“Three were Choshu ronin, the two that got through the hedge were Choshus, one of them the leader.” Yoshi was not over his fright at the attack, and wondered if he dared draw his sword at this rare opportunity to challenge Ogama alone—Basuhiro presented no physical threat, with or without Akeda.
I need Ogama dead one way or another, he thought, but not yet. Not when two thousand Choshu hold the Gates and me in thrall. “All of them died without doing harm, except to some guards, the survivors not long on this earth. I hear you have offered all your Choshu ronin an amnesty?” he asked, his voice edging, wondering again if Ogama had a secret hand in the planning, which had been impeccable and, if the truth were known, should have been successful. “If shishi or not.”
“Yes,” Ogama said, his mouth smiling. “All daimyo should do the same, a quick and simple way to control all ronin, shishi or not. They are a pestilence that must be stopped.”
“I agree. Amnesty will not stop them. May I ask, how many of your ronin have accepted your offer?”
Ogama laughed roughly. “Clearly not the ones who were in the attack! One or two so far, Yoshi-dono. How many are there in all? A hundred? Not two hundred, of which twenty or thirty may be Choshu? Choshu or not, never mind.” His face hardened. “I did not plan the attack if that is what is in your mind, or know about it.” The mirthless smile returned. “Un think able to have such a treasonous thought. Eh? Easy to stamp shishi out if you and I wanted to—but their slogan is not as easy to suppress, if indeed it should be suppressed. Power should return to the Emperor, gai-jin should be expelled. Sonno-joi is a good slogan, eh?”
“I could say many things, Ogama-dono, but allies should not bait one another. We are allies? You agree?”
Ogama nodded. “In principle, yes.”
“Good,” Yoshi said, hiding his astonishment that Ogama had agreed to his conditions. “Within the year you are Chief of the Elders. From noon I garrison the Gates.” He turned to go.
“Everything as you said. Except the Gates.”
The vein in Yoshi’s forehead knotted. “But I said I need the Gates.”
“So sorry.” Ogama’s hand had not tightened on his sword though his feet had shifted into a better fighting stance. “Secret allies, yes, war with Tosa, yes, with Satsuma, yes, the Gates, no. So sorry.”
For a moment Yoshi Toranaga said nothing. He looked at him. Ogama stared back unafraid, waiting, ready to fight if need be. Then Yoshi sighed, wiped raindrops from the edge of his wide-brimmed hat. “I want to be allies. Allies should help one another. I have a compromise, perhaps, but first I give you some special information: Katsumata is here in Kyōto.”
The blood rushed into Ogama’s face. “Not possible, my spies would have told me.”
“He is here and has been here for some weeks.”
“There are none of Sanjiro’s men in Kyōto, least of all that man. My spies would have t—”
“Ah, sorry,” Yoshi said softly. “He is here, secretly, not as Sanjiro’s path finder and spy, at least not openly. Katsumata is shishi, a Sensei of shishi, and the leader of shishi here, code name the Raven.”
Ogama gaped at him. “Katsumata is the shishi leader?”
“Yes. And a little more. Think for a moment: Is he not Sanjiro’s most trusted, long-time counselor and tactician? Did he outsmart you on behalf of Sanjiro with his false pact and foil you at Fushimi and allow Sanjiro to escape? Does that not mean Sanjiro of Satsuma is secretly the real leader of shishi and that all of their assassinations are part of his general plan to overthrow all of us, you particularly, to become Shogun?”
“That’s always been Sanjiro’s goal, of course,” Ogama said, momentarily glazed, many hitherto unexplained occurrences now falling into place. “If he controls all shishi too …” He stopped, suddenly infuriated that Takeda had never told him. Why? Is Takeda not a spy for me, not a true secret vassal after all? “Where is Katsumata now?”
“One of your patrols almost ambushed him at the Inn of Whispering Pines a few days ago.”
Again color came into Ogama’s face and he almost spat. “He was there? We heard that shishi were sleeping there but I never knew …” Once again he choked with rage that Takeda had not forewarned him that his hated enemy was within his grasp. Why? Never mind, easy to deal with Takeda. First Katsumata. I have not forgotten Katsumata ruined my surprise attack on Sanjiro. But for Katsumata, Sanjiro would be dead, I would be overlord of Satsuma, and there would be no need to talk with Toranaga Yoshi—he would be on his knees in front of me. “Where is he now? Do you know where?”
“I know the safe house where he was last night, perhaps tonight too.” Yoshi added softly, “There are over a hundred shishi in Kyōto. They already plan a mass attack on you.”
Ogama felt chilled, knowing there was no true defense against a fanatic assassin not afraid to die. “When?”
“It was to be at dusk tomorrow—if the attack on the Shōgun had been successful. Then, once you were dead, with adherents amongst your troops, they would seize the Gates.”
It took much of Ogama’s strength not to tell Yoshi a secret meeting with Takeda was due at dusk tomorrow, a perfect moment for a surprise attack. “And now that it was a failure?”
“The information I have is that the leaders are meeting tonight to decide. Now, formally, you head their target list, after Nobusada and myself.”
“Why?” Ogama spluttered. “I support the Emperor, support the fight against the gai-jin.”
Yoshi kept the smile off his face, knowing very well. “Let us join forces tonight. I know their meeting place, where Katsumata and most of the leaders should be—there is a dawn-to-dusk curfew in that part of the city.”
Ogama exhaled. “And the price?”
“First, here is more information that seriously affects both of us.” To Ogama’s further disquiet, Yoshi related the details of the Elders’ meeting with Sir William and the other Ministers, about his spy Misamoto, about Sir William’s threat to make an armed sortie here as soon as his fleet returned, and how the threat and payment had been finessed for the moment.
“Their fleet will not pass my Shimonoseki Straits—if I order it.”
“They could take the long route around South Island.”
“Long route, short route, it makes no difference. If they land in or near Osaka, I, or we, will destroy them.”
“The first time. With great losses but, yes, gai-jin will be repulsed. How ever, two days ago I received a secret report from the department of the Bakufu here who deal with China information.” He brought out the scroll. “Here, read it for yourself.”
“What does it say?” Ogama snapped.
“That the Yokohama fleet sent to punish the sinking of just one British ship devastated twenty leagues of China’s coastline, north of Shanghai, burning all villages, sinking all shipping.”
Ogama spat. “Pirates. Pirate nests.” He knew much about that area. In the past it had been historic, though secret Choshu—and Satsuma—policy to send raiders to the China coast to pillage ruthlessly from Shanghai, southwards beyond Hong Kong to the Taiwan Straits. The Chinese called them wako, pirates, hating and fearing them so much that, for centuries, Emperors of China had forbidden any Japanese from landing on their shores, and all trade between their lands was to be conducted only by non-Japanese.
“Pirates, yes, but those scum are not cowards. Not so long ago an army of these same gai-jin humbled all China a second time and burned the Emperor’s Summer Palace and Peking at their whim. Their fleets and armies are awesome in power.”
“This is Nippon, not China.” Ogama shrugged, not prepared to be drawn out or to divulge his plans for the defense of Choshu. But he was thinking: my coasts are rugged and rock-infested, difficult to invade and very defensible, soon impregnable when all armed emplacements are in place, and bunkers for my fighters. “And we are not Chinese.”
“My thought is that we need peace between all daimyos to gain time, to manipulate gai-jin, to learn their cannon
secrets and gun secrets and ship secrets and how it seems this one foul little island, smaller than our land, has become the wealthiest in the world and rules most of it.”
“Lies. Lies spread to frighten cowards here.”
Yoshi shook his head. “I do not believe that. First we must learn, then we can smash them. We cannot now.”
“We can. This is the Land of the Gods. In Choshu I have one cannon factory, soon there will be others. Satsuma has three small steamers, the beginnings of a shipyard, soon there will be others.” His face twisted. “We can smash Yokohama and this fleet and by the time others return we will be ready.”
Yoshi hid his surprise at the vehemence and strength of the hatred, secretly elated he had smoked out another weapon to use. “I agree. My whole point. There, you see, Ogama-dono,” he said as though greatly relieved, “we think the same though perhaps from different points. We smash them but in time, we must choose the time, gain their knowledge and let them give us the means to spike their guns and their heads.” His voice firmed. “In one year you and I control the Council and Bakufu. In three or four we can buy many guns, cannon and ships.”
“Paid for how? Gai-jin are greedy.”
“One way is coal for their ships. Another is gold.” Yoshi explained his prospecting scheme.
“Clever,” Ogama said, his lips twisted into a strange smile. “In Choshu we have coal, iron and trees for ships.”
“And one armament factory already.”
Ogama laughed, a good laugh, and Yoshi laughed too and knew he had made a breakthrough. “True, and my batteries increase monthly.” Ogama shifted his overmantle under the increasing rain and added pointedly, “So does my resolve to fire on enemy shipping, when I wish. Is that all your information, Yoshi-dono?”
“For the moment. May I advise you to slacken your grip on the Straits—in any event they are yours to play with. Yes, that’s all for the moment, but as an ally you will be given all kinds of privileged information.”
“As an ally I would expect privileged information.” Ogama nodded half to himself. He glanced back at Basuhiro then changed his mind about consulting him—Yoshi is right, he thought, leaders should have secrets. “We have talked enough. Katsumata: I asked the price. A joint attack tonight.”
“What would a very particular ally offer?”
Ogama stretched to ease the grinding tension in his neck and shoulders, expecting that question—for all his bravado no fool. Time enough to vary an offer, he thought, though neither of us would ever deign to lose face by bartering like the despised Osaka rice merchants. “You can garrison the Gates for one month, twenty men only at each of the six Gates, two hundred of my men stationed nearby”—Ogama smiled—“not near enough to embarrass you. Any persons going in or out will receive permits from your officer of the Gates, as is correct—who will have quietly and previously consulted with my … my liaison officer before permits are granted.”
“Consult?”
“Consult, as between privileged allies, so a consensus can easily be arrived at.” The easy smile was gone. “If more than twenty of your men appear, my men take possession and all agreements are ended. Agreed?”
Yoshi’s eyes had flattened. No need to make threats, obviously any trick on either side would end all agreements. “I would prefer forty men at each of the Gates—we can arrange details of how the guard changes without problem—and I garrison the Gates as long as Shōgun Nobusada and the Princess Yazu are inside.”
Ogama had noted the change. “Shogun Nobusada, yes. But not the Princess who … who may stay inside permanently, eh? Forty? Very well, forty at each Gate. Of course, her brother, the Son of Heaven, will not rescind his memorial, his request to me to hold the Gates against his enemies.”
“The Son of Heaven is the Son of Heaven, but I doubt if a cancellation would be forthcoming while Shōgunate forces exercise their historic rights.”
At once Ogama’s expression was naked. “Let you and I forget this polite back and forth and speak plainly: I’ll concede a face-saving device on the Gates in return for Katsumata and all the rest—your men become the honor guard, your banners can be there and I agree with a lot you said, yes, much of it, but I do not concede my opposition to ‘historic rights’ or to the Shōgunate or Bakufu”—he stopped, and because he really wanted what was offered, he made another concession—“to the present Shōgunate and Bakufu, Yoshi-dono. Please excuse my bluntness. It would be good to be allies—I did not expect it would be possible or that I could agree to anything.”
Yoshi nodded, hiding his glee. “I am happy we can agree and I tell you bluntly too we can agree to major changes, and little ones. For example,” he added lightly, “if such a memorial arrived from the Emperor, it would be a forgery.”
Now Ogama’s smile was genuine and he felt he had achieved a perfect compromise. “Good. And now Katsumata.”
The attack on the shishi hideaway began a few hours before dawn. Surprise was perfect. Katsumata, all subleaders, and others were inside. And Sumomo.
The first moment the two lookouts became aware of danger was when, just down the alley, muddy from the rain, one of the hovels burst into flames to muffled cries of alarm from the occupants and close neighbors. At once these men and women—all secret Bakufu plants—began to crowd the alley in pretended panic, the diversion helping to cover the stealthy approach of the attacking force. As the sentries went to investigate, arrows came out of the night and cut them down. One of them howled an alarm before he died.
At once the main force swarmed out of the night to surround this whole section of slum dwellings. Most of the men were Ogama’s, at his request—Yoshi had agreed, saying that he would send a token forty hand-picked men, under Akeda.
In moments many of the assault group had lit torches. These partially illuminated the target hut, back and front, and a fusillade of arrows went into every opening and weak spot. Then, unexpectedly, the four Yoshi riflemen ran into position, two at the back of the huts and two in the front, and fired several volleys through the paper walls.
For an instant there was a stunned silence—samurai, shishi, and all nearby slum dwellers equally shocked—the sound of rapid firing unheard of. Then the silence broke as everyone but the assault group scattered for cover, and screams and shouts came from the wounded within. A hut adjoining the first blaze caught fire and this fire spread rapidly next door and next door and next door until both sides of the far end of the alley became an inferno, trapping many a family inside.
The Ogama captain leading the raid paid no attention to that hazard, which only threatened inhabitants, but ordered the first attack wave in, disregarding Yoshi’s advice to torch the hovels and let his riflemen pick off the shishi as they broke from cover. Four Ogama attackers fell under a vicious shishi sally from the front door and side windows. A general fight erupted both here and in the back alley as another furious foray was contained, men flailing, hampered by the confined space and mud and semi-darkness. Two men breached the cordon to be cut down by others waiting in ambush. Another volley into the hovel was followed by another attempted breakout by a frantic group of shishi, a helpless mission as another circle awaited them beyond and then another. Smoke from the fires began to hinder attackers and the attacked.
An order from Akeda. His men with torches rushed close to the hovel and hurled them onto the roof or through the shojis, swiftly retreating to give a clear field to their comrades with rifles. More firing and more deaths as another cluster of shishi rushed out to join the shouting, screaming melee. The stench of smoke and offal and blood and fire and burning flesh and death began to fill the damp night. The rain turned to drizzle.
Well protected by personal guards, Ogama and Yoshi were watching from a command position away from the blaze and fighting. Both wore armor and swords and Yoshi had his rifle slung. Beside them were some Bakufu officials. In the raging confusion, they were surprised to see a shishi dart through the cordon and run up the alley, escaping into a side alley obscure
d from attacking Choshu samurai.
“Is that Katsumata?” Ogama called out, but his words were drowned as, without hesitation, Yoshi had aimed and fired and loaded and fired again. The man went down screaming, Ogama and everyone nearby recoiling at the suddenness, not expecting Yoshi to become personally involved. Taking his time, Yoshi aimed again at the man squirming helplessly in the dirt. The bullet shoved the body backwards. A final tortured howl and it became inert.
“That is not Katsumata,” Yoshi said, disappointedly.
Ogama cursed, his night vision not good. He pulled his eyes off the body and looked at the rifle, loose in Yoshi’s hands, repressing a shudder. “You use that well.”
“It is easy to learn, Ogama-dono, too easy.” With careful nonchalance, Yoshi put another shell into the breech, fairly sure that this would be the first rifle Ogama had seen. He had brought it and his riflemen deliberately to impress him, to keep him off balance, and make him more wary about trying any assassination attempts. “To kill like this is disgusting, cowardly, dishonorable.”
“Yes, yes, it is. May I see the gun, please?”
“Of course.” Yoshi put on the safety catch. “It’s American—the very latest breech-loader. I take delivery of five thousand shortly.” His smile was thin, remembering he had usurped Ogama’s order. “My ancestor was wise to outlaw all guns—anyone can use one of these to kill, close up or from a distance, daimyo, merchant, robber, ronin, peasant, woman, child. My ancestor was very wise. A pity we cannot do the same but gai-jin have made it impossible.”
The rifle felt strange to Ogama, heavier than a sword, oiled and deadly, and this added curiously to the excitement of the raid, the killing and screams and battle and knowing that spies had reported Katsumata was truly inside so, soon now, his hated enemy’s head would be on display. All this filled him with an untoward sick-sweet nausea.
Good to kill like that without danger to yourself, he told himself, his fingers caressing the barrel, but Yoshi is right again. In the wrong hands … all other hands would be wrong. Five thousand? Eeee, that would make him very difficult to fight. I only ordered two hundred and fifty—where is he getting the money, his lands are almost as debt-ridden as mine? Ah yes, I forgot, bartering mining concessions. Clever. I will do the same. What is his secret plan? Does he have a “Crimson Sky” too? If Yoshi gets five thousand I must get ten. Tonight he brought forty men. Why forty? Was that to remind me I agreed to forty at each Gate? Forty riflemen could easily decimate my two hundred unless equally armed.