Tokyo Bay (37 page)

ll
ing an untruth...’
‘But I have dishonoured myself by lying,’ said Tokiwa, choking back a sob. ‘I am so ashamed. .
‘You showed great fortitude,’ said Eiko quietly, leaning closer. ‘It took courage to follow the instincts of your heart
-
and you felt it was the will of the
kam
i
,
remember. I’m sure it was not the will of the
kami
that you should die. There’s no dishonour in that.’
Tokiwa bowed her head, and her shoulders shook as she wept silently. Eiko watched her with an expression of extreme concern etched on her simple face, and waited patiently until she had become calm again.
‘Was there more fighting when Prince Tanaka and Gotaro burst into the barn, Tokiwa-san?’
She nodded mutely. ‘Gotaro leapt upon the barbarian, who was unprepared for action, and would have killed him
-
but Prince Tanaka intervened.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the barbarian had helped Prince Tanaka, and the officials of Nippon, in some way when they first visited the black ships?
‘And this saved his life?’
‘Yes. To repay this debt of gratitude, Prince Tanaka set the barbarian and his companion free. He ordered them to return immediately to their ship, under pain of death
-
but I think they disobeyed that order. Three days ago a messenger arrived here saying they were seen riding inland. Prince Tanaka left immediately with a troop of warriors, to go in search of them again. .
A soft footfall in the garden outside caused her to break off suddenly, and they looked up in time to see Prince Tanaka stride into the pavilion. His unsmiling face showed signs of fatigue but he was wearing fresh body armour, a new red cloak, and twin swords thrust into his waist sash. On catching sight of him, both Tokiwa and the maid rose quickly to their feet and bowed
l
ow in greeting. Then the maid withdrew from the pavilion, leaving them facing each other in an awkward silence.
‘Greetings,
O
Tokiwa-san he said shortly, inclining his head a fraction in her direction. ‘Unfortunately my visit must be brief. Matters of great importance demand my attention. I came merely to satisfy myself of your well-being.’
‘I am well, thank you,
O
Kami
-
san, as you can see,’ she said quietly, keeping her eyes lowered and avoiding his gaze. ‘And I’m very glad to see that you too are safe:
‘I hope you’ve been comfortable and well treated:
he said in the same stiff tone, deliberately keeping a distance of several feet between them. ‘If there’s anything further you need, I will
command
it
before I leave.’
‘I need nothing more for my physical comfort,
O
Kami-san,’ she said slowly, lifting her head to look at him. ‘But
it
is a great strain living here in total ignorance of all that is happening.’
‘You know very well you are being kept here for your own safety he broke in sharply. ‘Our enemies have already kidnapped the wife and children of one important official, to force him to do their bidding. They would not hesitate to kidnap you too..:
She looked at him with startled eyes. ‘Has fighting already broken out with the foreign barbarians?’
‘No, not yet,’ he said grimly. ‘But the crisis will reach its climax early tomorrow
m
orning. Within a few hours we shall know whether there is to be war.’
‘What is to happen tomorrow
m
orning,
O
Kami
-
san?’ she asked anxiously.
‘The foreign barbarians are to land a powerful armed force on the beach at Kurihama. That force will be led by their admiral. We’ve agreed to allow them to present a letter addressed to His Imperial Majesty...’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said hesitantly. ‘How could such a ceremony lead to war?’
‘Because they are heavily outnumbered, they are going to sail their ships in close and train all their heavy guns on the shore. We have more than one hundred thousand warriors drawn up along the coast, ready to give battle, many of them hidden from sight. Their barbarian force can only be a few hundred strong, but one false step by either side could be a spark that ignites the gunpowder keg...’
‘If fighting begins, what will h
a
ppen,
O
Kami
-
san?’
Tanaka’s face darkened. ‘In an all-out fight we would possibly kill all their fighting men through our vast weight of numbers. But it would be a bloody and costly battle, because they have superior weapons. And we could not stop them destroying all our coastal cities and villages with their guns.. This would cause great loss of life. They could also return soon with many more guns and ships...’
As he spoke, Tokiwa noticed that his left hand flexed and unflexed unconsciously on the hilt of his long sword, betraying the extreme tension he felt. Although he made no effort to move any nearer, his eyes never left her face and she sensed that despite the coldness of his voice, he was fighting an inner battle to conceal his true feelings. In her turn she felt seized by a new sense of inner turmoil; seeing him face to face again seemed to churn up the unfamiliar and conf
u
sing tangle of emotions that had arisen during the past few days.
A silence lengthened between them and she had an irrational urge to blurt out to him that she believed she was with child, just to see how he reacted. But she bit back the temptation, realizing suddenly that she ached above all else to know whether his search for the foreign barbarian had been successful
-
whether the barbarian had been killed or was still alive. Yet she sensed instinctively that this unspoken question was a large part of the reason why he now held himself aloof stifling a desire to come close and embrace her.
‘Has your latest mission been successfully concluded,
O
Kami
-
san?’ she asked at last in a diffident voice, attempting to disguise the real aim of her enquiry ‘You were gone much longer than I expected
Tanaka’s eyes glittered more brightly. ‘I did not succeed in recapturing the foreign barbarian, Tokiwa-san, if that is what you are asking. He and the castaway foolishly disobeyed my orders. They rode inland and attempted to scale Fuji-san unaided. Unfortunately they were pursued also by our worst enemies, led by the son of Lord Daizo. There was much bloodshed and fighting on the mountain...’
Tokiwa stared at him aghast. ‘Were they killed,
O
Kami
-
san?’
‘The castaway was slain with arrows: replied Tanaka, watching her face closely. ‘His body was tossed into one of the high craters.’
Tokiwa closed her eyes briefly but regained her composure after a moment. ‘And the barbarian himself?’
‘The barbarian was about to be butchered when I led my samurai in a surprise attack on the forces of Lord Daizo. He started off down the mountain
-
but some of Daizo’s warriors caught him and cut him down...’
‘So you saw him killed?’ asked Tokiwa, struggling to keep her voice steady.
Tanaka shook his head. ‘I think he was carried wounded from the mountain by Daizo’s men. My force was too small to defeat them. I had already lost many warriors and we had to retreat to avoid annihilation... We tried to follow them down the mountain but they lost us in the darkness.’
‘Where is the foreigner now?’
Tanaka’s stony expression became more severe. ‘I’ve spent the past three days trying to find him. I enlisted the aid of local clansmen who helped me search in all directions between Fuji-san and the Bay of Yedo. But we’ve been unable to find any trace at
all
’
‘What could have happened to him?’
‘I believe the son of Lord Daizo has been concealing the barbarian by day, and moving him secretly each night under cover of darkness towards Kurihama?
‘Why has he done that,
O
Ka
m
i-san?’
Tanaka sucked in his breath sharply and his dark eyes glittered. ‘Because Lord Daizo is the most rabid advocate of all-out war against the foreigners. We’ve picked up rumours that he plans to produce the captive in chains at the very moment the ceremony begins at Kurihama... . He will denounce the treachery of the foreign barbarians and cry out loudly to all the assembled samurai of Nippon to launch an immediate attack. .
‘How
awful
,
O
Kami-san whispered Tokiwa.
Tanaka nodded quickly. ‘Now perhaps you understand why I have no time to waste. I still have the support of some regional clansmen and I must continue to organize their warriors in the search for the foreign barbarian. We shall ride all through the night
-
we must intercept him before morning if war is to be avoided!’
Tokiwa lowered her eyes. ‘I wish you success in your quest.’
He half turned, making as if to leave, then hesitated. ‘You seem somewhat pale,
O
Tokiwa
-
san. Are you feeling unwell?’
She looked up at him uneasily, seized by an irrational fear that by some freak of insight he could understand her suspicions about her body and the strange feelings she had been experiencing. ‘I have felt a little tired for the past few
d
ays,
O
Kami-san,’ she said evasively. ‘But I don’t really know why.’
He turned back, staring intently, and her feelings of anxiety intensified under his gaze. His features were impassive but his eyes glittered suddenly, as though some deep inner anger had momentarily got the better of him. Drawing in a long breath, he took two quick steps towards her.
‘These are times of great upheaval,
O
Tokiwa-san,’ he said coldly. ‘I wished you to
r
emain quietly in seclusion but you chose to def
y
that wish. And now your questions to me indicate that your mind is still restless with curiosity. .
‘What do you mean,
O
Ka
m
i-san?’ she asked haltingly.
‘I think you know what I mean,’ said Tanaka in the same cold tone. ‘And you should perhaps consider whether it is wise to concern yourself so much with the fate of a foreign barbarian spy
w
ho has been the cause of so much conf
l
ict.’
‘I meant no offence: she began, alarmed by his rising anger. ‘My questions were first and foremost about you and your affairs, in which I am naturally most interested . .
‘Your encounter with the barbarian has already brought you close to death,’ he said sharply, ignoring her protest. ‘So do nothing that will resurrect that risk.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ she said unsteadily.
‘When I asked if you had unfastened your sash willingly for the foreign barbarian, you insisted you had not. I can only hope you were telling me the truth.’ Tanaka moved a final pace nearer. ‘If your reply had been “Yes”, I would have had no choice but to kill you instantly, with my own sword. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,
O
Kami
-
san,’ she whispered, lowering her head. ‘I understand,’
He stared hard at her in silence for a moment. ‘Furthermore, if it should emerge later that you were not completely truthful about these events,
O
Tokiwa-san, you will still face that same danger. Do you understand that also?’
‘Yes, I understand that also,’ she whispered without looking up.
‘I’m very glad to hear it. Now I must resume my urgent duties. I bid you farewell.’
Swinging on his heel, he strode out into the garden the way he had come and, as soon as his footsteps had faded into the darkness, Tokiwa sank slowly to her knees on the tatami. Her body, she was suddenly certain, felt truly different; there was a lightness as well as a sensation of fullness in her limbs but these feelings, she realized, were recognizable only to her instinct, not to her physical senses. Burying her face in her hands, she began to sob loudly, and went on sobbing, even though Eiko, on hearing her, rushed back to the pavilion and knelt to embrace her with both arms.

‘THE RESPONSIBILITIES
you and I carry, Haniwara-san, will be very grave,’ said the Governor of Uraga in a low voice, leaning close to the ear of his interpreter. ‘Prince Toda of Idzu and Prince Ido of Iwami will be seated on stools facing the foreign barbarians when they come ashore. But both honourable officials have been ordered to comply rigidly with our laws, which forbid all forms of verbal communication between high imperial dignitaries and foreign barbarians.’
Haniwara Tokuma’s thin face, already pale and drawn, tautened further. ‘Thank you for informing me of this, Shacho-san. Does this mean Prince Toda and Prince Ido will not speak at all during the entire ceremony?’
‘That is correct, Haniwara
-
san,’ replied the governor quietly. ‘The Council of the Shogun has issued an edict insisting they may not utter a single word here in presence of the foreign barbarians. They have been authorized to rise and bow silently in greeting and farewell, that is all. Only you and I will speak
The interpreter glanced anxiously around the hastily constructed ceremonial pavilion in which they were standing. Midnight had long passed and perspiring artisans clutching hammers, saws and other tools were working by paper-lantern light to put the finishing touches to two airy, high-canopied chambers built of striped red-and-white canvas and timber. Erected on the beach at the head of a sandy, crescent- shaped bay close to the straggling village of Kurihama, the pavilion was carefully screened from the sea by high canvas barriers and ringed by hundreds of guards carrying every form of weapon from f
l
intlock muskets to swords and lances.
Ha
ni
wara and the governor were standing in a large entrance ha
l
l where the floor had been covered in white cloth. A pathway of red carpet was being fixed in place leading across
it
and up three shallow steps towards a larger, more sumptuously adorned inner chamber. The floor of this inner chamber was entirely carpeted in red, and the high walls were draped with violet and white silken hangings on which the Tokugawa shogunate’s coat of arms had been embroidered. Vivid green-and-gold silkscreen paintings of wooded landscapes with cranes and other birds depicted in f
l
ight were being stretched from the floor to the draped ceiling on all three sides of this inner reception chamber and at the far end a large, scarlet
-
lacquered chest with gilded feet was being moved into a central position by sweating labourers.
‘That box: said the governor, pointing towards the scarlet chest, ‘will play two important roles
-
one of them ceremonial, one of them secret?
‘What is
it
for, Shacho
-
san?’ asked the interpreter agitatedly, stepping round a group of loin-clothed workers to hurry after the governor, who had started up the three broad steps to the inner chamber. ‘Is the letter of the foreign barbarians to be placed in the box?’
‘Not
in
the box, Haniwara-san,’ replied the governor carefully, ‘but on top of
it.
When the admiral and the other foreign barbarians have arrived and seated themselves, your first duty will be to announce to them the names of our imperial representatives. Then you will ask them if the original letter and translations are ready for delivery?
‘And what do I reply, Shacho-san, if they say yes?’
‘You will indicate that Prince Toda is ready to receive the letters. But he will not touch them and he is not to be approached under any circumstances. You will make
it
clear that the correct receptacle for such communications is the lid of the scarlet chest. And you will invite the barbarians to place them on its lid themselves.’
‘I understand, Shacho-san,’ said the interpreter, glancing nervously towards the chest which, like a grand altar, had been shifted into place close to the centre of the chamber’s rear wall. ‘I shall memorize each of those steps very carefully.’
The governor nodded his approval and stopped in front of the chest, gesturing with one hand towards two keg-shaped stools of white porcelain decorated with blue mountain motifs which had been positioned to the left of it. ‘Throughout the ceremony, Prince Toda and Prince Ido will remain seated on these stools. The admiral and two other leading foreign barbarians will be invited to sit facing them here on the right side of the chest . - .‘ The governor paused and waved his hand towards three heavy, hand-carved, wooden chairs with raised sides which gave them the appearance of small thrones. ‘These are the nearest pieces of furniture t
h
at could be found resembling the seats used by the barbarians in their own country. They have been brought here specially from a Buddhist temple, where they are normally used by priests when conducting funerals. .
‘What will happen after the foreign barbarians have deposited their letters on the red chest, Shacho
-
san?’ interjected the interpreter nervously. ‘Will the ceremony then be at an end?’
‘No, not quite,’ replied the governor. ‘When the letters have been placed on the chest, I will go to make a low obeisance before Prince Ido. I will then receive from his hands a sealed imperial receipt for the letters. I will bring it to the foreign barbarian admiral and, after offering similar formal respects to him, I will hand it over. You will be given a copy and will make its contents known verbally at that moment.’
‘What will the imperial receipt say, Shacho
-
san?’
‘After acknowledging that the letter has duly been received on behalf of His Imperial Majesty, the note will reiterate that all business relating to foreign countries should normally be conducted at Nagasaki. It will also say that the letter has been received here in opposition to the laws of Nippon. Finally it will state that, as this is not a place to negotiate or offer entertainment, the barbarians, having delivered their letter, should leave our shores forthwith.’
‘Those terms sound extremely forthright,’ said the interpreter, staring distractedly at the scarlet chest. ‘Is that the intention?’
‘Yes, that is the deliberate will
of
the Council of the Shogun,’ said the governor emphatically. ‘You are to convey the sentiments in very firm tones.’
The interpreter nodded obediently, his face clouded with concern. ‘And how exactly will the ceremony be concluded, Shacho-san?’
‘I will return to the chest to draw and fasten a scarlet cloth about the deposited letters. This will mark the closure of the proceedings. At the same time you will tell the barbarians that there is nothing more to be done.’
‘And when I have said that, what then?’
‘You and I will then walk from the chamber towards the front entrance, indicating that the foreign barbarians should follow in our footsteps and return quickly to their ships. As they leave, Prince Toda and Prince Ido will rise to bow silently in farewell...’
The interpreter was still staring down distractedly at the scarlet chest, but now he raised his head and looked up at the governor -with a perplexed expression in his eyes. ‘You haven’t yet told me what the secret purpose of this large box is, Shacho-san. Will you explain now, please?’
The governor nodded, his expression grave, and walked slowly to the rear of the chest, beckoning for the interpreter to follow
.
In the space between the chest and the silk hangings of the rear wall, he bent down and pulled aside a separate section of the red carpet to reveal a hinged trapdoor set in the wooden floor. Tugging
it
open, the governor stood back so that the interpreter could see the flight of rough steps that led down steeply into a dark cellar-pit dug out beneath the pavilion.
‘The
secret
purpose of the scarlet chest is to conceal this entrance,’ said the governor, glancing
significantly
at the startled interpreter and starting down the steps. ‘Follow me. I will show you. There is space for ten fully armed samurai to hide down here
-
and they will be able to rush out unexpectedly to make a surprise attack at any moment during the ceremony.’
The interpreter did not move at first, but stared down with frightened eyes into the gloom of the underground hideout.
‘What is it, Haniwara
-
san?’ enquired the governor in a puzzled voice. ‘Why are you so alarmed?’
‘I did not expect there to be any violence here said the interpreter in a horrified voice.
‘Come down and look for yourself,’ repeated the governor, beginning to descend. ‘And I will explain fully.’
The interpreter took a hesitant step towards the trapdoor then stopped on hearing a stir of commotion from the open side of the entrance hail. Turning his head he saw a group of several grandly dressed
daimyo
were arriving.
Each feudal lord was accompanied by an elite entourage of twin
-
sworded samurai ‘who were wearing braided leather and bamboo body armour as well as their branched helmets and fearsome fighting masks. The group of
daimyo
had stopped at the entrance to talk with the gowned official who was supervising the construction and preparation of the pavilion, and among them Haniwara caught a glimpse of the ominous, stocky figure of Lord Daizo. A sudden fist of fear clutched at his vitals as he recognized the face of the man who only two days ago had so shockingly revealed that
h
e was holding Haniwara’s wife and children hostage. For a long moment he stared numbly across the pavilion, the colour draining from his face, his heart pounding erratically as he wondered for the thousandth time whether his family was safe; he fought down pessimistic feelings that they might already have been harmed, and he turned his head towards the governor again only when he repeated his invitation in a more insistent voice.
‘Come down quickly and look for yourself, Haniwara-san,’ the governor urged him, following his gaze towards the entrance cha
m
ber. ‘The
daimyo
have arrived for an inspection visit
-
but they won’t come over here for a minute or t
w
o, so be quick!’
Haniwara hurried down the boarded steps into the hot cellar-pit to find
it
lit by a single paper lantern. Some planks had been laid on its hastily excavated floor, and pine props bad been wedged into its walls. Clusters of long killing swords and lances hung from the rafters and shields, helmets and lacquered bamboo armour suits were piled in heaps in the corners. A second reinforcement tunnel led into the rear of the cellar, apparently from outside the pavilion, and a dozen flagons of drinking water had been brought in.
‘What purpose is this to serve, Shacho
-
san?’ asked the interpreter in an uneasy whisper, gazing round at the shields and weapons. ‘Is
it
our plan to try and murder all the barbarians by surprise at a single stroke?’
‘The Council of the Shogun has decided to take no risks,’ said the go
v
ernor in a low voice. ‘So at least ten fully armed samurai will be hidden in here well before the ceremony begins.’
‘But what will their role be, Shacho-san?’ asked the interpreter insistently.
‘They will be acting under strict orders from Prince Toda. They won’t attack without reason. But if the foreign barbarians show any sign of resorting to violence, our samurai will swiftly rush out and slay the foreign admiral and his staff. .
The interpreter shuddered and peered round at the shadowy walls, which seemed to bulge dangerously inward. The damp air smelled strongly of the sea and, because he could scarcely stand up straight under the ominously low ceiling formed by the wood
-
plank floor above, the interpreter felt suddenly panicky as though he was trapped in a mass grave.
‘If there is a necessity; Shacho-san,’ he asked shakily, ‘who will pass on the orders for the samurai to attack?’
‘It has fallen to the two of us to be the joint master of ceremonies,’ said the governor slowly. ‘So we shall be closest to the foreign barbarians. Therefore, Haniwara-san, I fear, if it becomes necessary; one or both of us will be designated to pass on the final orders through the trapdoor.’
‘But surely we shall be given a signal by someone of higher authority?’ enquired the interpreter in a desperate tone. ‘We shall not have to make up our minds about it ourselves?’
The governor, noticing his sudden pallor and the panic in his voice, looked hard at his subordinate. ‘Of course, Haniwara-san, of course. Don’t be so afraid. .
The sudden sound of voices above the trapdoor reached their ears and the governor motioned silently for them to ascend. When the interpreter reached the top of the rough f
l
ight of steps he found his superior already bowing low in turn to each of the four or five
daimyo
who were grouped around the lacquered chest with their ferocious-looking samurai. They were discussing the procedures for the ceremony with the gowned official in charge, and Ha
ni
wara Tokuma in his turn bowed very low to each of the noblemen, reserving his last, deepest and longest prostration for Lord Daizo. He deliberately avoided looking the burly nobleman in the face at first but when, on straightening up, he darted a nervous glance in his direction, he was disconcerted to find Daizo staring intently at him, his eyes as cold and hard as they had been during their recent meeting at his castle.
‘Since we need an individual of the highest integrity to convey the vital order if an emergency arises, I propose Haniwara Tokuma,’ said Daizo suddenly, still staring hard at the interpreter. ‘He will be closer to the hidden trapdoor than anybody else, and is known for his absolute reliability...’
The gowned official, the other
daimyo
and the helmeted samurai all turned incuriously to look at the interpreter, on hearing Daizo’s proposal. None had noticed the pointed nature of the nobleman’s stare and there was a general murmur of disinterested approval. After glancing briefly at each other, the gowned official and the governor nodded their agreement.
‘Are you agreeable to Lord Daizo’s suggestion yourself, Haniwara-san?’ asked the governor formally. ‘Do you accept the honour of this responsibility?’
To hide his dismay Haniwara quickly lowered his eyes. He could feel the coldness of Daizo’s gaze upon him, and inside his chest his heart had begun to hammer painfully. But after a moment’s hesitation he silently conveyed his acceptance by bowing deeply again in the general direction of Daizo, the other