Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [254]
He looked through the open shoji. Many sentries in the forecourt. A stable. The fortress was guarded by a ditch. The stockade was constructed of giant bamboos lashed tightly. Big central pillars supported the tiled roof. Walls were light sliding shoji screens, some shuttered, most of them covered with oiled paper as was usual. Good planks for the flooring were set on pilings raised off beaten earth below and these were covered with tatamis.
At Yabu’s command, Omi had ransacked four villages for materials to construct this and the other house and Igurashi had brought quality tatamis and futons and things unobtainable in the village.
Omi was proud of his work, and the bivouac camp for three thousand samurai had been made ready on the plateau over the hill that guarded the roads that led to the village and to the shore. Now the village was locked tight and safe by land. From the sea there would always be plenty of warning for a liege lord to escape.
But I have no liege lord. Whom shall I serve now, Omi was asking himself. Ikawa Jukkyu? Or Toranaga directly? Would Toranaga give me what I want in return? Or Ishido? Ishido’s so difficult to get to, neh? But much to tell him now….
This afternoon Yabu had summoned Igurashi, Omi, and the four chief captains and had set into motion his clandestine training plan for the five hundred gun-samurai. Igurashi was to be commander, Omi was to lead one of the hundreds. They had arranged how to induct Toranaga’s men into the units when they arrived, and how these outlanders were to be neutralized if they proved treacherous.
Omi had suggested that another highly secret cadre of three more units of one hundred samurai each should be trained surreptitiously on the other side of the peninsula as replacements, as a reserve, and as a precaution against a treacherous move by Toranaga.
“Who’ll command Toranaga’s men? Who’ll he send as second in command?” Igurashi had asked.
“It makes no difference,” Yabu had said. “I’ll appoint his five assistant officers, who’ll be given the responsibility of slitting his throat, should it be necessary. The code for killing him and all the outlanders will be ‘Plum Tree.’ Tomorrow, Igurashi-san, you will choose the men. I will approve each personally and none of them is to know, yet, my overall strategy of the musket regiment.”
Now as Omi was watching Yabu, he savored the newfound ecstasy of vengeance. To kill Yabu would be easy, but the killing must be coordinated. Only then would his father or his elder brother be able to assume control of the clan, and Izu.
Yabu came to the point. “Mariko-san, please tell the Anjin-san, tomorrow I want him to start training my men to shoot like barbarians and I want to learn everything there is to know about the way that barbarians war.”
“But, so sorry, the guns won’t arrive for six days, Yabu-san,” Mariko reminded him.
“I’ve enough among my men to begin with,” Yabu replied. “I want him to start tomorrow.”
Mariko spoke to Blackthorne.
“What does he want to know about war?” he asked.
“He said everything.”
“What particularly?”
Mariko asked Yabu.
“Yabu-san says, have you been part of any battles on land?”
“Yes. In the Netherlands. One in France.”
“Yabu-san says, excellent. He wants to know European strategy. He wants to know how battles are fought in your lands. In detail.”
Blackthorne thought a moment. Then he said, “Tell Yabu-san I can train any number of men for him and I know exactly what he wants to know.” He had learned a great deal about the way the Japanese warred from Friar Domingo. The friar had been an expert and vitally concerned. ‘After all, señor,’ the old man had said, ‘that knowledge is essential, isn’t it—to know how