Shōgun

"Thank you, my son." Toranaga did not trouble to tell him the monstrous problems that would have to be solved before those killings could become fact. He glanced around. All the falconers were ready. And his guards. He called the Hunt Master to him. "First I'm going to the camp, then we'll take the coast road for four ri north."

"But the beaters are already in the hills…" The Hunt Master swallowed the rest of his complaint and tried to recover. "Please excuse my-er-I must have eaten something rotten, Sire."

"That's apparent. Perhaps you should pass over your responsibility to someone else. Perhaps your piles have affected your judgment, so sorry," Toranaga said. If he had not been using the hunt as a cover he would have replaced him. "Eh?"

"Yes, so sorry, Sire," the old samurai said. "May I ask-er-do you wish to hunt the areas you picked last night or would you-er-like to hunt the coast?"

"The coast."

"Certainly, Sire. Please excuse me so I can make the change." The man rushed off. Toranaga kept his eyes on him. It's time for him to be retired, he thought without malice. Then he noticed Omi coming into the stable compound with a young samurai beside him who limped badly, a cruel knife wound still livid across his face from the fight at Osaka.

"Ah, Omi-san!" He returned their salute. "Is this the fellow?"

"Yes, Sire."

Toranaga took the two of them aside and questioned the samurai expertly. He did this out of courtesy to Omi, having already come to the same conclusion when he had talked to the man the first night, just as he had been polite to the Anjin-san; asking what was in Mariko's letter though he had already known what Mariko had written.

"But please put it in your own words, Mariko-san," he had said before she left Yedo for Osaka.

"I am to give his ship to his enemy, Sire?"

"No, Lady," he had said as her eyes filled with tears. "No. I repeat: You are to whisper the secrets you've told me to Tsukku-san at once here at Yedo, then to the High Priest and Kiyama at Osaka, and say to them all that without his ship, the Anjin-san is no threat to them. And you are to write the letter to the Anjin-san as I suggest, now."

"Then they will destroy the ship."

"They will try to. Of course they'll think of the same answer themselves so you're not giving anything away really, neh?"

"Can you protect his ship, Sire?"

"It will be guarded by four thousand samurai."

"But if they succeed… the Anjin-san's worthless without his ship. I beg for his life."

"You don't have to, Mariko-san. I assure you he's valuable to me, with or without a ship. I promise you. Also in your letter to him say, if his ship's lost, please build another."

"What?"

"You told me he can do that, neh? You're sure? If I give him all the carpenters and metalworkers?"

"Oh, yes. Oh, how clever you are! Oh yes, he's said many times that he was a trained shipbuilder…"

"You're quite sure, Mariko-san?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Good."

"Then you think the Christian Fathers will succeed, even against four thousand men?"

"Yes. So sorry, but the Christians will never leave the ship alive, or him alive as long as it's floating and ready for sea. It's too much of a threat to them. This ship is doomed, so there's no harm in conceding it to them. But only you and I know and are to know his only hope is to build another. I'm the only one who can help him do that. Solve Osaka for me and I'll see he builds his ship."

I told her the truth, Toranaga thought, here in the dawn at Yokohama, amid the smell of horses and dung and sweat, his ears hardly listening now to the wounded samurai and Omi, his whole being sad for Mariko. Life is so sad, he told himself, weary of men and Osaka and games that brought so much suffering to the living, however great the stakes.

"Thank you for telling me, Kosami," he said as the samurai finished. "You've done very well. Please come with me. Both of you."

Toranaga walked back to his mare and kneed her a last time. This time she whinnied but he got no more tightness on the girth. "Horses are far worse than men for treachery," he said to no one in particular and swung into the saddle and galloped off, pursued by his guards and Omi and Kosami.

At the camp on the plateau he stopped. Buntaro was there beside Yabu and Hiro-matsu and Sudara, a peregrine on his fist. They saluted him. "Good morning," he said cheerfully, beckoning Omi to be part of their conversation but waving everyone else well away. "Are you ready, my son?"

"Yes, Father," Sudara said. "I've sent some of my men to the mountains to make sure the beaters are perfect for you."

"Thank you, but I've decided to hunt the coast."

At once Sudara called out to one of the guards and sent him riding away to pull back the men from the hills and switch them to the coast. "So sorry, Sire, I should have thought of that and been prepared. Please excuse me."

"Yes. So, Hiro-matsu-san, how's the training?"