Tokyo Bay

by Anthony Grey

Only seventeen per cent of mountainous Japan is cultivable, and the new Mongol immigrants quickly became rice growers in the fertile areas of the southernmost island of Kyushu. Each village was ruled by a matriarch, and the chief of these formidable Kyushu fertility priestesses came to be known as Amaterasu, ‘the living sun goddess’. Complex myths and legends enshrine the nation’s beliefs in its own divinity, but myth and history came together in the real flesh-and-blood first emperor, Jimmu, a warrior-chieftain who, at the start of the Christian era, was said to have been born of the line of Amaterasu. Japan c present-day emperor is believed to be a direct descendant of Jimmu.

  Jimmu proclaimed himself ruler on Japan s main central island, Honshu. He called his realm Yamato, which can be translated as ‘Path to New Conquests’. He reigned at first over the area that includes modern-day Kyoto, Osaka and Kobe. During succeeding centuries he and his imperial descendants extended their rule throughout all the islands. Confucian practices absorbed from China in the seventh century AD strengthened the imperial system and its bureaucratic control. Ancestor worship and an austere form of Chinese Buddhism were at the same time grafted onto the spirit cults of the native Shinto religion. By the ninth century AD the emperor had become the Mikado, a title that meant ‘Worshipful Gateway’. Front that time onward, until 1868, Kyoto remained the imperial capital.

  At Kyoto’s secret heart, rouged and elaborately robed, these successive emperors or ‘mortal gods’ came to be seen as the spiritual fathers of the nation. They fathered many children by wives and concubines alike, and sons and relatives were granted castles and fiefdoms throughout the land until they had taken over leadership of all the ancient clans. Private armies of samurai warriors mushroomed on these baronial estates, and the daimyo constantly intrigued and fought fierce wars against one another in efforts to retain their influence at the Kyoto court. At the end of the twelfth century the chaos caused by these wars produced a historic change in the way Japan was ruled. Northern princes defeated a hostile alliance of southern clans and set up a ruling military council based at Kamakura, near modern-day Tokyo. The council’s head was given the title of Shogun - ‘Great Barbarian-suppressing General’ - by the emperor, and gradually the Shogun and his hereditary successors became the effective military rulers of the nation, creating their own parallel dynasties. During the following seven hundred years, the Mikado was reduced to a powerless puppet cloistered in his Kyoto palaces and the outside world, in its ignorance, came to believe that the Shogun in his Yedo fortress was the emperor. Commodore Perry, along with the President of the United States, the American government and many other foreigners, shared this misapprehension in the mid-nineteenth century and nothing was said or done by the Japanese during the 1853 confrontation with Commodore Perry to correct the error. So the United States and Japan, who one hundred and thirty years later would become the two most powerful nations of the modern world, began their first-ever contacts with each other by employing veiled threats and subtle techniques of bluff and counter-bluff in equal measure. In those few days of drama and high tension, men on both the American and Japanese sides worked with unremitting effort to gain for themselves and their nations a decisive advantage.

  13

  PRINCE TANAKA pressed his knees tighter into the sides of his horse, urging it subtly to greater efforts as it galloped at speed through the velvet darkness cloaking the shores of Yedo Bay. When the animal accelerated, he raised himself from the saddle until he was half-standing in the stirrups and balanced his weight more evenly so that he could better sense and enjoy its energy and raw strength.

  Four samurai escorts in silk-laced bamboo and metal armour were riding hard at his heels, leaning low along the manes of their mounts, straining to keep up with him. They were racing through hilly, thickly wooded country, passing occasional terraced rice fields that had been cut with great precision into the steep hillsides. The narrow, little-used hilltop track was flanked by lofty pines which towered into the dark heavens, and the pounding of the horses’ hoofs on the soft, needle-strewn ground and the rhythmic jingle of harness and armour were all producing a fierce sense of harmony in action which Tanaka found greatly satisfying.

  As he rode, Tanaka breathed in the cool night air with much relish. He was conscious that every nerve and fibre in his body had become more alert during that headlong dash through the darkness begun an hour ago when they left Yedo. The confused disputes and intrigues which the arrival of the American warships had sparked off in the Shogun’s capital had darkened his and many other minds for endless hours and he had leapt to his saddle in the inner courtyard of Yedo castle, two hours after midnight, yearning for the soothing balm of the open countryside.

  Although the mountains that bordered the Yedo plain were invisible in the darkness, Tanaka could sense their powerful presence to the north as he and his companions raced onward. Intermittently he fancied he could detect, too, the fragrance of lilies, hydrangeas, orchids and other wild flowers blooming unseen in the wayside shadows. From time to time the glow from thousands of stars high above his head became visible beneath their feet as they thundered alongside the black-mirror surfaces of lakes, or splashed through river fords. In all these moments Tanaka felt his inner tensions quietening; with every stride of his horse, he came closer to the cherished samurai ideal of feeling at one with earth, heaven and the universe.

  Each time he glanced up at the night sky he found his thoughts straying to Tokiwa and the starred blue kimono she had snatched up to cover her nakedness as they dashed together from the Golden Pavilion in Yedo. As he crested each hilltop he strained his eyes, searching the darkness ahead for a sign of lanterns that would identify the yadoya to which he had sent her, under guard, the previous night. The nearer they came to the village where the inn was situated, the more he was aware that this sharpening of all his physical senses was bound up with anticipation of an intimate reunion with his favoured geisha. Remembering again their interrupted passion of the previous night, he spurred his horse with renewed vigour down another long hill-path, which eventually joined a broader track along which armed men and straggling groups of peasants streamed in both directions.

  ‘We are almost there, O Kami-san said one of Tanaka’s escorts breathlessly, on catching up with him. ‘The village is over the next hill.’

  Grunting his thanks, Tanaka raced ahead again, and did not slacken his pace until he approached the gates of the lantern-lit yadoya. Although two hours or more had elapsed since the disappearance of the dazzling blue glow in the heavens, a crowd of villagers and inn guests still lingered in the road outside its courtyard. They were murmuring together in a desultory way and staring up at the sky, but the thud of galloping hoofs sent them scurrying to the sides of the track. On recognizing the leading rider, the surprised chief guard, who had been standing among the crowd, dashed forward to take up a welcoming position before the inn gates. He bowed low as Tanaka and his four escorts swirled to a halt in a cloud of dust.

  ‘Welcome, O Kami-san said Gotaro, straightening up and rushing to catch at the bridle of Tanaka’s horse. ‘I had not expected you so soon.’

  ‘Yedo is suffocating in its own confusion tonight,’ said Tanaka shortly, and strode through the gates towards the inn. ‘Is everything well here?’

  ‘Yes, O Kami-san,’ said Gotaro deferentially, passing the horse to an inn groom, then hurrying to catch up. ‘Everything is satisfactory here - except for that strange light in the sky which frightened everybody so badly.’

  Inside its entrance the teishi - landlord of the inn - hurriedly assumed the traditional posture of welcome. As Tanaka approached, he folded his hands and prostrated himself abjectly, pressing his forehead to the floor three times. During this brief greeting he mentioned the unworthiness of his establishment repeatedly, then signalled to another servant who was waiting nearby with a flask of warmed sake and some porcelain beakers. In his turn, the servant bowed low before motioning Tanaka and his entourage towards a small private reception room wh
ere the screens were drawn back and a large andon paper floor-lamp bathed the walls in a gentle glow.

  ‘How is Tokiwa-san?’ asked Tanaka softly once the servant had served the rice wine and retreated, re-closing the screens behind him. ‘Has she been well protected?’

  ‘She is sleeping now, I expect: replied Gotaro, who sat cross-legged in front of him. ‘Like everybody else, she was no doubt alarmed by the strange light in the sky. But her maid returned from her home in the village and told me that she would stay with Tokiwa-san for the rest of the night to be of comfort to her.’

  Tanaka nodded curtly. ‘Send now to dismiss the maid. And make my arrival known to Tokiwa-san. Inform her that she is to prepare at once to receive me:

  ‘Yes, O Kami-san, immediately.’ Gotaro motioned for one of his assistants to deliver the message, then looked expectantly towards his master again. ‘What news do you bring from Yedo, O Kami-san? May I respectfully enquire if fighting has begun?’

  Tanaka shook his head vehemently. ‘There is no fighting yet with the barbarians or their black ships! But they are threatening o open fire on us with their great guns, so war could break out at any time. Worst of all, there is terrible strife in the bakufu. Constant meetings are being called, and new disputes break out among the daimyo every few moments. Many quite insanely wish to launch an immediate all-out attack. Others feel uncertain, because our forces and weapons are too feeble. But they are not sufficient to prevail . .

  ‘What does the Shogun himself command, O Kami-san?’ asked the chief guard. ‘Surely he will decide the issue?’

  Tanaka shook his head briefly. ‘The Shogun has become very ill. It is likely he will die soon. He is already confined to bed, and is too sick and feeble to participate properly in events . .

  The chief guard looked closely at Tanaka. ‘Why have the barbarians threatened to fire their guns at us, O Kami-san?’

  ‘They say they have brought a communication from their supreme leader to be delivered to our “Emperor” in Yedo castle. They confuse “Emperor” with “Shogun”, and are ignorant of our system of leadership. They say their ships will stay and threaten us until their “communication” is accepted. And they will land to deliver it, if necessary’

  ‘What does the letter contain, O Kami-san? And why have they brought it in armed ships?’

  ‘The Dutch barbarians in Nagasaki have informed southern clansmen that the American communication is a trick to humiliate us. They wish to force us to open our ports to barbarian trading ships against our will... And they want to compel us to sell supplies for their ships. Their powerful guns are trained closely on the town of Uraga, just a few miles from Yedo, ready to fire. The whole population has already fled inland.’

  ‘What do you think will happen?’ asked Gotaro anxiously. ‘Will there be fighting?’

  ‘Perhaps. I went on board one of the black ships with our first negotiators. The barbarians are confident and arrogant. They know they have great superiority A hot-headed nobleman of the Makabe clan tried to assassinate a barbarian officer - but fortunately he was disarmed and subdued before any damage was done. If he had succeeded all-out war would have begun by now. .

  Gotaro’s eyes narrowed as he listened. ‘Could we defeat the foreign barbarians if we needed to?’

  Tanaka knitted his brows in thought. ‘Hundreds of thousands of fighting men are moving to the coast from many provinces. But our cannon are few and our ancient muskets are no match for the guns of the foreign barbarians. If war breaks out, we shall have to kill them all by the sword. There would be a terrible loss of life - on both sides. And the barbarians could come back again and again with more ships, more guns, and more men. .

  ‘Did that great light come from the barbarian ships?’ asked the chief guard in a tense voice. ‘Or was it a bad omen from our own deities?’

  Tanaka drew in his breath slowly. ‘I think it was an act of nature. Who can say what it means?’

  Gotaro eyed him calculatingly. ‘Will you return soon to the black ships, O Kami-san? Will there be still more talking?’

  Tanaka nodded, then drained a last beaker of sake. ‘If possible I shall go back to the black ships. Higher officials are due to go on board soon after dawn. I have come here for just an hour or two to escape the wearying intrigues of Yedo.’ He stood up suddenly and smiled. ‘And I have no further time now, Gotaro-san, for idle talk. .

  He was turning away when a great commotion broke out in the corridor outside. A female voice began to wail in fear, and a moment later the shoji were slid violently apart, and one of Gotaro’s assistant guards appeared. He wielded his long sword threateningly in one hand, while the other was clamped around the slender neck of Eiko, the peasant maid. Her face was already bruising, her hair was dishevelled, and her kimono was ripped and half torn from her shoulders. With a curse the guard flung her into the room sending her sprawling on the tatami and turned to stare white-faced at Tanaka.

  ‘I’m sorry to announce that Tokiwa-san has gone:

  he said in a shaking voice, bowing low. ‘Her room was empty and it seems she escaped two hours ago. . .‘ He jabbed at the prone figure of the peasant maid with the tip of his sword. ‘I found this wretch hiding in a storeroom. She took money from Tokiwa-san, and sold her peasant clothes to disguise herself. She even provided her with a horse...’

  Tanaka, who had become very still in the centre of the room, looked down expressionlessly at the half-naked peasant girl, who was sobbing and shuddering with fright at his feet. ‘Why did Tokiwa-san do this?’ he asked her coldly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ wailed Eiko. ‘She said she felt in greater danger here than in Yedo. I tried to persuade her to stay . .

  ‘She took this bribe: hissed the guard, flinging down a cascade of silver coins beside the sobbing maid. ‘She betrayed our trust.’

  With a snort of anger, Gotaro drew his long sword and lifted it high above his head. Lunging towards the fallen girl, he brought the weapon over in a high arc, aiming for her exposed neck. Tanaka reacted in an instinctive split second, without moving his feet. Withdrawing his own long sword swiftly from his sash, he swung it upward in a single fluid movement. The blades of the two swords clashed ringingly close to the maid’s head, before the chief guard’s weapon flew end over end to impale itself up to the hilt in the paper screens on the far side of the room.

  Gotaro stood empty-handed and white-faced, staring blankly at his master. His expression indicated that he was awaiting a further blow to finish his life, but Tanaka quickly thrust his blade back into its scabbard.

  ‘If you had performed your guard duties correctly,’ he said very quietly, ‘Tokiwa-san would not have escaped you. And this maidservant would have had no opportunity to receive any bribe.’

  ‘It must have been the great light in the sky,’ whispered Gotaro in shame. ‘I rushed outside to look at it.’

  ‘Which way did Tokiwa-san intend to go?’ asked Tanaka, dropping to one knee beside the peasant girl. ‘And how is she dressed?’

  Eiko lifted her tear-stained face and looked tremulously at the clan prince. ‘She said she would go towards Yedo. She has an old, broken-down horse... with two big straw panniers on its sides and a blue silk ribbon in its mane. She’s wearing cotton peasant clothes and a wide bamboo hat. .

  ‘Thank you,’ said Tanaka gently, gathering up the silver coins and putting them in one of Eiko’s hands. ‘You’re not to blame. Keep the money and go home now to your family.’

  Standing up, he looked round at his armed retainers, who were watching him nervously. ‘There are three ways back to Yedo,’ he said with an icy calm. ‘So we will split up into three groups - and find Tokiwa-san!’

  He strode from the room and out into the courtyard, calling loudly for their horses. Moments later he galloped out through the gates of the inn, followed closely by all his guards and escorts. Separating swiftly into three groups, they disappeared one after another into the darkness.

  14

  BECAUSE THE HILL
which she was descending was so steep, Matsumura Tokiwa had to half run and sometimes slide and slither downwards, while holding onto the bridle of the old packhorse for support. The loose stones she was dislodging hurt her feet through the flimsy, unfamiliar straw sandals, and she winced and cried aloud in pain when sharp pebbles cut into her soles. Glancing up she noticed that a thin crescent moon was rising late in the east. It was beginning to cast a gentle glow over the darkened landscape, and from a shoulder of the hill she fancied she could see, far ahead to the south, the dark gleam of the sea.

  As she struggled down the steep slope, Tokiwa wondered how far she had come and how much time had elapsed since her hurried departure from the yadoya. It must be an hour or more, she felt sure

  - perhaps two hours. But as she pondered these questions she realized she had lost all sense of time in her anxiety to put as much distance as possible between herself and the inn which had become a prison. Columns of armed fighting men still trudged steadily southward, both in front and behind, carrying paper lanterns to light their way. From the wide variety of heraldic crests on their armour it was evident that these marchers had converged from the estates of many different regional daimyo, far and near. Struggling groups of individual travellers, on foot and on horseback, were also moving in both directions along the track, despite the late hour, and whilst threading her way amongst them Tokiwa had kept herself strictly to herself, feeling a comforting safety in her anonymous disguise.

  But, as she travelled on, she remained keenly alert to the possibility of danger from behind, and stopped frequently to check if she could hear the drum of hoofs which would indicate the approach of Prince Tanaka’s guards. So far there had been no hint of pursuit, but Tokiwa already felt very tired from the unaccustomed exertion and, as she stumbled onward down the steep hillside, she promised herself that when she reached level ground she would look for a place where she might rest and hide.