Shōgun

by James Clavell

  “Once you asked for his head, neh? Neh?”

  “Yes—yes, Sire.”

  “Well?”

  “He—he insulted me at Anjiro. I’m—I’m still shamed.”

  “I order that shame dismissed.”

  “Then it’s dismissed, Sire. But she betrayed me with him and that cannot be dismissed, not while he’s alive. I’ve proof. I want him dead. Now. He … please, his ship’s gone, what use is he now to you, Sire? I ask it as a lifetime favor.”

  “What proof?”

  “Everyone knows. On the way from Yokosé. I talked to Yoshinaka. Everyone knows,” he added sullenly.

  “Yoshinaka saw her and him together? He accused her?”

  “No. But what he said …” Buntaro looked up, in agony. “I know, that is enough. Please, I beg it as a lifetime favor. I’ve never asked anything of you, neh?”

  “I need him alive. But for him the ninja would have captured her, and shamed her, and therefore you.”

  “A lifetime wish,” Buntaro said. “I ask it. His ship’s gone—he’s, he’s done what you wanted. Please.”

  “I have proof he did not shame you with her.”

  “So sorry, what proof?”

  “Listen. This is for your ears alone—as I agreed with her. I ordered her to become his friend.” Toranaga bore down on him. “They were friends, yes. The Anjin-san worshiped her, but he never shamed you with her, or she with him. At Anjiro, just before the earthquake, when she first suggested going to Osaka to free all the hostages—by challenging Ishido publicly and then forcing a crisis by committing seppuku, whatever he tried to do—on that day I de—”

  “That was planned then?”

  “Of course. Will you never learn? On that day I ordered her divorced from you.”

  “Sire?”

  “Divorced. Isn’t the word clear?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Divorced. She’d driven you insane for years, you’d treated her foully for years. What about your treatment of her foster mother and ladies? Didn’t I tell you I needed her to interpret the Anjin-san, yet you lost your temper and beat her—the truth is you almost killed her that time, neh? Neh?”

  “Yes—please excuse me.”

  “The time had come to finish that marriage. I ordered it finished. Then.”

  “She asked for divorce?”

  “No. I decided and I ordered it. But your wife begged me to revoke the order. I refused. Then your wife said she would commit seppuku at once without my permission before she would allow you to be shamed in that way. I ordered her to obey. She refused.” Toranaga continued angrily, “Your wife forced me, her liege lord, to withdraw my legal order and made me agree to make my order absolute only after Osaka—both of us knowing that Osaka for her meant death. Do you understand?”

  “Yes—yes, I understand that.”

  “At Osaka the Anjin-san saved her honor and the honor of my ladies and my youngest son. But for him, they and all the hostages at Osaka would still be in Osaka, I’d be dead or in Ikawa Jikkyu’s hands, probably in chains like a common felon!”

  “Please excuse me … but why did she do that? She hated me—why should she delay divorce? Because of Saruji?”

  “For your honor. She understood duty. Your wife was so concerned for your honor—even after her death—that part of my agreement was that this was to be a private affair between her and you and myself. No one else would ever know, not the Anjin-san, her son, anyone—not even her Christian priest confessor.”

  “What?”

  Toranaga explained it again. At length Buntaro understood clearly and Toranaga dismissed him and then, at long last alone for the moment, he got up and stretched, exhausted by all his labor since he had arrived. The sun was still high though it was afternoon now. His thirst was great. He accepted cold cha from his personal bodyguard, then walked down to the shore. He stripped off his sopping kimono and swam, the sea feeling glorious to him, refreshing him. He swam underwater but did not stay submerged too long, knowing that his guards would be anxious. He surfaced and floated on his back, looking up into the sky, gathering strength for the long night ahead.

  Ah, Mariko, he thought, what a wondrous lady you are. Yes, are, because you will certainly live forever. Are you with your Christian God in your Christian heaven? I hope not. That would be a terrible waste. I hope your spirit’s just awaiting Buddha’s forty days for rebirth somewhere here. I pray your spirit comes into my family. Please. But again as a lady—not as a man. We could not afford to have you as a man. You’re much too special to waste as a man.

  He smiled. It had happened at Anjiro just as he had told Buntaro, though she had never forced him to rescind his order. “How could she force me to do anything I didn’t want?” he said to the sky. She had asked him dutifully, correctly, not to make the divorce public until after Osaka. But, he assured himself, she would certainly have committed seppuku if I’d refused her. She would have insisted, neh? Of course she would have insisted and that would have ruined everything. By agreeing in advance I merely saved her unnecessary shame and argument, and myself unnecessary trouble—and by keeping it private now, as I’m sure she would have wished it, everyone gains further. I’m glad I conceded, he thought benignly, then laughed aloud. A slight wave chopped over him and he took a mouthful of sea water and choked.

  “Are you all right, Sire?” an anxious guard, swimming nearby, called out.

  “Yes. Of course yes.” Toranaga retched again and spat out the phlegm, treading water, and thought, that will teach you to be smug. That’s your second mistake today. Then he saw the wreck. “Come on, I’ll race you!” he called out to his guard.

  A race with Toranaga meant a race. Once one of his generals had deliberately allowed him to win, hoping to gain favor. That mistake cost the man everything.

  The guard won. Toranaga congratulated him and held onto one of the ribs and waited until his breathing was normal, then he looked around, his curiosity enormous. He swam down and inspected the keel of Erasmus. When he was satisfied he went ashore and returned to the camp, refreshed and ready.

  A temporary house had been set up for him in a good position under a wide thatched roof that was supported with strong bamboo posts. Shoji walls and partitions were set on a raised deck flooring of wood and tatamis. Sentries were already stationed, and rooms were also there for Kiri and Sazuko and servants and cooks, joined by a complex of simple paths, raised on temporary pilings.

  He saw his child for the first time. Obviously the Lady Sazuko would never have been so impolite as to bring her son back to the plateau at once, fearing that she might intrude in important matters—as she would have done—even though he had happily given her that opportunity.

  The child pleased him greatly. “He’s a fine boy,” he boasted, holding the infant with practiced assurance. “And, Sazuko, you’re younger and more attractive than ever. We must have more children at once. Motherhood suits you.”

  “Oh, Sire,” she said, “I was afraid I’d never see you again, and never be able to show you your newest son. How are we going to escape the trap … Ishido’s armies….”

  “Look what a fine boy he is! Next week I’ll build a shrine in his honor and endow it with …” He stopped and halved the figure he’d first thought of and then halved that again. “… with twenty koku a year.”

  “Oh, Sire, how generous you are!”

  Her smile was guileless. “Yes,” he said. “That’s enough for a miserable parasite priest to say a few Namu Amida Butsu, neh?”

  “Oh, yes, Sire. Will the shrine be near the castle in Yedo? Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it could be on a river or stream?”

  He agreed reluctantly even though such a choice plot would cost more than he had wanted to spend on such frippery. But the boy’s fine, I can afford to be generous this year, he thought.

  “Oh, thank you, Sire …” The Lady Sazuko stopped. Naga was hurrying over to where they sat on a shaded veranda.

  “Please excuse me, Fathe
r, but your Osaka samurai? How do you want to see them, singly or all together?”

  “Singly.”

  “Yes, Sire. The priest Tsukku-san would like to see you when convenient.”

  “Tell him I’ll send for him as soon as possible.” Again Toranaga began to talk with his consort but, politely and at once, she asked to be excused, knowing that he wanted to deal with the samurai immediately. He asked her to stay but she begged to be allowed to go and he agreed.

  He interviewed the men carefully, sifting their stories, calling a samurai back occasionally, cross-checking. By sunset he knew clearly what had happened, or what they all thought had happened. Then he ate lightly and quickly, his first meal today, and summoned Kiri, sending all guards out of hearing.

  “First tell me what you did, what you saw, and what you witnessed, Kiri-chan.”

  Night had fallen before he was satisfied, even though she was perfectly prepared.

  “Eeeeeee,” he said. “That was a near thing, Kiri-chan. Too near.”

  “Yes,” Kiri replied, her hands folded in her ample lap. Then she added with great tenderness, “All gods, great and small, were guarding you, Sire, and us. Please excuse me that I doubted the outcome, doubted you. The gods were watching over us.”

  “It seems that way, yes, very much.” Toranaga watched the night. The flames of the flares were being wafted by the slight sea breeze that also blew away the night insects and made the evening more comfortable. A fine moon rode the sky and he could see the dark marks on its face and he wondered absently if the dark was land and the rest ice and snow, and why the moon was there, and who lived there. Oh, there are so many things I’d like to know, he thought.

  “Can I ask a question, Tora-chan?”

  “What question, Lady?”

  “Why did Ishido let us go? Really? He needn’t have, neh? If I’d been him I wouldn’t have done it—never. Why?”

  “First tell me the Lady Ochiba’s message.”

  “The Lady Ochiba said, ‘Please tell Lord Toranaga that I respectfully wish there was some way that his differences with the Heir could be resolved. As a token of the Heir’s affection, I’d like to tell Toranaga-sama the Heir has said many times he does not want to lead any armies against his uncle, the Lord of the Kwan—’”

  “She said that!”

  “Yes. Oh yes.”

  “Surely she must know—and Ishido—that if Yaemon holds the standard against me I must lose!”

  “That’s what she said, Sire.”

  “Eeeeeee!” Toranaga bunched his great calloused fist and banged it on the tatamis. “If that’s a real offer and not a trick I’m halfway to Kyoto, and one pace beyond.”

  “Yes,” Kiri said.

  “What’s the price?”

  “I don’t know. She said nothing more, Sire. That was all the message—apart from good wishes to her sister.”

  “What can I give Ochiba that she doesn’t have already? Osaka’s hers, the treasure’s hers, Yaemon’s always been Heir of the realm for me. This war’s unnecessary. Whatever happens, in eight years Yaemon becomes Kwampaku and inherits the earth, this earth. There’s nothing left to give her.”

  “Perhaps she wants marriage?”

  Toranaga shook his head emphatically. “No, not her. That woman would never marry me.”

  “It’s the perfect solution, Sire, for her.”

  “She’d never consider it. Ochiba my wife? Four times she begged the Taikō to invite me Onward.”

  “Yes. But that was when he was alive.”

  “I will do anything that would cement the realm, keep the peace, and make Yaemon Kwampaku. Is that what she wants?”

  “It would confirm the succession. That’s her lodestone.”

  Again Toranaga stared at the moon, but now his mind was concentrating on the puzzle, reminded again of what Lady Yodoko had said at Osaka. When no immediate answer was forthcoming he put it aside to continue with the more important present. “I think she’s up to her tricks again. Did Kiyama tell you that the barbarian ship had been sabotaged?”

  “No, Sire.”

  Toranaga frowned. “That’s surprising, because he must have known about it then. I told Tsukku-san as soon as I heard—he went through the motions of sending a carrier bird at once, though it would only have confirmed what they already must have known.”

  “Their treachery should be punished, neh? On the instigators as well as the fools who allowed it.”

  “With patience they’ll get their reward, Kiri-san. I hear the Christian priests claim it was an ‘Act of God.’”

  “Such hypocrisy! Stupid, neh?”

  “Yes.” Very stupid in one way, Toranaga thought, not in another. “Well, thank you, Kiri-san. Again I’m delighted you’re safe. We’ll stay here tonight. Now, please excuse me. Send for Yabu-san and when he arrives, bring cha and saké and then leave us alone.”

  “Yes, Sire. May I ask my question now?”

  “The same question?”

  “Yes, Sire. Why did Ishido let us go?”

  “The answer is, Kiri-chan, I don’t know. He made a mistake.”

  She bowed and went away contentedly.

  It was almost the middle of the night before Yabu left. Toranaga bowed him away as an equal and thanked him again for everything. He had invited him to the secret Council of War tomorrow, had confirmed him as General of the Musket Regiment, and confirmed his Overlordship of Totomi and Suruga in writing—once they were conquered and secured.

  “Now the regiment’s absolutely vital, Yabu-san. You’re to be solely responsible for its strategy and training. Omi-san can be liaison between us. Use the Anjin-san’s knowledge—anything. Neh?”

  “Yes, that will be perfect, Sire. May I humbly thank you.”

  “You did me a great service bringing my ladies, my son, and the Anjin-san back safely. Terrible about the ship—karma. Perhaps another one will arrive soon. Good night, my friend.”

  Toranaga sipped his cha. He was feeling very tired now.

  “Naga-san?”

  “Sire?”

  “Where’s the Anjin-san?”

  “By the wreck with some of his vassals.”

  “What’s he doing there?”

  “Just staring at it.” Naga became uneasy under his father’s piercing gaze. “So sorry, shouldn’t he be there, Sire?”

  “What? Oh no, it doesn’t matter. Where’s Tsukku-san?”

  “In one of the guest houses, Sire.”

  “Have you told him you want to become Christian next year?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Good. Fetch him.”

  In moments Toranaga saw the tall, lean priest approach under the flares—his taut face deeply lined, his black tonsured hair without a fleck of gray—and he was reminded suddenly of Yokosé. “Patience is very important, Tsukku-san. Neh?”

  “Yes, always. But why did you say that, Sire?”

  “Oh, I was thinking about Yokosé. How everything was very different then, such a little time ago.”

  “Ah, yes. God moves in curious ways, yes, Sire. I’m so very pleased you’re still within your own borders.”

  “You wanted to see me?” Toranaga asked, fanning himself, secretly envying the priest his flat stomach and his gift of tongues.

  “Only to apologize for what happened.”

  “What did the Anjin-san say?”

  “Many angry words—and accusations that I’d burned his ship.”

  “Did you?”

  “No, Sire.”

  “Who did?”

  “It was an Act of God. The storm came and the ship was burned.”

  “It wasn’t an Act of God. You say you didn’t help it, you or any priest, or any Christian?”

  “Oh, I helped, Sire. I prayed. We all did. Before God, I believe that ship was an instrument of the Devil—I’ve said so to you many times. I know it wasn’t your opinion and again I ask your forgiveness for opposing you on this. But perhaps this Act of God helped and did not hinder.”

&
nbsp; “Oh? How?”

  “The Father-Visitor’s no longer distracted, Sire. Now he can concentrate on Lords Kiyama and Onoshi.”

  Toranaga said bluntly, “I’ve heard all this before, Tsukku-san. What practical help can the chief Christian priest give me?”

  “Sire, put your trust in—” Alvito caught himself, then said sincerely, “Please excuse me, Sire, but I feel with all my heart that if you put your trust in God, He will help you.”

  “I do, but more in Toranaga. Meanwhile I hear Ishido, Kiyama, Onoshi, and Zataki have gathered their legions. Ishido will have three or four hundred thousand men in the field against me.”

  “The Father-Visitor’s implementing his agreement with you, Sire. At Yokosé I reported failure, now I think there’s hope.”

  “I can’t use hope against swords.”

  “Yes, but God can win against any odds.”

  “Yes. If God exists he can win against any odds.” Then Toranaga’s voice edged even more. “What hope are you referring to?”

  “I don’t know, actually, Sire. But isn’t Ishido coming against you? Out of Osaka Castle? Isn’t that another Act of God?”

  “No. But you understand the importance of that decision?”

  “Oh yes, very clearly. I’m sure the Father-Visitor understands that also.”

  “You say this is his work?”

  “Oh, no, Sire. But it is happening.”

  “Perhaps Ishido will change his mind and make Lord Kiyama commander-in-chief and skulk at Osaka and leave Kiyama and the Heir opposing me?”

  “I can’t answer that. Sire. But if Ishido leaves Osaka it will be a miracle. Neh?”

  “Are you seriously claiming this to be another Act of your Christian God?”

  “No. But it could be. I believe nothing happens without His knowledge.”

  “Even after we’re dead we still may never know about God.” Then Toranaga added abruptly, “I hear the Father-Visitor’s left Osaka,” and was pleased to see a shadow cross the Tsukku-san’s face. The news had come the day they’d left Mishima.

  “Yes,” the priest was saying, his apprehension increasing. “He’s gone to Nagasaki, Sire.”