They all gasped loudly, except Abe who had already heard the story. Now they paid more attention to what Naosuke had to say.
“They have an interpreter with them,” the Councillor answered a silent question, “a man from Chūbu they found cast away on the Great Ocean some years ago.”
“Traitor,” murmured Hirochika.
“Who are they? What do they want?” asked the Matsudairas almost in unison. “Why did they attack the Uraga Harbour?”
Abe raised his hand and they fell silent.
“They come from a land across the Great Ocean, but they are of the Western race, as far as I could tell. Their language is strange to me. They hide their faces under the grey hoods so you never know which of the twelve you’re looking at.”
“There’s only twelve of them?” Hirochika asked, “that’s not even enough to bother the army. The city guards should be enough to deal with the Barbarians!”
Are there no limits to his stupidity? wondered Abe.
“As for Uraga, they did not attack it — although they might as well have,” Naosuke continued, ignoring the interjection, “I have been to Uraga myself, to see the destruction up close. Only the forests on the cliffs were scorched by the dragon flame, as a show of strength. The fires in the city were caused by panicking crowds. Overturned braziers and kitchen fires, as is usually the case.”
“You have not yet told us what the barbarians want,” said the younger of the Matsudairas.
“At first their Commander demanded to speak to... and I beg you to withhold your anger... His Imperial Excellency.”
“Preposterous!”
“I told him that even if a thousand dragons descended on the Imperial Capital, the people would rather perish in fire than allow them to sully the Mikado with so much as their presence.”
I’m sure you have.
“Well said!” Hirochika clapped his thigh.
“At length, I have convinced them to present their demands… requests in a missive to the Council. I have made five copies of the letter,” Naosuke said, handing out the folded papers to the Councillors.
Abe waited until all of them finished reading. He observed their reactions carefully. Kuze Hirochika’s hands trembled, his face turned purple with anger and by the end he tore the paper into pieces. Old Makino put the letter close to his nose, squinting to read Naosuke’s squiggly characters. He harrumphed and put the missive away with a face grim and sour. The two Matsudairas exchanged whispered remarks and grunts full of meaning.
“It is this Council’s task to decide what response — if any — we give to the enemy Commander,” Abe said at last.
“The barbarians are not deserving of our response. The missive is obviously aimed to insult us and provoke our anger,” snorted Makino. He and Abe represented the conservative party, favouring the status quo. To him, there was no force under the Heavens strong enough to impose a change on the Taikunate and the Mikado.
“If that was their aim then they’ve certainly succeeded!” Hirochika banged his fist on the floor. “Send out the army to wipe the scum out and let’s hear no more of it.”
Naosuke scratched his long, crooked nose in a gesture he was famous for; this indicated an utter disdain to his interlocutor’s proposition. He gazed at Kuze with his shallow set eyes.
“Unlike you, my dear Councillor, I have seen the Black Wings with my own eyes, up close. The Commander of the Westerners demonstrated to me how little harm our arrows and muskets can do to these monsters. Obviously we’re dealing with something far more dangerous than ever before.”
“We must treat them as we treat all barbarians,” Kuzo was adamant. “Make them suffer for what they have done. Landing on Imperial land without permission is an act of war.”
“Makino-dono, you’re the minister for capital defences,” Abe said, turning to the old man, “How long, do you reckon before we can gather enough force to thwart the Black Wings?”
The minister wiped sweat off his forehead with a silk handkerchief and gathered his blue robe nervously. “The treasure is rather empty until the end of the year. We’ve only just started building the new forts to Bataavian design. We are yet to receive new canons, and we would have to call upon the onmyōji and warriors from the outer provinces...”
Well played. The two had been practising this exchange all morning.
“There you have it,” Abe turned back to Kuze, “the Westerners are here to stay, at least for a while. And if you read the missive carefully, they warn of an even greater force awaiting their signal off-shore. We must negotiate.”
“That would be regarded as a sign of weakness,” Naosuke said, unexpectedly supporting the hawk party, “not only by the barbarians, but internally. The tozama clans would use it as proof of our failure to govern.”
“There is virtue to be found in prudence,” said the younger of the Matsudairas, “The Taikun’s rule would not spread over a unified Yamato if his divine ancestor had resorted to attacking overwhelming odds headfirst without preparation.”
“What do you propose, Tadakata-dono?” inquired Abe.
“Open negotiations, agree to some of their initial demands, but no more. Give them access to the Kiyō corridor — they will be easier to contain there. You know my opinion on dealing with foreigners. It’s high time to open our country up to their trade and science.”
“Preposterous,” replied Kuze, “the Taikun will never agree to this.”
“And where is the Taikun at this hour of national emergency?” asked Councillor Hotta, raising his eyebrow.
“His Excellency is still indisposed,” said Abe, annoyed at Naosuke for bringing this up. You know very well where the Taikun is. In the Inner Palace, with his many concubines. “Kuze-sama, may I remind you of the fate of the Qin Empire when it stood against the powers of the West without due preparation?”
“The downfall of Qin started with letting the barbarian ships too near their coast,” snorted Hirochika, “they were weak in the face of the enemy.”
“So are we!” Tadakata rose himself up from his cushion. “How do you propose to defend Edo from the Black Wings? With bow and arrow? Or with the primitive tricks of our court magicians?”
“With a strong will and iron heart, if you have them!” Hirochika stood up as well, his hand inadvertently reaching for where his sword would have been, had he not left it at the gate.
“Enough!” Abe clapped the floor. “Let us not forget who our real enemy is! Sit down, Councillors. Your shouting will disturb his Excellency’s rest.”
“The esteemed Tadakata-dono is right, but, in a way, so are you, Kuze-sama,” he continued when both lords sat back down, “we cannot afford to antagonize the Westerners just yet, but we also need, as the Taikun’s government, to present a strong and unified front against the internal opposition. We know there are forces in the south that would too easily jump on the opportunity to exploit any weakness shown by this council.”
And there are forces in Edo who would love nothing more than a hastily gathered army they could take control of, he thought, looking at Councillor Kuze. He couldn’t say that out loud, but he hoped the majority of the Council understood that as well as he did.
“What we need is time. And only negotiations can give us enough time,” said Naosuke. “Anything else would be invitation to a war we can’t afford. But what if we run the negotiations covertly? The daimyos need not know about anything. That way all sides would be appeased.”
“Can we even do such a thing?” Tadakata straightened himself up in surprise. “How do you conceal four dragons from the public? Everyone knows they’re here.”
“The Commander of the Westerners is willing to co-operate,” said Naosuke and Abe couldn’t help wondering what the Councillor had promised the barbarians in exchange for their co-operation. “He’s agreed to fly the Black Wings away from Edo, in a pretend retreat. We just need to provide them with a place to hide, and enough meat so the dragons don’t need to hunt in broad daylight. If we play our
cards right, we might convince everyone that the Westerners have gone for good.”
“It’s a bold idea,” said the older of the Matsudairas, “if the secret is revealed, the damage to our prestige might be irrevocable.”
“If the secret is revealed, it will mean one of us failed to keep it.”
Naosuke looked intently at Councillor Kuze.
“Are you suggesting I could betray the Council?”
Chief Councillor raised his hand to silence young Kuze from bursting out again in anger.
“We have ways of dealing with disagreements in the council. Now, please, everyone, calm down. The motion proposed by the esteemed Councillor Hotta is a valid one. I suggest we vote on it now. Should we open the clandestine negotiations with the invaders?”
He and Hotta Naosuke raised their hands. Kuze and Makino voted against the motion. This was a surprising development. The oldest of Councillors only very rarely disagreed with Abe. What’s he playing at? Surely it’s not a sudden influx of patriotic feelings…
The two Matsudairas looked at each other and smiled knowingly. Only one of them raised his hand; the other remained silent.
“Interesting,” observed Abe, trying his best not to let annoyance show in his voice. Tricks and ploys. Can’t they see we’re trying to decide the future of the entire nation? “Seems like we have a stalemate. I adjourn the meeting until next week. Let us discuss the matter among our own advisers and then maybe we can provide the Taikun with a decision.”
CHAPTER V
A soft singing woke up Bran. He looked down the entrance hatch. Nagomi was crouching by the square well, washing her hair, sparkling copper and gold in the morning sun, humming. Her travel clothes were folded neatly on a flat stone. She smiled brightly seeing him climb down the rope ladder.
“The tree spirit has taught me a new song,” she said, “from the days when it was young.”
“You… you really can talk to them…?”
“Not always... But this one is as old as Yamato and taught itself to speak to anyone who can listen. I’m sure if we’d spent some more time here you’d start hearing it too.”
“And what does the tree… tell you?”
“Stories from days gone by. There used to be an entire village of the tengu here, a long time ago. And before that, a holy place of the Ancients…”
“It remembers the Ancients? Perhaps we could ask it — ”
She shook her head. “It was just a sapling back then. The Ancients worshipped its parent tree, long since felled by the winds.”
The forest reverberated with the sound of an axe. It was the samurai, chopping firewood in exchange for their host’s generosity.
“I’ve noticed you share my concern about our new companion,” Bran remarked.
“Dōraku-sama? I’m… not sure. He seems well-meaning, but there is something very strange about him. Oh!” She clasped her hand on her mouth. “Maybe he also has a Spirit within him, like you do!”
“Maybe that’s what it is. I think Shigemasa… the Taishō knows something about him, but he’s not telling.”
Bran drew a bucket of icy cold water from the well and splashed it on his face. A pheasant cawed in the distance. The boy looked around and saw a large black silhouette perched on a thick branch of a nearby tree.
“Kabuto-sama is watching us again.”
“I wonder if he had any family of his own, living in this village. Maybe we remind him of his children.”
“Have there been many of his kind before the Yōkai War?”
“The forests in the old stories are full of them. They must have been at least as numerous as the kappa. Was the old lady really a water sprite?”
Bran nodded. “She even gave me a golden coin as a reward for not telling on her, but I must have lost it in all the running.”
Nagomi washed off the last remnants of greyish lather off her hair and reached for the towel.
“I too have lost something in the running,” she said, “I have only one portion of Kazuko-hime’s black paint left.”
“We’re so far from Kiyō now — maybe you don’t need it anymore?”
“Perhaps… I wonder how the people in the valley will react when they will see me. Maybe they will think I’m a goblin.” She giggled.
“Everyone I’ve seen so far in Yamato and Qin has hair as black as raven’s feathers,” Bran said.
“I’ve never met anyone like me,” she said.
“So how come yours is that colour — if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all — it’s no big secret. It’s because I’m a Dejima daughter.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means my father was a Bataavian — a physician from Dejima. His hair was the colour of fire as well.”
“Your father...? But I thought...”
“Itō Keisuke-sama was one of my father’s disciples. He felt it his duty to take care of his master’s family after the Bataavian was banished from Yamato.”
“Banished?”
“He was accused of spying when a map of Yamato was found in his luggage. He was only using it for his research! That was some three years after Ine was born — she told me she still remembers saying farewell to him from the pier and Mother hiding her tears behind a paper fan...”
“So, what about you?”
“He managed to return to Dejima in secret ten years later, for one last meeting with my mother.”
“And how did your stepfather react to that?”
“How should he react? He accepted me as his daughter also. It was the only honourable thing to do.”
“He didn’t mind that his wife had slept with another man?”
“There was never any passion between my parents, so there was no resentment,” Nagomi answered, very matter-of-factly.
In Gwynedd a family like theirs would be the talk of the town…
“So you’ve never even seen your real father.”
“Only in a picture. I don’t even know his full name, other than “Firippu”, which was what my mother called him. The few letters she got from him were signed with just the initials, P.F.V.S.”
“P.F.V.S...” Bran repeated.
He was certain he had seen these four initials somewhere. Before he could remember,Satō called on them from the tree-house above.
“Rice is ready!”
The tengu followed them down the forest path, skipping from branch to branch, watching them with its large sad eyes in silence. At last they reached the cliff-side again and the path started to wind down the gully mentioned by Dōraku the day before. A large ship-shaped rock split the path in two. Before any of them managed to pass it by, Bran heard a loud crow. He looked back; it was Kabuto, with its head thrown back and the beak opened wide. Dōraku bade them stop.
“This is the limit of my domain, Swordsman.”
“Till our next meeting, Kabuto-sama,” Dōraku bowed.
“No,” the tengu said, shaking its head.
“Oh?”
“I may have lost most of my magic but I still have a little of the Gift. One way or another, we shall never meet again.”
“It saddens me greatly.”
“We’ve lived long enough, Swordsman. I bid you fare well.”
With that, the mysterious creature leapt away into the deep wood, leaving them to contemplate its ominous warning.
What did he mean, “we”? wondered Bran. We, the tengu or we — me and the samurai?
By noon the path led them back onto the main road. It was no longer an empty forest track but a lively thoroughfare, connecting the many farms and villages of the Sendai Valley with the shores of the meandering river.
“I hope we will reach Kyomachi tonight,” the samurai said. “It’s the last town before this road splits in different directions.”
They marched into the crossroads town shortly before dinner time. It differed little from Hitoyoshi. There was another timber harbour here, another hot spring and a few inns serving those coming down from th
e mountains in the direction of Satsuma. Taking the matters of the lodging in her own hands this time, Satō managed to find the most expensive inn in the town, a large, three-storey white-plastered building on the outskirts, almost in the forest, with its own garden, dining hall and an outside bath sourced directly from the hot springs beaming underneath the town.
“This is the first decent guesthouse since Kumamoto,” she said, her ears closed to Bran and Nagomi’s pleas for caution. “I’m a samurai and I can afford a good room in some mountain backwater.”
Without even stopping to unpack she went straight for the hot spring, while Dōraku sat down in the common room to try the various liquors available at the inn. It was up to Bran and Nagomi to go to the market to resupply for the onward journey.
A small vermillion torii gate marked the entrance to the shrine. So near the marketplace and the harbour, the shrine had to be dedicated to the kami of good trade and luck in fishing, Nagomi guessed. It didn’t matter.
“Wait here a moment, please,” she asked Bran.
She picked up a wooden ladle from the fountain at the entrance and splashed water on her hands and face. Passing by a bronze statue of a sitting cow — polished to brightness by countless pious hands — the priestess approached the modest, tile-roofed Prayer Hall.
The shrine was neither particularly ancient nor rich; the decorations were modest, unassuming. The humble townspeople prayed here for everyday blessings and protections. There was nothing unusual about the place.
This was a welcome change for Nagomi, a well needed respite from the overwhelming events of the past few days. She took a few deep, calm breaths, revelling in the tranquillity of her surroundings before approaching the altar. She started with the usual thanks to the kami and Ancestors for their protection and good will towards her and her friends and family, for being alive and healthy. But then her voice broke.
“Please,” she started, feeling her eyes well up, “I have never asked for anything before. But now I… I just don’t know what to do anymore. It’s all just too much… I need guidance.”
She pressed her hands together and closed her eyes.
The Year of the Dragon Omnibus Page 52
