“We don’t have time to build defenses to hold off a real assault this year. We’re better off bluffing. We just need a display of enough unexpected capability to frighten the foreigners away. That will buy us time to construct real defenses,” countered Tōru.
While they argued, Jiro concentrated on eating vast quantities of fish and noodles, slurping with gusto as he ate. He didn’t care what they decided. He liked building both guns and airships. He was happy to crank out both as long as Tanaka-san took charge of fiddly bits like control mechanisms and firing pins.
“When do Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu leave for Edo?” asked Takamori, between bites of excellently seasoned fish over steaming rice. Under the Shogun’s decree of sankin kotai or alternate attendance, every daimyō had to spend alternate years in residence for six months in the capital. Their wives and heirs also had to live in the capital, as hostages under a polite guise of welcome guests. Lord Aya had no wife and no male heir. As a minor daimyō in a quiet part of the country, possessed of modest holdings and insignificant capacity to mount a rebellion, the requirement that Masuyo live in Edo to answer for his behavior had long been overlooked.
In Lord Tōmatsu’s case, his wife’s family’s close ties to the Tokugawa clan and service in the bakufu allowed Lady Tōmatsu and their infant son to avoid this onerous requirement as well. She stayed in the country with Lord Tōmatsu, in unwilling obedience to her husband’s wishes. She would much prefer to be in Edo, enjoying the capital rich with the culture, fashions and political maneuvering her family so enjoyed.
“As soon as they return at the end of the week,” Tōru answered.
The two daimyōs had become inseparable friends and allies, much to the consternation of Lady Tōmatsu. Lord Tōmatsu refused to tell her why he was traveling so much accompanied by an insignificant daimyō of little wealth and less power.
Her attempts to learn more were thwarted by the courteous bland replies of his loyal men. As she wrote to her brother, “He is a changed man, suddenly much involved with matters he refuses to discuss. Armed men come at all hours of the day and night. I fear he will put us at risk. When we come to Edo, you must reason with him, and ensure he does not anger the Shogun. Help me, brother. We both have much to lose if he defies the Shogun.” Her messenger rode hard to the east bearing her letter, taking advantage of her husband’s absence to depart.
“I will be going as well,” announced Masuyo. “The bakufu has commanded my father to bring me to Edo this time. It seems we are no longer overlooked and forgotten.”
Tōru and Jiro exchanged a look. Tōru had shared with his childhood friend his concern for Masuyo, and his relief that she had not been made a Shogunate hostage thus far.
“When did you learn this?”
“The messenger came yesterday. With Father gone, I received him and thanked him for the Shogun’s kind invitation.”
They all sat silent, pondering this news.
“Did he give you the impression the Shogun knows of our plans?” asked Tōru. “Or is it mere happenstance, or you coming of age earlier this year?”
Masuyo shrugged. “He said little. I said less.”
Saigo Takamori leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Are we walking into a trap? Or are our plans still secret?”
“Every blacksmith in the country knows you are building trains,” offered Jiro. “Every geisha is learning to program your Babajis instead of practicing shamisen or their dances. Every bartender can pound out Mōrusu Cōdo for the telegraph. Obviously it is all very secret.”
“Seriously, how could the Shogun and the bakufu not know?” asked Tōru.
“They know. Count on it.” Takamori cleaned his bowl carefully, leaving not a scrap, his large frame constantly in need of more nourishment.
Tōru rubbed the back of his neck. “Then why haven’t they come to arrest us?”
“They wait until we go to them. Less trouble for them that way. Plus there must be some who are glad we are working on this. Maybe they are slowing down those who want to arrest us.” Takamori hunted around for more food.
“Everyone talks about our projects. Work for anyone who can walk and talk, enough work to feed their families — you cannot keep that a secret,” said Jiro. Jiro’s good sense and connections to the common people always grounded their discussions. He never let them get too theoretical. “Think about it. You’ve got mysterious wires and tracks running every which way, with thundering engines roaring along, scaring the chickens and making the dogs howl. Then you have illicit traders on the coast buzzing with unusual new orders pouring out of the countryside. Even the dogs know we are up to something.”
Takamori pondered this. “And among the richer commoners, we’ve got dozens of bright young sons of merchants learning to be engineers. Yes, the Shogun knows for sure. But look on the bright side. Maybe by the time he comes to arrest us all, we’ll be so far along we can’t be stopped? Even if we all lose our heads, everyone likes the trains, the telegraph and the Babajis. They will outlive us.”
“Pleasant thought,” said Tōru, his neck so raw and red he had to stop rubbing it.
“What difference does it make? All we can do is work as fast as we can for as long as we are allowed,” said Masuyo.
“Right. Besides, what can they do to us?” asked Takamori.
“Besides kill us, you mean?” asked Jiro. “Or kill you all. They won’t bother with me. I’m just a commoner.” He gestured with a pork bun and spoke through a full mouth. “It’s you fancy samurai who get chopped.”
“Let them try,” bristled Takamori.
“Easy for you to say. Satsuma is as far from the Shogun’s reach as is possible,” said Tōru. “Lord Shimazu has one of the biggest armies in the country, after the Tokugawa clan. You’re right. You are probably fine. It’s Lord Aya, Lord Tōmatsu and, well, me, who will get chopped. The Shogun can reach us, and hurt us badly.”
On this somber note, and with all the food now vanished into Jiro and Takamori, the friends went back to work, harder and longer than ever. Time weighed on them, for they did not know how long their luck would hold.
Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu were now fully dedicated to the cause of waking up Japan to the foreign threat menacing the island realm, come what may. Lord Tōmatsu’s greater wealth and family connections allowed them entrée to all of the western and southern daimyōs. Lord Aya’s passion and superior knowledge about the foreigners from Tōru made him an eloquent advocate for their cause. Together they made an unstoppable team, as long as the Shogun did not get wind of their activities.
Entrusting operations to Tōru and Saigo Takamori, the two daimyōs and their representatives, Obata and Sugieda, traveled up and down the western and southern domains seeking support for their plan to re-arm Japan. An additional eight daimyōs, greater and lesser, had pledged their support in addition to the original five allies. Others had promised to consider the matter. None had rejected their request outright, or denounced them to the Shogun. Even those who did not formally join them were now quietly building weapons factories based on designs perfected by Tōru and Masuyo, and laying train tracks and casting engines guided by blacksmiths trained by Jiro. Babajis manufactured in Lord Aya’s domain were being carefully transported to each realm, along with equipment to build telegraph stations, to tie each domain into the growing network.
Everyone involved faced the same risk—execution for treason. The more daimyōs who joined the effort, the greater the punishment for illegal re-armament Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu faced.
They had moved beyond the harmless collection of forbidden books and novelties like the clocks and gadgets collected by Lord Shimazu’s grandfather Shigehide and other leaders of his generation. Urged on by Lord Tōmatsu and Lord Aya, each new daimyō in their clandestine alliance committed to take on the risk of death and quietly defy the Shogun by strengthening coastal defenses within their own domains.
As western lords, they saw the same facts that drove Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu—the
increased trading activity by foreign ships and the carving up of once mighty China by the foreign powers. Enough books, weapons and other Western technology had been smuggled into Japan that they could see for themselves what they were up against if the foreign powers began to press more forcefully for open borders. Japan may have been declared closed, and ordered so by the Shogun, but its leaders were not ignorant of the outside world. Quite the contrary; they were acutely aware of China’s sufferings as the foreign powers dismembered and humiliated her. Many daimyō wanted the Shogun to lead and take action to protect Japan from a similar fate.
The Shogun and his squabbling council spent their power keeping themselves in power. They sat atop a quarrelsome pyramid of daimyōs obsessed with their own parochial interests. The Shogun’s councilors focused their energy on court politics instead of facing the growing and obvious threat from abroad. When a leader no longer protects his people from their greatest threat, he forfeits legitimacy. Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu found fertile ground for their plans and ideas as they quietly pointed out the Shogun’s failure to meet this most basic test of leadership.
And so, in the west and south, telegraph lines and train tracks tied the co-conspirators together in undeniable and unbreakable bonds, each lord gambling that by the time they were inevitably discovered and condemned, it would be too late for the promised punishment of death. They argued to themselves that their fellow daimyōs would see them as loyal heroes, defending the Shogun and the Emperor’s realm, rather than traitors, and pressure the Shogun to grant clemency and a change in policy. Either way, they hoped they would together be strong enough for the battle that mattered, the battle against the foreigners.
CHAPTER 9
DEPARTURE
“A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”
– William G.T. Shedd
At the end of the week, Lords Aya and Tōmatsu arrived as expected, dirty and exhausted from weeks of hard riding gathering more allies and solidifying the waverers. They did not stop to eat or wash, but gathered straightaway with their key retainers and the team, including Masuyo, in Lord Aya’s main council hall.
“We ride tomorrow,” announced Lord Aya. “We must not seem to hurry, but move at a usual pace and draw no attention. Lady Tōmatsu, their son and our Masuyo travel with us, per the Shogun’s command.”
He could not hide his concern for his daughter, for them all. “Only a blind man could miss our activities. The Shogun is many things, but blind he is not. We must assume the Council is aware of our plans. Since we have not been arrested, we assume the Council is divided. Their disagreement buys us time, but not much.”
“Then let us make our case directly to them! We now have two dozen daimyōs who have joined us, who work day and night to re-arm and protect the Shogun’s realm. We are aiming our guns outward to the sea, against the foreigners, not east toward the Shogun. Surely the others will flock to our banner us once they understand the facts. They will see we are loyal. Then we would have over a hundred domains preparing to defend the realm against the foreigners,” Tōru burst out, forgetting his place.
Lord Aya did not bother to reprimand Tōru, inappropriate though his outburst was, from a junior samurai to his lord. Time was short, and matters urgent.
“You are young, and still believe the world to be ruled by wisdom and justice. The world is ruled by the powerful, not the just and not the wise. The Shogun loses power with every gun we build, believing we might turn those guns against him. Our intentions do not matter if he fears us more than he fears the foreigners. And the Tokugawa do fear members of our alliance, especially Lord Shimazu of Satsuma.”
“But if the Council is divided, we do not stand alone.”
“The Council’s division is the only thing keeping our heads on our shoulders this long. Challenging the Shogun in open Council is impossible. Even those who agree with us will not protect us if we threaten to disrupt the Shogun’s peace. No, we must go and make our case quietly, outside the Council hall, one by one. Tōru, can your people keep production on track with you gone?”
“Yes, my lord. Jiro knows what we need. The men will follow him.”
Lord Aya continued, “I had thought to leave you here, Tōru, to keep you safe. There is no safety anywhere, though, and we will need you to help us convince the other daimyōs. Only you have spoken with American military officers and read their newspapers and seen their factories. Any chance of mercy for a poor fisherman is long gone. If we are to make this case, you must risk your neck alongside mine.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Lord Aya turned to Takamori, Lord Shimazu’s man.
“And you, Saigo-san. Does your lord recall you to Satsuma or do you travel with us?”
Saigo Takamori bowed low. “My lord asks that I be allowed to travel with you. He suggests I go in guise of one of your men, wearing your mon, if it please you, my lord. His men have a way of being followed and watched with particular care by the Shogun’s men.” The lords laughed, relieving the tension in the room.
“Two and a half centuries since Sekigahara, and the Tokugawa Shogun still does not relax his watch on Satsuma,” Lord Tōmatsu chuckled as the men joined in. Ieyasu Tokugawa had defeated the Shimazus of Satsuma and claimed the Shogunate centuries ago, but the tōzama outer lords had never grown accustomed to submission. The smile did not linger long on Lord Tōmatsu’s face. Serious decisions awaited discussion.
“Please convey our thanks to Lord Shimazu for lending us your assistance.” They all knew Satsuma’s support for their plan was both powerful and polarizing. Some daimyōs looked to his clan for leadership; others expected trouble. Both expectations were usually met. They would have to share news of Satsuma’s involvement carefully and strategically. “Obata, assign Saigo and Himasaki to your unit. Keep them out of sight.”
Obata bowed to his lord and nodded to the two young men.
“Get some sleep.”
The next morning, in the gray misty light of dawn, Tōru and Jiro stood by the train station in Lord Aya’s domain, proud and happy. Soot-covered as usual, even though he rarely got to stand before his beloved forge anymore, Jiro barked final orders to his engineers. They would be driving the train while he stayed behind to command the continued manufacturing and transportation operations. Jiro was so capable that no one ever debated whether he could lead and command others as the humblest of commoners. Everyone just did as he ordered.
Tōru and Jiro had disobeyed Lord Aya and gotten no sleep at all. Rather they had worked through the darkness with the engineers and workmen to connect up the longest train they had ever attempted. A first for them, a first for Japan. A dozen cars, for the men, servants, supplies and horses traveling to Edo.
“You’re sure you can pull all this with a single engine?” Tōru asked Jiro. He was anxious. The lords were trusting his technology. The train needed to work or his whole plan would lose credibility.
“I told you it will pull and it will. I’m an engineer, not just a blacksmith.” Jiro had grown proud of this Western title of engineer, believing it bestowed on him a certain status no blacksmith could ever hope to attain.
Tōru had not discussed his plan to take the train with Lord Aya. The lords were too weary for discussions of logistical details after their long ride yesterday. He hoped they would accept it, for taking the train instead of riding to Lord Tōmatsu’s domain would take a few hours instead of several days of hard riding over bad roads. It being easier to seek forgiveness than permission, he had ordered the grooms and workmen to load the horses and baggage onto the train cars. The horses were upset, but not as upset as they were going to be when the train began to move.
Masuyo’s norimono palanquin and her boxes of clothing were already loaded. She was hovering nearby, managing the loading of the baggage, dressed as a demure woman of rank in flowing kimono under her protective warm dōchūgi, since they would be traveling in public before many curious eyes. No black silk jeans for a while. Her da
rk traveling dōchūgi only made her pale skin and black eyes contrast more enchantingly in the silvery morning light.
Tōru tried not to notice her. She made it hard to concentrate. He had much to think about and manage.
Tōru paced, anxious to see the lords’ reaction to his plan.
“Where’s my horse!” bellowed Lord Aya. His groom was always waiting for him with his mount ready on journey mornings. His groom, who did not approve of trains, and who was adamantly opposed to horses on trains, looked miserable standing horseless in the courtyard.
“Himasaki-san ordered me to load him on the train…” stammered the poor groom, bowing deeply.
“Tōru ordered what?”
“Aya-sama, I’ve arranged for us to travel the first leg of the journey by train.” Tōru bowed low, hoping humility would soften the blow of his unapproved action. “We can reach Lord Tōmatsu’s castle by lunchtime, instead of riding for three days. Everything is ready to go. If you would follow me, I can show you your seat.”
Lord Tōmatsu joined them. He too was looking for his horse.
“We cannot ride by train! The horses, all the baggage, the womenfolk,” Lord Aya blustered as Tōru knew he would. Tōru knew Lord Aya enjoyed the idea of trains and being the center hub of Japan’s first train network in theory. But he was also aware the traditional old lord intensely disliked the noisy, sooty, disruptive reality of trains and missed his forest and its peaceful stillness. He suspected Lord Aya feared the trains but would rather die in battle pierced by a thousand blades than admit the fact.
“I’ve arranged a private car for your honorable daughter and her ladies, sir. Please allow me to show it to you. This way, if you would, sir.” Tōru kept bowing as he led Lord Aya and Lord Tōmatsu to inspect the ladies’ car. The outside of the car looked like all the others, black coarse iron and wood with a row of windows on each side.
Toru: Wayfarer Returns (Sakura Steam Series Book 1) Page 11