Shogun (173 page)

Sudara obeyed. Kawanabi, the secretary—once a samurai and priest—who always traveled with Toranaga, was quickly there with his neat traveling box of papers, inks, seal chops, and brush pens that fitted into his saddled pannier.

“Sire?”

“Write this: ‘I, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara, reinstate my son Yoshi Sudara-noh-Minowara as my heir with all his revenues and titles restored.’”

Sudara bowed. “Thank you, Father,” he said, his voice firm, but asking himself,
why?

“Swear formally to abide by all my dictates, testaments—and the Legacy.”

Sudara obeyed. Toranaga waited silently until Kawanabi had written the order, then he signed it and made it legal with his chop. This was a small square piece of ivory with his name carved in one end. He pressed the chop against the almost solid scarlet ink, then onto the bottom of the rice paper. The imprint was perfect. “Thank you, Kawanabi-san, date it yesterday. That’s all for the moment.”

“Please excuse me but you’ll need five more copies, Sire, to make your succession inviolate: one for Lord Sudara, one for the Council
of Regents, one for the House of Records, one for your personal files, and one for the archives.”

“Do them at once. And give me an extra copy.”

“Yes, Sire.” The secretary left them. Now Toranaga glanced at Sudara and studied the narrow expressionless face. When he had made the deliberately sudden announcement nothing had shown on Sudara, neither on his face nor in his hands. No gladness, thankfulness, pride—not even surprise, and this saddened him. But then, Toranaga thought, why be sad, you have other sons who smile and laugh and make mistakes and shout and rave and pillow and have many women. Normal sons. This son is to follow after you, to lead after you’re dead, to hold the Minowaras tight and to pass on the Kwanto and power to other Minowaras. To be ice and calculating,
like you
. No, not like me, he told himself truthfully. I can laugh sometimes and be compassionate sometimes, and I like to fart and pillow and storm and dance and play chess and Nōh, and some people gladden me, like Naga and Kiri and Chano and the Anjin-san, and I enjoy hunting and winning, and winning, and winning. Nothing gladdens you, Sudara, so sorry. Nothing. Except your wife, the Lady Genjiko. The Lady Genjiko’s the only weak link in your chain.

“Sire?” Sudara asked.

“I was trying to remember when I last saw you laugh.”

“You wish me to laugh, Sire?”

Toranaga shook his head, knowing he had trained Sudara to be the perfect son for what had to be done. “How long would it take you to be sure if Jikkyu is really dead?”

“Before I left camp I sent a top-priority cipher to Mishima in case you didn’t already know if it was true or not, Father. I will have a reply within three days.”

Toranaga blessed the gods that he had had advance knowledge of the Jikkyu plot from Kasigi Mizuno and a few days’ notice of that enemy’s death. For a moment he reexamined his plan and could find no flaw in it. Then, faintly nauseated, he made the decision. “Order the Eleventh, Sixteenth. Ninety-fourth, and Ninety-fifth Regiments in Mishima on instant alert. In four days fling them down the Tokaidō.”

“Crimson Sky?” Sudara asked, thrown off balance. “
You’re attacking?”

“Yes. I’m not waiting for them to come against me.”

“Then Jikkyu’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Sudara said. “May I suggest you add the Twentieth and Twenty-third.”

“No. Ten thousand men should be enough—with surprise. I’ve still got to hold all my border in case of failure, or a trap. And there’s also Zataki to contain.”

“Yes,” Sudara said.

“Who should lead the attack?”

“Lord Hiro-matsu. It’s a perfect campaign for him.”

“Why?”

“It’s direct, simple, old-fashioned, and the orders clear, Father. He will be perfect for this campaign.”

“But no longer suitable as commander-in-chief?”

“So sorry, Yabu-san was right—guns have changed the world. Iron Fist is out of date now.”

“Who then?”

“Only you, Sire. Until after
the
battle I counsel you to have no one between you and
the
battle.”

“I’ll consider it,” Toranaga said. “Now, go to Mishima. You’ll prepare everything. Hiro-matsu’s assault force will have twenty days to get across the Tenryu River and secure the Tokaidō Road.”

“Please excuse me, may I suggest their final objective be a little farther, the crest of the Shiomi Slope. Allow them in all thirty days.”

“No. If I make that an order, some men will reach the crest. But the majority will be dead and won’t be able to throw back the counterattack, or harass the enemy as our force retreats.”

“But surely you’ll send reinforcements at once hard on their heels?”

“Our main attack goes through Zataki’s mountains. This is a feint.” Toranaga was appraising his son very carefully. But Sudara revealed nothing, neither surprise nor approval nor disapproval.

“Ah. So sorry. Please excuse me, Sire.”

“With Yabu gone, who’s to command the guns?”

“Kasigi Omi.”

“Why?”

“He understands them. More than that, he’s modern, very brave, very intelligent, very patient—also very dangerous, more dangerous than his uncle. I counsel that if you win, and if he survives, then find some excuse to invite him Onward.”

“
If
I win?”

“Crimson Sky has always been a
last
plan. You’ve said it a hundred times. If we get mauled on the Tokaidō, Zataki will sweep down into the plains. The guns won’t help us then. It’s a last plan. You’ve never liked last plans.”

“And the Anjin-san? What do you advise about him?”

“I agree with Omi-san and Naga-san. He should be bottled up. The rest of his men are nothing—they’re
eta
and they’ll cannibalize themselves soon, so they’re nothing. I advise that all foreigners should be bottled up or thrown out. They’re a plague—to be treated as such.”

“Then there’s no silk trade.
Neh?”

“If that was the price then I’d pay it. They’re a plague.”

“But we must have silk and, to protect ourselves, we must learn about them, learn what they know,
neh?”

“They should be confined to Nagasaki, under very close guard, and their numbers strictly limited. They could still trade once a year. Isn’t money their essential motive? Isn’t that what the Anjin-san says?”

“Ah, then he is useful?”

“Yes. Very. He’s taught us the wisdom of the Expulsion Edicts. The Anjin-san is very wise, very brave. But he’s a toy. He amuses you, Sire, like Tetsu-ko, so he’s valuable, though still a toy.”

Toranaga said, “Thank you for your opinions. Once the attack is launched you will return to Yedo and wait for further orders.” He said it hard and deliberately. Zataki still held the Lady Genjiko, and their son and three daughters hostage at his capital of Takato. At Toranaga’s request Zataki had granted Sudara a leave of absence, but only for ten days, and Sudara had solemnly agreed to the bargain and to return within that time. Zataki was famous for his narrow-mindedness about honor. Zataki would and could legally obliterate all the hostages on this point of honor, irrespective of any overt or covert treaty or agreement. Both Toranaga and Sudara knew without any doubt Zataki would do that if Sudara did not return as promised. “You will wait at Yedo for further orders.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“You will leave for Mishima at once.”

“Then it will save time if I go that way.” Sudara pointed at the junction ahead.

“Yes. I’ll send you a dispatch tomorrow.”

Sudara bowed and went to his horse and, with his twenty guards, rode off.

Toranaga picked up the bowl and took a remaining morsel of the now cold noodles. “Oh, Sire, so sorry, do you want some more?” the young maid said breathlessly, running up. She was round-faced and not pretty, but sharp and observant—just as he liked his serving maids, and his women. “No, thank you. What’s your name?”

“Yuki, Sire.”

“Tell your master he makes good noodles, Yuki.”

“Yes, Sire, thank you. Thank you, Sire, for honoring our house. Just raise a knuckle joint for whatever you require and you’ll have it instantly.”

He winked at her and she laughed, collected his tray, and hurried off. Containing his impatience, he checked the far bend in the road, then examined his surroundings. The inn was in good repair, the tiled surrounds to the well clean and the earth broomed. Out in the courtyard and all around, his men waited patiently but he could detect nervousness in the Hunt Master and decided that today was the man’s last day of active duty. If Toranaga had been seriously concerned with the hunt for itself alone, he would have told him to go back to Yedo now, giving him a generous pension, and appointed another in his place.

That’s the difference between me and Sudara, he thought without malice. Sudara wouldn’t hesitate. Sudara would order the man to commit seppuku now, which would save the pension and all further bother and increase the expertise of the replacement. Yes, my son, I know you very well. You’re most important to me.

What about Lady Genjiko and their children, he asked himself, bringing to the fore that vital question. If the Lady Genjiko were not sister to Ochiba—her favorite and cherished sister—I would regretfully allow Zataki to eliminate them all now and so save Sudara an enormous amount of danger in the future, if I die soon, because they are his only weak link. But fortunately Genjiko
is
Ochiba’s sister, and so an important piece in the Great Game, and I don’t have to allow that to happen. I should but I won’t. This time I have to gamble. So I’ll remind myself Genjiko’s valuable in other ways—she’s as sharp as a shark’s spine, makes fine children, and is as fanatically ruthless over her nest as Ochiba, with one enormous difference: Genjiko is loyal to me first, Ochiba to the Heir first.

So that’s decided. Before the tenth day Sudara must be back in Zataki’s hands. An extension? No, that might make Zataki even more suspicious than he is now, and he’s the last man I want suspicious now. Which way will Zataki jump?

You were wise to settle Sudara. If there’s a future, the future will be safe in his hands and Genjiko’s, providing they follow the Legacy to the letter. And the decision to reinstate him now was correct and will please Ochiba.

He had already written the letter this morning that he would send off to her tonight with a copy of the order. Yes, that will remove one fish bone from her gullet that was making her choke, deliberately set there so long ago for that purpose. It’s good to know Genjiko is one of Ochiba’s weak links, perhaps her only one. What’s Genjiko’s weakness? None. At least I haven’t found one yet, but if there is one, I’ll find it.

He was scrutinizing his falcons. Some were prating, some preening themselves, all in good fettle, all hooded except Kogo, her great yellow eyes darting, watching everything, as interested as he was.

What would you say, my beauty, he asked her silently, what would you say if I told you I must be
impatient
and break out and my main thrust will be along the Tokaidō, and not through Zataki’s mountains, as I told Sudara? You’d probably say, why? Then I’d answer, because I don’t trust Zataki as far as I can fly. And I can’t fly at all.
Neh?

Then he saw Kogo’s eyes snap to the road. He squinted into the distance and smiled as he saw the palanquins and baggage horses approaching around the bend.

“So, Fujiko-san? How are you?”

“Good, thank you, Sire, very good.” She bowed again and he noticed she was not in pain from her burn scars. Now her limbs were as supple as ever, and there was a pleasing bloom on her cheeks. “May I ask how the Anjin-san is?” she said. “I heard the journey from Osaka was very bad, Sire.”

“He’s in good health now, very good.”

“Oh, Sire, that’s the best news you could have given me.”

“Good.” He turned to the next palanquin to greet Kiku and she smiled gaily and saluted him with great fondness, saying that she was so pleased to see him and how much she had missed him. “It’s been so long, Sire.”

“Yes, please excuse me, I’m sorry,” he said, heated by her astounding beauty and inner joy in spite of his overwhelming anxieties. “I’m very pleased to see you.” Then his eyes went to the last litter. “Ah, Gyoko-san, it’s been a long time,” he added, dry as tinder.

“Thank you, Lord, yes, and I’m reborn now that these old eyes
have had the honor of seeing you again.” Gyoko’s bow was impeccable and she was carefully resplendent, and he caught the merest flash of a scarlet under kimono of the most expensive silk. “Ah, how strong you are, Sire, a giant among men,” she crooned.

“Thank you. You’re looking well too.”

Kiku clapped her hands at the sally and they all laughed with her. “Listen,” he said, happy because of her, “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here for a while. Now, Fujiko-san, please come with me.”

He took Fujiko aside and after giving her cha and refreshments and chatting about unimportant things he came to the point. “You agreed half a year and I agreed half a year. So sorry, but I must know today if you will change that agreement.”

The square little face became unattractive as the joy went out of it. The tip of her tongue touched her sharp teeth for a moment. “How can I change that agreement, Sire?”

“Very easy. It’s finished. I order it.”

“Please excuse me, Sire,” Fujiko said, her voice toneless, “I didn’t mean that. I made that agreement freely and solemnly before Buddha with the spirit of my dead husband and my dead son. It cannot be changed.”

“I order it changed.”

“So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but then
bushido
releases me from obedience to you. Your contract was equally solemn and binding and any change must be agreed by both parties without duress.”

“Does the Anjin-san please you?”

“I am his consort. It is necessary for me to please him.”

“Could you continue to live with him if the other agreement did not exist?”

“Life with him is very, very difficult, Sire. All formalities, most politenesses, every kind of custom that makes life safe and worthy and rounded and bearable has to be thrown away, or maneuvered around, so his household is not safe, it has no
wa
—no harmony for me. It’s almost impossible to get servants to understand, or for me to understand … but, yes, I could continue to do my duty to him.”