“Which way’s he planning to attack me?”

“I don’t know, Sire,” she said cautiously. “But I imagine a two-forked attack, along the Tokaidō with Ikawa Hikoju now that his father, Lord Jikkyu, is dead, and along the Koshu-kaidō, from Shinano, as Lord Zataki has foolishly sided with Lord Ishido against you. But behind your mountains you’re safe. Oh, yes, I’m sure you’ll live to a ripe old age. With your permission, I’m shifting all my affairs to Yedo.”

“Certainly. Meanwhile see if you can find out where the main thrust will be.”

“I’ll try, oh yes, Sire. These are terrible times, Sire, when brother will go against brother, son against father.”

Toranaga’s eyes were veiled and he made a note to increase vigilance on Noboru, his eldest son, whose final allegiance was with the Taikō. “Yes,” he agreed. “Terrible times. Times of great change. Some bad, some good. You, for example, you’re rich now and your son, for example. Isn’t he in charge of your saké factory at Odawara?”

“Yes, Sire.” Gyoko went gray under her makeup.

“He’s been making great profits, neh?”

“He’s certainly the best manager in Odawara, Sire.”

“So I hear. I have a job for him. The Anjin-san’s going to build a new ship. I’m providing all craftsmen and materials, so I want the business side handled with very great care.”

Gyoko almost collapsed with relief. She had presumed Toranaga was going to obliterate them all before he left for the war, or tax her out of existence, because he’d found out she’d lied to him about the Anjin-san and the Lady Toda, or about Kiku’s unfortunate miscarriage, which was not by chance as she had reported so tearfully a month ago, but by careful inducement, at her insistence with Kiku’s dutiful agreement. “Oh ko, Sire, when do you want my son in Yokohama? He will ensure it’s the cheapest ship ever built.”

“I don’t want it cheap. I want it the very best—for the most reasonable price. He’s to be overseer and responsible under the Anjin-san.”

“Sire, you have my guarantee, my future, my future hopes that it will be as you wish.”

“If the ship is built perfectly, exactly as the Anjin-san wants, within six months from the first day, then I will make your son samurai.”

She bowed low and for a moment was unable to talk. “Please excuse a poor fool, Sire. Thank you, thank you.”

“He has to learn everything the Anjin-san knows about building the ship so others can be taught when he leaves. Neh?”

“It will be done.”

“Next: Kiku-san. Her talents merit a better future than just being alone in a box, one of many women.”

Gyoko looked up, again expecting the worst. “You’re going to sell her contract?”

“No, she shouldn’t be a courtesan again or even one of your gei-sha. She should be in a household, one of few ladies, very few.”

“But, Sire, seeing you even occasionally, how could she possibly have a better life?”

He allowed her to compliment him and he complimented her back, and Kiku, then said, “Frankly, Gyoko-san, I’m getting too fond of her and I can’t afford to be distracted. Frankly she’s far too pretty for me—far too perfect. . . . Please excuse me, but this must be another of our secrets.”

“I agree, Sire, of course, whatever you say,” Gyoko said fervently, dismissing it all as lies, racking her brain for the real reason. “If the person could be someone Kiku could admire, I would die content.”

“But only after seeing the Anjin-san’s ship under sail within the six months,” he said dryly.

“Yes—oh yes.” Gyoko moved her fan for the sun was hot now and the air sticky and breathless, trying to fathom why Toranaga was being so generous with both of them, knowing that the price would be heavy, very heavy. “Kiku-san will be distraught to leave your house.”

“Yes, of course. I think there should be some compensation for her obedience to me, her liege lord. Leave that with me—and don’t mention this to her for the present.”

“Yes, Sire. And when do you want my son in Yokohama?”

“I’ll let you know that before I leave.”

She bowed and tottered away. Toranaga went for a swim. Northward the sky was very dark and he knew it would be raining heavily there. When he saw the small group of horsemen coming from the direction of Yokohama he returned.

Omi dismounted and unwrapped the head. “Lord Kasigi Yabu obeyed, Sire, just before noon.” The head had been freshly washed, the hair groomed, and it was stuck on the spike of a small pedestal that was customarily used for the viewing.

Toranaga inspected an enemy as he had done ten thousand times before in his lifetime, wondering as always how his own head would look after death, viewed by his conqueror, and whether terror would show, or agony or anger or horror or all of them or none of them. Or dignity. Yabu’s death mask showed only berserk wrath, the lips pulled back into a ferocious challenge. “Did he die well?”

“The best I have ever seen, Sire. Lord Hiro-matsu said the same. The two cuts, then a third in the throat. Without assistance and without a sound.” Omi added, “Here is his will.”

“You took off the head with one stroke?”

“Yes, Sire. I asked the Anjin-san’s permission to use Lord Yabu’s sword.”

“The Yoshitomo? The one I gave Yabu? He gave it to the Anjin-san?”

“Yes, Sire. He spoke to him through the Tsukku-san. He said, ‘Anjin-san, I give you this to commemorate your arrival at Anjiro and as a thank you for the pleasure that little barbarian gave me.’ At first the Anjin-san refused to take it, but Yabu begged him to and said, ‘None of these manure eaters deserves such a blade.’ Eventually he agreed.”

Curious, Toranaga thought. I expected Yabu to give the blade to Omi.

“What were his last instructions?” he asked.

Omi told him. Exactly. If they had not all been also written in the will that had been given publicly to the formal witness, Buntaro, he would not have passed all of them on, and indeed, would have invented others. Yabu was right, he thought furiously, reminding himself to remember forever that the pen’s a long arm from the grave.

“To honor your uncle’s death bravery, I should honor his death wishes. All of them, without change, neh?” Toranaga said, testing him.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Yuki!”

“Yes, Sire,” the maid said.

“Bring cha, please.”

She scurried away and Toranaga let his mind weigh Yabu’s last wishes. They were all wise. Mizuno was a fool and completely in Omi’s way. The mother was an irritating, unctuous old hag, also in Omi’s way. “Very well, since you agree, they’re confirmed. All of them. And I also wish to approve your father’s death wishes before they become final. As a reward for your devotion you are appointed Commander of the Musket Regiment.”

“Thank you, Sire, but I don’t deserve such an honor,” Omi said, exulting.

“Naga will be second-in-command. Next: You’re appointed head of the Kasigis and your new fief will be the border lands of Izu, from Atami on the east to Numazu on the west, including the capital, Mishima, with a yearly income of thirty thousand koku.”

“Yes, Sire, thank you. Please . . . I don’t know how to thank you. I’m not worthy of such honors.”

“Make sure you are, Omi-sama,” Toranaga said good-naturedly. “Take possession of the castle at Mishima at once. Leave Yokohama today. Report to Lord Sudara at Mishima. The Musket Regiment will be sent to Hakoné and be there in four days. Next, privately, for your knowledge alone: I’m sending the Anjin-san back to Anjiro. He’ll build a new ship there. You’ll pass over your present fief to him. At once.”

“Yes, Sire. May I give him my house?”

“Yes, you may,” Toranaga said, though of course a fief contained everything therein, houses, property, peasants, fishermen, boats. Both men looked off as Kiku’s trilling laugh came through the air and they saw her playing the fan-throwing game in the far courtyard with her maid, Suisen, whose contract Toranaga had also bought as a consolation gift to Kiku after the unfortunate miscarriage of his child.

Omi’s adoration was clear for all the world to see, much as he tried to hide it, so sudden and unexpected had been her appearance. Then they saw her look toward them. A lovely smile spread over her face and she waved gaily and Toranaga waved back and she returned to her game.

“She’s pretty, neh?”

Omi felt his ears burning. “Yes.”

Toranaga had originally bought her contract to exclude Omi from her, because she was one of Omi’s weaknesses and clearly a prize, to give or withhold, until Omi had declared and proved his real allegiance and had assisted or not assisted in Yabu’s removal. And he had assisted, miraculously, and proved himself many times. Investigating the servants had been Omi’s suggestion. Many, if not all, of Yabu’s fine ideas had come from Omi. Omi had, a month ago, uncovered the details of Yabu’s secret plot with some of the Izu officers in the Musket Regiment to assassinate Naga and the other Brown officers during battle.

“There’s no mistake, Omi-san?” he had asked when Omi reported to him secretly at Mishima, while he was awaiting the outcome of Mariko’s challenge.

“No, Sire. Kiwami Matano of the Third Izu Regiment is outside.”

The Izu officer, a jowly, heavyset, middle-aged man, had laid out the whole plot, given the passwords, and explained how the scheme would work. “I couldn’t live with the shame of this knowledge anymore, Sire. You are our liege lord. Of course, in fairness I should say the plan was only if necessary. I supposed that meant if Yabu-sama decided to change sides suddenly during the battle. So sorry, you were to be the prime target, then Naga-san. Then Lord Sudara.”

“When was this plan first ordered and who knows about it?”

“Shortly after the regiment was formed. Fifty-four of us know—I’ve given all the names in writing to Omi-sama. The plan, code name ‘Plum Tree,’ was confirmed personally by Kasigi Yabu-sama before he left for Osaka the last time.”

“Thank you. I commend your loyalty. You are to keep this secret until I tell you. Then you will be given a fief worth five thousand koku.”

“Please excuse me, I deserve nothing, Sire. I beg permission to commit seppuku for having held this shameful secret so long.”

“Permission is refused. It will be as I ordered.”

“Please excuse me, I do not deserve such reward. At least allow me to remain as I am. This is my duty and merits no reward. Truly I should be punished.”

“What’s your income now?”

“Four hundred koku, Sire. It’s enough.”

“I’ll consider what you say, Kiwami-san.”

After the officer had left he had said, “What did you promise him, Omi-san?”

“Nothing, Sire. He came to me of his own accord yesterday.”

“An honest man? You’re telling me he’s an honest man?”

“I don’t know about that, Sire. But he came to me yesterday, and I rushed here to tell you.”

“Then he will really be rewarded. Such loyalty’s more important than anything, neh?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Say nothing of this to anyone.”

Omi had left and Toranaga had wondered if Mizuno and Omi had trumped up the plot to discredit Yabu. At once he put his own spies to find out the truth. But the plot had been true, and the burning of the ship had been a perfect excuse to remove the fifty-three traitors, all of whom had been placed among the Izu guards on that night. Kiwami Matano he had sent to the far north with a good, though modest, fief.

“Surely this Kiwami is the most dangerous of all,” Sudara had said, the only one admitted to the plot.

“Yes. And he’ll be watched all his life and not trusted. But generally there’s good in evil people and evil in good people. You must choose the good and get rid of the evil without sacrificing the good. There’s no waste in my domains to be cast away lightly.”

Yes, Toranaga thought with great satisfaction, you certainly deserve a prize, Omi.

“Listen, Omi-san, the battle will begin in a few days. You’ve served me loyally. On the last battlefield, after my victory, I’ll appoint you Overlord of Izu, and make your line of the Kasigi hereditary daimyos again.”

“So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but I don’t deserve such honor,” Omi said.

“You’re young but you show great promise, beyond your years. Your grandfather was very like you, very clever, but he had no patience.” Again the sound of the ladies’ laughter, and Toranaga watched Kiku, trying to decide about her, his original plan now cast aside.

“May I ask what you mean by patience, Sire?” Omi said, instinctively feeling that Toranaga wanted the question to be asked.

Toranaga still looked at the girl, warmed by her. “Patience means restraining yourself. There are seven emotions, neh? Joy, anger, anxiety, adoration, grief, fear, and hate. If a man doesn’t give way to these, he’s patient. I’m not as strong as I might be but I’m patient. Understand?”

“Yes, Sire. Very clearly.”

“Patience is very necessary in a leader.”

“Yes.”

“That lady, for example. She’s a distraction to me, too beautiful, too perfect for me. I’m too simple for such a rare creature. So I’ve decided she belongs elsewhere.”

“But, Sire, even as one of your lesser ladies . . .” Omi mouthed the politeness that both men knew a sham, though obligatory, and all the time Omi was praying as he had never prayed before, knowing what was possible, knowing that he could never ask.

“I quite agree,” Toranaga said. “But great talent merits sacrifice.” He was still watching her throwing her fan, catching her maid’s fan in return, her gaiety infectious. Then both the ladies were obscured by the horses. So sorry, Kiku-san, he thought, but I have to pass you on, to settle you out of reach quickly. The truth is, I really am getting too fond of you, though Gyoko would never believe I had told her the truth, nor will Omi, nor even you yourself. “Kiku-san is worthy of a house of her own. With a husband of her own.”

“Better a consort of the lowest samurai than wife of a farmer or merchant, however rich.”

“I don’t agree.”

For Omi those words ended the matter. Karma, he told himself, his misery overwhelming him. Put your sadness away, fool. Your liege lord has decided, so that is the end of it. Midori is a perfect wife. Your mother is to become a nun, so now your house will have harmony.

So much sadness today. And happiness: daimyo of Izu-to-be; Commander of the Regiment; the Anjin-san’s to be kept in Anjiro, therefore the first ship is to be built within Izu—in my fief. Put aside your sadness. Life is all sadness. Kiku-san has her karma, I have mine, Toranaga has his, and my Lord Yabu shows how foolish it is to worry about this or that or anything.

Omi looked up at Toranaga, his mind clear and everything compartmentalized.

“Please excuse me, Sire, I beg your forgiveness. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“You may greet her if you wish, before you leave.”

“Thank you, Sire.” Omi wrapped up Yabu’s head. “Do you wish me to bury it—or display it?”

“Put it on a spear, facing the wreck.”

“What was his death poem?”

Omi said:

“ ‘What are clouds
But an excuse for the sky?
What is life
But an escape from death?’ ”

Toranaga smiled. “Interesting,” he said.

Omi bowed and gave the wrapped head to one of his men and went through the horses and samurai to the far courtyard.

“Ah, Lady,” he said to her with kind formality. “I’m so pleased to see you well and happy.”

“I’m with my Lord, Omi-san, and he’s strong and content. How can I be anything but happy.”

“Sayonara, Lady.”

“Sayonara, Omi-sama.” She bowed, aware of a vast finality now, never quite realizing it before. A tear welled and she brushed it aside and bowed again as he walked away.