so he could not be touched or removed.

“Good,” Ishido said with finality. “The
ninja
were after loot. We’ll vote on the safe conducts. I vote they be canceled.”

“I disagree,” Zataki said.

“So sorry, I oppose also,” said Onoshi.

Ito reddened under their scrutiny. “I have to agree with Lord Onoshi, at the same time, well … it’s all very difficult,
neh?”

“Vote,” Ishido said grimly.

“I agree with you, Lord General.”

Kiyama said, “So sorry, I don’t.”

“Good,” Onoshi said. “That’s settled, but I agree with you, Lord General, we’ve other pressing problems. We have to know what Lord Toranaga will do now. What’s your opinion?”

Ishido was staring at Kiyama, his face set. Then he said, “What’s your answer to that?”

Kiyama was trying to clear his head of all his hates and fears and
worries, to make a final choice—Ishido or Toranaga. This had to be the time. He remembered vividly Mariko talking about Onoshi’s supposed treachery, about Ishido’s supposed betrayal and Toranaga’s supposed proof of that betrayal, about the barbarian and his ship—and about what might happen to the Heir and the Church if Toranaga dominated the land and what might happen to their law if the Holy Fathers dominated the land. And overlaying that was the Father-Visitor’s anguish about the heretic and his ship, and what would happen if the Black Ship was lost, and the Captain-General’s God-sworn conviction that the Anjin-san was Satan spawned, Mariko bewitched as the Rodrigues was bewitched. Poor Mariko, he thought sadly, to die like that after so much suffering, without absolution, without last rites, without a priest, to spend eternity away from God’s sweet heavenly grace. Madonna have mercy on her. So many summer’s tears.

And what about Achiko? Did the
ninja
leader single her out or was that just another killing? How brave she was to charge and not to cringe, poor child. Why is the barbarian still alive? Why didn’t the
ninja
kill him? They should have been ordered to, if this filthy attack was conceived by Ishido, as of course it must have been. Shameful of Ishido to fail—disgusting to fail. Ah, but what courage Mariko had, how clever she was to ensnare us in her courageous web! And the barbarian.

If I’d been he I would never have been able to delay the
ninja
with so much courage, or to protect Mariko from the hideous shame of capture—and Kiritsubo and Sazuko and the Lady Etsu, yes, and even Achiko. But for him and the secret sanctuary, Lady Mariko would have been captured. And all of them. It’s my samurai duty to honor the Anjin-san for being samurai.
Neh?

God forgive me, I did not go to Mariko-chan to be her second, which was my Christian duty. The heretic helped her and lifted her up as the Christ Jesus helped others and lifted them up, but I, I forsook her. Who’s the Christian?

I don’t know. Even so,
he
has to die.

“What about Toranaga, Lord Kiyama?” Ishido said again. “What about the enemy?”

“What about the Kwanto?” Kiyama asked, watching him.

“When Toranaga’s destroyed I propose that the Kwanto be given to one of the Regents.”

“Which Regent?”

“You,” Ishido answered blandly, then added, “or perhaps Zataki, Lord of Shinano.” This Kiyama thought wise, for Zataki was needed very much while Toranaga was alive and Ishido had already told him, a month ago, that Zataki had demanded the Kwanto as payment for opposing Toranaga. Together they had agreed Ishido should promise it to him, both knowing this to be an empty promise. Both were agreed Zataki should forfeit his life and his province for such impertinence, as soon as convenient.