Shōgun

His hand was on the Murasama sword and he could feel the blood in his sword arm and the blinding urge to begin. He had discarded at once the possibility of not mentioning the muskets. If the news of the ship had been betrayed, certainly the identity of its cargo was equally betrayed. But how did Toranaga get the news so quickly? By carrier pigeon! That’s the only answer. From Yedo or from here? Who possesses carrier pigeons here? Why haven’t I such a service? That’s Zukimoto’s fault—he should have thought of it, neh?

Make up your mind. War or no war?

Yabu called down the ill will of Buddha, of all kami, of all gods that had ever been or were yet to be invented, upon the man or men who had betrayed him, upon their parents and upon their descendants for ten thousand generations. And he conceded.

“Lord Toranaga cannot confiscate the ship because it’s already a gift to him. I’ve dictated a letter to that effect. Isn’t that so, Zukimoto?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Of course, if Lord Toranaga wishes to consider it confiscated he may. But it was to be a gift.” Yabu was pleased to hear that his voice sounded matter-of-fact. “He will be happy with the booty.”

“Thank you on behalf of my Master.” Hiro-matsu again marveled at Toranaga’s foresight. Toranaga had predicted that this would happen and that there would be no fighting. ‘I don’t believe it,’ Hiro-matsu had said. ‘No daimyo would stand for such usurping of his rights. Yabu won’t. I certainly wouldn’t. Not even to you, Sire.’

‘But you would have obeyed orders and you would have told me about the ship. Yabu must be manipulated, neh? I need his violence and cunning—he neutralizes Ikawa Jikkyu and guards my flank.’

Here on the beach under a good sun Hiro-matsu forced himself into a polite bow, hating his own duplicity. “Lord Toranaga will be delighted with your generosity.”

Yabu was watching him closely. “It’s not a Portuguese ship.”

“Yes. So we heard.”

“And it’s pirate.” He saw the general’s eyes narrow.

“Eh?”

As he told him what the priest had said, Yabu thought, if that’s news to you as it was to me, doesn’t that mean that Toranaga had the same original information as I? But if you know the contents of the ship, then the spy is Omi, one of his samurai, or a villager. “There’s an abundance of cloth. Some treasure. Muskets, powder, and shot.”

Hiro-matsu hesitated. Then he said, “The cloth is Chinese silks?”

“No, Hiro-matsu-san,” he said, using the “san.” They were daimyos equally. But now that he was magnanimously “giving” the ship, he felt safe enough to use the less deferential term. He was pleased to see that the word had not gone unnoticed by the older man. I’m daimyo of Izu, by the sun, the moon, and the stars!

“It’s very unusual, a thick heavy cloth, totally useless to us,” he said. “I’ve had everything worth salvaging brought ashore.”

“Good. Please put all of it aboard my ship.”

“What?” Yabu’s bowels almost burst.

“All of it. At once.”

“Now?”

“Yes. So sorry, but you’ll naturally understand that I want to return to Osaka as soon as possible.”

“Yes but—but will there be space for everything?”

“Put the cannon back on the barbarian ship and seal it up. Boats will be arriving within three days to tow it to Yedo. As to the muskets, powder, and shot, there’s—” Hiro-matsu stopped, avoiding the trap that he suddenly realized had been set for him.

‘There’s just enough space for the five hundred muskets,’ Toranaga had told him. “And all the powder and the twenty thousand silver doubloons aboard the galley. Leave the cannon on the deck of the ship and the cloth in the holds. Let Yabu do the talking and give him orders, don’t let him have time to think. But don’t get irritated or impatient with him. I need him, but I want those guns and that ship. Beware of his trying to trap you into revealing that you know the exactness of the cargo, because he must not uncover our spy.’

Hiro-matsu cursed his inability to play these necessary games. “As to the space needed,” he said shortly, “perhaps you should tell me. And just exactly what is the cargo? How many muskets and shot and so forth? And is the bullion in bar or coins—is it silver or gold?”

“Zukimoto!”

“Yes, Yabu-sama.”

“Get the list of the contents.” I’ll deal with you later, Yabu thought.

Zukimoto hurried away.

“You must be tired, Hiro-matsu-san. Perhaps some cha? Accommodations have been prepared for you, such as they are. The baths are totally inadequate, but perhaps one would refresh you a little.”

“Thank you. You’re very thoughtul. Some cha and a bath would be excellent. Later. First tell me everything that has happened since the ship arrived here.”

Yabu told him the facts, omitting the part about the courtesan and the boy, which was unimportant. On Yabu’s orders, Omi told his story, except for his private conversations with Yabu. And Mura told his, excluding the part about the Anjin’s erection which, Mura reasoned, though interesting, might have offended Hiro-matsu, whose own, at his age, might be few and far between.