Shōgun

“Oku-san,” he said to the woman, giving her the title of Honorable Mother, “my brother should have told me sooner about the great qualities of his youngest son. Then Omi-san would have been much further advanced today. My brother’s too retiring, too thoughtless.”

“My husband’s too thoughtful for you, my Lord, to worry you,” she replied, aware of the underlying criticism. “I’m glad that my son has had an opportunity of serving you, and that he’s pleased you. My son has only done his duty, neh? It’s our duty—Mizuno-san and all of us—to serve.”

Horses clattered up the rise. Igurashi, Yabu’s chief retainer, strode through the garden. “Everything’s ready, Sire. If you want to get back to Yedo quickly we should leave now.”

“Good. Omi-san, you and your men will go with the convoy and assist Igurashi-san to see it safely into the castle.” Yabu saw a shadow cross Omi’s face. “What?”

“I was just thinking about the barbarians.”

“Leave a few guards for them. Compared to the convoy, they’re unimportant. Do what you want with them—put them back into the pit, do what you like. When and if you obtain anything useful from them, send me word.”

“Yes, Lord,” Omi replied. “I’ll leave ten samurai and specific instructions with Mura—they’ll come to no harm in five or six days. What do you want done with the ship itself?”

“Keep it safe here. You’re responsible for it, of course. Zukimoto has sent letters to a dealer at Nagasaki to offer it for sale to the Portuguese. The Portuguese can come and collect it.”

Omi hesitated. “Perhaps you should keep the ship, Sire, and get the barbarians to train some of our sailors to handle it.”

“What do I need with barbarian ships?” Yabu laughed derisively. “Should I become a filthy merchant?”

“Of course not, Sire,” Omi said quickly. “I just thought Zukimoto might have found a use for such a vessel.”

“What do I need with a trading ship?”

“The priest said this was a warship, Sire. He seemed afraid of it. When war starts, a warship could—”

“Our war will be fought on land. The sea’s for merchants, all of whom are filthy usurers, pirates or fishermen.” Yabu got up and began to walk down the steps toward the garden gate, where a samurai was holding the bridle of his horse. He stopped and stared out to sea. His knees went weak.

Omi followed his glance.

A ship was rounding the headland. She was a large galley with a multitude of oars, the swiftest of the Japanese coastal vessels because she depended neither upon the wind, nor upon the tide. The flag at the masthead carried the Toranaga crest.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Toda Hiro-matsu, overlord of the provinces of Sagami and Kozuké, Toranaga’s most trusted general and adviser, commander-in-chief of all his armies, strode down the gangplank onto the wharf alone. He was tall for a Japanese, just under six feet, a bull-like man with heavy jowls, who carried his sixty-seven years with strength. His military kimono was brown silk, stark but for the five small Toranaga crests—three interlocked bamboo sprays. He wore a burnished breastplate and steel arm protectors. Only the short sword was in his belt. The other, the killing sword, he carried loose in his hand. He was ready to unsheathe it instantly and to kill instantly to protect his liege lord. This had been his custom ever since he was fifteen.

No one, not even the Taikō, had been able to change him.

A year ago, when the Taikō died, Hiro-matsu had become Toranaga’s vassal. Toranaga had given him Sagami and Kozuké, two of his eight provinces, to overlord, five hundred thousand koku yearly, and had also left him to his custom. Hiro-matsu was very good at killing.

Now the shore was lined with all the villagers—men, women, children—on their knees, their heads low. The samurai were in neat, formal rows in front of them. Yabu was at their head with his lieutenants.

If Yabu had been a woman or a weaker man, he knew that he would be beating his breast and wailing and tearing his hair out. This was too much of a coincidence. For the famous Toda Hiro-matsu to be here, on this day, meant that Yabu had been betrayed—either in Yedo by one of his household, or here in Anjiro by Omi, one of Omi’s men, or one of the villagers. He had been trapped in disobedience. An enemy had taken advantage of his interest in the ship.

He knelt and bowed and all his samurai followed him, and he cursed the ship and all who sailed in it.

“Ah, Yabu-sama,” he heard Hiro-matsu say, and saw him kneel on the matting that had been set out for him and return his bow. But the depth of the bow was less than correct and Hiro-matsu did not wait for him to bow again, so he knew, without being told, that he was in vast jeopardy. He saw the general sit back on his heels. “Iron Fist” he was called behind his back. Only Toranaga or one of three counselors would have the privilege of flying the Toranaga flag. Why send so important a general to catch me away from Yedo?

“You honor me by coming to one of my poor villages, Hiro-matsu-sama,” he said.