Shuyun had said that the plague would take hold among the fleeing barbarians by the third day so that only a few would remain strong when they arrived at their probable destination. Lord Taiki, she hoped, would convince these to surrender.
Her attention was taken by a line of men on foot who passed the Shonto soldiers who guarded the barbarian. Botahist Brothers, Nishima realized. A growing number were leaving their Order to come serve the one said to be the Teacher—to practice compassion rather than politics.
The Botahist Brotherhood, her advisors surmised, were locked in internal struggle. They had stripped Shuyun of his pendant and turned their backs on him, and only after this rash decision had they realized their error. They had alienated the new sovereign, surrendering the advantage of Imperial favor to the Sisterhood—and they might have forced the Teacher from their Order.
Nishima shook her head. As her father often noted, Brother Satake would never have acted so foolishly had he become the leader of the Botahist Brotherhood. It made her wonder if it was not as Shimeko said—the Brotherhood had become decadent.
A full report of the meeting between Shuyun and the seniors of the Botahist Orders had been supplied by Kamu. He spoke of Shuyun’s actions and speech with pride. The Brothers made few miscalculations as great as that. It must have been impossible for them to imagine that a young Initiate could act independently, ignoring their gravest threats, offering one of the Order’s greatest secrets to their rivals. Only a few months away from Jinjoh Monastery and Initiate Brother Shuyun had rebelled against them—far more openly than Satake-sum ever had. In part, Nishima viewed this as almost a personal triumph, but it also filled her with fear. Brother Shuyun appeared to be under no one’s spell.
Shokan was utterly convinced that the Brotherhood would recant their refusal to assist the barbarians and would scramble to preserve some shred of the advantage they had surrendered when the Sisters offered their services to Shuyun and the Throne. It was perhaps a sign of how fractured their Order had become that this had not yet occurred.
A knock on the screen that led from the balcony startled Nishima, and a Shonto guard appeared at her response. “The audience, Empress,” he said, keeping his eyes cast down.
Nishima took a last look out to where Shuyun ministered to the army of the desert and then left the room she had begun to use so that she might look out over the barbarian encampment. Her guard fell into step around her immediately.
She had managed to break the tradition of the sedan chair, though this shocked more than just a few officials. To ameliorate this somewhat, she agreed to use the chair for ceremonies—the struggle now was focused on semantics—which events could be considered ceremonial? There was, Nishima was sure, a definite move afoot to broaden the strict definition of the word.
As Shokan had suggested, Nishima tried to view the situation with humor, but it was difficult. The officials of the Island Palace were completely obsessed with tradition and ceremony and matters too trivial to believe. It was obvious that the running of the Empire had not been their concern for a very long time—not since the days of the later Hanama Emperors. This would have to change, if it meant replacing every senior member of the government.
She descended a massive set of stairs, courtiers and officials bowing as she passed. A private audience hall off Nishima’s official rooms was their destination. Until Nishima had peopled the Great Council to her liking, there were still a number of things that needed to be done beyond the view of the officials. Their interference in certain things would not be helpful. Nishima was beginning to realize that she had learned more than she ever realized about leading men from years of watching her father. There was no one more skilled than Lord Shonto at winning loyalty and achieving ends through the efforts of others. It was the intention of the new Empress to bend Imperial protocol as much as possible so that she could run her administration upon the Shonto model—something she knew was effective.
Returning the Empire to a state of stability was her immediate task and to do this she would need the assistance of many. Shokan and Kamu had pointed out that rewarding those who had followed her father from Seh, and supported him when it meant defying the Emperor, was the beginning. Let it be said that the new Empress understood and rewarded loyalty. It was the Shonto way.
She had been informed that there were rebellions in Chou, and a Yamaku cousin there had declared himself Emperor and began to gather an army—a fool’s rebellion, Hojo assured her, but it indicated that speed was necessary to establish the validity of her rule beyond contesting. The previous day a report had come that the Yamaku Imperial family dwelt no more on this plane, caught by the people who fled the barbarian invasion. It was a sad thing and, though Hojo had breathed a sigh of relief, Shokan had told Nishima privately that this was not as significant as others hoped. Pretenders could easily arise claiming to be Yamaku sons or daughters or cousins—even distant relatives of the Hanama might make claims, for that was the basis of Nishima’s own. Imperial blood was not terribly rare among the peers of Wa.
They reached the rooms that Nishima had made her own and the Empress nodded to bowing Shonto guards as she passed. The audience hall was empty and Nishima took her place on the low dais, arranging her robes with care—white over crimson. She was glad that she had not met resistance from Shokan or the others to this. It was customary for those who performed great deeds for the sake of the Empire to receive their rewards in great ceremony, but Nishima did not feel such a ceremony was appropriate at this time. Perhaps when the Empire was more settled. The people she would speak with this day were not courtiers or officials of the palace. They would not demand that the smallest of their actions receive public recognition. As callous as it sounded, some part of Nishima knew that to strengthen the ties to those who had supported her father she needed to treat each as a private favorite of the Empress. This knowledge embarrassed her somewhat, but it did not stop her from acting accordingly.
I have a rule to consolidate and legitimize, Nishima told herself, but may I not walk too far down the path of the cold manipulator. Botahara save me from that.
Kamu entered and knelt before the dais, bowing his head to the mat. The Empress nodded to her Major Chancellor. The officials of the palace were no doubt still stinging from Kamu’s appointment but, along with the other stands she had made, this was having its desired effect—the officials were realizing that they would not rule the Empress.
“Kamu-sum. It is my hope that the constant whispers of the palace officials do not make the performance of your duties too difficult.”
“The buzzing of flies, Empress. I have long since learned to ignore such things.”
“Perhaps it is another of your many skills that I may one day acquire myself, for I confess this buzzing sometimes drives me to the ends of my patience.”
The old man smiled, the great wrinkled raincloud of his face creasing in a thousand small lines. “Patience was not something I learned in my youth, Empress, it grew slowly as the years passed. Thus it was that, in my younger years, I fought more duels than perhaps even Lord Komawara.” Kamu gestured to his empty sleeve. “Here is my great teacher of patience, Empress, otherwise I may have been too foolish by nature to have ever acquired this most valuable of traits. But you are wiser than I, my lady,” he hurried to add, embarrassed suddenly by what he implied.
Nishima hid a small shudder. “Let us hope that I may learn from you, Kamu-sum. I would certainly live with my loss less skillfully and with less grace than my chancellor.”
Kamu looked down, perhaps embarrassed. He consulted a scroll.
“I am ready to begin,” Nishima said, giving her father’s steward a small smile.
“Lord Butto Joda of the Province of Itsa, Empress,” Kamu said. “The lord readies himself to go north in pursuit of the barbarian who retreat along the great canal.”
Nishima nodded. Kamu clapped his hand upon his thigh once, producing a surprisingly loud sound, and the doors to the hall opened. It w
as a small hall, chosen intentionally so that those arriving for their audience would not have to traverse a vast room on their knees to approach the sovereign. But despite its size it was a room of some beauty. The posts here were not lacquered but left a rich natural red-brown, and the sweep of the ceiling beams that supported the massive tile roof gave the otherwise static space a feeling of motion. Painted screens of courtiers walking in the palace gardens decorated one wall, and Nishima was thankful they were not scenes of battle.
The small figure of Lord Butto bowed in the doorway and then approached the dais. At an appropriate distance he stopped and bowed again.
“Lord Butto, please be at your ease,” Kamu said quietly. The old man withdrew then, slipping quietly out through a screen. Nishima was paying Lord Butto the ultimate compliment of favor and trust—meeting the sovereign of the Empire privately.
Nishima turned her attention to the young lord kneeling before her. Like a boy, Nishima thought, all of his features are small though his eyes are very fine. But belying this look of youth was the lord’s great poise. He was as sure of himself as many of her officials. Here will be a great man, the Empress found herself thinking, trapped for now in the body of a child. She smiled warmly.
“Lord Butto,” she began, and was surprised to find her voice become thick with emotion. She paused for a few seconds. “Lord Butto,” she began again, “it is my honor to express to you and the Butto House the gratitude of the government and the people of Wa. In the recent turmoil in the Empire you have shown the greatest wisdom and exemplary judgment, placing the interests of the Province of Itsa and the Empire of Wa before those of your House. To have fought beside my father against the invading barbarian army, and to have risked being judged a rebel House for this, displayed both courage and conviction. In the subsequent battles, Lord Butto, your courage did not falter nor did the warriors of your House ever shrink from their duty.” Nishima took a long breath. “If there is anything within the power of an Empress to provide, you have but to ask.”
Lord Butto stared down at the floor.
The young warrior looked up, meeting his Empress’ eyes for a second. “Empress. It was my greatest honor to ride at the side of Lord Shonto Motoru as he fought, unsupported by the Imperial government, to stay the barbarian invasion. It is a tale equal to any in our long history and shall be told for a thousand years. The Butto name shall ever be sung in that tale, though in truth my part was small. What greater gift could I ask? I am honored by your words, as is the Butto House.”
Nishima bowed low in response. “You are fair spoken, Sire, and your words touch me. Please, Lord Butto, accept these tokens of our regard.” She clapped her hands twice.
Shonto guards appeared, carrying a saddle of beautiful leather. It was not decorated with silver or stones but was a saddle a warrior would choose, perfectly made of the finest materials. Upon the right side below the pommel a shinta blossom was embossed and on the left the flower of the warisha. Resting upon the seat was a bridle, also of leather, but with silk reins woven of crimson and blue. An armor chest was borne forth on a pole and set beside the saddle. Guards opened the lid and revealed a suit of armor laced in Butto purple and trimmed in the same pattern of crimson and blue.
Finally, a guard carrying a silk cushion, upon which rested a warrior’s helmet, emerged and laid this before Lord Butto.
“It is my father’s helmet, Lord Butto,” Lady Nishima said. “May the crimson and blue always remind you of the gratitude and loyalty of the Shonto and of the Fanisan House. May the shinta blossom and the warisha symbolize the growing bonds between our families and the great esteem in which you are held.” Servants set a low table beside the Empress and from this she removed a brush.
“Lord Butto, Itsa Province needs a governor of great wisdom to repair the ravages of the invasion. I would offer this position first to you, for there is no other I would trust more.” This was a formality only, for the governorship of Itsa had been offered to Lord Butto, in private by Kamu, so that he could have refused without rebuffing the Empress.
Lord Butto bowed again. “Empress, this is a great honor for the Butto House. I accept and hope only that I may prove myself worthy of your great trust.”
“Lord Butto,” Nishima said warmly, “of this there is no doubt.” With a flourish Nishima signed the scroll of investiture, making Butto Joda the Imperial Governor of Itsa.
A memory of the Emperor speaking to his new governor of Seh in the palace garden appeared in Nishima’s mind and she hesitated before setting the brush down.
Pushing this thought from her mind, she forced herself to continue.
“You will pursue the retreating barbarian army, Lord Butto?”
“I set out in the morning, Empress.”
Nishima nodded. “May Botahara go with you, Lord Butto.”
The young man bowed low. “I thank you, Empress,” he almost whispered.
Kamu had returned almost silently, nodding to Lord Butto who retreated back to the great doors. The old man gave Nishima a smile of reassurance and then looked at his scroll. “General Hojo Masakado,” he said, clapping his hand to his thigh once.
The senior Shonto general knelt in the open doorway and came forward at a gesture from Kamu.
Nishima noted that Hojo looked rather less at ease here than she had seen him appear before a battle. The general wore robes of white embroidered in the palest shades with falling cherry blossoms—a man in mourning for his liege-lord.
With his gray beard neatly trimmed and his hair drawn back Hojo was a man of great presence despite his lack of ease in such formal surroundings. This man will be less happy in the new Empire, Nishima thought, for if Botahara smiles upon us the Shonto will have little need of his warrior’s skills.
“Masakado-sum,” Nishima said as Kamu retreated again. “Were I a great poet, I could not find words that would convey my gratitude or do you the honor you deserve.” Nishima felt her heart begin to break as she looked at the face of the man kneeling before her. These are the men who loved my father, she thought, glancing over at Kamu’s retreating back. These are the people who share my loss and have walled their feelings away for the sake of the Empire and their new Empress. She remembered both these men from her arrival in the Shonto House—massive, intimidating strangers they had been then. But how quickly that had changed. They teased me as a child and indulged me and adored me as though I were a member of their own families. She closed her eyes tightly and took three slow breaths.
“General, your loyalty to Lord Shonto Motoru and the Shonto House and its causes has been as unwavering as the loyalty of Fugimori to his outcast prince—as constant as the seasons. Without your wisdom and bravery, my lord’s effort to slow the barbarian advance would have faltered, I have no doubt. Anything you ask of me I will grant, Hojo Masakado-sum, for the Empire’s debt to you is great.”
“Empress,” Hojo began but his voice came out a whisper and he cleared his throat before beginning again. “Empress, I have served two Shonto lords and it is my wish to serve a third. I believe this is what I am meant to do. If I may, I will go with Lord Shonto Shokan.”
“But this is a small thing, General—it is your present position. Is there no other favor an Empress may grant?”
Hojo shook his head. “I thank you, Empress. I am honored by your words—that is enough.”
“Masakado-sum, my father would never see you go unrewarded and I cannot change the tradition of my family.” As before, she clapped twice and a Shonto guard appeared carrying a small stand upon which sat a single scroll. This was set before Hojo.
“It is the deed for a house in the capital near to the home of your liege-lord, General—a property I have been told you admire. This, so you may visit the capital often and so come to the palace that I may not lose the pleasure of your company.” Before Hojo could respond, a second guard appeared bearing a sword in both his hands as though it were a valuable artifact.
Nishima beckoned the guard to her and, to h
is great surprise, took the sword into her own hands. With the grace of a Sonsa she rose and descended from the dais. Holding the sword in both her hands, she offered it to Hojo who was so taken aback he hesitated for a moment.
“It was my father’s favored weapon,” Nishima said as though to reassure him.
“My lady, it is the Mitsushito,’” Hojo said, still not reaching for it. An Empress did not descend from her dais to offer a soldier a gift from her own hands—it was unheard of.
“So it is, Masakado-sum. My brother and I hope that you will accept it.” She held it out again.
Hojo took it gently from her hands, and Nishima saw him close his eyes. She thought tears would appear, but the general was a warrior and maintained control with effort. Nishima reached out for a second, touching his hard wrist, and then she returned to the dais, unable to bear his discomfort any longer.
Hojo bowed but no words came, and he retreated even before Nishima had called an end to their audience.
Nishima sat for a few moments before she would continue. Nodding to Kamu, she again followed a breathing exercise taught to her by Brother Satake.
“Captain Rohku Saicha,” Kamu said quietly.
Nishima nodded. The Captain of the Shonto Guard approached. He wore the light duty armor she often saw him in and carried his helmet under his arm. A white sash was worn for Lord Shonto and in this he wore no sword, making Nishima realize that the Shonto Captain had not been granted permission to wear a sword in the presence of the Empress. A grievous oversight with a man so proud.
The Initiate Brother Duology Page 102
