Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [426]
“Sire?” Buntaro saw that Toranaga was keeping calm only with an enormous effort, and in spite of his will, his voice was trembling.
“I’ve a private message for my mother in Takato. You’re to tell no one you’re going there. But once you’re clear of the city, cut north.”
“I understand.”
“Lord Zataki may prevent you from delivering it—may try to. You are to give it only into her hands. You understand? To her alone. Take twenty men and gallop there. I’ll send a carrier pigeon to ask safe conduct from him.”
“Your message will be verbal or in writing, Lord?”
“In writing.”
“And if I can’t deliver it?”
“You must deliver it, of course you must. That’s why I picked you! But … if you’re betrayed like I’ve … if you’re betrayed, destroy it before you commit suicide. The moment I hear such evil news, the Anjin-san’s head is off his shoulders. And if … what about Mariko-san? What about your wife, if something goes wrong?”
“Please dispatch her, Sire, before you die. I would be honored if…. She merits a worthy second.”
“She won’t die dishonorably, you have my promise. I’ll see to it. Personally. Now please come back at dawn for the dispatch. Don’t fail me. Only into my mother’s hands.”
Buntaro thanked him again and left, ashamed of Toranaga’s outward show of fear.
Now alone, Toranaga took out a kerchief and wiped the sweat off his face. His fingers were trembling. He tried to control them but couldn’t. It had taken all his strength to continue acting the stupid dullard, to hide his unbounding excitement over the secrets, which, fantastically, promised the long-hoped-for reprieve.
“A possible reprieve, only possible—if they’re true,” he said aloud, hardly able to think, the astoundingly welcome information that Mariko had brought from the Gyoko woman still shrieking in his brain.
Ochiba, he was gloating, … so that harpy’s the lure to bring my brother tumbling out of his mountain eyrie. My brother wants Ochiba. But now it’s equally obvious he wants more than her, and more than just the Kwanto. He wants the realm. He detests Ishido, loathes Christians, and is now sick with jealousy over Ishido’s well-known lust for Ochiba. So he’ll fall out with Ishido, Kiyama, and Onoshi. Because what my treacherous brother really wants is to be Shōgun. He’s Minowara, with all the lineage necessary, all the ambition, but not the mandate. Or the Kwanto. First he must get the Kwanto to get the rest.
Toranaga rubbed his hands with glee at all the wonderful new possible ploys this newfound knowledge gave him against his brother.
And Onoshi the leper! A drop of honey in Kiyama’s ear at the right time, he thought, and the guts of the renegade’s treason twisted a little, improved modestly, and Kiyama might gather his legions and go after Onoshi with fire and sword at once. ‘Gyoko’s quite sure, Sire. The acolyte Brother Joseph said Lord Onoshi had whispered in the confessional that he had made a secret treaty with Ishido against a fellow Christian daimyo and wanted absolution. The treaty solemnly agreed that in return for support now, Ishido promised the day you are dead that this fellow Christian would be impeached for treason and invited into the Void, the same day, forcibly if necessary, and Onoshi’s son and heir would inherit all lands. The Christian was not named, Sire.’
Kiyama or Harima of Nagasaki? Toranaga asked himself. It doesn’t matter. For me it must be Kiyama.
He got up shakily, in spite of his jubilation, and groped to one of the windows, leaned heavily on the wooden sill. He peered at the moon, and the sky beyond. The stars were dull. Rain clouds were building.
“Buddha, all gods, any gods, let my brother take the bait—and let that woman’s whisperings be true!”
No shooting star appeared to show the message was acknowledged by the gods. No wind sprang up, no sudden cloud blanketed the crescent moon.