Shōgun

Though Toranaga had remained still, he had been ready to intercept the blow and he knew Hiro-matsu was ready and that others would have been ready also, and that probably Ishido would only have been wounded. He understood, too, why Ishido had been so insulting and inflammatory. I will repay you with an enormity of interest, Ishido, he promised silently.

Toranaga gave his attention to the kneeling youth. “How dare you imply that anything Lord Ishido said was meant in any way as an insult to me. Of course he would never be so impolite. How dare you listen to conversations that do not concern you. No, you will not be allowed to commit seppuku. That’s an honor. You have no honor and no self-discipline. You will be crucified like a common criminal today. Your swords will be broken and buried in the eta village. Your son will be buried in the eta village. Your head will be put on a spike for all the population to jeer at with a sign on it: ‘This man was born samurai by mistake. His name has ceased to be!’ ”

With a supreme effort Usagi controlled his breathing but the sweat dripped and the shame of it tortured him. He bowed to Toranaga, accepting his fate with outward calm.

Hiro-matsu walked forward and tore both swords from his grandson-in-law’s belt.

“Lord Toranaga,” he said gravely, “with your permission I will personally see that your orders are carried out.”

Toranaga nodded.

The youth bowed a last time then began to get up, but Hiro-matsu pushed him back on the floor. “Samurai walk,” he said. “So do men. But you’re neither. You will crawl to your death.”

Silently Usagi obeyed.

And all in the room were warmed by the strength of the youth’s self-discipline now, and the measure of his courage. He will be reborn samurai, they told themselves contentedly.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

That night Toranaga could not sleep. This was rare for him because normally he could defer the most pressing problem until the next day, knowing that if he was alive the next day he would solve it to the best of his ability. He had long since discovered that peaceful sleep could provide the answer to most puzzles, and if not, what did it really matter? Wasn’t life just a dewdrop within a dewdrop?

But tonight, there were too many perplexing questions to ponder.

What will I do about Ishido?

Why has Onoshi defected to the enemy?

How will I deal with the Council?

Have the Christian priests meddled again?

Where will the next assassination attempt come from?

When should Yabu be dealt with?

And what must I do about the barbarian?

Was he telling the truth?

Curious how the barbarian came out of the eastern seas just at this time. Is that an omen? Is it his karma to be the spark that will light the powder keg?

Karma was an Indian word adopted by Japanese, part of Buddhist philosophy that referred to a person’s fate in this life, his fate immutably fixed because of deeds done in a previous life, good deeds giving a better position in this life’s strata, bad deeds the reverse. Just as the deeds of this life would completely affect the next rebirth. A person was ever being reborn into this world of tears until, after enduring and suffering and learning through many lifetimes, he became perfect at long last, going to nirvana, the Place of Perfect Peace, never having to suffer rebirth again.

Strange that Buddha or some other god or perhaps just karma brought the Anjin-san to Yabu’s fief. Strange that he landed at the exact village where Mura, the secret head of the Izu spy system, had been settled so many years ago under the very nose of the Taikō and Yabu’s pox-diseased father. Strange that Tsukku-san was here in Osaka to interpret and not in Nagasaki where he’d normally be. That also the chief priest of the Christians is here in Osaka, and also the Captain-General of the Portuguese. Strange that the pilot, Rodrigues, was also available to take Hiro-matsu to Anjiro in time to capture the barbarian alive and take possession of the guns. Then there’s Kasigi Omi, son of the man who will give me Yabu’s head if I but crook my little finger.

How beautiful life is and how sad! How fleeting, with no past and no future, only a limitless now.

Toranaga sighed. One thing is certain: the barbarian will never leave. Neither alive nor dead. He is part of the realm forever.

His ears heard almost imperceptible approaching footsteps and his sword was ready. Each night he changed his sleeping room, his guards, and the password haphazardly, against the assassins that were always waiting. The footsteps stopped outside the shoji. Then he heard Hiro-matsu’s voice and the beginning of the password: “ ‘If the Truth is already clear, what is the use of meditation?’ ”

“ ‘And if the Truth is hidden?’ ” Toranaga said.

“ ‘It’s already clear,’ ” Hiro-matsu answered correctly. The quotation was from the ancient Tantric Buddhist teacher, Saraha.

“Come in.”

Only when Toranaga saw that it was, in truth, his counselor, did his sword relax. “Sit down.”