Shōgun

by James Clavell

  “I’ve said before I do not approve of senseless death. I have a use for you.”

  “Please, Sire, I wish to die. I humbly beg you. I wish to join my husband and my son.”

  Toranaga’s voice slashed at her, drowning the sounds of the galley. “I’ve already refused you that honor. You don’t merit it, yet. And it’s only because of your grandfather, because Lord Hiro-matsu’s my oldest friend, that I’ve listened patiently to your ill-mannered mouthings so far. Enough of this nonsense, woman. Stop acting like a dung-headed peasant!”

  “I humbly beg permission to cut off my hair and become a nun. Buddha will—”

  “No. I’ve given you an order. Obey it!”

  “Obey?” she said, not looking up, her face stark. Then, half to herself, “I thought I was ordered to Yedo.”

  “You were ordered to this vessel! You forget your position, you forget your heritage, you forget your duty. You forget your duty! I’m disgusted with you. Go and get ready.”

  “I want to die, please let me join them, Sire.”

  “Your husband was born samurai by mistake. He was malformed, so his offspring would be equally malformed. That fool almost ruined me! Join them? What nonsense! You’re forbidden to commit seppuku! Now, get out!” But she did not move.

  “Perhaps I’d better send you to the eta. To one of their houses. Perhaps that’d remind you of your manners and your duty.”

  A shudder racked her, but she hissed back defiantly, “At least they’d be Japanese!”

  “I am your liege lord. You-will-do-as-I-order.”

  Fujiko hesitated. Then she shrugged. “Yes, Lord. I apologize for my ill manners.” She placed her hands flat on the futon and bowed her head low, her voice penitent. But in her heart she was not persuaded and he knew and she knew what she intended to do. “Sire, I sincerely apologize for disturbing you, for destroying your wa, your harmony, and for my bad manners. You were right. I was wrong.” She got up and went quietly to the door of the cabin.

  “If I grant you what you wish,” Toranaga said, “will you, in return, do what I want, with all your heart?”

  Slowly she looked back. “For how long, Sire? I beg to ask for how long must I be consort to the barbarian?”

  “A year.”

  She turned away and reached for the door handle.

  Toranaga said, “Half a year.”

  Fujiko’s hand stopped. Trembling, she leaned her head against the door. “Yes. Thank you, Sire. Thank you.”

  Toranaga got to his feet and went to the door. She opened it for him and bowed him through and closed it after him. Then the tears came silently.

  She was samurai.

  Toranaga came on deck feeling very pleased with himself. He had achieved what he wanted with the minimum of trouble. If the girl had been pressed too far she would have disobeyed and taken her own life without permission. But now she would try hard to please and it was important that she become the pilot’s consort happily, at least outwardly so, and six months would be more than enough time. Women are much easier to deal with than men, he thought contentedly. So much easier, in certain things.

  Then he saw Yabu’s samurai massed around the bay and his sense of well-being vanished.

  “Welcome to Izu, Lord Toranaga,” Yabu said. “I ordered a few men here to act as escort for you.”

  “Good.”

  The galley was still two hundred yards from the dock, approaching neatly, and they could see Omi and Igurashi and the futons and the awning.

  “Everything’s been done as we discussed in Osaka,” Yabu was saying. “But why not stay with me for a few days? I’d be honored and it would prove very useful. You could approve the choice of the two hundred and fifty men for the Musket Regiment, and meet their commander.”

  “Nothing would please me more but I must get to Yedo as quickly as possible, Yabu-san.”

  “Two or three days? Please. A few days free from worry would be good for you, neh? Your health is important to me—to all your allies. Some rest, good food, and hunting.”

  Toranaga was desperately seeking a solution. To stay here with only fifty guards was unthinkable. He would be totally in Yabu’s power, and that would be worse than his situation at Osaka. At least Ishido was predictable and bound by certain rules. But Yabu? Yabu’s as treacherous as a shark and you don’t tempt sharks, he told himself. And never in their home waters. And never with your own life. He knew that the bargain he had made with Yabu at Osaka had as much substance as the weight of their urine when it had reached the ground, once Yabu believed he could get better concessions from Ishido. And Yabu’s presenting Toranaga’s head on a wooden platter to Ishido would get Yabu immediately far more than Toranaga was prepared to offer.

  Kill him or go ashore? Those were the choices.

  “You’re too kind,” he said. “But I must get to Yedo.” I never thought Yabu would have time to gather so many men here. Has he broken our code?

  “Please allow me to insist, Toranaga-sama. The hunting’s very good nearby. I’ve falcons with my men. A little hunting after being confined at Osaka would be good, neh?”

  “Yes, it would be good to hunt today. I regret losing my falcons there.”

  “But they’re not lost. Surely Hiro-matsu will bring them with him to Yedo?”

  “I ordered him to release them once we were safely away. By the time they’d have reached Yedo they would have been out of training and tainted. It’s one of my few rules: only to fly the falcons that I’ve trained, and to allow them no other master. That way they make only my mistakes.”

  “It’s a good rule. I’d like to hear the others. Perhaps over food, tonight?”

  I need this shark, Toranaga thought bitterly. To kill him now is premature.

  Two ropes sailed ashore to be caught and secured. The ropes tightened and screeched under the strain and the galley swung alongside deftly. Oars were shipped. The gangway slid into place and then Yabu stood at its head.

  At once the massed samurai shouted their battle cry in unison. “Kasigi! Kasigi!” and the roar that they made sent the gulls cawing and mewing into the sky. As one man, the samurai bowed.

  Yabu bowed back, then turned to Toranaga and beckoned him expansively. “Let’s go ashore.”

  Toranaga looked out over the massed samurai, over the villagers prostrate in the dust, and he asked himself, Is this where I die by the sword as the astrologer has foretold? Certainly the first part has come to pass: my name is now written on Osaka walls.

  He put that thought aside. At the head of the gangway he called out loudly and imperiously to his fifty samurai, who now wore Brown uniform kimonos as he did, “All of you, stay here! You, Captain, you will prepare for instant departure! Mariko-san, you will be staying in Anjiro for three days. Take the pilot and Fujiko-san ashore at once and wait for me in the square.” Then he faced the shore and to Yabu’s amazement increased the force of his voice. “Now, Yabu-san, I will inspect your regiments!” At once he walked past him and stomped down the gangplank with all the easy confident arrogance of the fighting general he was.

  No general had ever won more battles and no one was more cunning except the Taikō, and he was dead. No general had fought more battles, or was ever more patient or had lost so few men. And he had never been defeated.

  A rustle of astonishment sped throughout the shore as he was recognized. This inspection was completely unexpected. His name was passed from mouth to mouth and the strength of the whispering, the awe that it generated, gratified him. He felt Yabu following but did not look back.

  “Ah, Igurashi-san,” he said with a geniality he did not feel. “It’s good to see you. Come along, we’ll inspect your men together.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “And you must be Kasigi Omi-san. Your father’s an old comrade in arms of mine. You follow, too.”

  “Yes, Lord,” Omi replied, his size increasing with the honor being done to him. “Thank you.”

  Toranaga set a brisk pace. He had taken them w
ith him to prevent them from talking privately with Yabu for the moment, knowing that his life depended on keeping the initiative.

  “Didn’t you fight with us at Odawara, Igurashi-san?” he was asking, already knowing that this was where the samurai had lost his eye.

  “Yes, Sire. I had the honor. I was with Lord Yabu and we served on the Taikō right wing.”

  “Then you had the place of honor—where fighting was the thickest. I have much to thank you and your master for.”

  “We smashed the enemy, Lord. We were only doing our duty.” Even though Igurashi hated Toranaga, he was proud that the action was remembered and that he was being thanked.

  Now they had come to the front of the first regiment. Toranaga’s voice carried loudly. “Yes, you and the men of Izu helped us greatly. Perhaps, if it weren’t for you, I would not have gained the Kwanto! Eh, Yabu-sama?” he added, stopping suddenly, giving Yabu publicly the added title, and thus the added honor.

  Again Yabu was thrown off balance by the flattery. He felt it was no more than his due, but he had not expected it from Toranaga, and it had never been his intention to allow a formal inspection. “Perhaps, but I doubt it. The Taikō ordered the Beppu clan obliterated. So it was obliterated.”

  That had been ten years ago, when only the enormously powerful and ancient Beppu clan, led by Beppu Genzaemon, opposed the combined forces of General Nakamura, the Taikō-to-be, and Toranaga—the last major obstacle to Nakamura’s complete domination of the Empire. For centuries the Beppu had owned the Eight Provinces, the Kwanto. A hundred and fifty thousand men had ringed their castle-city of Odawara, which guarded the pass that led through the mountains into the incredibly rich rice plains beyond. The siege lasted eleven months. Nakamura’s new consort, the patrician Lady Ochiba, radiant and barely eighteen, had come to her lord’s household outside the battlements, her infant son in her arms, Nakamura doting on his firstborn child. And with Lady Ochiba had come her younger sister, Genjiko, whom Nakamura proposed giving in marriage to Toranaga.

  “Sire,” Toranaga had said, “I’d certainly be honored to lock our houses closer together, but instead of me marrying the Lady Genjiko as you suggest, let her marry my son and heir, Sudara.”

  It had taken Toranaga many days to persuade Nakamura but he had agreed. Then when the decision was announced to the Lady Ochiba, she had replied at once, “With humility, Sire, I oppose the marriage.”

  Nakamura had laughed. “So do I! Sudara’s only ten and Genjiko thirteen. Even so, they’re now betrothed and on his fifteenth birthday they’ll marry.”

  “But, Sire, Lord Toranaga’s already your brother-in-law, neh? Surely that’s enough of a connection? You need closer ties with the Fujimoto and the Takashima—even at the Imperial Court.”

  “They’re dungheads at Court, and all in pawn,” Nakamura had said in his rough, peasant voice. “Listen, O-chan: Toranaga’s got seventy thousand samurai. When we’ve smashed the Beppu he’ll have the Kwanto and more men. My son will need leaders like Yoshi Toranaga, like I need them. Yes, and one day my son will need Yoshi Sudara. Better Sudara should be my son’s uncle. Your sister’s betrothed to Sudara, but Sudara will live with us for a few years, neh?”

  “Of course, Sire,” Toranaga had agreed instantly, giving up his son and heir as a hostage.

  “Good. But listen, first you and Sudara will swear eternal loyalty to my son.”

  And so it had happened. Then during the tenth month of siege this first child of Nakamura had died, from fever or bad blood or malevolent kami.

  “May all gods curse Odawara and Toranaga,” Ochiba had raved. “It’s Toranaga’s fault that we’re here—he wants the Kwanto. It’s his fault our son’s dead. He’s your real enemy. He wants you to die and me to die! Put him to death—or put him to work. Let him lead the attack, let him pay with his life for the life of our son! I demand vengeance….”

  So Toranaga had led the attack. He had taken Odawara Castle by mining the walls and by frontal attack. Then the grief-stricken Nakamura had stamped the city into dust. With its fall and the hunting down of all the Beppu, the Empire was subdued and Nakamura became first Kwampaku and then Taikō. But many had died at Odawara.

  Too many, Toranaga thought, here on the Anjiro shore. He watched Yabu. “It’s a pity the Taikō’s dead, neh?”

  “Yes.”

  “My brother-in-law was a great leader. And a great teacher too. Like him, I never forget a friend. Or an enemy.”

  “Soon Lord Yaemon will be of age. His spirit is the Taikō’s spirit. Lord Tora—” But before Yabu could stop the inspection Toranaga had already gone on again and there was little he could do but follow.

  Toranaga walked down the ranks, exuding geniality, picking out a man here, another there, recognizing some, his eyes never still as he reached into his memory for faces and names. He had that very rare quality of special generals who inspect so that every man feels, at least for a moment, that the general has looked at him alone, perhaps even talked with him alone among his comrades. Toranaga was doing what he was born to do, what he had done a thousand times: controlling men with his will.

  By the time the last samurai was passed, Yabu, Igurashi, and Omi were exhausted. But Toranaga was not, and again, before Yabu could stop him, he had walked rapidly to a vantage point and stood high and alone.

  “Samurai of Izu, vassals of my friend and ally, Kasigi Yabu-sama!” he called out in that vast sonorous voice. “I’m honored to be here. I’m honored to see part of the strength of Izu, part of the forces of my great ally. Listen, samurai, dark clouds are gathering over the Empire and threaten the Taikō’s peace. We must protect the Taikō’s gifts to us against treachery in high places! Let every samurai be prepared! Let every weapon be sharp! Together we will defend his will! And we will prevail! May the gods of Japan both great and small pay attention! May they blast without pity all those who oppose the Taikō’s orders!” Then he raised both his arms and uttered their battle cry, “Kasigi,” and, incredibly, he bowed to the legions and held the bow.

  They all stared at him. Then, “Toranaga!” came roaring back at him from the regiments again and again. And the samurai bowed in return.

  Even Yabu bowed, overcome by the strength of the moment.

  Before Yabu could straighten, Toranaga had set off down the hill once more at a fast pace. “Go with him, Omi-san,” Yabu ordered. It would have been unseemly for him to run after Toranaga himself.

  “Yes, Lord.”

  When Omi had gone, Yabu said to Igurashi, “What’s the news from Yedo?”

  “The Lady Yuriko, your wife, said first to tell you there’s a tremendous amount of mobilization over the whole Kwanto. Nothing much on the surface but underneath everything’s boiling. She believes Toranaga’s preparing for war—a sudden attack, perhaps against Osaka itself.”

  “What about Ishido?”

  “Nothing before we left. That was five days ago. Nor anything about Toranaga’s escape. I only heard about that yesterday when your Lady sent a carrier pigeon from Yedo.”

  “Ah, Zukimoto’s already set up that courier service?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Good.”

  “Her message read: ‘Toranaga has successfully escaped from Osaka with our Master in a galley. Make preparations to welcome them at Anjiro.’ I thought it best to keep this secret except from Omi-san, but we’re all prepared.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve ordered a war ‘exercise,’ Sire, throughout Izu. Within three days every road and pass into Izu will be blocked, if that’s what you want. There’s a mock pirate fleet to the north that could swamp any unescorted ship by day or by night, if that’s what you want. And there’s space here for you and a guest, however important, if that’s what you want.”

  “Good. Anything else? Any other news?”

  Igurashi was reluctant to pass along news the implications of which he did not understand. “We’re prepared for anything here. But this morning a cipher came from Osaka: ‘T
oranaga has resigned from the Council of Regents.’”

  “Impossible! Why should he do that?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think this one out. But it must be true, Sire. We’ve never had wrong information from this source before.”

  “The Lady Sazuko?” Yabu asked cautiously, naming Toranaga’s youngest consort, whose maid was a spy in his employ.

  Igurashi nodded. “Yes. But I don’t understand it at all. Now the Regents will impeach him, won’t they? They’ll order his death. It’d be madness to resign, neh?”

  “Ishido must have forced him to do it. But how? There wasn’t a breath of rumor. Toranaga would never resign on his own! You’re right, that’d be the act of a madman. He’s lost if he has. It must be false.”

  Yabu walked down the hill in turmoil and watched Toranaga cross the square toward Mariko and the barbarian, with Fujiko nearby. Now Mariko was walking beside Toranaga, the others waiting in the square. Toranaga was talking quickly and urgently. And then Yabu saw him give her a small parchment scroll and he wondered what it contained and what was being said. What new trickery is Toranaga planning, he asked himself, wishing he had his wife Yuriko here to help him with her wise counsel.

  At the dock Toranaga stopped. He did not go onto the ship and into the protection of his men. He knew that it was on the shore that the final decision would be made. He could not escape. Nothing was yet resolved. He watched Yabu and Igurashi approaching. Yabu’s untoward impassivity told him very much.

  “So, Yabu-san?”

  “You will stay for a few days, Lord Toranaga?”

  “It would be better for me to leave at once.”

  Yabu ordered everyone out of hearing. In a moment the two men were alone on the shore.

  “I’ve had disquieting news from Osaka. You’ve resigned from the Council of Regents?”

  “Yes. I’ve resigned.”

  “Then you’ve killed yourself, destroyed your cause, all your vassals, all your allies, all your friends! You’ve buried Izu and you’ve murdered me!”