Shogun (The Asian Saga Chronology) (70 page)

"This is normal for you?  Every year?"

"Oh, yes.  Every year in this Land of the Gods we have earth tremors.  And fires and flood and Great Waves, and the monster storms—the
tai-funs.
 Nature is very strong with us."  Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.  "Perhaps that is why we love life so much, Anjin-san.  You see, we have to.  Death is part of our air and sea and earth.  You should know, Anjin-san, in this Land of Tears, death is our heritage."

BOOK

THREE

CHAPTER 30

"You're certain everything's ready, Mura?"

"Yes, Omi-san, yes, I think so.  We've followed your orders exactly—and Igurashi-san's."

"Nothing had better go wrong or there'll be another headman by sunset," Igurashi, Yabu's chief lieutenant, told him with great sourness, his one eye bloodshot from lack of sleep.  He had arrived yesterday from Yedo with the first contingent of samurai and with specific instructions.

Mura did not reply, just nodded deferentially and kept his eyes on the ground.

They were standing on the foreshore, near the jetty, in front of the kneeling rows of silent, overawed, and equally exhausted villagers—every man, woman, and child, except for the bed-ridden—waiting for the galley to arrive.  All wore their best clothes.  Faces were scrubbed, the whole village swept and sparkling and made wholesome as though this were the day before New Year when, by ancient custom, all the Empire was cleaned.  Fishing boats were meticulously marshaled, nets tidy, ropes coiled.  Even the beach along the bay had been raked.

"Nothing will go wrong, Igurashi-san," Omi said.  He had had little sleep this last week, ever since Yabu's orders had come from Osaka via one of Toranaga's carrier pigeons.  At once he had mobilized the village and every able-bodied man within twenty
ri
to prepare Anjiro for the arrival of the samurai and Yabu.  And now that Igurashi had whispered the very private secret, for his ears only, that the great
daimyo
Toranaga was accompanying his uncle and had successfully escaped Ishido's trap, he was more than pleased he had expended so much money.  "There's no need for you to worry, Igurashi-san.  This is my fief and my responsibility."

"I agree.  Yes, it is."  Igurashi waved Mura contemptuously away.  And then he added quietly, "You're responsible.  But without offense, I tell you you've never seen our Master when something goes wrong.  If we've forgotten anything, or these dung eaters haven't done what they're supposed to, our Master will make your whole fief and those to the north and south into manure heaps before sunset tomorrow."  He strode back to the head of his men.

This morning the final companies of samurai had ridden in from Mishima, Yabu's capital city to the north.  Now they, too, with all the others, were drawn up in packed military formation on the foreshore, in the square, and on the hillside, their banners waving with the slight breeze, upright spears glinting in the sun.  Three thousand samurai, the elite of Yabu's army.  Five hundred cavalry.

Omi was not afraid.  He had done everything it was possible to do and had personally checked everything that could be checked.  If something went wrong, then that was just
karma.
  But nothing is going to go wrong, he thought excitedly.  Five hundred koku had been spent or was committed on the preparations—more than his entire year's income before Yabu had increased his fief.  He had been staggered by the amount but Midori, his wife, had said they should spend lavishly, that the cost was minuscule compared to the honor that Lord Yabu was doing him.  "And with Lord Toranaga here—who knows what great opportunities you'll have?" she had whispered.

She's so right, Omi thought proudly.

He rechecked the shore and the village square.  Everything seemed perfect.  Midori and his mother were waiting under the awning that had been prepared to receive Yabu and his guest, Toranaga.  Omi noticed that his mother's tongue was wagging and he wished that Midori could be spared its constant lash.  He straightened a fold in his already impeccable kimono and adjusted his swords and looked seaward.

"Listen, Mura-san," Uo, the fisherman, was whispering cautiously.  He was one of the five village elders and they were kneeling with Mura in front of the rest.  "You know, I'm so frightened, if I pissed I'd piss dust."

"Then don't, old friend." Mura suppressed his smile.

Uo was a broad-shouldered, rocklike man with vast hands and broken nose, and he wore a pained expression.  "I won't.  But I think I'm going to fart."  Uo was famous for his humor and for his courage and for the quantity of his wind.  Last year when they had had the wind-breaking contest with the village to the north he had been champion of champions and had brought great honor to Anjiro.

"Eeeeee, perhaps you'd better not," Haru, a short, wizened fisherman, chortled.  "One of the shitheads might get jealous."

Mura hissed, "You're ordered not to call samurai that while even one's near the village." 
Oh ko,
he was thinking wearily, I hope we've not forgotten anything.  He glanced up at the mountainside, at the bamboo stockade surrounding the temporary fortress they had constructed with such speed and sweat.  Three hundred men, digging and building and carrying.  The other new house had been easier.  It was on the knoll, just below Omi's house, and he could see it, smaller than Omi's but with a tiled roof, a makeshift garden, and a small bath house.  I suppose Omi will move there and give Lord Yabu his, Mura thought.

He looked back at the headland where the galley would appear any moment now.  Soon Yabu would step ashore and then they were all in the hands of the gods, all
kami,
God the Father, His Blessed Son, and the Blessed Madonna,
oh ko!

Blessed Madonna, protect us!  Would it be too much to ask to put Thy great eye on this special village of Anjiro?  Just for the next few days?  We need special favor to protect us from our Lord and Master, oh yes!  I will light fifty candles and my sons will definitely be brought up in the True Faith, Mura promised.

Today Mura was very glad to be a Christian; he could intercede with the One God and that was an added protection for his village.  He had become a Christian in his youth because his own liege lord had been converted and had at once ordered all his followers to become Christians.  And when, twenty years ago, this lord was killed fighting for Toranaga against the Taikō, Mura had remained Christian to honor his memory.  A good soldier has but one master, he thought.  One real master.

Ninjin, a round-faced man with very buck teeth, was especially agitated by the presence of so many samurai.  "Mura-san, so sorry, but it's dangerous what you've done—terrible,
neh?
  That little earthquake this morning, it was a sign from the gods, an omen.  You've made a terrible mistake, Mura-san."

"What is done is done, Ninjin.  Forget about it."

"How can I?  It's in my cellar and—"

"Some of it's in your cellar.  I've plenty myself," Uo said, no longer smiling.

"Nothing's anywhere.  Nothing, old friends," Mura said cautiously.  "Nothing exists."  On his orders, thirty koku of rice had been stolen over the last few days from the samurai commissariat and was now secreted around the village, along with other stores and equipment—and weapons.

"Not weapons," Uo had protested.  "Rice yes, but not weapons!"

"War is coming."

"It's against the law to have weapons," Ninjin had wailed.

Mura snorted.  "That's a new law, barely twelve years old.  Before that we could have any weapons we wanted and we weren't tied to the village.  We could go where we wanted, be what we wanted.  We could be peasant-soldier, fisherman, merchant, even samurai—some could, you know it's the truth."

"Yes, but now it's different, Mura-san, different.  The Taikō ordered it to be different!"

"Soon it'll be as it's always been.  We'll be soldiering again."

"Then let's wait," Ninjin had pleaded.  "Please.  Now it's against the law.  If the law changes that's
karma.
  The Taikō made the law: no weapons.  None.  On pain of instant death."

"Open your eyes, all of you!  The Taikō's dead!  And I tell you, soon Omi-san'll need trained men and most of us have warred,
neh?
  We've fished and warred, all in their season.  Isn't that true?"

"Yes, Mura-san," Uo had agreed through his fear.  "Before the Taikō we weren't tied."

"They'll catch us, they have to catch us," Ninjin had wept.  "They'll have no mercy.  They'll boil us like they boiled the barbarian."

"Shut up about the barbarian!"

"Listen, friends," Mura had said.  "We'll never get such a chance again.  It's sent by God.  Or by the gods.  We must take every knife, arrow, spear, sword, musket, shield, bow we can.  The samurai'll think other samurai've stolen them—haven't the shit-heads come from all over Izu?  And what samurai really trusts another?  We must take back our right to war,
neh?
  My father was killed in battle—so was his and his!  Ninjin, how many battles have you been in—dozens,
neh?
  Uo—what about you?  Twenty?  Thirty?"

"More.  Didn't I serve with the Taikō, curse his memory?  Ah, before he became Taikō, he was a man.  That's the truth!  Then something changed him,
neh?
  Ninjin, don't forget that Mura-san is headman!  And we shouldn't forget his father was headman too!  If the headman says weapons, then weapons it has to be."

Now, kneeling in the sun, Mura was convinced that he had done correctly, that this new war would last forever and their world would be again as it had always been.  The village would be here, and the boats and some villagers.  Because all men—peasant,
daimyo,
samurai, even the
eta
—all men had to eat and the fish were waiting in the sea.  So the soldier-villagers would take time out from war from time to time, as always, and they would launch their boats. . . .

"Look!" Uo said and pointed involuntarily in the sudden hush.

The galley was rounding the headland.

Fujiko was kneeling abjectly in front of Toranaga in the main cabin that he had used during the voyage, and they were alone.

"I beg you, Sire," she pleaded.  "Take this sentence off my head."

"It's not a sentence, it's an order."

"I will obey, of course.  But I cannot do—"

"Cannot?" Toranaga flared.  "How dare you argue!  I tell you you're to be the pilot's consort and you have the impertinence to argue?"

"I apologize, Sire, with all my heart," Fujiko said quickly, the words gushing.  "That was not meant as an argument.  I only wanted to say that I cannot do this in the way that you wished.  I beg you to understand.  Forgive me, Sire, but it's not possible to be happy—or to pretend happiness."  She bowed her head to the futon.  "I humbly beseech you to allow me to commit seppuku."

"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.