“Then? Then it will be Crimson Sky?”
“Not as originally planned. Crimson Sky was always a last plan, neh?”
“Yes. What about the Musket Regiment? Could it blast a path through the mountains?”
“Part of the way. But not all the way to Kyoto.”
“Have Zataki assassinated.”
“That might be possible. But Ishido and his allies are still invincible.” Toranaga told him the arguments of Omi, Yabu, Igurashi, and Buntaro the day of the earthquake. “At that time I ordered Crimson Sky as another feint to throw Ishido into confusion . . . and also had the right parts of the discussion whispered into the wrong ears. But the fact is, Ishido’s force is still invincible.”
“How can we split them up? What about Kiyama and Onoshi?”
“No, those two are implacably against me. All the Christians will be against me—except my Christian, and I will soon put him and his ship to very good use. Time is what I need most. I’ve allies and secret friends throughout the Empire and if I have time . . . Every day I gain weakens Ishido further. That’s my battle plan. Every day of delay is important. Listen, after the rains, Ishido will come against the Kwanto, a simultaneous pincer, Ikawa Jikkyu spearheading the south, Zataki in the north. We contain Jikkyu at Mishima, then fall back to the Hakoné Pass and Odawara, where we make our final stand. In the north we’ll hold Zataki fast in the mountains along the Hosho-kaidō Road somewhere near Mikawa. It’s true what Omi and Igurashi said: We can hold off the first attack and there shouldn’t be another great invasion. We fight and we wait behind our mountains. We fight and delay and wait and then when the fruit is ripe for plucking—Crimson Sky.”
“Eeeeee, let that day be soon!”
“Listen, old friend, only you can hold my generals in check. With time and the Kwanto secure, completely secure, we can weather the first attack and then Ishido’s alliances will begin to break up. Once that happens Yaemon’s future is assured and the Taikō’s testament inviolate.”
“You will not take sole power, Sire?”
“For the last time: ‘The law may upset reason but reason may never upset the law, or our whole society will shred like an old tatami. The law may be used to confound reason, reason must certainly not be used to overthrow the law.’ The Taikō’s will is law.”
Hiro-matsu bowed an acceptance. “Very well, Sire. I will never mention it again. Please excuse me. Now—” He let his smile show. “Now, what must I do?”
“Pretend that you’ve persuaded me to delay. Just keep them all in your iron fist.”
“How long must I keep up the pretense?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t trust myself, Sire. I may make a mistake, not meaning to. I think I can keep the joy off my face for a few days. With your permission my ‘aches’ should become so bad that I’ll be confined to bed—no visitors, neh?”
“Good. Do that in four days. Let some of the pain show from today on. That won’t be difficult, neh?”
“No, Sire. So sorry. I’m glad the battle begins this year. Next . . . I may not be able to help.”
“Nonsense. But it will be this year whether I say yes or no. In sixteen days I will leave Yedo for Osaka. By that time you will have given your ‘reluctant approval’ and you will lead the march. Only you and I know there will be further delays and that long before I reach my borders I’ll turn back to Yedo.”
“Please forgive me for doubting you. If it wasn’t that I must remain alive to help your plans I could not live with my shame.”
“No need for shame, old friend. If you hadn’t been convinced, Ishido and Zataki would have seen through the trick. Oh, by the way, how was Buntaro-san when you saw him?”
“Seething, Sire. It will be good to have a battle for him to fight.”
“He suggested removing me as liege lord?”
“If he’d said that to me I would have removed his head! At once!”
“I’ll send for you in three days. Ask to see me daily but I’ll refuse until then.”
“Yes, Sire.” The old general bowed abjectly. “Please forgive this old fool. You’ve given my life purpose again. Thank you.” He left.
Toranaga took out the little slip of paper from his sleeve and reread the message from his mother with enormous satisfaction. With the northern route possibly open and Ishido possibly betrayed there, his odds had enormously improved. He put the message to the flame. The paper curled into ash. Contentedly, he pounded the ash to dust. Now, who should be the new commander-in-chief? he asked himself.
At noon, Mariko walked across the donjon forecourt, through the silent ranks of brooding guards, and went inside. Toranaga’s secretary was waiting for her in one of the anterooms on the ground floor. “So sorry to send for you, Lady Toda,” he said listlessly.
“It’s my pleasure, Kawanabi-san.”
Kawanabi was a sharp-featured, elderly samurai with a shaven head. Once he had been a Buddhist priest. For years now he had handled all of Toranaga’s correspondence. Normally he was bright and enthusiastic. Today, like most people in the castle, he was greatly unsettled. He handed her a small scroll. “Here are your travel documents for Osaka, duly signed. You are to leave tomorrow and get there as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded tiny to her.
“Lord Toranaga says he may have some private dispatches for you to take to Lady Kiritsubo and Lady Koto. Also for General Lord Ishido and Lady Ochiba. They’ll be delivered to you tomorrow at dawn if . . . so sorry, if they’re ready, I’ll see they’re delivered to you.”
“Thank you.”
From a number of scrolls that were stacked with pedantic neatness on his low desk, Kawanabi selected an official document. “I’m directed to give you this. It is the increase in your son’s fief as promised by Lord Toranaga. Ten thousand koku yearly. It’s dated from the last day of last month and . . . well, here it is.”
She accepted it, read it, and checked the official chops. Everything was perfect. But it gave her no happiness. Both believed it was an empty paper now. If her son’s life was spared he would become ronin. “Thank you. Please thank Lord Toranaga for the honor he does us. May I be allowed to see him before I go?”
“Oh, yes. When you leave here now you’re asked to go to the barbarian ship. You’re requested to wait for him there.”
“I’m—I’m to interpret?”
“He didn’t say. I would presume so, Lady Toda.” The secretary squinted at a list in his hand. “Captain Yoshinaka’s been ordered to lead your escort to Osaka, if it pleases you.”
“I would be honored to be in his charge again. Thank you. May I ask how Lord Toranaga is?”
“He seems well enough, but for an active man like him to coop himself up for days on end . . . What can I say?” He spread his hands helplessly. “So sorry. At least today he saw Lord Hiro-matsu and agreed to a delay. He’s also agreed to deal with a few other things . . . rice prices must be stabilized now in case of a bad harvest. . . . But there’s so much to do and . . . it’s just not like him, Lady Toda. These are terrible times, neh? And terrible omens: The soothsayers say the harvest will be ruined this year.”
“I will not believe them—until harvest time.”
“Wise, very wise. But not many of us will see harvest time. I’m to go with him to Osaka.” Kawanabi shivered and leaned forward nervously. “I heard a rumor that the plague’s begun again between Kyoto and Osaka—smallpox. Is that another heavenly sign that the gods are turning their faces from us?”