Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [367]
Mura kept on digging at his methodical, grinding pace. “What’s there to decide? Yabu-sama says pay, so we pay, neh?”
“But Toranaga-sama cut our taxes to four parts out of ten and he’s our liege Lord now.”
“True. But Lord Yabu was given back Izu—and Suruga and Totomi as well—and made overlord again, so who is our liege Lord?”
“Toranaga-sama. Surely, Mura-san, Tora—”
“Are you going to complain to him, Ninjin? Eh? Wake up, Yabusama’s overlord as he always was. Nothing’s changed. And if he puts up taxes we pay more taxes. Finish!”
“But that’ll take all our winter stocks. All of them.” Ninjin’s voice was an infuriating whine but all knew the truth of what he said. “Even with the rice we stole—”
“The rice we’ve saved,” Uo hissed at him, correcting him.
“Even with that, there won’t be enough to last through winter. We’ll have to sell a boat or two—”
“We sell no boats,” Mura said. He jabbed his shovel into the mud and wiped the sweat out of his eyes, retied the string of his hat more firmly. Then he began to dig again. “Work, Ninjin. That will take your mind off tomorrow.”
“How do we last the winter, Mura-san?”
“We still have to get through the summer.”
“Yes,” Ninjin agreed bitterly. “We’ve paid more than two years’ taxes in advance, and still it’s not enough.”
“Karma, Ninjin,” Uo said.
“War’s coming. Perhaps we’ll get a new lord who’ll be fairer, neh?” another said.
“He can’t be worse—no one can be worse.”
“Don’t wager on that,” Mura told them all. “You’re alive—you can be very dead very quickly and then no more Golden Gullies, with or without the forest.” His shovel hit a rock and he stopped. “Give me a hand, Uo, old friend.”
Together they fought the rock out of the mud. Uo whispered anxiously, “Mura-san, what if the Holy Father asks about the weapons?”
“Tell him. And tell him we’re ready—that Anjiro’s ready.”
CHAPTER 42
They came to Yokosé by noon. Buntaro had already intercepted Zataki the previous evening and, as Toranaga had ordered, had welcomed him with great formality. “I asked him to camp outside the village, to the north, Sire, until the meeting place could be prepared,” Buntaro said. “The formal meeting’s to take place here this afternoon, if it pleases you.” He added humorlessly, “I thought the Hour of the Goat would be auspicious.”
“Good.”
“He wanted to meet you tonight but I overruled that. I told him you’d be ‘honored’ to meet today or tomorrow, whichever he wished, but not after dark.”
Toranaga grunted approval but did not yet dismount from his lathered horse. He wore a breastplate, helmet, and light bamboo armor, like his equally travel-stained escort. Again he looked around carefully. The clearing had been well chosen with no chance for ambush. There were no trees or houses within range that could hide archers or musketeers. Just east of the village the land was flat and somewhat higher. North, west, and south were guarded by the village and by the wooden bridge that spanned the fast-flowing river. Here at the narrows the water was swirling and rock-infested. Eastward, behind him and his weary, sweated riders, the track climbed steeply up the pass to the misted crest, five ri away. Mountains towered all around, many volcanic, and most with their peaks sleeping in the overcast. In the center of the clearing a twelve-mat dais had been especially erected on low pilings. A tall rush canopy covered it. Haste did not show in the craftsmanship. Two brocade cushions faced each other on the tatamis.
“I’ve men there, there, and there,” Buntaro continued, pointing with his bow at all the overlooking outcrops. “You can see for many ri in all directions, Sire. Good defensive positions—the bridge and the whole village are covered. Eastward your retreat’s secured by more men. Of course, the bridge is locked tight with sentries and I’ve left an ‘honor guard’ of a hundred men at his camp.”
“Lord Zataki’s there now?”
“No, Sire. I selected an inn for him and his equerries on the outskirts of the village, to the north, worthy of his rank, and invited him to enjoy the baths there.