"Yes, Sire."
Toranaga's gaze fell on the spring and he wandered over to it. The water, steaming and sulphurous, hissed as it came from a cleft in the rocks. His body ached for a bath. "And the Christian?" he asked.
"Sire?"
"Tsukku-san, the Christian priest?"
"Oh him! He's somewhere in the village, but the other side of the bridge. He's forbidden this side without your permission. Why? Is it important? He said something about how he'd be honored to see you, when convenient. Do you want him here now?"
"Was he alone?"
Buntaro's lip curled. "No. He had an escort of twenty acolytes, all tonsured like him - all Kyushu men, Sire, all wellborn and all samurai. All well mounted but no weapons. I had them searched. Thoroughly. "
"And him?"
"Of course him - him more than any. There were four carrier pigeons among his luggage. I confiscated them."
"Good. Destroy them. . . . Some fool did it in error, so sorry, neh?"
"I understand. You want me to send for him now?"
"Later. I'll see him later."
Buntaro frowned. "Was it wrong to search him?"
Toranaga shook his head, and absently looked back at the crest, lost in thought. Then he said, "Send a couple of men we can trust to watch the Musket Regiment."
"I've already done that, Sire." Buntaro's face lit up with grim satisfaction. "And Lord Yabu's personal guards contain some of our ears and eyes. He won't be able to fart without your knowing it, if that's your wish."
"Good." The head of the baggage train, still far distant, rounded a bend in the curling track. Toranaga could see the three palanquins, Omi mounted in the lead as ordered, the Anjin-san beside him now, also riding easily.
He turned his back on them. "I've brought your wife with me."
"Yes, Sire."
"She's asking my permission to go to Osaka."
Buntaro stared at him, but said nothing. Then he squinted back at the barely discernible figures.
"I gave her my approval - providing, of course, that you also approve."
"Whatever you approve, Sire, I approve," Buntaro said.
"I can allow her to go by land from Mishima or she can accompany the Anjin-san to Yedo, and go by sea to Osaka from there. The Anjin-san's agreed to be responsible for her - if you approve."
"It would be safer by sea." Buntaro was smoldering.
"This all depends on Lord Zataki's message. If Ishido's formally declared war on me, then of course I must forbid it. If not, your wife can go on tomorrow or the day after, if you approve."
"Whatever you decide I agree to."
"This afternoon pass over your duties to Naga-san. This is a good moment to make peace between you and your wife."
"Please excuse me, Sire. I should stay with my men. I beg you to leave me with my men. Until you're safely away."
"Tonight you will pass over your duties to my son. You and your wife will join me at my evening meal. You will stay at the inn. You will make a peace."
Buntaro stared at the ground. Then he said, even more stonily, "Yes, Sire."
"You're ordered to attempt a peace," said Toranaga. He was in a mind to add "an honorable peace is better than war, neh?" But that wasn't true and might have begun a philosophic argument and he was tired and wanted no arguments, just a bath and a rest. "Now fetch the headman!"
The headman and elders fell over themselves in their haste to bow before him, welcoming him in the most extravagant way. Toranaga told them bluntly that the bill they would present to his quartermaster when he left would of course be fair and reasonable. "Neh?"
"Hai," they chorused humbly, blessing the gods for their unexpected good fortune and the fat pickings that this visit would inevitably bring them. With many more bows and compliments, saying how proud and honored they were to be allowed to serve the greatest daimyo in the Empire, the sprightly old headman ushered him into the inn.
Toranaga inspected it completely through coveys of bowing, smiling maids of all ages, the pick of the village. There were ten rooms around a nondescript garden with a small cha house in the center, kitchens in the back, and to the west, nestling the rocks, a large bath house fed from the living springs. The whole inn was neatly fenced - a covered walk led to the bath - and it was easy to defend.
"I don't need the whole inn, Buntaro-san," he said, standing again on the veranda. "Three rooms will be sufficient - one for myself, one for the Anjin-san, and one for the women. You take a fourth. There's no need to pay for the rest."
"My quartermaster tells me he made a very good arrangement for the whole inn, Sire, day by day, better than half price, and it's still out of season. I approved the cost because of your security."
"Very well," Toranaga agreed reluctantly. "But I want to see the bill before we leave. There's no need to waste money. You'd better fill the rooms with guards, four to a room."
"Yes, Sire." Buntaro had already decided to do that. He watched Toranaga stride off with two personal guards, surrounded by four of the prettiest maids, to go to his room in the east wing. Dully, he was wondering, what women? What women needed the room? Fujiko? Never mind, he thought tiredly, I'll know soon enough.
A maid fluttered past. She smiled brightly at him and he smiled back mechanically. She was young and pretty and soft-skinned and he had pillowed with her last night. But the joining had given him no pleasure and though she was deft and enthusiastic and well-trained, his lust soon vanished - he had never felt desire for her. Eventually, for the sake of good manners, he had pretended to reach the pinnacle, as she had pretended, and then she had left him.
Still brooding, he walked out of the courtyard to stare up at the road.
Why Osaka?
At the Hour of the Goat the sentries on the bridge stood aside. The cortege began to cross. First were heralds carrying banners bedecked with the all-powerful cipher of the Regents, then the rich palanquin, and finally more guards.
Villagers bowed. All were on their knees, secretly agog at such richness and pomp. The headman had cautiously asked if he should assemble all their people to honor the occasion. Toranaga had sent a message that those who were not working could watch, with their masters' permission. So the headman, with even more care, had selected a deputation that included mostly the old and the obedient young, just enough to make a show - though every adult would have liked to be present - but not enough to go against the great daimyo's orders. All who could were watching surreptitiously from vantage points in windows and doors.
Saigawa Zataki, Lord of Shinano, was taller than Toranaga, and younger by five years, with the same breadth of shoulders and prominent nose. But his stomach was flat, the stubble of his beard black and heavy, his eyes mere slits in his face. Though there seemed to be an uncanny resemblance between the half brothers when they were apart, now that they were together they were quite dissimilar. Zataki's kimono was rich, his armor glittering and ceremonial, his swords well used.
"Welcome, brother." Toranaga stepped off the dais and bowed. He wore the simplest of kimonos and soldier's straw sandals. And swords. "Please excuse me for receiving you so informally, but I came as quickly as I could."
"Please excuse me for disturbing you. You look well, brother. Very well." Zataki got out of the palanquin and bowed in return, beginning the interminable, meticulous formalities of the ceremonial that now ruled both of them.
"Please take this cushion, Lord Zataki."
"Please excuse me, I would be honored if you would be seated first, Lord Toranaga."
"You're so kind. But please, honor me by sitting first."