Shōgun

“Is that why the Lady Achiko was killed? Because she was Christian?”

Ishido had ordered it in case she was an assassin planted by her grandfather Kiyama to kill Blackthorne. “I’ve no idea,” he said.

“They hang together like bees in a swarm. How can anyone believe their religious nonsense?”

“I don’t know. But they’ll all be stamped out soon enough.”

“How, Lord General? How do you do that when so much depends on their goodwill?”

“Promises—until Toranaga’s dead. Then they’ll fall on each other. We divide and rule. Isn’t that what Toranaga does, what the Lord Taikō did? Kiyama wants the Kwanto, neh? For the Kwanto he’ll obey. So he’s promised it, in a future time. Onoshi? Who knows what that madman wants . . . except to spit on Toranaga’s head and Kiyama’s before he dies.”

“And what if Kiyama finds out about your promise to Onoshi—that all Kiyama lands are his—or that you mean to keep your promise to Zataki and not to him?”

“Lies, Lady, spread by enemies.” Ishido looked at her. “Onoshi wants Kiyama’s head. Kiyama wants the Kwanto. So does Zataki.”

“And you, Lord General? What is it you want?”

“First the Heir safely fifteen, then safely ruler of the realm. And you and him safe and protected until that time. Nothing more.”

“Nothing?”

“No, Lady.”

Liar, Ochiba thought. She broke off a fragrant flower and smelled the perfume, and, pleased by it, offered it to him. “Lovely, neh?”

“Yes, lovely,” Ishido said, taking it. “Thank you.”

“Yodoko-sama’s funeral was beautiful. You’re to be congratulated, Lord General.”

“I’m sorry she’s dead,” Ishido said politely. “Her counsel was always valuable.”

They strolled awhile. “Have they left yet? Kiritsubo-san and the Lady Sazuko and her son?” Ochiba asked.

“No. They’ll leave tomorrow. After Lady Toda’s funeral. Many will leave tomorrow, which is bad.”

“So sorry, but does it matter? Now that we all agree Toranaga-sama’s not coming here?”

“I think so. But it’s not important, not while we hold Osaka Castle. No, Lady, we have to be patient as Kiyama suggested. We wait until the day. Then we march.”

“Why wait? Can’t you march now?”

“It will take time to gather our hosts.”

“How many will oppose Toranaga?”

“Three hundred thousand men. At least three times Toranaga’s number.”

“And my garrison?”

“I’ll leave eighty thousand elite within the walls, another fifty at the passes.”

“And Zataki?”

“He’ll betray Toranaga. In the end he’ll betray him.”

“You don’t find it curious that Lord Sudara, my sister, and all her children are visiting Takato?”

“No. Of course Zataki’s pretended to make some secret arrangement with his half brother. But it’s only a trick, nothing more. He will betray him.”

“He should—he has the same rotten bloodline,” she said with distaste. “But I would be most upset if anything happened to my sister and her children.”

“Nothing will, Lady. I’m sure.”

“If Zataki was prepared to assassinate his own mother . . . neh? You’re certain he won’t betray you?”

“No. Not in the end. Because he hates Toranaga more than he does me, Lady, and he honors you and desires the Kwanto above all else.” Ishido smiled at the floors soaring above them. “As long as the castle’s ours and the Kwanto exists to give away, there’s nothing to fear.”

“This morning I was afraid,” she said, holding a flower to her nose, enjoying the perfume, wanting it to erase the aftertaste of fear that still lingered. “I wanted to rush away but then I remembered the soothsayer.”

“Eh? Oh, him. I’d forgotten about him,” Ishido said with grim amusement. This was the soothsayer, the Chinese envoy, who had foretold that the Taikō would die in his bed leaving a healthy son after him, that Toranaga would die by the sword in middle age, that Ishido would die in old age, the most famous general in the realm, his feet firm in the earth. And that the Lady Ochiba would end her days at Osaka Castle, surrounded by the greatest nobles in the Empire.

“Yes,” Ishido said again, “I’d forgotten about him. Toranaga’s middle-aged, neh?”

“Yes.” Again Ochiba felt the depth of his look and her loins melted at the thought of a real man on her, in her, surrounding her, taking her, giving her a new life within. This time an honorable birthing, not like the last one, when she had wondered in horror what the child would be like and look like.

How foolish you are, Ochiba, she told herself, as they walked the shaded, fragrant paths. Put away those silly nightmares—that’s all they ever were. You were thinking about a man.

Suddenly Ochiba wished that Toranaga was here beside her and not Ishido, that Toranaga was master of Osaka Castle and master of the Taikō’s treasure, Protector of the Heir and Chief General of the Armies of the West, and not Ishido. Then there would be no problems. Together they would possess the realm, all of it, and now, today, at this moment, she would beckon him to bed or to an inviting glade and tomorrow or the next day they would marry, and whatever happened in the future, today she would possess and be possessed and be at peace.