Shōgun

Ishido nodded perfunctorily to Buntaro, who was equally offhand, returning the minimum politeness allowable. Both had been favorite generals of the Taikō. Buntaro had led one of the regiments in Korea when Ishido had been in overall command. Each had accused the other of treachery. Only the personal intervention and a direct order of the Taikō had prevented bloodshed and a vendetta.

Ishido studied the Browns. Then his eyes found Blackthorne. He saw the man half bow and nodded in return. Through the gateway he could see the three women and the other litter. His eyes came to rest on Yabu again. “You’d think you were all going into battle, Yabu-san, instead of just being a ceremonial escort for the Lady Kiritsubo.”

“Hiro-matsu-san issued orders, because of the Amida assassin. . . .”

Yabu stopped as Buntaro stomped pugnaciously forward and planted his huge legs in the center of the gateway. “We’re always ready for battle. With or without armor. We can take on ten men for each one of ours, and fifty of the Garlic Eaters. We never turn our backs and run like snot-nosed cowards, leaving our comrades to be overwhelmed!”

Ishido’s smile was filled with contempt, his voice a goad. “Oh? Perhaps you’ll get an opportunity soon—to stand against real men, not Garlic Eaters!”

“How soon? Why not tonight? Why not here?”

Yabu moved carefully between them. He also had been in Korea and he knew that there was truth on both sides and that neither was to be trusted, Buntaro less than Ishido. “Not tonight because we’re among friends, Buntaro-san,” he said placatingly, wanting desperately to avoid a clash that would lock them forever within the castle. “We’re among friends, Buntaro-san.”

“What friends? I know friends—and I know enemies!” Buntaro whirled back to Ishido. “Where’s this man—this real man you talked of, Ishido-san? Eh? Or men? Let him—let them all crawl out of their holes and stand in front of me—Toda Buntaro, Lord of Sakura—if any one of them’s got the juice!”

Everyone readied.

Ishido stared back malevolently.

Yabu said, “This is not the time, Buntaro-san. Friends or ene—”

“Friends? Where? In this manure pile?” Buntaro spat into the dust.

One of the Grays’ hands flashed for his sword hilt, ten Browns followed, fifty Grays were a split second behind, and now all were waiting for Ishido’s sword to come out to signal the attack.

Then Hiro-matsu walked out of the garden shadows, through the gateway into the forecourt, his killing sword loose in his hands and half out of its scabbard.

“You can find friends in manure, sometimes, my son,” he said calmly. Hands eased off sword hilts. Samurai on the opposing battlements—Grays and Browns—slackened the tension of their arrow-armed bowstrings. “We have friends all over the castle. All over Osaka. Yes. Our Lord Toranaga keeps telling us so.” He stood like a rock in front of his only living son, seeing the blood lust in his eyes. The moment Ishido had been seen approaching, Hiro-matsu had taken up his battle station at the inner doorway. Then, when the first danger had passed, he had moved with catlike quiet into the shadows. He stared down into Buntaro’s eyes. “Isn’t that so, my son?”

With an enormous effort, Buntaro nodded and stepped back a pace. But he still blocked the way to the garden.

Hiro-matsu turned his attention to Ishido. “We did not expect you tonight, Ishido-san.”

“I came to pay my respects to the Lady Kiritsubo. I was not informed until a few moments ago that anyone was leaving.”

“Is my son right? We should worry we’re not among friends? Are we hostages who should beg favors?”

“No. But Lord Toranaga and I agreed on protocol during his visit. A day’s notice of the arival or departure of high personages was to be given so I could pay the proper respects.”

“It was a sudden decision of Lord Toranaga’s. He did not consider the matter of sending one of his ladies back to Yedo important enough to disturb you,” Hiro-matsu told him. “Yes, Lord Toranaga is merely preparing for his own departure.”

“Has that been decided upon?”

“Yes. The day the meeting of the Regents concludes. You’ll be informed at the correct time, according to protocol.”

“Good. Of course, the meeting may be delayed again. The Lord Kiyama is even sicker.”

“Is it delayed? Or isn’t it?”

“I merely mentioned that it might be. We hope to have the pleasure of Lord Toranaga’s presence for a long time to come, neh? He will hunt with me tomorrow?”

“I have requested him to cancel all hunting until the meeting. I don’t consider it safe. I don’t consider any of this area safe any longer. If filthy assassins can get through your sentries so easily, how much more easy would treachery be outside the walls?”