Shogun (51 page)

“Onoshi and Kiyama in forty days, the Taikō’s Edicts repealed—and no more of the foul priests. The Regents will forbid them to come to Japan.”

“What?”

“You and your priests only. None of the others—the stenching, begging Black Clothes—the barefoot hairies! The ones who shout stupid threats and create nothing but open trouble. Them. You can have all their heads if you want them—the ones who are here.”

Alvito’s whole being cried caution. Never had Toranaga been so open. One slip now and you’ll offend him and make him the Church’s enemy forever.

Think what Toranaga’s offering! Exclusivity throughout the Empire! The one thing that would guarantee the purity of the Church and her safety while she is growing strong. The one thing beyond price. The one thing no one can provide—not even the Pope! No one—except Toranaga. With Kiyama and Onoshi supporting him openly, Toranaga could smash Ishido and dominate the Council.

Father Alvito would never have believed that Toranaga would be so blunt. Or offer so much. Could Onoshi and Kiyama be made to reverse themselves? Those two hate each other. For reasons only they know they have joined to oppose Toranaga. Why? What would make them betray Ishido?

“I’m not qualified to answer you, Sire, or to speak on such a matter,
neh?
I only tell you our purpose is to save souls,” he said.

“I hear my son Naga’s interested in your Christian Faith.”

Is Toranaga threatening or is he offering? Alvito asked himself. Is he offering to allow Naga to accept the Faith—what a gigantic coup that would be—or is he saying, “Unless you cooperate I will order him to cease”? “The Lord, your son, is one of many nobles who have open minds about religion, Sire.”

Alvito suddenly realized the enormity of the dilemma that Toranaga faced. He’s trapped—he has to make an arrangement with us, he thought exultantly. He has to try! Whatever we want, he has to give us—if
we
want to make an arrangement with
him
. At long last he openly admits the Christian
daimyos
hold the balance of power! Whatever we want! What else could we have? Nothing at all. Except …

Deliberately he dropped his eyes to the rutters that he had laid before Toranaga. He watched his hand reach out and put the rutters safely in the sleeve of his kimono.

“Ah, yes, Tsukku-san,” Toranaga said, his voice eerie and exhausted. “Then there’s the new barbarian—the pirate. The enemy of your country. They will be coming here soon, in numbers, won’t they? They can be discouraged—or encouraged. Like this one pirate.
Neh?”

Father Alvito knew that now they had everything. Should I ask for
Blackthorne’s head on a silver platter like the head of St. John the Baptist to seal this bargain? Should I ask for permission to build a cathedral at Yedo, or one within the walls of Osaka Castle? For the first time in his life he felt himself floundering, rudderless in the reach for power.

We want no more than is offered! I wish I could settle the bargain now! If it were up to me alone, I would gamble. I know Toranaga and I would gamble on him. I would agree to try and I’d swear a Holy Oath. Yes, I would excommunicate Onoshi or Kiyama if they would not agree, to gain those concessions for Mother Church. Two souls for tens of thousands, for hundreds of thousands, for millions. That’s fair! I would say, Yes, yes, yes, for the Glory of God. But I can settle nothing, as you well know. I’m only a messenger, and part of my message …

“I need help, Tsukku-san. I need it now.”

“All that I can do, I will do, Toranaga-sama. You have my promise.”

Then Toranaga said with finality, “I will wait forty days. Yes. Forty days.”

Alvito bowed. He noticed that Toranaga returned the bow lower and more formally than he had ever done before, almost as though he were bowing to the Taikō himself. The priest got up shakily. Then he was outside the room, walking up the corridor. His step quickened. He began to hurry.

Toranaga watched the Jesuit from the embrasure as he crossed the garden, far below. The shoji edged open again but he cursed his guards away and ordered them, on pain of death, to leave him alone. His eyes followed Alvito intently, through the fortified gate, out into the forecourt, until the priest was lost in the maze of innerworks.

And then, in the lonely silence, Toranaga began to smile. And he tucked up his kimono and began to dance. It was a hornpipe.

Just after dusk Kiri waddled nervously down the steps, two maids in attendance. She headed for her curtained litter that stood beside the garden hut. A voluminous cloak covered her traveling kimono and made her appear even more bulky, and a vast, wide-brimmed hat was tied under her jowls.

The Lady Sazuko was waiting patiently for her on the veranda, heavily pregnant, Mariko nearby. Blackthorne was leaning against the wall near the fortified gate. He wore a belted kimono of the Browns and tabi socks and military thongs. In the forecourt, outside the gate, the escort of sixty heavily armed samurai was drawn up in neat lines, every third man carrying a flare. At the head of these soldiers Yabu talked with Buntaro—Mariko’s husband—a short, thickset, almost neckless man. Both were attired in chain mail with bows and quivers over their shoulders, and Buntaro wore a homed steel war helmet. Porters and kaga-men squatted patiently in well-disciplined silence near the multitudinous baggage.

The promise of summer floated on the slight breeze, but no one noticed it except Blackthorne, and even he was conscious of the tension that surrounded them all. And too, he was intensely aware that he alone was unarmed.

Kiri plodded over to the veranda. “You shouldn’t be waiting in the cold, Sazuko-san. You’ll catch a chill! You must remember the child now. These spring nights are still filled with damp.”

“I’m not cold, Kiri-san. It’s a lovely night and it’s my pleasure.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes. Everything’s perfect.”

“I wish I weren’t going. Yes. I hate going.”

“There’s no need to worry,” Mariko said reassuringly, joining them. She wore a similar wide-brimmed hat, but hers was bright where Kiri’s was somber. “You’ll enjoy getting back to Yedo. Our Master will be following in a few days.”

“Who knows what tomorrow will bring, Mariko-san?”

“Tomorrow is in the hands of God.”

“Tomorrow will be a lovely day, and if it isn’t, it isn’t!” Sazuko said. “Who cares about tomorrow?
Now
is good. You’re beautiful and we’ll all miss you, Kiri-san, and you, Mariko-san!” She glanced at the gateway, distracted, as Buntaro shouted angrily at one of the samurai, who had dropped a flare.

Yabu, senior to Buntaro, was nominally in charge of the party. He had seen Kiri arrive and strutted back through the gate. Buntaro followed.

“Oh, Lord Yabu—Lord Buntaro,” Kiri said with a flustered bow. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. Lord Toranaga was going to come down, but in the end, decided not to. You are to leave now, he said. Please accept my apologies.”

“None are necessary.” Yabu wanted to be quit of the castle as soon as possible, and quit of Osaka, and back in Izu. He still could hardly believe that he was leaving with his head, with the barbarian, with the guns, with everything. He had sent urgent messages by carrier pigeon to his wife in Yedo to make sure that all was prepared at Mishima, his capital, and to Omi at the village of Anjiro. “Are you ready?”

Tears glittered in Kiri’s eyes. “Just let me catch my breath and then I’ll get into the litter. Oh, I wish I didn’t have to go!” She looked around, seeking Blackthorne, finally catching sight of him in the shadows. “Who is responsible for the Anjin-san? Until we get to the ship?”

Buntaro said testily, “I’ve ordered him to walk beside my wife’s litter. If she can’t keep him in control, I will.”

“Perhaps, Lord Yabu, you’d escort the Lady Sazuko—”

“
Guards!”

The warning shout came from the forecourt. Buntaro and Yabu hurried through the fortified door as all the men swirled after them and others poured from the innerworks.

Ishido was approaching down the avenue between the castle walls at the head of two hundred Grays. He stopped in the forecourt outside the gate and, though no man seemed hostile on either side and no man had his hand on his sword or an arrow in his bow, all were ready.

Ishido bowed elaborately. “A fine evening, Lord Yabu.”

“Yes, yes indeed.”

Ishido nodded perfunctorily to Buntaro, who was equally offhand, returning the minimum politeness allowable. Both had been favorite generals of the Taikō. Buntaro had led one of the regiments in Korea when Ishido had been in overall command. Each had accused the other of treachery. Only the personal intervention and a direct order of the Taikō had prevented bloodshed and a vendetta.

Ishido studied the Browns. Then his eyes found Blackthorne. He saw the man half bow and nodded in return. Through the gateway he could see the three women and the other litter. His eyes came to rest on Yabu again. “You’d think you were all going into battle, Yabu-san, instead of just being a ceremonial escort for the Lady Kiritsubo.”

“Hiro-matsu-san issued orders, because of the Amida assassin….”

Yabu stopped as Buntaro stomped pugnaciously forward and planted his huge legs in the center of the gateway. “We’re always ready for
battle. With or without armor. We can take on ten men for each one of ours, and fifty of the Garlic Eaters. We never turn our backs and run like snot-nosed cowards, leaving our comrades to be over-whelmed!”

Ishido’s smile was filled with contempt, his voice a goad. “Oh? Perhaps you’ll get an opportunity soon—to stand against real men, not Garlic Eaters!”

“How soon? Why not tonight? Why not here?”

Yabu moved carefully between them. He also had been in Korea and he knew that there was truth on both sides and that neither was to be trusted, Buntaro less than Ishido. “Not tonight because we’re among friends, Buntaro-san,” he said placatingly, wanting desperately to avoid a clash that would lock them forever within the castle. “We’re among friends, Buntaro-san.”

“What friends? I know friends—and I know enemies!” Buntaro whirled back to Ishido. “Where’s this man—this real man you talked of, Ishido-san? Eh? Or men? Let him—let them all crawl out of their holes and stand in front of me—Toda Buntaro, Lord of Sakura—if any one of them’s got the juice!”

Everyone readied.

Ishido stared back malevolently.

Yabu said, “This is not the time, Buntaro-san. Friends or ene—”

“Friends? Where? In this manure pile?” Buntaro spat into the dust.

One of the Grays’ hands flashed for his sword hilt, ten Browns followed, fifty Grays were a split second behind, and now all were waiting for Ishido’s sword to come out to signal the attack.

Then Hiro-matsu walked out of the garden shadows, through the gateway into the forecourt, his killing sword loose in his hands and half out of its scabbard.

“You can find friends in manure, sometimes, my son,” he said calmly. Hands eased off sword hilts. Samurai on the opposing battlements—Grays and Browns—slackened the tension of their arrow-armed bowstrings. “We have friends all over the castle. All over Osaka. Yes. Our Lord Toranaga keeps telling us so.” He stood like a rock in front of his only living son, seeing the blood lust in his eyes. The moment Ishido had been seen approaching, Hiro-matsu had taken up his battle station at the inner doorway. Then, when the first danger had passed, he had moved with catlike quiet into the shadows. He stared down into Buntaro’s eyes. “Isn’t that so, my son?”

With an enormous effort, Buntaro nodded and stepped back a pace. But he still blocked the way to the garden.

Hiro-matsu turned his attention to Ishido. “We did not expect you tonight, Ishido-san.”

“I came to pay my respects to the Lady Kiritsubo. I was not informed until a few moments ago that anyone was leaving.”

“Is my son right? We should worry we’re not among friends? Are we hostages who should beg favors?”

“No. But Lord Toranaga and I agreed on protocol during his visit. A day’s notice of the arival or departure of high personages was to be given so I could pay the proper respects.”

“It was a sudden decision of Lord Toranaga’s. He did not consider the matter of sending one of his ladies back to Yedo important enough to disturb you,” Hiro-matsu told him. “Yes, Lord Toranaga is merely preparing for his own departure.”

“Has that been decided upon?”

“Yes. The day the meeting of the Regents concludes. You’ll be informed at the correct time, according to protocol.”

“Good. Of course, the meeting may be delayed again. The Lord Kiyama is even sicker.”

“Is it delayed? Or isn’t it?”

“I merely mentioned that it might be. We hope to have the pleasure of Lord Toranaga’s presence for a long time to come,
neh?
He will hunt with me tomorrow?”

“I have requested him to cancel all hunting until the meeting. I don’t consider it safe. I don’t consider any of this area safe any longer. If filthy assassins can get through your sentries so easily, how much more easy would treachery be outside the walls?”

Ishido let the insult pass. He knew this and the affronts would further inflame his men but it did not suit him to light the fuse yet. He had been glad that Hiro-matsu had interceded for he had almost lost control. The thought of Buntaro’s head in the dust, the teeth chattering, had consumed him. “All commanders of the guards on that night have already been ordered into the Great Void as you well know. The Amidas are laws unto themselves, unfortunately. But they will be stamped out very soon. The Regents will be asked to deal with them once and for all. Now, perhaps I may pay my respects to Kiritsubo-san.”

Ishido walked forward. His personal bodyguard of Grays stepped
after him. They all shuddered to a stop. Buntaro had an arrow in his bow and, though the arrow pointed at the ground, the bow was already bent to its limit. “Grays are forbidden through this gate. That’s agreed by protocol!”

“I’m Governor of Osaka Castle and Commander of the Heir’s Bodyguard! I have the right to go anywhere!”

Once more Hiro-matsu took control of the situation. “True, you are Commander of the Heir’s Bodyguard and you do have the right to go anywhere. But only five men may accompany you through that gate. Wasn’t that agreed by you and my Master while he is here?”