“Unacceptable,” Count Alexi Zergeyev agreed.
“A dangerous precedent,” Adamson said.
“It’s certainly most unusual,” Seratard said in French, “and they did promise the Shōgun. We could, for just this meeting, agree to their request, eh, my friends?” He was careful to hide his own annoyance and kept his voice smooth and gentle as André Poncin, at his elbow, had suggested in a cautious whisper the moment they had entered the room, adding: “Be careful, Henri, the roju spokesman is the same Bakufu official I … we made the offer to after the other meeting, to inspect a warship, remember? Mon Dieu, I thought he was important, but never one of the Elders! If we could get him on the side of France, it would be a marvelous coup …”
Count Zergeyev was saying, “Agreeing will create a deplorable precedent.”
“It will only be for this meeting. Yes?”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s wind over a cow’s arse,” the Swiss, Erlicher, said. “Let’s get on with it.”
They argued. Tyrer listened but kept his attention on the Elders without being apparent, fascinated by them, wanting to take advantage of this rare opportunity to learn the maximum about them in the minimum time. His father had impressed on him from an early age: “In any meeting, always watch your opponent’s hands and feet, they are the giveaways, eyes too and faces, yes, but those are usually easily controlled. Concentrate! Observe, but cautiously, or the clues to tell you what he or she is really thinking will be obscured. Remember, my son, everyone exaggerates, everyone lies in some degree.”
The hands and feet of the swarthy, shifty-eyed Elder twitched constantly, little nervous movements, those of the young Elder hardly at all. From time to time, as in the other meeting, he saw the man he had dubbed “Shifty Eyes” whisper to the young Elder, the spokesman—only to him. Why? Tyrer asked himself. And why does Shifty Eyes take no part in any of their discussions, seemingly dismissed by them, keeping his eyes constantly on the Ministers and not the interpreters?
Abruptly Sir William motioned at the empty chair: “If the Shōgun was not expected at this meeting, and there are five Elders in the roju, why is there an empty chair?”
Back and forth, forth and back and then: “He says the President of their Council, Lord Anjo, has just been taken ill and cannot be here, but that does not matter, they have his authority to proceed. Please proceed.”
Von Heimrich said, in perfect French as a put-down to Seratard, “Doesn’t this invalidate the meeting, didn’t they keep harping on the ‘unanimous’ nature of this Council? Five men. This could be another deceitful ploy to be used in future to negate the whole proceedings.” Again an argument began.
Only Sir William was silent. He was keeping his fury, and anxiety, off his face. Clearly we’ve been duped again. What to do? Then heard himself say in a firm voice: “Very well, we will accept this authority as bona fide from your Shōgun, for this meeting only. We will inform our governments that prior agreement was not adhered to and we will proceed to Kyōto as soon as possible to present credentials properly to your Shogun—and Emperor Komei—with a more than suitable escort.”
As Johann began to translate into Dutch, Count Zergeyev murmured, “Bravo—that’s the only way to deal with the matyeryebitz!” Von Heimrich and van de Tromp, the Dutchman, quietly agreed, to the objections of Seratard, Adamson the American and Erlicher.
The Japanese interpreter gaped and said loudly he was sure that he had misunderstood. Johann told him there was no misunderstanding. During this lengthy back and forth, Sir William closed his ears to them, watching the faces of the roju intently as they listened to the interpreter. In varying degrees all of them became unsettled. Good, he thought.
“With the usual palaver, Sir William, but with a heavy load of polite apologies this time, he says it won’t be possible to see the Shōgun in Kyōto, the weather is very inclement at this time of the year, but they will make sure the moment he’s back, etc., etc.”
Sir William smiled mirthlessly. “Say to them: Inclement or not, we will visit the Emperor in the very near future. Stress that, Johann. On that basis only we will proceed.”
The roju received that in stony silence.
In turn, Sir William first, then the others, got up and bowed, spoke his name and rank and the country he represented, and offered his credentials. These were accepted with dignity. Each time the roju bowed back, respectfully.
“Now,” Sir William said, his chin jutting. “To proceed with the second business of the meeting: Her Majesty’s Government reaffirms that on Friday the 12th September, this Year of Our Lord, 1862, an English gentleman was foully murdered in daylight by samurai of the Satsuma contingent under the command of their king Sanjiro. Two others were wounded. Her Majesty’s Government demands the murderers be handed over or dealt with publicly according to Japanese law, that a reparation of one hundred thousand pounds sterling in gold be paid forthwith, an apology published and a public guarantee promulgated that this will not happen again. Next: the second and final payment of five thousand pounds sterling in gold as reparation for the murders of Sergeant Gunn and Corporal Roper in our Legation last year, weeks overdue, be paid in gold in three days or the amount is doubled every day thereafter …”
Sir William allowed time for Johann to translate word for word but allowing no discussion until he had finished the list, then Adamson had demanded reparations for the murder of the American official.
Last, the Russian Minister, Count Zergeyev, his multitude of medals and decorations clinking on his gold-braided uniform, said, “A Russian officer and one soldier off our man-of-war, Gudenev, were hacked to death in Yokohama on 16th of February, last year,” then added to the consternation of the others, “For reparations, Tsar Alexander II of all the Russias demands the Kurile Islands.”
During the translations, Sir William leaned over and whispered pleasantly in Russian: “A nice jest, Count Alexi, for of course Her Majesty’s Government could never agree to such an intrusion into our sphere of influence.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. War is coming in Europe again. Soon we’ll have to see who are our friends, and who enemies.”
Sir William chuckled. “That’s always a problem for certain countries. The United Kingdom has no permanent enemies, only permanent interests.”
“True, dear friend, but you forgot to add ‘no permanent friends.’ Also now, with Vladivostok, we’re a Pacific power.”
“Power from sea to sea? The dream of the Tsars, eh?”
“Why not? Better us than some,” Count Alexi said pointedly, then shrugged. “The Kuriles? If not them some other islands—merely to protect Vladivostok.”
“We must discuss your ‘curious’ Pacific presence under more perfect conditions. My Government is most interested.”
Seratard, not understanding Russian and furious that he had not been party to this exchange, said coldly in French, “I trust, Sir William, you are well aware of French interests.”
“As always, Monsieur, the interests of gallant allies are forefront in the mind of Her Majesty’s Foreign Office.”
“Sir William,” Johann said wearily, “the Elder says … he’s only repeating their previous position that they’ve no jurisdiction over Satsuma, don’t know who the murderers are, and think any reparation should be claimed from Satsuma itself, through correct channels, of course.”
“What correct channels?”
Back and forth: “He says through them, that they’ll pass on your request to Satsuma again.”
“It’s not a request, by God. We will try one final time—stress that, Johann, a different tack,” Sir William said. “Say, Do they punish murderers? And tell the interpreter I require a yes or no. Only.”
Back and forth: “He says, Sir William, that under some circum—”
“Murder, for Christ’s sake. Yes or no! Phillip, say it in Japanese!”
Tyrer’s stomach twisted. He had been watching the swarthy Elder whispering again but bravely he jumped to his feet. “Hono
red Lords, please excuse my poor Japanese but my Master ask, please if when murder, you kill murder man, yes or no please.”
Silence. The Elders looked at Yoshi who stared at Tyrer, hands playing with his fan. The man alongside whispered to him and he nodded. “The penalty for murder is death.”
“He says yes, sir. For murder, the penalty is death,” Tyrer said, having learned those key words from Nakama who had also explained the Japanese penal code and its severity.
“Tell him thank you.”
“My Master say thank you, Lord.”
“Now ask him, Is it correct to demand a reparation for such a crime, yes or no?”
“Lord, please excuse me but is … is … I …” Tyrer stopped, his mind a sudden blank. “Sorry, Sir William, I don’t know the word for ‘reparations.’”
At once André Poncin leapt in with, “The word’s bakkin, Sir William, and little known. May I try, please?”
“Go ahead.”
“Honored Lords,” Poncin said with a deep bow, and Tyrer blessed him for the rescue and saving his face. “Please, my Master ask if correct, humbly ask for justice and head payment for family, for murder, a fine against Satsuma?”
“Against Satsuma yes,” Yoshi said with a fleeting smile.
André sighed with relief. “He says yes, Sir William, but the reparation should be demanded specifically from Satsuma.” Before Sir William could ask another question, Poncin in his most perfect, rehearsed Japanese—and to Tyrer’s astonishment—began to offer the face-saving formula he had devised: “Honored Lord, on behalf of my Master, humbly suggest roju perhap consdir, ah please excuse, perhaps consider roju lend Satsuma first payment, one fifth. This you offer now, give time get rest Satsuma, collect rest from Satsuma. Please?”
This time they all saw the young Elder’s interest. At once he began a whispered conversation with the others. André saw Tyrer frowning at him so subtly shook his head, silently asking him not to interfere. In a moment Yoshi said, “Perhaps it would be possible to offer a twentieth, paid in a hundred days against Satsuma’s obvious debt.”
“Honorable Lords …”
“What the devil’s he saying, Phillip, and the Elder?”
“Just a second, Sir William,” André cut in pleasantly, wanting to crush him. “Honored Lords, my Master would recommend a tenth, in sixty days. So sorry, please excuse bad pronouncing but humbly, very humble beg yes.” Greatly relieved, Poncin saw their discussion begin and gambled again. “Sorry, Sir William, but as Phillip will confirm, I suggested they consider advancing payment on behalf of Satsuma who they say, rightfully, should pay any reparations.”
“The devil you did? They are?” Sir William stared at him, tiredness dropping away from him and all of them. “Well done—if they’d do that then I could compromise, eh? You agree?” For the sake of courtesy he turned to the others for their opinion. Behind him, Tyrer whistled tonelessly, having understood most of what Poncin had said in Japanese, the way he was manipulating the Elder and the Minister, and the slight, though important difference of the English translation. Clever of André. But what is he up to, is this his idea or is it Seratard’s? Again Shifty Eyes began murmuring confidentially to the young Elder whose attention went to the Ministers. It’s almost as though …
All at once it was as if cataracts had dropped from his eyes and he had become clear-sighted again. Even more than that, now he was seeing the Elders with straight eyes and not with the oblique and clouded gaze of a self-styled civilized man, seeing them as people, equally civilized, equally simple or complex but as people, and not as outlandish, mysterious or weird “Jappos” that Nakama, Fujiko, even André, in their various ways correctly resented.
God Almighty, Shifty Eyes understands English, he wanted to shout ecstatically. That’s the only answer, and another’s that he’s a roju spy and no more an Elder than I am, which is why the others pay no attention to him in their discussions. What else? He must be Watanabe’s spy because he’s the only one whispered to—must find out their real names and to ask Nakama about them. Watanabe is the most powerful of this lot, acting President. The absent President? Got to find out his real name too. What else? Where did André …
He concentrated as Yoshi addressed the interpreter. His voice had sharpened. Instantly the interpreter became more alert and his Dutch twenty times briefer. Johann translated, trying to contain his astonishment, “The roju agrees in this instance it is correct to ask for a reparation, from Satsuma, that yes, a hundred thousand seems reasonable for a nobleman though they can’t say it will be considered so by the Lord of Satsuma. As a gesture of friendship to the British, and to outside nations, the roju will advance a tenth part in seventy days on Satsuma’s behalf—while formal British requests are forwarded to the Satsuma. Concerning the request of the Russian Minister, as with his own Homeland, Japanese soil is Japanese soil and is…I suppose the word would be inviolate, or not to be bartered.”
Without being obvious Sir William put a hand on Count Alexi’s to stop the outburst, saying softly in Russian, “Let it rest, Alexi,” then loudly to Johann, ready to negotiate the number of days down and the amount up, “Excellent. Johann, please tell them th—” He stopped as Tyrer whispered quickly, “Excuse me, sir, suggest you accept at once but you really should know their names.”
It was almost as though Tyrer had not spoken for Sir William continued with hardly a pause and no change of expression: “Johann, please tell them their suggestion is acceptable to Her Majesty’s Government in the same spirit of friendliness. Concerning the Minister from the Court of St. Petersburg, I am sure he will consult his government who will, undoubtedly, agree that a monetary settlement would satisfy.” Without allowing Count Alexi any time to reply he rushed on: “Regarding our other pressing problem, the Shimonoseki Straits: all foreign Governments protest shore batteries firing on their ships when using those Straits peacefully.” Sir William repeated the dates and the names of ships, already the matter of much heated correspondence.
“They say they will pass on the complaint, Sir William—with the usual, that they’ve no control over Choshu.”
“Johann, say: In the friendly spirit of this meeting, may I suggest it is difficult, if not impossible, for Foreign Governments to deal with the Bakufu that apparently does not have authority over its various kingdoms or States. Therefore what should we do? Deal directly with the Shōgun who signed our Treaties—or Emperor Komei?”
“The legal government of Nippon is the Shōgunate, the supreme ruler of the Shōgunate is the Shōgun who rules on behalf of the Son of Heaven, the roju are the supreme advisors to the Shōgunate whose officials are the Bakufu. In all cases Foreign Governments must deal with the Shōgunate.”
“In that case, how can we ensure safe passage for all shipping using the Shimonoseki?”
More draining discussion and always variations of the same response that was an answer but not an answer however much Sir William probed. Bladders agitated the general impatience and fatigue. Three hours had passed since they began. Then a vagrant thought became a full-blown solution. Sir William smiled to himself. “Very well: Say, presuming there are no further attacks and our serious remonstrations are delivered to the Choshu daimyo forthwith, we will, in the spirit of this new friendliness, accept their position for a future meeting in one hundred days.”
An hour of added maneuvering. “The roju agree to a second meeting in a hundred and fifty-six days, here in Yedo, and wish to declare this meeting over.”
“Good,” Sir William said, satisfied, stifling a yawn. “Could we please have their names now, verbally, and then in correct characters on the paper that we will exchange within three days to confirm our formal agreements.”
Back and forth, minor details changed, then finally: “Sir William, he says you’ll have the paper in a week, the interpreter will give you their names and the meeting is ended.” As each Elder was introduced the man nodded briefly and impassively: “Lord Adachi of Mito, Lord Zukumura of Gai, Lord Yos
hi of Hisamatsu …” Tyrer was delighted to see that Shifty Eyes, last in the line, was sweating, his hands and feet squirming and his bow had nowhere near the imperiousness of the others: “Lord Kii of Zukoshi.”
“Please give them our thanks. As previously agreed, I will now order royal salutes.”
“Lord Yoshi says, unfortunately one of their members is missing. As previously agreed, unanimous approval of the roju is necessary to grant the firing of any cannon.”
Abruptly Sir William’s bonhomie fell away. All Ministers were shocked. “What about our agreements?” he asked sharply. “Do they require unanimous approval too?”
Back and forth amid much tension and muttered caution amongst the Ministers. Then Johann said awkwardly, “Lord Yoshi says that this gathering has the Shōgun’s authority and the President’s to accept credentials, to listen and recommend. They will unanimously recommend the settlement. As previously agreed, approval for firing cannon needs unanimous approval of all Elders, so regretfully this body cannot allow it.”
The silence became unhealthy as Sir William and all of them realized the trap they had fallen into. No option this time, he thought, his stomach twisting. “Captain Pallidar!”
“Yessir?” Pallidar came from the back, heart suddenly grinding, knowing along with everyone else facing the roju that Sir William had no option now but to give the order to fire the salutes, whatever the cost, or the same excuse would surely be used to negate their settlement.
As Pallidar saluted perfectly, Seratard broke in with his smoothest and most diplomatic voice: “Sir William, I feel sure that the agreement is bona fide, will be implemented, and you can accept it. I recommend you do this, we all do, eh, gentlemen?” he said to general relief at the face-saver, “and also recommend under the circumstances we forgo the salutes. You agree, Sir William, on our behalf?”
Sir William hesitated grimly.
To further astonishment, Seratard added grandly, “André, tell them on behalf of France I will go surety for the first installment.”
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