“By all gods, living and dead and yet to be born . . .” Yabu fought to dominate his temper. “I apologize for my bad manners but your—your incredible attitude . . . yes, I apologize.” There was no real purpose to be gained in a show of emotion which all knew was unseemly and defacing. “Yes, it is better for you to stay here then, Lord Toranaga.”
“I think I would prefer to leave at once.”
“Here or Yedo, what’s the difference? The Regents’ order will come immediately. I imagine you’d want to commit seppuku at once. With dignity. In peace. I would be honored to act as your second.”
“Thank you. But no legal order’s yet arrived so my head will stay where it is.”
“What does a day or two matter? It’s inevitable that the order will come. I will make all arrangements, yes, and they will be perfect. You may rely on me.”
“Thank you. Yes, I can understand why you would want my head.”
“My own head will be forfeit too. If I send yours to Ishido, or take it and ask his pardon, that might persuade him, but I doubt it, neh?”
“If I were in your position I might ask for your head. Unfortunately my head will help you not at all.”
“I’m inclined to agree. But it’s worth trying.” Yabu spat violently in the dust. “I deserve to die for being so stupid as to put myself in that dung-head’s power.”
“Ishido will never hesitate to take your head. But first he’ll take Izu. Oh yes, Izu’s lost with him in power.”
“Don’t bait me! I know that’s going to happen!”
“I’m not baiting you, my friend,” Toranaga told him, enjoying Yabu’s loss of face. “I merely said, with Ishido in power you’re lost and Izu’s lost, because his kinsman Ikawa Jikkyu covets Izu, neh? But, Yabu-san, Ishido doesn’t have the power. Yet.” And he told him, friend to friend, why he had resigned.
“The Council’s hamstrung!” Yabu couldn’t believe it.
“There isn’t any Council. There won’t be until there are five members again.” Toranaga smiled. “Think about it, Yabu-san. Now I’m stronger than ever, neh? Ishido’s neutralized—so is Jikkyu. Now you’ve got all the time you need to train your guns. Now you own Suruga and Totomi. Now you own Jikkyu’s head. In a few months you’ll see his head on a spike and the heads of all his kin, and you’ll ride in state into your new domains.” Abruptly he spun and shouted, “Igurashi-san!” and five hundred men heard the command.
Igurashi came running but before the samurai had gone three paces, Toranaga called out, “Bring an honor guard with you. Fifty men! At once!” He did not dare to give Yabu a moment’s respite to detect the enormous flaw in his argument: that if Ishido was hamstrung now and did not have power, then Toranaga’s head on a wooden platter would be of enormous value to Ishido and thus to Yabu. Or even better, Toranaga bound like a common felon and delivered alive at the gates of Osaka Castle would bring Yabu immortality and the keys to the Kwanto.
While the honor guard was forming in front of him, Toranaga said loudly, “In honor of this occasion, Yabu-sama, perhaps you would accept this as a token of friendship.” Then he took out his long sword, held it flat on both hands, and offered it.
Yabu took the sword as though in a dream. It was priceless. It was a Minowara heirloom and famous throughout the land. Toranaga had possessed this sword for fifteen years. It had been presented to him by Nakamura in front of the assembled majesty of all the important daimyos in the Empire, except Beppu Genzaemon, as part payment for a secret agreement.
This had happened shortly after the battle of Nagakudé, long before the Lady Ochiba. Toranaga had just defeated General Nakamura, the Taikō-to-be, when Nakamura was still just an upstart without mandate or formal power or formal title and his reach for absolute power still in the balance. Instead of gathering an overwhelming host and burying Toranaga, which was his usual policy, Nakamura had decided to be conciliatory. He had offered Toranaga a treaty of friendship and a binding alliance, and to cement them, his half sister as wife. That the woman was already married and middle-aged bothered neither Nakamura nor Toranaga at all. Toranaga agreed to the pact. At once the woman’s husband, one of Nakamura’s vassals—thanking the gods that the invitation to divorce her had not been accompanied by an invitation to commit seppuku—had gratefully sent her back to her half brother. Immediately Toranaga married her with all the pomp and ceremony he could muster, and the same day concluded a secret friendship pact with the immensely powerful Beppu clan, the open enemies of Nakamura, who, at this time, still sat disdainfully in the Kwanto on Toranaga’s very unprotected back door.
Then Toranaga had flown his falcons and waited for Nakamura’s inevitable attack. But none had come. Instead, astoundingly, Nakamura had sent his revered and beloved mother into Toranaga’s camp as a hostage, ostensibly to visit her stepdaughter, Toranaga’s new wife, but still hostage nonetheless, and had, in return, invited Toranaga to the vast meeting of all the daimyos that he had arranged at Osaka. Toranaga had thought hard and long. Then he had accepted the invitation, suggesting to his ally Beppu Genzaemon that it would be unwise for them both to go. Next, he had set sixty thousand samurai secretly into motion toward Osaka against Nakamura’s expected treachery, and had left his eldest son, Noboru, in charge of his new wife and her mother. Noboru had at once piled tinder-dry brushwood to the eaves of their residence and had told them bluntly he would fire it if anything happened to his father.
Toranaga smiled, remembering. The night before he was due to enter Osaka, Nakamura, unconventional as ever, had paid him a secret visit, alone and unarmed.
“Well met, Tora-san.”
“Well met, Lord Nakamura.”
“Listen: We’ve fought too many battles together, we know too many secrets, we’ve shit too many times in the same pot to want to piss on our own feet or on each other’s.”
“I agree,” Toranaga had said cautiously.
“Listen then: I’m within a sword’s edge of winning the realm. To get total power I’ve got to have the respect of the ancient clans, the hereditary fief holders, the present heirs of the Fujimoto, the Takashima, and Minowara. Once I’ve got power, any daimyo or any three together can piss blood for all I care.”
“You have my respect—you’ve always had it.”
The little monkey-faced man had laughed richly. “You won at Nagakudé fairly. You’re the best general I’ve ever known, the greatest daimyo in the realm. But now we’re going to stop playing games, you and I. Listen: tomorrow I want you to bow to me before all the daimyos, as a vassal. I want you, Yoshi Toranaga-noh-Minowara, a willing vassal. Publicly. Not to tongue my hole, but polite, humble, and respectful. If you’re my vassal, the rest’ll fart in their haste to put their heads in the dust and their tails in the air. And the few that don’t—well, let them beware.”
“That will make you Lord of all Japan. Neh?”
“Yes. The first in history. And you’ll have given it to me. I admit I can’t do it without you. But listen: If you do that for me you’ll have first place after me. Every honor you want. Anything. There’s enough for both of us.”
“Is there?”
“Yes. First I take Japan. Then Korea. Then China. I told Goroda I wanted that and that’s what I’ll have. Then you can have Japan—a province of my China!”
“But now, Lord Nakamura? Now I have to submit, neh? I’m in your power, neh? You’re in overwhelming strength in front of me—and the Beppu threaten my back.”