James Clavell

by Asian Saga 03 - Shogun (v5)

  “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.”

  “I ask you to finish with the agreement.”

  “My first duty is to you. My second duty is to my husband.”

  “My thought, Fujiko-san, was that the Anjin-san would marry you. Then you would not be a consort.”

  “A samurai cannot serve two lords or a wife two husbands. My duty is to my dead husband. Please excuse me, I cannot change.”

  “With patience everything changes. Soon the Anjin-san will know more of our ways and his household will also have wa. He’s learned incredibly since he’s been—”

  “Oh, please, Sire, don’t misunderstand me, the Anjin-san’s the most extraordinary man I’ve ever known, certainly the kindest. He’s given me great honor and, oh yes, I know his house will be a real house soon, but … but please excuse me, I must do my duty. My duty is to my husband, my only husband….” She fought for control. “It must be, neh? It must be, Sire, or then all … all the shame and the suffering and dishonor are meaningless, neh? His death, my child’s, his swords broken and buried in the eta village…. Without duty to him, isn’t all our bushido an immortal joke?”

  “You must answer one question now, Fujiko-san: Doesn’t your duty to a request from me, your liege lord, and to an astonishingly brave man who is becoming one of us and is your master, and,” he added, believing he recognized the bloom in her face, “your duty to his unborn child, doesn’t all that take precedence over a previous duty?”

  “I’m … I’m not carrying his child, Sire.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, not sure.”

  “Are you late?”


  “Yes … but only a little and that could be …”

  Toranaga watched and waited. Patiently. There was much yet to do before he could ride away and cast Tetsu-ko or Kogo aloft and he was avid for that pleasure, but that would be for himself alone and therefore unimportant. Fujiko was important and he had promised himself that at least for today he would pretend that he had won, that he had time and could be patient and arrange matters it was his duty to arrange. “Well?”

  “So sorry, Sire, no.”

  “Then it’s no, Fujiko-san. Please excuse me for asking you but it was necessary.” Toranaga was neither angry nor pleased. The girl was only doing what was honorable and he had known when he had agreed to the bargain with her that there would never be a change. That’s what makes us unique on earth, he thought with satisfaction. A bargain with death is a bargain that is sanctified. He bowed to her formally. “I commend you for your honor and sense of duty to your husband, Usagi Fujiko,” he said, mentioning the name that had ceased to be.

  “Oh, thank you, Sire,” she said at the honor he did to her, her tears streaming from the complete happiness that possessed her, knowing this simple gesture cleansed the stigma from the only husband she would have in this life.

  “Listen, Fujiko, twenty days before the last day you are to leave for Yedo—whatever happens to me. Your death may take place during the journey and must appear to be accidental. Neh?”

  “Yes, yes, Sire.”

  “This will be our secret. Yours and mine only.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Until that time you will remain head of his household.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Now, please tell Gyoko to come here. I’ll send for you again before I go. I have some other things to discuss with you.”

  “Yes, Sire.” Fujiko bowed deeply and said, “I bless you for releasing me from life.” She went away.

  Curious, Toranaga thought, how women can change like chameleons—one moment ugly, the next attractive, sometimes even beautiful, though in reality they’re not.

  “You sent for me, Sire?”

  “Yes, Gyoko-san. What news have you for me?”

  “All sorts of things, Sire,” Gyoko said, her well-made-up face unafraid, a glint in her eyes, but her bowels in upheaval. She knew it was no coincidence that this meeting was taking place and her instinct told her Toranaga was more dangerous than usual. “Arrangements for the Guild of Courtesans progress satisfactorily and rules and regulations are being drawn up for your approval. There is a fine area to the north of the city that would—”

  “The area I’ve already chosen is nearer the coast. The Yoshiwara.”

  She complimented him on his choice, groaning inwardly. The Yoshiwara—Reed Moor—was presently a bog and mosquitoed and would have to be drained and reclaimed before it could be fenced and built on. “Excellent, Sire. Next: Rules and regulations for the gei-sha are also being prepared for your perusal.”

  “Good. Make them short and to the point. What sign are you going to put over the gateway to the Yoshiwara?”

  “‘Lust will not keep—something must be done about it.’”

  He laughed, and she smiled but did not relax her guard, though she added seriously, “Again may I thank you on behalf of future generations, Sire.”

  “It’s not for you or them I agreed,” Toranaga told her, and quoted one of his comments in the Legacy: “Virtuous men throughout history have always decried bawdy houses and Pillow Places, but men aren’t virtuous and if a leader outlaws houses and pillowing he’s a fool because greater evils will soon erupt like a plague of boils.”

  “How wise you are.”

  “And as to putting all the Pillow Places in one area, that means all the unvirtuous may be watched, taxed, and serviced, all at the same time. You’re right again, Gyoko-san, ‘Lust will not keep.’ It soon gets addled. Next?”

  “Kiku-san has regained her health, Sire. Perfectly.”

  “Yes, I saw. How delightful she is! I’m sorry—Yedo’s certainly hot and unkind in the summer. You’re sure she’s fine now?”

  “Yes, oh yes, but she has missed you, Sire. We are to accompany you to Mishima?”

  “What other rumors have you heard?”

  “Only that Ishido’s left Osaka Castle. The Regents have formally declared you outlaw—what impertinence, Sire.”

  “Which way’s he planning to attack me?”

  “I don’t know, Sire,” she said cautiously. “But I imagine a two-forked attack, along the Tokaidō with Ikawa Hikoju now that his father, Lord Jikkyu, is dead, and along the Koshu-kaidō, from Shinano, as Lord Zataki has foolishly sided with Lord Ishido against you. But behind your mountains you’re safe. Oh, yes, I’m sure you’ll live to a ripe old age. With your permission, I’m shifting all my affairs to Yedo.”

  “Certainly. Meanwhile see if you can find out where the main thrust will be.”

  “I’ll try, oh yes, Sire. These are terrible times, Sire, when brother will go against brother, son against father.”

  Toranaga’s eyes were veiled and he made a note to increase vigilance on Noboru, his eldest son, whose final allegiance was with the Taikō. “Yes,” he agreed. “Terrible times. Times of great change. Some bad, some good. You, for example, you’re rich now and your son, for example. Isn’t he in charge of your saké factory at Odawara?”

  “Yes, Sire.” Gyoko went gray under her makeup.

  “He’s been making great profits, neh?”

  “He’s certainly the best manager in Odawara, Sire.”

  “So I hear. I have a job for him. The Anjin-san’s going to build a new ship. I’m providing all craftsmen and materials, so I want the business side handled with very great care.”

  Gyoko almost collapsed with relief. She had presumed Toranaga was going to obliterate them all before he left for the war, or tax her out of existence, because he’d found out she’d lied to him about the Anjin-san and the Lady Toda, or about Kiku’s unfortunate miscarriage, which was not by chance as she had reported so tearfully a month ago, but by careful inducement, at her insistence with Kiku’s dutiful agreement. “Oh ko, Sire, when do you want my son in Yokohama? He will ensure it’s the cheapest ship ever built.”

  “I don’t want it cheap. I want it the very best—for the most reasonable price. He’s to be overseer and responsible under the Anjin-san.”

  “Sire, you have my guarantee, my future, my future hopes that it will be as you wish.”

  “If the ship is built perfectly, exactly as the Anjin-san wants, within six months from the first day, then I will make your son samurai.”

  She bowed low and for a moment was unable to talk. “Please excuse a poor fool, Sire. Thank you, thank you.”

  “He has to learn everything the Anjin-san knows about building the ship so others can be taught when he leaves. Neh?”

  “It will be done.”

  “Next: Kiku-san. Her talents merit a better future than just being alone in a box, one of many women.”

  Gyoko looked up, again expecting the worst. “You’re going to sell her contract?”

  “No, she shouldn’t be a courtesan again or even one of your gei-sha. She should be in a household, one of few ladies, very few.”

  “But, Sire, seeing you even occasionally, how could she possibly have a better life?”

  He allowed her to compliment him and he complimented her back, and Kiku, then said, “Frankly, Gyoko-san, I’m getting too fond of her and I can’t afford to be distracted. Frankly she’s far too pretty for me—far too perfect…. Please excuse me, but this must be another of our secrets.”

  “I agree, Sire, of course, whatever you say,” Gyoko said fervently, dismissing it all as lies, racking her brain for the real reason. “If the person could be someone Kiku could admire, I would die content.”

  “But only after seeing the Anjin-san’s ship under sail within the six months,” he said dryly.

  “Yes—oh yes.” Gyoko moved her fan for the sun was hot now and the
air sticky and breathless, trying to fathom why Toranaga was being so generous with both of them, knowing that the price would be heavy, very heavy. “Kiku-san will be distraught to leave your house.”

  “Yes, of course. I think there should be some compensation for her obedience to me, her liege lord. Leave that with me—and don’t mention this to her for the present.”

  “Yes, Sire. And when do you want my son in Yokohama?”

  “I’ll let you know that before I leave.”

  She bowed and tottered away. Toranaga went for a swim. North-ward the sky was very dark and he knew it would be raining heavily there. When he saw the small group of horsemen coming from the direction of Yokohama he returned.

  Omi dismounted and unwrapped the head. “Lord Kasigi Yabu obeyed, Sire, just before noon.” The head had been freshly washed, the hair groomed, and it was stuck on the spike of a small pedestal that was customarily used for the viewing.

  Toranaga inspected an enemy as he had done ten thousand times before in his lifetime, wondering as always how his own head would look after death, viewed by his conqueror, and whether terror would show, or agony or anger or horror or all of them or none of them. Or dignity. Yabu’s death mask showed only berserk wrath, the lips pulled back into a ferocious challenge. “Did he die well?”

  “The best I have ever seen, Sire. Lord Hiro-matsu said the same. The two cuts, then a third in the throat. Without assistance and without a sound.” Omi added, “Here is his will.”

  “You took off the head with one stroke?”

  “Yes, Sire. I asked the Anjin-san’s permission to use Lord Yabu’s sword.”

  “The Yoshitomo? The one I gave Yabu? He gave it to the Anjin-san?”

  “Yes, Sire. He spoke to him through the Tsukku-san. He said, ‘Anjin-san, I give you this to commemorate your arrival at Anjiro and as a thank you for the pleasure that little barbarian gave me.’ At first the Anjin-san refused to take it, but Yabu begged him to and said, ‘None of these manure eaters deserves such a blade.’ Eventually he agreed.”