Gai-Jin (99 page)

In midmorning the next day, within the palace walls, Yoshi hurried through the outer rim of gardens in the light rain. General Akeda was beside him. “This is terribly dangerous, Sire,” he said, afraid that every shrub or thicket, however carefully tended, might hide enemies.

Both men wore light armor and swords—a rarity here where all samurai and all weapons were forbidden, except for the ruling Shōgun and an immediate guard of four, the Leader of the Elders and Guardian of the Heir.

It was almost noon. The two men were late and noticed none of the beauty surrounding them, lakes and bridges and flowering shrubs and trees groomed and cherished over centuries. Whenever a gardener saw them, the man would kowtow until they were out of sight. Over their armor were straw overmantles against the rain. All morning there had been intermittent showers. Yoshi’s pace quickened.

This was not the first time he had hurried to a clandestine meeting within the palace grounds—safe but never truly safe. So difficult to have a truly safe meeting anywhere, with a spy, informer, or adversary—in secret almost impossible—always afraid of ambush, poison or hidden bowmen or musketeers. The same applied to every daimyo. His own safety factor he knew was very low. So low in fact that his father and grandfather had
taught him to accept the fact that death from old age had no place in their karma.

“We are as safe as anywhere on earth,” he said. “It would be unthinkable to break a truce here.”

“Yes, except for Ogama. He is a liar, cheat, he should be meat for vultures, his head spiked.”

Yoshi smiled and felt better. Since the appalling news of the shishi attack had arrived in the middle of the night he had been more on edge than ever—more than when on the death of his uncle he had been passed over as Shōgun and Nobusada appointed instead, more than when tairō Ii had arrested him, his father and their families and sent them to rot in foul quarters. He had made preparations to rush two hundred men to meet the entourage at the Kyōto barrier, and at dawn had sent Akeda secretly to Ogama to relate what had happened and why a large party of men equipped for war were leaving his stockade.

“Tell Ogama all that we have been told, and answer any of his questions. I want no mistakes, Akeda.”

“There will be none from me, Sire.”

“Good. Then give him the letter and request an immediate answer.” Yoshi had not told Akeda what the letter contained, nor did his general ask. And when Akeda returned Yoshi said, “Tell me exactly what he did.”

“Ogama read the letter twice and spat, cursed twice, threw it at his counselor, Basuhiro, who read it with that stony, slimy, pockmarked face of his that gave nothing away, who said, ‘Perhaps we should discuss this in private, Sire.’ I told them I would wait, I did and then after a reasonable time Basuhiro came out and said, ‘My Lord agrees but he will come armed and I will be armed.’ What’s this all about, Sire?”

Yoshi told him and the old man went purple. “You asked to meet him alone? With only myself as guard? That is craziness, just because he says he will come only with Basuhi—”

“Enough!” Yoshi knew the risks were great but he had to gamble again, had to have an answer on his proposal about the Gates and then, when he was about to leave and one of the surfeit of Shōgunate spies reported certain conversations overheard between the shishi Katsumata and others at the Inn of Whispering Pines, he had been elated he had asked for the meeting. “There he is!”

Ogama was standing in the shade of a wide-branched tree where they had agreed, Basuhiro at his side. Both were clearly suspicious, expecting treachery, but not as visibly nervous as Akeda. Yoshi had proposed that Ogama come in through the South Gate, he would use the East Gate, leaving his palanquin and guards outside with their safe conduct guaranteed. After the meeting, all four would walk out of the East Gate together.

As before, the two adversaries walked towards each other to speak alone. Akeda and Basuhiro watched tensely.

“So!” Ogama said after their formal greeting. “A handful of shishi attack through hundreds of guards like a knife through dung—and almost in Nobusada’s bath, naked wife and bed before they are caught. Ten men, you say?”

“Three were Choshu ronin, the two that got through the hedge were Choshus, one of them the leader.” Yoshi was not over his fright at the attack, and wondered if he dared draw his sword at this rare opportunity to challenge Ogama alone—Basuhiro presented no physical threat, with or without Akeda.

I need Ogama dead one way or another, he thought, but not yet. Not when two thousand Choshu hold the Gates and me in thrall. “All of them died without doing harm, except to some guards, the survivors not long on this earth. I hear you have offered all your Choshu ronin an amnesty?” he asked, his voice edging, wondering again if Ogama had a secret hand in the planning, which had been impeccable and, if the truth were known, should have been successful. “If shishi or not.”

“Yes,” Ogama said, his mouth smiling. “All daimyo should do the same, a quick and simple way to control all ronin, shishi or not. They are a pestilence that must be stopped.”

“I agree. Amnesty will not stop them. May I ask, how many of your ronin have accepted your offer?”

Ogama laughed roughly. “Clearly not the ones who were in the attack! One or two so far, Yoshi-dono. How many are there in all? A hundred? Not two hundred, of which twenty or thirty may be Choshu? Choshu or not, never mind.” His face hardened. “I did not plan the attack if that is what is in your mind, or know about it.” The mirthless smile returned. “Un think able to have such a treasonous thought. Eh? Easy to stamp shishi out if you and I wanted to—but their slogan is not as easy to suppress, if indeed it should be suppressed. Power should return to the Emperor, gai-jin should be expelled.
Sonno-joi
is a good slogan, eh?”

“I could say many things, Ogama-dono, but allies should not bait one another. We are allies? You agree?”

Ogama nodded. “In principle, yes.”

“Good,” Yoshi said, hiding his astonishment that Ogama had agreed to his conditions. “Within the year you are Chief of the Elders. From noon I garrison the Gates.” He turned to go.

“Everything as you said. Except the Gates.”

The vein in Yoshi’s forehead knotted. “But I said I need the Gates.”

“So sorry.” Ogama’s hand had not tightened on his sword though his feet had shifted into a better fighting stance. “Secret allies, yes, war with Tosa, yes, with Satsuma, yes, the Gates, no. So sorry.”

For a moment Yoshi Toranaga said nothing. He looked at him. Ogama stared back unafraid, waiting, ready to fight if need be. Then Yoshi sighed, wiped raindrops from the edge of his wide-brimmed hat. “I want to be allies. Allies should help one another. I have a compromise, perhaps, but first I give you some special information: Katsumata is here in Kyōto.”

The blood rushed into Ogama’s face. “Not possible, my spies would have told me.”

“He is here and has been here for some weeks.”

“There are none of Sanjiro’s men in Kyōto, least of all that man. My spies would have t—”

“Ah, sorry,” Yoshi said softly. “He is here, secretly, not as Sanjiro’s path finder and spy, at least not openly. Katsumata is shishi, a Sensei of shishi, and the leader of shishi here, code name the Raven.”

Ogama gaped at him.
“Katsumata is the shishi leader?”

“Yes. And a little more. Think for a moment: Is he not Sanjiro’s most trusted, long-time counselor and tactician? Did he outsmart you on behalf of Sanjiro with his false pact and foil you at Fushimi and allow Sanjiro to escape? Does that not mean Sanjiro of Satsuma is secretly the real leader of shishi and that all of their assassinations are part of his general plan to overthrow all of us, you particularly, to become Shogun?”

“That’s always been Sanjiro’s goal, of course,” Ogama said, momentarily glazed, many hitherto unexplained occurrences now falling into place. “If he controls all shishi too …” He stopped, suddenly infuriated that Takeda had never told him. Why? Is Takeda not a spy for me, not a true secret vassal after all? “Where is Katsumata now?”

“One of your patrols almost ambushed him at the Inn of Whispering Pines a few days ago.”

Again color came into Ogama’s face and he almost spat. “He was there? We heard that shishi were sleeping there but I never knew …” Once again he choked with rage that Takeda had not forewarned him that his hated enemy was within his grasp. Why? Never mind, easy to deal with Takeda. First Katsumata. I have not forgotten Katsumata ruined my surprise attack on Sanjiro. But for Katsumata, Sanjiro would be dead, I would be overlord of Satsuma, and there would be no need to talk with Toranaga Yoshi—he would be on his knees in front of me. “Where is he now? Do you know where?”

“I know the safe house where he was last night, perhaps tonight too.” Yoshi added softly, “There are over a hundred shishi in Kyōto. They already plan a mass attack on you.”

Ogama felt chilled, knowing there was no true defense against a fanatic assassin not afraid to die. “When?”

“It was to be at dusk tomorrow—if the attack on the Shōgun had been successful. Then, once you were dead, with adherents amongst your troops, they would seize the Gates.”

It took much of Ogama’s strength not to tell Yoshi a secret meeting with Takeda was due at dusk tomorrow, a perfect moment for a surprise attack. “And now that it was a failure?”

“The information I have is that the leaders are meeting tonight to decide. Now, formally, you head their target list, after Nobusada and myself.”

“Why?” Ogama spluttered. “I support the Emperor, support the fight against the gai-jin.”

Yoshi kept the smile off his face, knowing very well. “Let us join forces tonight. I know their meeting place, where Katsumata and most of the leaders should be—there is a dawn-to-dusk curfew in that part of the city.”

Ogama exhaled. “And the price?”

“First, here is more information that seriously affects both of us.” To Ogama’s further disquiet, Yoshi related the details of the Elders’ meeting with Sir William and the other Ministers, about his spy Misamoto, about Sir William’s threat to make an armed sortie here as soon as his fleet returned, and how the threat and payment had been finessed for the moment.

“Their fleet will not pass my Shimonoseki Straits—if I order it.”

“They could take the long route around South Island.”

“Long route, short route, it makes no difference. If they land in or near Osaka, I, or we, will destroy them.”

“The first time. With great losses but, yes, gai-jin will be repulsed. How ever, two days ago I received a secret report from the department of the Bakufu here who deal with China information.” He brought out the scroll. “Here, read it for yourself.”

“What does it say?” Ogama snapped.

“That the Yokohama fleet sent to punish the sinking of just one British ship devastated twenty leagues of China’s coastline, north of Shanghai, burning all villages, sinking all shipping.”

Ogama spat. “Pirates. Pirate nests.” He knew much about that area. In the past it had been historic, though secret Choshu—and Satsuma—policy to send raiders to the China coast to pillage ruthlessly from Shanghai, southwards beyond Hong Kong to the Taiwan Straits. The Chinese called them
wako
, pirates, hating and fearing them so much that, for centuries, Emperors of China had forbidden any Japanese from landing on their shores, and all trade between their lands was to be conducted only by non-Japanese.

“Pirates, yes, but those scum are not cowards. Not so long ago an army of these same gai-jin humbled all China a second time and burned the Emperor’s Summer Palace and Peking at their whim. Their fleets and armies are awesome in power.”

“This is Nippon, not China.” Ogama shrugged, not prepared to be drawn out or to divulge his plans for the defense of Choshu. But he was thinking: my coasts are rugged and rock-infested, difficult to invade and
very defensible, soon impregnable when all armed emplacements are in place, and bunkers for my fighters. “And we are not Chinese.”

“My thought is that we need peace between all daimyos to gain time, to manipulate gai-jin, to learn their cannon secrets and gun secrets and ship secrets and how it seems this one foul little island, smaller than our land, has become the wealthiest in the world and rules most of it.”

“Lies. Lies spread to frighten cowards here.”

Yoshi shook his head. “I do not believe that. First we must learn, then we can smash them. We cannot now.”

“We can. This is the Land of the Gods. In Choshu I have one cannon factory, soon there will be others. Satsuma has three small steamers, the beginnings of a shipyard, soon there will be others.” His face twisted. “We can smash Yokohama and this fleet and by the time others return we will be ready.”

Yoshi hid his surprise at the vehemence and strength of the hatred, secretly elated he had smoked out another weapon to use. “I agree. My whole point. There, you see, Ogama-dono,” he said as though greatly relieved, “we think the same though perhaps from different points. We smash them but in time, we must choose the time, gain their knowledge and let them give us the means to spike their guns and their heads.” His voice firmed. “In one year you and I control the Council and Bakufu. In three or four we can buy many guns, cannon and ships.”

“Paid for how? Gai-jin are greedy.”

“One way is coal for their ships. Another is gold.” Yoshi explained his prospecting scheme.

“Clever,” Ogama said, his lips twisted into a strange smile. “In Choshu we have coal, iron and trees for ships.”

“And one armament factory already.”

Ogama laughed, a good laugh, and Yoshi laughed too and knew he had made a breakthrough. “True, and my batteries increase monthly.” Ogama shifted his overmantle under the increasing rain and added pointedly, “So does my resolve to fire on enemy shipping, when I wish. Is that all your information, Yoshi-dono?”

“For the moment. May I advise you to slacken your grip on the Straits—in any event they are yours to play with. Yes, that’s all for the moment, but as an ally you will be given all kinds of privileged information.”

“As an ally I would expect privileged information.” Ogama nodded half to himself. He glanced back at Basuhiro then changed his mind about consulting him—Yoshi is right, he thought, leaders should have secrets. “We have talked enough. Katsumata: I asked the price. A joint attack tonight.”