Shogun (41 page)

They all bowed low. Toranaga noticed that the barbarian copied him and did not get up or stare, which all barbarians except Tsukku-san would have done, according to their own custom. The pilot learns quickly, he thought, his mind still blazing from what he had heard. Ten thousand questions were crowding him, but, according to his discipline, he channeled them away temporarily to concentrate on the present danger.

Kiri had scurried to give the old woman her cushion and helped her to sit, then knelt behind her, in motionless attendance.

“Thank you, Kiritsubo-san,” the woman said, returning their bow. Her name was Yodoko. She was the widow of the Taikō and now, since his death, a Buddhist nun. “I’m sorry to come uninvited and to interrupt you, Lord Toranaga.”

“You’re never unwelcome or uninvited, Yodoko-sama.”

“Thank you, yes, thank you.” She glanced at Blackthorne and squinted to try to see better. “But I think I did interrupt. I can’t see who—Is he a barbarian? My eyes are getting worse and worse. It’s not Tsukku-san, is it?”

“No, he’s the new barbarian,” Toranaga said.

“Oh, him!” Yodoko peered closer. “Please tell him I can’t see very well, hence my impoliteness.”

Mariko did as she was told. “He says many people in his country are shortsighted, Yodoko-sama, but they wear spectacles. He asked if we have them. I told him yes, some of us—from the Southern Barbarians. That you used to wear them but don’t anymore.”

“Yes. I prefer the mist that surrounds me. Yes, I don’t like a lot of what I see nowadays.” Yodoko turned back and looked at the boy, pretending to have just seen him. “Oh! My son! So there you are. I was looking for you. How good it is to see the Kwampaku!” She bowed deferentially.

“Thank you, First Mother,” Yaemon beamed and bowed back. “Oh, you should have heard the barbarian. He’s been drawing us a map of the world and telling us funny things about people who don’t bathe at all! Never in their whole lives and they live in snow houses and wear skins like evil
kami.”

The old lady snorted. “The less they come here the better, I think, my son. I could never understand them and they always smell so horrible. I could never understand how the Lord Taikō, your father, could tolerate them. But then he was a man and you’re a man, and you’ve more patience than a lowly woman. You’ve a good teacher, Yaemon-sama.” Her old eyes flicked back to Toranaga. “Lord Toranaga’s got more patience than anyone in the Empire.”

“Patience is important for a man vital for a leader,” Toranaga said. “And a thirst for knowledge is a good quality too, eh, Yaemon-sama? And knowledge comes from strange places.”

“Yes, Uncle. Oh yes,” Yaemon said. “He’s right, isn’t he, First Mother?”

“Yes, yes. I agree. But I’m glad I’m a woman and don’t have to worry about these things,
neh?”
Yodoko hugged the boy, who had come to sit beside her. “So, my son. Why am I here? To fetch the Kwampaku. Why? Because the Kwampaku is late for his food and late for his writing lessons.”

“I hate writing lessons and I’m going swimming!”

Toranaga said with mock gravity, “When I was your age I used to hate writing too. But then, when I was twenty, I had to stop fighting battles and go back to school. I hated that worse.”

“Go back to school, Uncle? After leaving it forever? Oh, how terrible!”

“A leader has to write well, Yaemon-sama. Not only clearly but beautifully, and the Kwampaku better than anyone else. How else can he write to His Imperial Highness or to the great
daimyos?
A leader has to be better than his vassals in everything, in every way. A leader has to do many things that are difficult.”

“Yes, Uncle. It’s very difficult to be Kwampaku.” Yaemon frowned importantly. “I think I’ll do my lessons now and not when I’m twenty because then I’ll have important matters of state.”

They were all very proud of him. “You’re very wise, my son,” said Yodoko.

“Yes, First Mother. I’m wise like my father, as my mother says. When’s Mother coming home?”

Yodoko peered up at Toranaga. “Soon.”

“I hope very soon,” Toranaga said. He knew Yodoko had been sent to fetch the boy by Ishido. Toranaga had brought the boy and the guards directly to the garden to further irritate his enemy. Also to show the boy the strange pilot and so deprive Ishido of the pleasure of providing that experience for him.

“It’s very wearisome being responsible for my son,” Yodoko was saying. “It would be very good to have the Lady Ochiba here in Osaka, home again, then I can get back to the temple,
neh?
How is she, and how is the Lady Genjiko?”

“They’re both in excellent health,” Toranaga told her, chortling to himself. Nine years ago, in an unusual show of friendship, the Taikō had privately invited him to marry Lady Genjiko, the younger sister of Lady Ochiba, his favorite consort. ‘Then our houses will be joined together forever,
neh?’
the Taikō had said.

‘Yes, Sire. I will obey though I do not deserve the honor,’ Toranaga had replied deferentially, desiring the link with the Taikō. But he
knew that though Yodoko, the Taikō’s wife, might approve, his consort Ochiba hated him and would use her great influence over the Taikō to prevent the marriage. And, too, it was wiser to avoid having Ochiba’s sister as his wife, for that would give her enormous powers over him, not the least of which was the keys to his treasury. But, if she were to marry his son, Sudara, then Toranaga as supreme head of the family would have complete domination. It had taken all his skill to maneuver the marriage between Sudara and Genjiko but it had happened and now Genjiko was priceless to him as a defense against Ochiba, because Ochiba adored her sister.

“My daughter-in-law isn’t in labor yet—it was expected to begin yesterday—but I would imagine the Lady Ochiba will leave immediately there’s no danger.”

“After three girls, it’s time Genjiko gave you a grandson,
neh?
I will say prayers for his birth.”

“Thank you,” Toranaga said, liking her as always, knowing that she meant it, even though he represented nothing but danger to her house.

“I hear your Lady Sazuko’s with child?”

“Yes. I’m very fortunate.” Toranaga basked in the thought of his newest consort, the youth of her, the strength of her, and the warmth. I hope we have a son, he told himself. Yes, that would be very good. Seventeen’s a good age to have a first child, if you’ve perfect health as she has. “Yes, I’m very fortunate.”

“Buddha has blessed you.” Yodoko felt a twinge of envy. It seemed so unfair that Toranaga had five sons living and four daughters and five granddaughters already, and, with this child of Sazuko’s soon to arrive, and still many strong years left in him and many consorts in his house, he could sire many more sons. But all her hopes were centered on this one seven-year-old child, her child as much as Ochiba’s. Yes, he’s as much my son, she thought. How I hated Ochiba in the beginning….

She saw them all staring at her and she was startled. “Yes?”

Yaemon frowned. “I said, can we go and have my lessons, First Mother? I said it two times.”

“I’m sorry, my son, I was drifting away. That’s what happens when you get old. Yes, come along then.” Kiri helped her up. Yaemon ran off ahead. The Grays were already on their feet and one of them caught him and affectionately swung him onto his shoulders. The four samurai who had escorted her waited separately.

“Walk with me a little, Lord Toranaga, would you please? I need a strong arm to lean on.”

Toranaga was on his feet with surprising agility. She took his arm but did not use his strength. “Yes. I need a strong arm. Yaemon does. And so does the realm.”

“I’m always ready to serve you,” Toranaga said.

When they were away from the others, she said quietly, “Become sole Regent. Take the power and rule yourself. Until Yaemon becomes of age.”

“The Taikō’s testament forbids this—even if I wished it, which I don’t. The curbs he made preclude one Regent’s taking power. I don’t seek sole power. I never have.”

“Tora-chan,” she said, using the nickname the Taikō had given him so long ago, “we have few secrets, you and I. You could do it, if you wished. I will answer for the Lady Ochiba. Take the power for your own lifetime. Become Shōgun and make—”

“Lady, what you say is treason. I-do-not-seek-to-be-Shōgun.”

“Of course, but please listen to me a last time. Become Shōgun, make Yaemon your
sole
heir—your sole heir. He could be Shōgun, after you. Isn’t his bloodline Fujimoto—through Lady Ochiba back to her grandfather Goroda and through him back to antiquity? Fujimoto!”

Toranaga stared at her. “You think the
daimyos
would agree to such a claim, or that His Highness, the Son of Heaven, could approve the appointment?”

“No. Not for Yaemon by himself. But if you were Shōgun first, and you adopted him, you could persuade them, all of them. We will support you the Lady Ochiba and I.”

“She has agreed to this?” asked Toranaga, astounded.

“No. We’ve never discussed it. It’s my idea. But she will agree. I will answer for her. In advance.”

“This is an impossible conversation, Lady.”

“You can manage Ishido, and all of them. You always have. I’m afraid of what I hear, Tora-chan, rumors of war, the taking of sides, and the Dark Centuries beginning again. When war begins it will go on forever and eat Yaemon up.”

“Yes. I believe that, too. Yes, if it begins it will last forever.”

“Then take the power! Do what you wish, to whomever you wish, however you wish. Yaemon’s a worthy boy. I know you like him.
He has his father’s mind and with your guidance, we would all benefit. He should have his heritage.”

“I’m not opposing him, or his succession. How many times need I say it?”

“The Heir will be destroyed unless you actively support him.”

“I do support him!” Toranaga said. “In every way. That’s what I agreed with the Taikō, your late husband.”

Yodoko sighed and pulled her habit closer. “These old bones are chilled. So many secrets and battles, treacheries and deaths and victories, Tora-chan. I’m only a woman, and very much alone. I’m glad that I’m dedicated to Buddha now, and that most of my thoughts are toward Buddha and my next life. But in this one I have to protect my son and to say these things to you. I hope you will forgive my impertinence.”

“I always seek and enjoy your counsel.”

“Thank you.” Her back straightened a little. “Listen, while I’m alive neither the Heir nor the Lady Ochiba will ever go against you.”

“Yes.”

“Will you consider what I proposed?”

“My late Master’s will forbids it. I cannot go against the will or my sacred promise as a Regent.”

They walked in silence. Then Yodoko sighed. “Why not take her to wife?”

Toranaga stopped in his tracks. “Ochiba?”

“Why not? She’s totally worthy as a political choice. A perfect choice for you. She’s beautiful, young, strong, her bloodline’s the best, part Fujimoto, part Minowara, the sun dances in her, and she has an immense joy of life. You’ve no official wife now—so why not? This would solve the problem of the succession and stop the realm from being torn apart. You would have other sons by her surely. Yaemon would succeed you, then his sons or her other sons. You could become Shōgun. You would have the power of the realm and the power of a father so you could train Yaemon to your way. You would adopt him formally and he would be as much your son as any you have. Why not marry Lady Ochiba?”

Because she’s a wildcat, a treacherous tigress with the face and body of a goddess, who thinks she’s an empress and acts like one, Toranaga told himself. You could never trust her in your bed. She’d be just as likely to thread a needle through your eyes when you’re
asleep as she’d be to caress you. Oh no, not her! Even if I married her in name only—which she’d never agree to—oh no! It’s impossible! For all sorts of reasons, not the least of which is that she’s hated me and plotted my downfall, and that of my house, ever since she whelped for the first time, eleven years ago.

Even then, even at seventeen, she had committed herself to my destruction. Ah, so soft outwardly, like the first ripe peach of summer, and as fragrant. But inwardly sword steel with a mind to match, weaving her spells, soon making the Taikō mad over her to the exclusion of all others. Yes, she had the Taikō cowed since she was fifteen when he first took her formally. Yes, and don’t forget, truly, she pillowed him, even then, not he her, however much he believed it. Yes, even at fifteen, Ochiba knew what she sought and the way to obtain it. Then the miracle happening, giving the Taikō a son at long last, she alone of all the women he had in his life. How many pillow ladies? A hundred at least, him a stoat who sprayed more Joyful Juice into more Heavenly Chambers than ten ordinary men! Yes. And these women of all ages and all castes, casual or consort, from a Fujimoto princess to Fourth Class courtesans. But none ever even became pregnant, though later, many of those that the Taikō dismissed or divorced or married off had children by other men. None, except the Lady Ochiba.

But she gave him his first son at fifty-three, poor little thing, sickly and dying so soon, the Taikō rending his clothes, almost crazy with grief, blaming himself and not her. Then, four years later, miraculously she whelped again, miraculously another son, miraculously healthy this time, she twenty-one now. Ochiba the Peerless, the Taikō had called her.

Did the Taikō father Yaemon or not? Eeeee, I’d give a lot to know the truth. Will we ever know the truth? Probably not, but what would I not give for proof, one way or another.

Strange that the Taikō, so clever about everything else, was not clever about Ochiba, doting on her and Yaemon to insanity. Strange that of all the women she should have been the mother of his heir, she whose father and stepfather and mother were dead because of the Taikō.

Would she have the cleverness to pillow with another man, to take his seed, then obliterate this same man to safeguard herself? Not once but twice?

Could she be so treacherous? Oh, yes.

Marry Ochiba? Never.

“I’m honored that you would make such a suggestion,” Toranaga said.