The older woman glared at Masuyo in frustration before brandishing a thin steely smile. She relentlessly marched through the defenses Masuyo had thrown up, an implacable foe.
“It is a great pleasure to arrive in the capital in time to arrange one’s affairs before the New Year’s celebrations are upon us. So much to prepare! You have not seen the capital during New Year’s, have you? At my father’s home—,” Lady Tōmatsu’s long-winded discussion of the fine excellence of the celebration in her childhood home was interrupted by a furious shout below. Both women rose in alarm and left the room to look over the hallway balcony to the entry hall below.
Tōru, Takamori and a handful of Lord Aya’s and Lord Tōmatsu’s men staggered into the hall, several of them bleeding visibly, some being carried by their companions on their backs. Tōru helped one of Lord Aya’s men to a seat on the floor.
“Bring hot water and bandages. Hurry!” shouted Tōru to the ryokan proprietor’s wife, who was bustling about near the door.
She ran off to get help.
“Himasaki! What happened?” cried Masuyo from above.
Obata answered for him. “The Shogun’s men attacked us, near the Imperial Park. Aoki and Yamagata were killed.” Only then did Masuyo notice the two men laid out straight and still, their eyelids smoothed closed and their hands crossed on their chests, across bloody garments. Blood seeped into the worn wood of the entryway.
Obata gestured to Tōru. “Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu. Bring them quickly.”
Tōru bowed and whirled around to leave. He shot a miserable glance up to Masuyo, who glided down the stairs to the entryway below, graceful yet swift in her slim kimono. By this time, the proprietor’s wife and her serving girls had returned with hot water and poultices and bandages for the wounded men. Masuyo quickly knelt and began assessing the surviving men’s wounds, tending to the most severely wounded. Her soft but firm commands soon had the ryokan’s serving girls cleaning the men’s wounds and binding them up. She looked around for Lady Tōmatsu, but the grand lady had vanished up above. Too bloody, supposed Masuyo. Maintaining one’s distance from lower ranked human beings is too difficult when they are desperate and torn bloody with suffering and pain.
Masuyo looked around and stood up.
All the wounded men were now bound up and resting, drinking tea or sipping hot soup brought by the serving girls. One by one, as they were able, they left to go to their barracks, supported as necessary by their fellows. Masuyo and Obata together draped borrowed sheets of soft cloth over the two dead samurai.
Obata motioned for four of their fellows to carry the two stiffening bodies to a quiet back room, where they would be prepared for return to their families. Once the fallen samurai had been taken away, only Masuyo, Takamori and Obata remained. Ever the responsible commander, he looked at Masuyo.
“Lady Tōmatsu, she is here, she is safe?”
“Yes, Obata-san. She was with me just now.”
“Good. Keep her close. We must leave here soon.”
Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu stormed through the entrance, Kato by their side and Tōru trailing in their wake.
Obata bowed to his lord. “I am sorry. I lost Yamagata and Aoki. The others will heal. Lady Aya and Lady Tōmatsu are safe.”
Kato drew in his breath in a long low whistle. “I would not think they would attack so brazenly here in the Imperial City. In daylight! Disturbing the Emperor’s peace…Where were you and your men?”
“In the market, sir. Buying provisions for the journey. They came at us from all sides. No warning. Were it not for Himasaki and Saigo, they would have done worse.” In his pride at their defense of the group, Obata had forgotten to hide their presence from Kato, who seemed not at all surprised. “They defended our wounded like dragons, yielding nothing until we could gather ourselves and get away. I believe we took down a dozen and more of their men, killed or severely wounded.”
Lord Aya nodded to Obata and to the two young men. “Prepare to leave at dawn. Tōmatsu, Kato, your men can be ready?” Both nodded grim agreement. “We will buy supplies along the way.”
The attack sobered them all. They cut short their stay in Kyoto and set forth at dawn as agreed for Edo, planning to cover the nearly three hundred miles of the Tōkaidō coastal road in a fortnight.
Usually the journey along the Tōkaidō was a festive affair, a leisurely procession of several weeks with frequent stops to enjoy the sites and sample the food and drink at the way stations along the well-traveled road between the ancient imperial capital and the Shogun’s eastern capital Edo. Famous shrines, temples and ancient castles stood at each stop along the way, teeming with the gaudy bright confusion of fellow travelers and pilgrims and merchants selling food, drink and omiage souvenirs to the multitudes of travelers passing back and forth between the two capitols.
Even when the group was well-armed, in normal times the samurai would be relaxed, knowing no bandits would disturb them, nor rival lords attack them on the Shogun’s well-policed road. The lower ranking samurai would spend their evenings enjoying the saké houses and less expensive geisha establishments while their officers pretended not to notice. But these were not normal times, and the sight of the three hollyhock leaves of the Shogun Tokugawa clan’s crest on occasional groups of other samurai did not ease their anxiety. Rather it increased their vigilance.
At night, the women were ushered into fine ryokans with guards posted outside their doors. The men did not stay inside, but rather posted watches and pitched tents outside town as though they were on a military campaign, taking turns to visit the public baths in groups large enough to defend themselves. The officers did not allow drinking or revelry, but ordered the men to rest, the better to arise early each day and cover the needed distance. Supply patrols went in force to the markets, with twice the number ordinarily sent to obtain the needed goods. Half to carry, half to defend.
Kato and the two lords discussed much on their journey. Kato shared what he could about the different Council members and who might be likely to support them and oppose them. He in turn had many questions about the technology and their plans. He never asked about a fisherman, nor did he pry into the reasons for their sudden flurry of activity, contenting himself with understanding what they were doing.
This relieved Lord Aya and troubled him at the same time. Was Kato’s reticence about Tōru due to ignorance? Did he simply consider him just another of his men? Lord Aya doubted it. His concern for Tōru’s safety continued unabated.
Lord Tōmatsu and Lord Aya volunteered nothing they were not asked, taking care to be precise and careful in their responses to Kato’s endless questions. Kato had a genuine and deep interest in the technology, and was fascinated by all they had done. Still, no matter how passionately he inquired of Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu about their progress and listened with great intentness, he never abandoned his fierce vigilance, a battle-hardened commander’s sixth sense, often spotting potential ambush points and sending his own riders ahead to investigate. At night he posted his own sentries alongside those of Lord Tōmatsu and Lord Aya, explaining more eyes meant more eyes alert.
Their vigilance paid off, and the procession made its way safely into Edo on the evening of the fourteenth day of their journey from Kyoto. Officials of the Shogun saluted Kato at the entry gate to the city, knowing the old bureaucrat well. They checked the procession’s documents without interest and did not even ask the ladies to descend from their norimonos for personal inspection. It was not difficult for upper class women to enter Edo, only to leave it. Their passage through the gate was swift.
Once in Edo, they made their way through narrow winding streets of the bustling capital to Lord Tōmatsu’s home, a spacious wooden structure with elegant spare gardens and ample stables and barracks all hidden behind a discreet high wall.
Lord Aya maintained no residence in Edo, since his need to be there was infrequent. He and his party accepted Lord Tōmatsu’s offer of lodging. Lady Tōmatsu had scarcely cli
mbed out of her palanquin before she was readying herself to go visit her brother. Masuyo was relieved to be free of Lady Tōmatsu’s supervision.
“I’ll leave you now,”said Kato. “You’ll be safe within your own walls, guarded by your own men. Do not go out on the streets. Your audience with the Shogun and his Council is in three days.”
Lord Tōmatsu bowed his thanks. “We appreciate your protection and your insight, Kato-sama.”
They had come to trust and appreciate the old man. In spite of Kato’s reticence on the matter, they believed Kato and his master, Lord Abe, were sympathetic to their cause.
The constraints on Lord Abe and his man Kato were many and rigid. Lord Abe could not be seen to be thwarting the will of the Shogun, but it was also his duty to bring before the Shogun and the Council opposing views and the necessary information to guide the Shogun’s decisions.
Abe rode a fine line, balancing between the powerful Shogun and the Tokugawa clan, the Shogun’s enemies, the threatening foreigners and his own opinions about what they should do to meet the threat. He was an adroit political warrior, always maneuvering to get decisions and outcomes to go his way without showing his fingerprints. Abe and Kato could not save them, nor even argue openly for their cause, but they had already proven themselves to be shrewd and helpful allies.
Kato counseled them to meet with several other councilors before their meeting with the Shogun, to test the level of support or opposition to their proposed plan. “Better if the Councilors, especially those of major stature, express support for your plan, or propose it themselves. Better still if they are known to be loyal to the Shogun.”
Kato had given them suggestions of Council members known to be both loyal to the Shogun and concerned about the foreign threat. He had sent messengers on ahead. His messengers were awaiting the group at Lord Tōmatsu’s gate. They brought word that Kato’s introduction had secured Lord Tōmatsu and Lord Aya audiences with a half dozen potentially sympathetic councilors before the meeting with the Shogun.
Kato bowed in return to Lord Tōmatsu and Lord Aya. “My lord Abe respects you for all you have done. I know he wishes you well in your conversations. He will need to be…circumspect…in his public comments, understand. He awaits you tomorrow.”
Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu bowed their thanks, as did their chief retainers clustered nearby, as Kato and his men saddled up and rode out under the darkening sky.
Later that evening, Tōru went out to see to his horse. As he fed the great stallion slices of apple, he whispered farewell, in case they did not return from Lord Abe’s home and the meeting with the Shogun. A sudden crash startled him, as Masuyo’s palanquin, stored for the night in an empty stall suddenly flipped over and landed at his feet. A straw-covered Masuyo followed, trying to set it right. A long slim bundle as tall as a man was fastened to the underside of the palanquin.
Masuyo glared at Tōru. “Why are you here?”
She stomped over to her palanquin and tugged at the leather-wrapped pole. The fastenings held. The pole would not come free for her. She struggled with it some more, as Tōru approached.
“What is that?” Tōru gently pushed her aside, and untied the fastenings with a quick small tug. “Oh, Masuyo-sama, you didn’t…” The daimyō’s daughter had broken the Shogun’s law and smuggled her naginata pole blade into Edo.
Masuyo glared at Tōru, her guilty expression making her look quite fierce.
“What exactly are you planning on doing with that?” asked Tōru. “You cannot take on the Shogun’s forces all by yourself. You are fortunate we were not examined more closely at the gate.”
Gently he tugged it away from her and unwrapped the weapon, examining its shining blade under the flickering lanterns of the stable. The naginata was of beautiful make and venerable age, an inherited gift from an earlier time when the women of aristocratic houses trained to defend the keep and their virtue should their men and the outer walls fall.
“It is a fine blade. You have practiced with it?”
Masuyo nodded, embarrassed at getting caught. “It was my mother’s. Father allowed me to train with it for these past ten years. I am…quite good with it. I thought I might have need of it here.”
Tōru handed it back to her and helped her wrap it up again. “We can hide it in my horse’s stall, see, up here above?”
He climbed up and tucked it up into the rough bamboo and thatch construction of the ceiling. “Can you reach it down from there if I am not here to help you?”
Masuyo climbed up a little way on the stall’s wall and was able to tug at one end.
“I think so. Don’t tell Father. He will only worry.”
“Of course I won’t tell him. Don’t worry so much. You won’t need that here. Lord Tōmatsu’s men will keep you safe during our stay. I will explain everything to the Shogun and the Council and we will be made heroes, just in time to defend the realm from the foreigners. You will see.” Tōru made his voice hearty and his tone confident, wanting to comfort her. Wanting to comfort himself.
“You don’t know that.”
Masuyo stuck out her chin in that stubborn pose she took so often, a pose that had become dear to Tōru.
“You don’t know that I won’t,” said Tōru. “Let’s go back inside. We’ve a long day tomorrow no matter what. And then I’ll come back and you can show me how good you are with that thing.”
CHAPTER 11
EDO
“Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle.”
– George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
The men summoned to Lord Abe’s home arose early the next morning, along with the fishmongers shouting their fresh wares at the Tsukiji wharf. They rode silently through the streets to Lord Abe’s stately home in the center of the city. They did not travel in force, to avoid attracting attention, but each had his hand on the hilt of his katana.
Tōru and Takamori rode first, the two lords behind, with Obata and Lord Tōmatsu’s chief bannerman Sugieda bringing up the rear. The ambush in Kyoto was only two weeks ago, fresh in their minds.
As Kato had suggested, they went to the back of Lord Abe’s enormous gardens, at the low gate where servants enter, rather than through the main gate watched by many eyes. Kato was waiting. He greeted them and handed off their horses to waiting grooms.
“Ohayō gozaimasu. My lord awaits you at the house. If you would leave your weapons here…” Kato gestured to one of his samurai to take and guard the daishō swords for the lords and their men. Tōru felt naked without his daishō swords at his hip, but no lord in the land countenanced armed visitors in their reception halls.
They followed Kato for several minutes along the path winding through the extensive gardens and groves of Lord Abe’s Edo estate hidden in the heart of the city. A few deer watched from a grove. Artfully tended man-made ponds and streams ran through the property, the sound of flowing water masking the traffic clatter on the road outside the estate.
At last they reached the shaded porch of Lord Abe’s home, overlooking a karesansui miniature rock garden. A gardener was raking the white stones and sand in one corner. Lord Abe rose to greet them as they ascended the few short steps to his porch.
After murmuring polite greetings and introductions, conducted with solemnity by his retainer Kato, Lord Abe gestured to low seats overlooking the Zen garden.
“The winter morning air is chilly, but if you are warm enough from your ride, perhaps you would enjoy sitting out here? I find this view opens my mind when there are difficult matters to discuss.”
Lord Abe was young, in his early thirties at most. Tōru wondered how a man so young had risen to be Chief Minister of the Council. Within the circle of those of appropriate birth, surely there were older men to entrust with such responsibility.
They took their seats, the lords on either side of Lord Abe, with Obata and Kato by Lord Aya and Sugieda by Lord Tōmatsu. Tōru and Takamori sat further away, kneeling while the senior men found more comfortable pos
itions. The men accepted ocha tea and okashi snacks from a serving girl as they murmured thanks and commented on the beauty of the grounds.
Lord Abe and the two daimyō from the western part of the country conversed quietly about their journey, the fragrance of the tea, the surprising warmth so late in the year, matters of small consequence. The news of the birth of the Emperor’s firstborn son from his favorite concubine had just reached Edo. The child had been born right around the time the party was in Kyoto, or days after they left the imperial city behind. Murmurs of congratulations for the auspicious event were politely offered all around.
Finally a longer pause crept into the stately discussion. Lord Abe turned to Tōru, kneeling respectfully some distance away. “So this is your fisherman?”
Lord Aya bowed deeply, glanced quickly at Tōru and decided. He plunged in. “Ikanimo. My men discovered him coming ashore from a foreign ship one evening early last spring.”
“You did not execute him and send his head to Edo as our Lord Shogun’s sakoku policy demands.” Abe stated this flatly as a fact, not a question. Tōru was indeed a living fact, a man still in possession of his head. Tōru bowed his head to the floor and held it there, knowing it was not his place to speak, but Lord Aya’s.
“And you travel in company with a young but valued retainer of the ever challenging Lord Shimazu. He wears not the Satsuma crest of his master…but your own house mon, as though…as though you were attempting to disguise him.”
Now Takamori bowed to the floor, another living fact.
Toru: Wayfarer Returns (Sakura Steam Series Book 1) Page 14
