Gai-Jin

by James Clavell

  Beyond herself, she knew whatever she said, it would always return to the “ask.” No way out. In the end she would have to comply or become a nun. Her mouth opened for the final refusal but it never happened. Something seemed to sever in her mind and, for the first time, she began thinking by a different process, no longer child but adult, and this gave her the answer. “Very well,” she said, deciding to keep her own counsel. “I will agree, providing I continue to live in Yedo as I have lived in the Imperial Palace …”

  That conversation had brought her to this night’s silence, broken only by her weeping.

  Yazu sat up in the bed and wiped her tears away. Liars, she thought bitterly, they promised me, but even on that they cheated. A slight sound from Nobusada and he turned in his sleep. In the lamplight without which he could not sleep he looked more boyish than ever, more like a younger brother than a husband—so young, so very young. Kind, considerate, always listening to her, taking her advice, no secrets from her, everything that Wakura had foretold. But unsatisfying.

  My darling Sugawara, now impossible—in this lifetime.

  A shiver went through her. The window was open. She leaned on the lintel, hardly noticing the mansion below that was gutted and smoldering, other fires spotted here and there throughout the city, moonlight on the sea beyond—smell of burning on the wind, dawn lightening the eastern sky.

  Her secret resolve had not changed from that day with Wakura: to spend this life wrecking the Shōgunate who had wrecked this lifetime, to rip away their power by any means, to return that power to the Godhead.

  I will destroy as they destroyed me, she thought, far too wise now to even whisper it down a well. I begged not to come here, begged not to have to marry this boy, and though I like him, I loathe this hateful place, loathe these hateful people.

  I want to go home! I will go home. That will make this life bearable. We will make this visit whatever Yoshi does or says, whatever anyone does or says. We will go home—and we-will-stay-there!

  Two

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MONDAY, 13TH OCTOBER:

  In brilliant midday sunshine ten days later, Phillip Tyrer sat at a desk on the veranda of the Yedo Legation contentedly practicing Japanese calligraphy, brush and ink and water, surrounded by dozens of filled and discarded pages of rice paper, astonishingly inexpensive here compared with England. Sir William had sent him to Yedo to prepare for the first meeting with the Elders.

  His brush stopped abruptly. Captain Settry Pallidar and ten equally immaculate dragoons were riding up the hill. As they came into the square the samurai there, many more than before, parted to allow them access. Slight, stiff bows acknowledged by a slight, stiff salute, clearly a newly established protocol. Redcoat sentries, many more than before, opened the iron gates and closed them after the troops had clattered into the high-walled forecourt.

  “Hello, Settry,” Tyrer called out, running down the main steps to greet him. “Good God, you’re a sight for sore eyes, where the devil did you come from?”

  “Yokohama, old boy, where else? Came by boat.” As Pallidar dismounted, one of the gardeners, hoe in hand, was already hurrying in a half-bowing run to hold the bridle. When Pallidar saw him, his hand went to his holster. “Get away!”

  “He’s all right, Settry. He’s Ukiya, one of our regulars and always very helpful. Domo, Ukiya,” Tyrer said.

  “Hai, Taira-sama, domo.” Hiraga put on a vacant smile, his face half obscured by the coolie hat he wore, bowed and did not move.

  “Get away,” Pallidar repeated. “Sorry, Phillip, but I don’t like any of the buggers near me, particularly with a bloody hoe in his hand. Grimes!”

  Instantly the dragoon was there and he shoved Hiraga away roughly, taking the bridle. “Hop it, Jappo! Piss off!”

  Hiraga obediently bobbed his head, kept the vacuous grin in place and moved away. But he stayed within easy listening distance, bottling his desire to avenge the insult instantly—with the razor-sharp hoe, the small stiletto hidden in his hat or with his iron-hard hands.

  “Why on earth come by boat?” Tyrer was saying.

  “To save time. Patrols report extra Jappo barricades all along the Tokaidō and traffic jams all the way from Hodogaya to Yedo, worse than Piccadilly Circus on the Queen’s birthday, making everyone more nervous than usual. Have a dispatch from Sir William, he’s ordering the Legation closed and you and your staff back—I’m your escort for ‘face.’”

  Tyrer stared at him. “But what about the meeting? I’ve been working like the devil to get everything ready.”

  “Don’t know, old boy. Here.”

  Tyrer broke the seals on the official letter:

  P. Tyrer, Esq., British Legation, Yedo: This is to inform you I have agreed with the Bakufu to postpone the meeting from October 20th to Monday, November 3rd. To save unnecessary expense in troops, you and your staff will return immediately with Captain Pallidar.

  “Three cheers! Yokohama here I come.”

  “When do you want to leave?”

  “Immediately, the Great White Father says, immediately it will be. Can’t wait. How about after lunch? Come and sit down. What’s new in Yokopoko?”

  “Not much.” As they strolled up to the veranda and easy chairs, Hiraga moved under the lee and continued hoeing.

  Pallidar lit a cheroot. “Sir William, the General and Admiral had another bash at the local governor and Bakufu, swearing they would have his guts for garters if they didn’t produce Canterbury’s murderers—and now Lun’s, pretty bloody awful, what? All they got was the usual fawning and, Ah, so sorry, we’re watching all roads, all paths to catch them, so sorry for delays and inconvenience! Oh, says Sir William, then you know who they are? Oh no, says the Jappos, but if we check all papers and watch everyone, perhaps we’ll find them, we do everything possible, please to help by being more careful of revolutionaries. A lot of balls! They could catch them if they wanted. They’re liars.”

  “Terrible about Lun. Ghastly! I went into shock. Sir William almost had a stroke. Still no sign of how the murderers got into our place at Kanagawa?”

  “Nothing, any more than last time.” Pallidar had noted the many pages filled with practice characters but did not comment. He loosened his collar. “The Corporal left in charge was demoted and he and the other two given fifty lashes for dereliction of duty. Stupid not to be sharp after the other attack. But why the monkey’s head?”

  Tyrer shuddered. “Sir William thinks it was because Lun jeered at their Delegation, called them ‘monkeys’ and it was their form of revenge.”

  Pallidar whistled. “That means at least one of them, unbeknownst to our people, secretly understands English—or at the very least pidgin.”

  “We came to the same conclusion.” With an effort Tyrer threw off his fear. “To hell with that, I’m delighted to see you. What else is new?”

  Pallidar was idly watching Hiraga. “The General believes there’s more to the increased barricades and native troop movements than meets the eye. The traders say their Jappo contacts whisper that all roads out of Yedo are strangled and that the real reason’s civil war’s brewing. Damn nuisance not knowing. We should be moving around like the Treaty allows, should be finding out for ourselves—the General and Admiral agree for once we should operate here like in India, or anywhere else, send out patrols or a regiment or two to show the flag, by God, and contact some of the discontented kings to use them against the others. Do you have a beer?”

  “Oh, of course, sorry. Chen!”

  “Yes, Mass’er?”

  “Beeru chop chop,” Tyrer said, not at all sure his friend’s militancy was the correct approach. The foreman of the gardeners came nearer and stood in the garden below and bowed deeply. To Pallidar’s surprise Tyrer bowed back though his bow was slight. “Hai, Shikisha? Nan desu ka?” Yes, Shikisha, what do you want?

  With even more astonishment Pallidar listened as the man asked something, Tyrer replied fluently and their conversation went back and
forth. At length the man bowed and left. “Hai, Taira-sama, domo.”

  “My God, Phillip, what was all that about?”

  “Eh? Oh, old Shikisha? It was just that he wanted to know if it was all right for the gardeners to prepare the garden in the back. Sir William wants fresh vegetables, cauliflower, onions, brussels sprouts, baking potatoes and…what’s the matter?”

  “You’re really speaking Jappo then?”

  Tyrer laughed. “Oh, no, not really, but I’ve been cooped up here for ten days with nothing to do so I’ve been swotting and trying to learn words and phrases. Actually, though Sir William read me the Riot Act about pulling my finger out, I’m enjoying it immensely. I get a tremendous charge out of being able to communicate.” Fujiko’s face leapt to the forefront of his mind, communicating with her, the hours spent with her—the last time ten days ago when he had returned to Yokohama for a day and the night. Hooray for Sir William, tonight or tomorrow I’ll see her again, wonderful.

  “Wonderful!” he said without thinking, beaming. “Oh,” he added hastily, “oh, er, yes, I enjoy trying to speak and read and write it. Old Shikisha’s given me lots of words, mostly work words, and Ukiya.” He pointed to Hiraga who was gardening industriously, always within distance, not knowing that “Ukiya” was an alias and just meant “gardener.” “He’s helping me with writing—jolly intelligent fellow for a Japanese.”

  During a writing lesson yesterday, he checked rumors he had heard, he asked him with signs and words Poncin had given him, to write the characters for “war,” senso, and “soon,” jiki-ni. Then he combined his crudely written attempts as “War, in Nippon, soon. Please?”

  He had seen a sudden change and surprise. “Gai-jin toh nihon-jin ka?” Foreigners and Japanese?

  “Iyé, Ukiya. Nihon-jin toh nihon-jin.” No, Ukiya. Japanese and Japanese.

  The man had laughed suddenly and Tyrer had seen how good-looking he was and how different from the other gardeners, wondering why he was seemingly so much more intelligent than the others, though, unlike the British equivalent worker, most Japanese could read and write. “Nihon-jin tsuneni senso nihon-jin! Japanese are always fighting Japanese,” Ukiya had said with another laugh, and Tyrer laughed with him, liking him even more.

  Tyrer grinned at Pallidar. “Come on, what’s new? Not business, for goodness’ sake—Angelique.”

  Pallidar grunted. “Oh, are you interested in her?” he asked flatly, greatly savoring the joke inside himself.

  “Not at all.” Tyrer was equally flat, equally teasing, and they chuckled together.

  “Tomorrow’s the engagement party.”

  “Lucky Malcolm! Thank God I’m released, marvelous! I’d hate to miss that party. How is she?”

  “As pretty as ever. We had her as guest of honor at the mess. She arrived looking like a goddess, escorted by the frog Minister, pompous ass, and that André Poncin chap—don’t like either of them. It was—”

  “André’s rather nice actually—he’s helping me a lot with my Japanese.”

  “Perhaps he is but I don’t trust him. There’s a long article in the Times about the coming European conflict: France and probably Russia against Germany. We’ll be dragged in again.”

  “That’s one war we can do without. You were saying?”

  An immense grin. “It was a terrific evening. Had one dance with her. It was smashing. A polka—danced my heart out. Close up, her—well, without being disrespectful, I have to say her bosoms are like milk and honey and her perfume …” For a moment Pallidar was reliving that heady moment, the center of attention on the hastily constructed dance floor, gorgeous sparkling uniforms, she the only woman present, candles and oil lamps and the Guards Band playing lustily, dancing on and on, the perfect couple, everyone else consumed with jealousy. “Don’t mind admitting I envy Struan.”

  “How is he?”

  “Eh? Oh, Struan? Slightly better so the story goes. I haven’t seen him but they say he’s out of bed. I asked Angelique and she only said he’s much better.” Another beam. “The new doctor, Dr. Hoag, their family doctor, has taken over. I hear he’s pretty damn good.” Pallidar finished his beer. Another appeared from the ever attentive Chen, smiling and round and a pattern of Lim, equally a plant, and also a distant cousin of the Struan compradore. “Thanks.” Pallidar sipped it appreciatively. “Damn good beer.”

  “It’s local. Ukiya says Japanese’ve brewed it for years, the best from Nagasaki. I imagine they copied some Portuguese beer centuries ago. What else’s new?”

  Pallidar looked at Tyrer thoughtfully. “What do you make of Hoag’s assassin story? The operation and mysterious girl?”

  “Don’t know what to think. I thought I recognized one of them, remember? The fellow was wounded in exactly the same place. Everything adds up. Pity you and Marlowe didn’t catch him. Ironic if one of our side cured him, so that he can murder more of us.” Tyrer dropped his voice, always servants nearby and soldiers. “Between you and me, old boy, Sir William’s sending for more troops and ships from Hong Kong.”

  “I’d heard the same. It’ll be war soon, or we’ll have to intervene if they start fighting amongst themselves …”

  Hiraga was listening carefully as he weeded and hoed, and though he missed many words he caught the marrow and their news confirmed his own, increasing his worries.

  After setting the Utani mansion on fire, he and his friends had reached their nearby safe house without incident. Todo and others wanted to return to Kanagawa as soon as the barriers opened at dawn, and left. He, Joun, and Akimoto decided to remain in hiding at separate dwellings, to await an opportunity to attack the Legation.

  That same dawn with eerie, unprecedented speed the Bakufu doubled the barriers on the Tokaidō, and extended their grasp on all four main trunk roads as well as all roads, paths and even tracks leading out of Yedo. With stepped-up surveillance, this effectively locked them in, along with all shishi and other antagonists throughout the capital.

  Four days ago the mama-san Noriko sent a letter from Kanagawa, saying that with all the increased, hostile activity, this was her first opportunity, relating about Ori and Sumomo and the gai-jin doctor, and ended:

  Still no sign of Todo and the other two shishi—they have vanished without trace. We know they passed the first barrier but nothing more. We fear they were betrayed and you are betrayed. Escape while you can. Ori is much stronger every day, his wound still clean. I have sent him to safety near Yokohama—the last place the Bakufu will expect him to go. Your Lady refuses to leave without your order—send it at once for I fear that my House is being watched. If we are attacked seek word from Raiko, the House of the Three Carp at Yokohama. News of Utani’s assassination speeds throughout Nippon, and terror with it. Sonno-joi!

  He began to write a reply but her messenger was very afraid. “Getting here was terrible, Hiraga-san. Barrier guards are ordering everyone to strip completely—men, women, even children—in case messages are hidden in loincloths. It happened to me, Sire.”

  “Then how did you escape?”

  The messenger pointed to his bottom. “I enclosed the letter in a small metal tube, Hiraga-san. I do not want to risk that again, some guards are very wise in the ways of smugglers. Please trust me with a spoken message.”

  “Then give your mistress my thanks and hopes and tell Sumomo-san to report to Shinsaku at once.” Hiraga had used his father’s private name that only she would know, and would therefore be sure the order to return home had come from him. He paid the man. “Be careful.”

  “Karma.”

  Yes, karma, Hiraga thought, and began to concentrate again on the foreign words, glad that Ori was alive, enjoying the joke that indeed a gai-jin had saved Ori to kill more gai-jin, as he himself would kill these two. During their retreat, during the confusion of leaving I could do it, if not both then one of them, whoever is the first target. Eeee, all gods, if you exist, watch and guard Sumomo. Good that she resisted her parents, good she journeyed to my parents’ home
in Choshu, good she came to Kanagawa, more than good that she dares to join me in battle—she will be a worthy mother to my generations, if that is my karma. Therefore much better she goes home to safety. Better she is in Choshu far from danger …

  His ears caught the word “Shimonoseki.” The gai-jin officer was talking volubly and seemed quite excited, and though most of the words were lost, Hiraga gleaned that cannon had fired on some ships in the Straits, had killed some sailors, and that all gai-jin were furious because the Straits were essential to their shipping.

  Yes, it is, Hiraga thought with grim amusement, which is exactly why you will never have our Straits. With the cannon we have even now we can close them and keep them closed to any barbarian fleet—and soon our Dutch built and designed armament factory will be casting sixty-pounders, completing three a month, with gun carriages!

  The tide has turned in our favor at long last: Lord Ogama of Choshu, alone of all daimyo, obeys the Emperor’s wish to attack and expel the gai-jin; correctly he and Choshu troops firmly hold the palace gates; Katsumata is gathering all shishi to ambush and destroy the Shōgun, unbelievably winkled out of his lair, on the way to Kyōto; and now our grip tightens on the gai-jin’s citadel, Yokohama …

  Abruptly all attention in the forecourt went to the barred and guarded gates as shouting erupted. Hiraga’s stomach turned over. A samurai officer at the head of a patrol under the banners of the Bakufu, and personal insignia of Toranaga Yoshi, was loudly demanding entrance, the redcoated soldiers telling him, as loudly, to go away. Just behind him, bound and battered and cowed, was Joun—his shishi comrade.

  A bugler sounded the alarm. All troops inside the walls rushed to action stations, some with half-buttoned uniforms and hatless but all with rifles, full magazines and bayonets, all gardeners were on their knees, heads into the earth—Hiraga, caught off guard, remained standing for a moment then hastily followed suit feeling totally naked. Warriors, massed in the square, began collecting ominously.