Shōgun

by James Clavell

  Everything had succeeded beautifully. Until today.

  Today the samurai he had sent to fetch the monk had returned empty-handed. “The priest is dead,” the man had reported. “When his name was called, he didn’t come out, Lord Toranaga. I went in to fetch him, but he was dead. The criminals around him said when the jailers called his name, he just collapsed. He was dead when I turned him over. Please excuse me, you sent me for him and I’ve failed to do what you ordered. I didn’t know if you wanted his head, or his head on his body seeing he was a barbarian, so I brought the body with the head still on. Some of the criminals around him said they were his converts. They wanted to keep the corpse and they tried to keep it so I killed a few and brought the corpse. It’s stinking and verminous but it’s in the courtyard, Sire.”

  Why did the monk die? Toranaga asked himself again. Then he saw Hiro-matsu looking at him questioningly. “Yes?”

  “I just asked who would want the pilot dead?”

  “Christians.”

  Kasigi Yabu followed Hiro-matsu along the corridor, feeling grand in the dawn. There was a nice salt tang to the breeze, and it reminded him of Mishima, his home city. He was glad that at long last he was to see Toranaga and the waiting was over. He had bathed and dressed with care. Last letters had been written to his wife and to his mother and his final will sealed in case the interview went against him. Today he was wearing the Murasama blade within its battle-honored scabbard.

  They turned another corner, then unexpectedly Hiro-matsu opened an ironbound reinforced door and led the way up the stone steps into the inner central keep of this part of the fortifications. There were many guards on duty and Yabu sensed danger.

  The stairs curled upward and ended at an easily defendable redoubt. Guards opened the iron door. He went out onto the battlements. Has Hiro-matsu been told to throw me off, or will I be ordered to jump? he asked himself unafraid.

  To his surprise Toranaga was there and, incredibly, Toranaga got up to greet him with a jovial deference he had no right to expect. After all, Toranaga was Lord of the Eight Provinces, whereas he was only Lord of Izu. Cushions had been placed carefully. A teapot was cradled in a sheath of silk. A richly dressed, square-faced girl of little beauty was bowing low. Her name was Sazuko and she was the seventh of Toranaga’s official consorts, the youngest, and very pregnant.

  “How nice to see you, Kasigi Yabu-san. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  Now Yabu was certain that Toranaga had decided to remove his head, one way or another, for, by universal custom, your enemy is never more polite than when he is planning or has planned your destruction. He took out both his swords and placed them carefully on the stone flags, allowed himself to be led away from them and seated in the place of honor.

  “I thought it would be interesting to watch the dawning, Yabu-san. I think the view here is exquisite—even better than from the Heir’s donjon. Neh?”

  “Yes, it is beautiful,” Yabu said without reservation, never having been so high in the castle before, sure now that Toranaga’s remark about “the Heir” implied that his secret negotiations with Ishido were known. “I’m honored to be allowed to share it with you.”

  Below them were the sleeping city and harbor and islands, Awaji to the west, the coastline falling off to the east, the growing light in the eastern sky slashing the clouds with flecks of crimson.

  “This is my Lady Sazuko. Sazuko, this is my ally, the famous Lord Kasigi Yabu of Izu, the daimyo who brought us the barbarian and the treasure ship!” She bowed and complimented him and he bowed and she returned his bow again. She offered Yabu the first cup of tea but he politely declined the honor, beginning the ritual, and asked her to give it to Toranaga, who refused, and pressed him to accept it. Eventually, continuing the ritual, as the honored guest he allowed himself to be persuaded. Hiro-matsu accepted the second cup, his gnarled fingers holding the porcelain with difficulty the other hand wrapped around the haft of his sword, loose in his lap. Toranaga accepted a third cup and sipped his cha, then together they gave themselves to nature and watched the sunrise. In the silence of the sky.

  Gulls mewed. The city sounds began. The day was born.

  Lady Sazuko sighed, her eyes wet with tears. “It makes me feel like a goddess being so high, watching so much beauty, neh? It’s so sad that it’s gone forever, Sire. So very sad, neh?”

  “Yes,” Toranaga said.

  When the sun was halfway above the horizon, she bowed and left. To Yabu’s surprise, the guards left also. Now they were alone. The three of them.

  “I was pleased to receive your gift, Yabu-san. It was most generous, the whole ship and everything in it,” Toranaga said.

  “Whatever I have is yours,” Yabu said, still deeply affected by the dawning. I wish I had more time, he thought. How elegant of Toranaga to do this! To give me a lastness of such immensity. “Thank you for this dawn.”

  “Yes,” Toranaga said. “It was mine to give. I’m pleased that you enjoyed my gift, as I enjoyed yours.”

  There was a silence.

  “Yabu-san. What do you know about the Amida Tong?”

  “Only what most people know: that it’s a secret society of ten—units of ten—a leader and never more than nine acolytes in any one area, women and men. They are sworn by the most sacred and secret oaths of the Lord Buddha Amida, the Dispenser of Eternal Love, to obedience, chastity, and death; to spend their lives training to become a perfect weapon for one kill; to kill only at the order of the leader, and if they fail to kill the person chosen, be it a man, woman, or child, to take their own life at once. They’re religious fanatics who are certain they’ll go directly from this life to Buddhahood. Not one of them has ever been caught alive.” Yabu knew about the attempt on Toranaga’s life. All Osaka knew by now and knew also that the Lord of the Kwanto, the Eight Provinces, had locked himself safely inside hoops of steel. “They kill rarely, their secrecy is complete. There’s no chance of revenge on them because no one knows who they are, where they live, or where they train.”

  “If you wanted to employ them, how would you go about it?”

  “I would whisper it in three places—in the Heinan Monastery, at the gates of the Amida shrine, and in the Johji Monastery. Within ten days, if you are considered an acceptable employer, you will be approached through intermediaries. It is all so secret and devious that, even if you wished to betray them or catch them, it would never be possible. On the tenth day they ask for a sum of money, in silver, the amount depending on the person to be assassinated. There is no bargaining, you pay what they ask beforehand. They guarantee only that one of their members will attempt the kill within ten days. Legend has it that if the kill is successful, the assassin goes back to their temple and then, with great ceremony, commits ritual suicide.”

  “Then you think we could never find out who paid for the attack today?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think there will be another?”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. They contract for one attempt at one time, neh? But you’d be wise to improve your security—among your samurai, and also among your women. The Amida women are trained in poison, as well as knife and garrote, so they say.”

  “Have you ever employed them?”

  “No.”

  “But your father did?”

  “I don’t know, not for certain. I was told that the Taikō asked him to contact them once.”

  “Was the attack successful?”

  “Anything the Taikō did was successful. One way or another.”

  Yabu felt someone behind him and presumed it to be the guards coming back secretly. He was measuring the distance to his swords. Do I try to kill Toranaga? he asked himself again. I had decided to and now I don’t know. I’ve changed. Why?

  “What would you have to pay them for my head?” Toranaga asked him.

  “There is not enough silver in all Asia to tempt me to employ them to do this.”

  “What would another have to pay?”<
br />
  “Twenty thousand koku—fifty thousand—a hundred—perhaps more, I don’t know.”

  “Would you pay a hundred thousand koku to become Shōgun? Your bloodline goes back to the Takashimas, neh?”

  Yabu said proudly, “I would pay nothing. Money’s filth—a toy for women to play with or for dung-filled merchants. But if that were possible, which it isn’t, I would give my life and the life of my wife and mother and all my kin except my one son, and all my samurai in Izu and all their women and children to be Shōgun one day.”

  “And what would you give for the Eight Provinces?”

  “Everything as before, except the life of my wife and mother and son.”

  “And for Suruga Province?”

  “Nothing,” Yabu said with contempt. “Ikawa Jikkyu’s worth nothing. If I don’t take his head and all his generation in this life I’ll do it in another. I piss on him and his seed for ten thousand lifetimes.”

  “And if I were to give him to you? And all Suruga—and perhaps the next province, Totomi, as well?”

  Yabu suddenly tired of the cat-and-mouse game and the talk about the Amida. “You’ve decided to take my head, Lord Toranaga—very well. I’m ready. I thank you for the dawn. But I’ve no wish to spoil such elegance with further talk, so let’s be done.”

  “But I haven’t decided to take your head, Yabu-san,” Toranaga said. “Whatever gave you the thought? Has an enemy poured poison in your ears? Ishido perhaps? Aren’t you my favored ally? Do you think that I’d entertain you here, without guards, if I thought you hostile?”

  Yabu turned slowly. He had expected to find samurai behind him, swords poised. There was no one there. He looked back at Toranaga.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I brought you here so we could talk privately. And to see the dawn. Would you like to rule the provinces of Izu, Suruga, and Totomi—if I do not lose this war?”

  “Yes. Very much,” Yabu said, his hopes soaring.

  “You would become my vassal? Accept me as your liege lord?”

  Yabu did not hesitate. “Never,” he said. “As ally, yes. As my leader, yes. Lesser than you always, yes. My life and all I possess thrown onto your side, yes. But Izu is mine. I am daimyo of Izu and I will never give power over Izu to anyone. I swore that oath to my father, and the Taikō who reaffirmed our hereditary fief, first to my father and then to me. The Taikō confirmed Izu to me and my successors forever. He was our liege lord and I swore never to have another until his heir became of age.”

  Hiro-matsu twisted his sword slightly in his hand. Why doesn’t Toranaga let me get it over with once and for all? It’s been agreed. Why all the wearing talk? I ache and I want to piss and I need to lie down.

  Toranaga scratched his groin. “What did Ishido offer you?”

  “Jikkyu’s head—the moment that yours is off. And his province.”

  “In return for what?”

  “Support when war begins. To attack your southern flank.”

  “Did you accept?”

  “You know me better than that.”

  Toranaga’s spies in Ishido’s household had whispered that the bargain had been struck, and that it included responsibility for the assassination of his three sons, Noboru, Sudara, and Naga. “Nothing more? Just support?”

  “By every means at my disposal,” Yabu said delicately.

  “Including assassination?”

  “I intend to wage the war, when it begins, with all my force. For my ally. In any way I can to guarantee his success. We need a sole Regent in Yaemon’s minority. War between you and Ishido is inevitable. It’s the only way.”

  Yabu was trying to read Toranaga’s mind. He was scornful of Toranaga’s indecision, knowing that he himself was the better man, that Toranaga needed his support, that at length he would vanquish him. But meanwhile what to do? he asked himself and wished Yuriko, his wife, were here to guide him. She would know the wisest course. “I can be very valuable to you. I can help you become sole Regent,” he said, deciding to gamble.

  “Why should I wish to be sole Regent?”

  “When Ishido attacks I can help you to conquer him. When he breaks the peace,” Yabu said.

  “How?”

  He told them his plan with the guns.

  “A regiment of five hundred gun-samurai?” Hiro-matsu erupted.

  “Yes. Think of the fire power. All elite men, trained to act as one man. The twenty cannon equally together.”

  “It’s a bad plan. Disgusting,” Hiro-matsu said. “You could never keep it secret. If we start, the enemy would start also. There would never be an end to such horror. There’s no honor in it and no future.”

  “Isn’t this coming war the only one we’re concerned with, Lord Hiro-matsu?” Yabu replied. “Aren’t we concerned only with Lord Toranaga’s safety? Isn’t that the duty of his allies and vassals?”

  “Yes.”

  “All Lord Toranaga has to do is win the one great battle. That will give him the heads of all his enemies—and power. I say this strategy will give him victory.”

  “I say it won’t. It’s a disgusting plan with no honor.”

  Yabu turned to Toranaga. “A new era requires clear thinking about the meaning of honor.”

  A sea gull soared overhead mewing.

  “What did Ishido say to your plan?” Toranaga asked.

  “I did not discuss it with him.”

  “Why? If you think your plan’s valuable to me, it would be equally valuable to him. Perhaps more so.”

  “You gave me a dawn. You’re not a peasant like Ishido. You’re the wisest, most experienced leader in the Empire.”

  What’s the real reason? Toranaga was asking himself. Or have you told Ishido too? “If this plan were to be followed, the men would be half yours and half mine?”

  “Agreed. I would command them.”

  “My appointee would be second-in-command?”

  “Agreed. I would need the Anjin-san to train my men as gunners, cannoneers.”

  “But he would be my property permanently, you would cherish him as you do the Heir? You’d be totally responsible for him and do with him precisely as I say?”

  “Agreed.”

  Toranaga watched the crimson clouds for a moment. This planning is all nonsense, he thought. I will have to declare Crimson Sky myself and lunge for Kyoto at the head of all my legions. One hundred thousand against ten times that number. “Who will be interpreter? I can’t detach Toda Mariko-san forever.”

  “For a few weeks, Sire? I will see that the barbarian learns our language.”

  “That’d take years. The only barbarians who’ve ever mastered it are Christian priests, neh? They spend years. Tsukku-san’s been here almost thirty years, neh? He won’t learn fast enough, anymore than we can learn their foul languages.”

  “Yes. But I promise you, this Anjin-san’ll learn very quickly.” Yabu told them the plan Omi had suggested to him as if it were his own idea.

  “That might be too dangerous.”

  “It would make him learn quickly, neh? And then he’s tamed.”

  After a pause, Toranaga said, “How would you maintain secrecy during the training?”

  “Izu is a peninsula, security is excellent there. I’ll base near Anjiro, well south and away from Mishima and the border for more safety.”

  “Good. We’ll set up carrier pigeon links from Anjiro to Osaka and Yedo at once.”

  “Excellent. I need only five or six months and—”

  “We’ll be lucky to have six days!” Hiro-matsu snorted. “Are you saying that your famous espionage net has been swept away, Yabu san? Surely you’ve been getting reports? Isn’t Ishido mobilizing? Isn’t Onoshi mobilizing? Aren’t we locked in here?”

  Yabu did not answer.

  “Well?” Toranaga said.

  Yabu said, “Reports indicate all that is happening and more. If it’s six days then it’s six days and that’s karma. But I believe you’re much too clever to be trapped here. Or prov
oked into an early war.”

  “If I agreed to your plan, you would accept me as your leader?”

  “Yes. And when you win, I would be honored to accept Suruga and Totomi as part of my fief forever.”

  “Totomi would depend on the success of your plan.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You will obey me? With all your honor?”

  “Yes. By bushido, by the Lord Buddha, by the life of my mother, my wife, and my future posterity.”

  “Good,” Toranaga said. “Let’s piss on the bargain.”

  He went to the edge of the battlements. He stepped up on the ledge of the embrasure, then onto the parapet itself. Seventy feet below was the inner garden. Hiro-matsu held his breath, aghast at his master’s bravado. He saw him turn and beckon Yabu to stand beside him. Yabu obeyed. The slightest touch could have sent them tumbling to their deaths.

  Toranaga eased his kimono and loincloth aside, as did Yabu. Together they urinated and mixed their urine and watched it dew the garden below.

  “The last bargain I sealed this way was with the Taikō himself,” Toranaga said, greatly relieved at being able to empty his bladder. “That was when he decided to give me the Kwanto, the Eight Provinces, as my fief. Of course, at that time the enemy Hojo still owned them, so first I had to conquer them. They were our last remaining opposition. Of course, too, I had to give up my hereditary fiefs of Imagawa, Owari, and Ise at once for the honor. Even so, I agreed and we pissed on the bargain.” He straddled the parapet easily, settling his loincloth comfortably as though he stood in the garden itself, not perched like an eagle so far above. “It was a good bargain for both of us. We conquered the Hojo and took over five thousand heads within the year. Stamped him out and all his tribe. Perhaps you’re right, Kasigi Yabu-san. Perhaps you can help me as I helped the Taikō. Without me, the Taikō would never have become Taikō.”

  “I can help to make you sole Regent, Toranaga-sama. But not Shōgun.”

  “Of course. That’s the one honor I don’t seek, as much as my enemies say I do.” Toranaga jumped down to the safety of the stone flags. He looked back at Yabu who still stood on the narrow parapet adjusting his sash. He was sorely tempted to give him a quick shove for his insolence. Instead he sat down and broke wind loudly. “That’s better. How’s your bladder, Iron Fist?”