Shogun (172 page)

“Yes, Sire,” Omi replied. “Lord Toranaga asked me to recheck all the stories. This was one strangeness I felt should be brought to our Master’s attention.”

“One strangeness? There’s another?”

“Following Lord Toranaga’s orders, I questioned the servants who survived the attack, Sire. There were two. So sorry, but they both said you went through their quarters with one samurai and returned shortly afterward alone, shouting
‘Ninja!’
Then they—”

“They rushed us and killed the poor fellow with a spear and a sword and almost overran me. I had to retreat to give the alarm.” Yabu turned to Toranaga, carefully putting his feet in a better attack position. “I’ve already told you this, Sire, both personally and in my written report. What have servants to do with me?”

“Well, Omi-san?” Toranaga asked.

“So sorry, Yabu-sama,” Omi said, “but both saw you open the bolts of a secret door in the dungeon and heard you say to the
ninja
, ‘I am Kasigi Yabu.’ This alone gave them time to hide from the massacre.”

Yabu’s hand moved a fraction. Instantly Sudara leapt in front of Toranaga to protect him and in the same moment Hiro-matsu’s sword was flashing at Yabu’s neck.

“Hold!” Toranaga ordered.

Hiro-matsu’s sword stopped, his control miraculous. Yabu had made no overt motion. He stared at them, then laughed insolently. “Am I a filthy
ronin
who’d attack his liege lord? This is Kasigi Yabu, Lord of Izu, Suruga, and Totomi.
Neh?”
He looked directly at Toranaga. “What am I accused of, Sire? Helping
ninja?
Ridiculous! What have servants’ fantasies to do with me? They’re liars! Or this fellow—who implies something that can’t be proved and I can’t defend?”

“There’s no proof, Yabu-sama,” Toranaga said. “I agree completely. There’s no proof at all.”

“Yabu-sama, did you do those things?” Hiro-matsu asked.

“Of course not!”

Toranaga said, “But I think you did, so all your lands are forfeit. Please slit your belly today. Before noon.”

The sentence was final. This was the supreme moment Yabu had prepared for all his life.

Karma
, he was thinking, his brain now working at frantic speed. There’s nothing I can do, the order’s legal, Toranaga’s my liege lord, they can take my head or I can die with dignity. I’m dead either way. Omi betrayed me but that is my
karma
. The servants were all to be put to death as part of the plan but two survived and that is my
karma
. Be dignified, he told himself, groping for courage. Think clearly and be responsible.

“Sire,” he began with a show of audacity, “first, I’m guiltless of those crimes, Kosami’s mistaken, and the servants liars. Second, I’m the best battle general you have. I beg the honor of leading the charge down the Tokaidō—or the first place in the first battle—so my death will be of direct use.”

Toranaga said cordially, “It’s a good suggestion, Yabu-san, and I agree wholeheartedly that you’re the best general for the Musket Regiment but, so sorry, I don’t trust you. Please slit your belly by noon.”

Yabu dominated his blinding temper and fulfilled his honor as a samurai and as the leader of his clan with the totality of his self-sacrifice. “I formally absolve my nephew Kasigi Omi-san from any responsibility in my betrayal and formally appoint him my heir.”

Toranaga was as surprised as everyone.

“Very well,” Toranaga said. “Yes, I think that’s very wise. I agree.”

“Izu is the hereditary fief of the Kasigi. I will it to him.”

“Izu is no longer yours to give. You are my vassal,
neh?
Izu is one of my provinces, to give as I wish,
neh?”

Yabu shrugged. “I will it to him, even though …” He laughed. “It’s a lifetime favor.
Neh?”

“To ask is fair. Your request is refused. And, Yabu-san, all your final orders are subject to my approval. Buntaro-san you will be the formal witness. Now, Yabu-san, whom do you want as your second?”

“Kasigi Omi-san.”

Toranaga glanced at Omi. Omi bowed, his face colorless. “It will be my honor,” he said.

“Good. Then everything’s arranged.”

Hiro-matsu said, “And the attack down the Tokaidō?”

“We’re safer behind our mountains.” Toranaga breezily returned their salutes, mounted his horse, and trotted off. Sudara nodded politely and followed. Once Toranaga and Sudara were out of range, Buntaro and Hiro-matsu relaxed but Omi did not, and no one took his eyes off Yabu’s sword arm.

Buntaro said, “Where do you want to do it, Yabu-sama?”

“Here, there, down by the shore, or on a dung heap—it’s all the same to me. I don’t need ceremonial robes. But, Omi-san, you will not strike till I’ve made the two cuts.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“With your permission, Yabu-san, I will also be a witness,” Hiro-matsu said.

“Are your piles up to it?”

The general bristled and said to Buntaro, “Please send for me when he’s ready.”

Yabu spat. “I’m already ready. Are you?”

Hiro-matsu turned on his heel.

Yabu thought for a moment, then took his scabbarded Yoshitomo sword out of his sash. “Buntaro-san, perhaps you’d do me a favor. Give this to the Anjin-san.” He offered him the sword, then frowned. “On second thought, if it’s no trouble, will you please send for him, then I can give it to him myself?”

“Certainly.”

“And please fetch that stinking priest as well so I can talk directly with the Anjin-san.”

“Good. What arrangements do you want made?”

“Just some paper and ink and a brush for my will and death poem, and two tatamis—there’s no reason to hurt my knees or to kneel in the dirt like a stinking peasant.
Neh?”
Yabu added with bravado.

Buntaro walked over to the other samurai, who were shifting from one foot to the other with suppressed excitement. Carelessly Yabu sat cross-legged and picked his teeth with a grass stalk. Omi squatted nearby, warily out of sword range.

“Eeeeee,” Yabu said. “I was so near success!” Then he stretched out his legs and hammered them against the earth in a sudden flurry of rage. “Eeeeee, so near! Eh,
karma, neh? Karma!”
Then he laughed uproariously and hawked and spat, proud that he still had saliva in his mouth. “
That
on all gods living or dead or yet to be born! But, Omi-san, I die happy. Jikkyu’s dead and when I cross the Last River and
see him waiting there, gnashing his teeth, I’ll be able to spit in his eye forever.”

Omi said meaning it, though watching him like a hawk, “You have done Lord Toranaga a great service, Sire. The coastal route’s open now. You’re right, Sire, and Iron Fist’s wrong and Sudara’s wrong. We should attack at once—the guns will get us through.”

“That old manure heap! Fool!” Yabu laughed again. “Did you see him go purple when I mentioned his piles? Ha! I thought they were going to burst on him then and there. Samurai? I’m more samurai than he is! I’ll show him! You will not strike until I give the order.”

“May I thank you humbly for giving me that honor, and also for making me your heir? I formally swear the Kasigi honor is safe in my hands.”

“If I didn’t think so I wouldn’t have suggested it.” Yabu lowered his voice. “You were right to betray me to Toranaga. I’d have done the same if I’d been you, though it’s all lies. It’s Toranaga’s excuse. He’s always been jealous of my battle prowess, and my understanding the guns and the value of the ship. It’s all my idea.”

“Yes, Sire, I remember.”

“You’ll save the family. You’re as cunning as a scabby old rat. You’ll get back Izu and more—that’s all that’s important now and you’ll hold it for your sons. You understand the guns. And Toranaga.
Neh?”

“I swear I will try, Sire.”

Yabu’s eyes dropped to Omi’s sword hand, noting his alertly defensive kneeling posture. “You think I’ll attack you?”

“So sorry, of course not, Sire.”

“I’m glad you’re on guard. My father was like you. Yes, you’re a lot like him.” Without making a sudden movement he put both of his swords on the ground, just out of reach. “There! Now I’m defenseless. A few moments ago I wanted your head—but not now. Now you’ve no need to fear me.”

“There’s always a need to fear you. Sire.”

Yabu chortled softly and sucked another grass stalk. Then he threw it away. “Listen, Omi-san, these are my last orders as Lord of the Kasigis. You will take my son into your household and use him if he’s worth using. Next: Find good husbands for my wife and consort, and thank them deeply for serving me so well. About your father, Mizuno: He’s ordered to commit seppuku at once.”

“May I request that he be given the alternative of shaving his head and becoming a priest?”

“No. He’s too much of a fool, you’ll never be able to trust him—how dare he pass on my secrets to Toranaga!—and he’ll always be in your way. As to your mother …” He bared his teeth. “She’s ordered to shave her head and become a nun and join a monastery outside Izu and spend the rest of her life saying prayers for the future of the Kasigis. Buddhist or Shinto—I prefer Shinto. You agree, Shinto?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Good. That way,” Yabu added with malicious delight, “she’ll stop distracting you from Kasigi matters with her constant whining.”

“It will be done.”

“Good. You are ordered to avenge the lies against me by Kosami and those treacherous servants. Soon or later, I don’t care, so long as you do it before you die.”

“I will obey.”

“Is there anything I’ve forgotten?”

Carefully Omi made sure they were not overheard. “What about the Heir?” he asked cautiously. “When the Heir’s in the field against us, we lose,
neh?”

“Take the Musket Regiment and blast a way through and kill him, whatever Toranaga says. Yaemon’s your prime target.”

“That was my conclusion too. Thank you.”

“Good. But better than waiting all that time, put a secret price on his head now, with
ninja
… or the Amida Tong.”

“How do I find them?” Omi asked, a tremor in his voice.

“The old hag Gyoko, the Mama-san, she’s one of those who knows how.”

“Her?”

“Yes. But beware of her, and Amidas. Don’t use them lightly, Omi-san. Never touch her, always protect her. She knows too many secrets and the pen’s a long arm from the other side of death. She was my father’s unofficial consort for a year … it may even be that her son is my half brother. Eh, beware of her, she knows too many secrets.”

“But where do I get the money?”

“That’s your problem. But get it. Anywhere, anyhow.”

“Yes. Thank you. I will obey.”

Yabu leaned closer. At once Omi readied suspiciously, his sword almost out of the scabbard. Yabu was gratified that even defenseless he was still a man to beware of. “Bury that secret very deep. And listen, nephew, remain very good friends with the Anjin-san. Try to get control of the navy he will bring back one day. Toranaga doesn’t
understand the Anjin-san’s real value, but he’s right to stay behind the mountains. That gives him time and you time. We’ve got to get off the land and out to sea—our crews in their ships—with Kasigis in overall command. The Kasigis must go to sea, to command the sea. I order it.”

“Yes—oh, yes,” Omi said. “Trust me. That
will
happen.”

“Good. Lastly, never trust Toranaga.”

Omi said with his complete being, “I don’t, Sire. I never have. And never will.”

“Good. And those filthy liars, don’t forget, deal with them. And Kosami.” Yabu exhaled, at peace with himself. “Now please excuse me, I must consider my death poem.”

Omi got to his feet and backed off and when he was well away he bowed and went another twenty paces. Within the safety of his own guards he sat down once more and began to wait.

Toranaga and his party were trotting along the coast road that circled the vast bay, the sea coming almost up to the road and on his right. Here the land was low-lying and marshy with many mud flats. A few
ri
north this road joined with the main artery of the Tokaidō Road. Northward twenty
ri
more was Yedo.

He had a hundred samurai with him, ten falconers and ten birds on their gloved fists. Sudara had twenty guards and three birds, and rode as advance guard.

“Sudara!” Toranaga called out as though it was a sudden idea. “Stop at the next inn. I want some breakfast!”

Sudara waved acknowledgment and galloped ahead. By the time Toranaga rode up, maids were bowing and smiling, the innkeeper bobbing with all his people. Guards covered north and south, and his banners were planted proudly.

“Good morning, Sire, please what can I get for you to eat?” the innkeeper asked. “Thank you for honoring my poor inn.”

“Cha—and some noodles with a little soya, please.”

“Yes, Sire.”

The food was produced in a fine bowl almost instantly, cooked just the way he liked it, the innkeeper having been forewarned by Sudara. Without ceremony, Toranaga squatted on a veranda and consumed the simple peasant dish with gusto and watched the road ahead. Other guests bowed and went about their own business contentedly, proud that they were staying in the same inn as the great
daimyo
. Sudara
toured the outposts, making sure everything was perfect. “Where’re the beaters now?” he asked the Master of the Hunt.

“Some are north, some south, and I’ve got extra men in the hills there.” The old samurai pointed back inland toward Yokohama, miserable and sweating. “Please excuse me but have you any idea where our Master’ll wish to go?”

“None at all. But don’t make any more mistakes today.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Sudara finished his rounds then reported to Toranaga. “Is everything satisfactory, Sire? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, thank you.” Toranaga finished the bowl and drank the last of the soup. Then he said in a flat voice, “You were correct to say that about the Heir.”

“Please excuse me, I was afraid I might have offended you, without meaning to.”

“You were right—so why should I be offended? When the Heir stands against me—what will you do then?”

“I will obey your orders.”

“Please send my secretary here and come back with him.”