Troops, cannon? What mischief are they planning?
To settle his nerves he sat back at his table and continued practicing calligraphy.
Ordinarily the exercise soothed. Today it brought no peace. Koiko's exquisite brushstrokes kept forming on the paper and, try as he could, he could not stop her face rising to the forefront of his mind.
"Baka!" he said, making a false stroke, spoiling an hour of work. He threw the brush down, splattering ink on the tatami. His guards shifted uneasily and he cursed himself for the lapse. You must control your memory. You must.
Since that evil day she had beset him. The smallness of her neck, hardly feeling the blow, then rushing away instead of lighting her pyre, the nights worst of all. Lonely in bed, and cold, but no wish for a female body or for succor, all illusions gone. After her betrayal, her treason introducing the dragon woman Sumomo into his inner chambers--no excuse was acceptable for that, none, he told himself again, none. She must have known about her. No excuse, no forgiveness, not even as he now believed, for her sacrificial charge to receive the shuriken that would have impaled him.
No woman could be trusted again. Except his wife, perhaps, and consort perhaps. He had not sent for either of them, only written, telling them to wait, to guard their sons and keep their castle safe.
He felt no real joy even in his victory over the gai-jin though he was certain it was a superb step forward, and sure that when he told the Elders, they would be ecstatic. Even Anjo. How sick is that dog? Unto death I hope. Will the giant do his magic and cure him?
Or is the Chinese doctor to be believed, he who Inejin says has never been wrong and whispered an early death.
Never mind. Anjo, sick or not, will listen to me now, the others will listen at last, and agree to my proposals. Why not? The gai-jin are boxed, no threat now from the fleet, Sanjiro almost done to death by gai-jin, Ogama satisfied in Kyoto. Shogun Nobusada will be ordered back to Yedo where he belongs, once he explained the part the boy should play in the great plan. And not only returning, but returning alone, leaving his hostile wife, the Princess Yazu, to "follow in a few days," never to follow if Yoshi had his way--no need for the others to be in his confidence. Only Ogama.
Not even Ogama to know all of it, only the part to enmesh the Princess and have her divorced by Imperial "request." Ogama would see to it that she stayed out of the way until she was safely and permanently neutralized, content to live forever within the palace quagmire of poetry competitions, mysticism, and other world ceremonials. And a new husband. Ogama.
No, not Ogama, he thought, cynically amused, though of course I will propose the union. No, someone else, someone she will be content with--the Prince to whom she was once promised, and still honors. Ogama will be a fine ally. In many ways. Until he goes onwards.
Meanwhile there is no need to share an immortal truth I have discovered about gai-jin--with Ogama, Anjo or anyone: Gai-jin do not understand time as we do, they do not consider or think about time as we do. They think time is finite. We do not. They worry about time, minutes, hours, days --months are important to them, exact appointments sacrosanct. Not to us. Their version of time controls them. So this is one cudgel we can always use to beat them with.
He smiled to himself, loving secrets, dreaming of a thousand ways to use gai-jin time against real time to dominate them, and through them the future. Patience patience patience.
Meanwhile I still have our Gates, though Ogama's men control my men who guard our Gates. That does not matter. Soon we will possess them entirely, and the Son of Heaven. Again. Will I live to see that? If I do, I do, if I do not, I do not. Karma.
Koiko's laugh sent a chill down his spine: Ah Tora-chan you and karma! Startled, and he looked around. It wasn't her. The laughter came from the corridor, mixed with voices.
"Sire?"
"Come in," he said, recognizing Abeh.
Abeh strode in, leaving his others outside.
The guards relaxed. With Abeh was one of the household maids, a cheerful, middle-aged woman, carrying a tray and fresh tea. Both knelt, bowed. "Put the tray on the table," he said. The maid obeyed, smiling. Abeh stayed kneeling near the door. These were new orders: no one was to come within two metres without permission.
"What were you laughing at?"
To his surprise she said merrily, "At the giant gai-jin, Sire, I saw him in the courtyard, I thought I was seeing a kami--two in fact, Sire, the other one with yellow hair and blue eyes of a Siamese cat. Eeee, Sire, I had to laugh. Imagine, blue eyes! The tea's this season's, as you ordered.
Would like something to eat, please?"
"Later," he said and dismissed her, feeling calmer, her warm nature infectious. "Abeh, they are in the courtyard? What is happening?"
"Please excuse me, Sire, I do not know," Abeh said, still furious that yesterday Anjo had ordered them all away. "The Captain of the tairo's bodyguard came a moment ago and ordered... ordered me to conduct them back to Kanagawa. What should I do, Sire? You will of course want to see them first."
"Where is Tairo Anjo now?"
"I only know that the two gai-jin are to be taken back to Kanagawa, Sire. I asked the Captain how the examination went and he said insolently, "What examination?"' and left."
"Bring the gai-jin here." Soon there were heavy, foreign footsteps. A knock. "The gai-jin, Sire." Abeh stood aside and motioned Babcott and Tyrer forward, knelt and bowed.
They bowed standing, both unshaven and clearly tired.
Immediately one of the door guards angrily shoved Tyrer to his knees, sending him sprawling. The other guard tried the same with Babcott but the Doctor twisted with uncanny speed for such a huge man, grabbed the man by his clothes near his throat, one-handed, lifting him off his feet, slamming him back against the stone wall.
For a second he held the unconscious man there, then gently let him crumple to the floor.
In the shocked silence, Babcott said carelessly, "Gomen nasai, Yoshi-sama, but these twits shouldn't pick on guests.
Phillip, please translate that, and say I haven't killed him though the ill-mannered sod will have a headache for a week."
The other samurai were coming out of their trance and going for their swords. "Stop!" Yoshi ordered, furious with the gai-jin and furious with the guards.
They froze.
Weakly, Phillip Tyrer had picked himself up, ignored the inert guard and said in his quaint, halting Japanese, "Please excuse, Yoshi-sama, but Doctor-sama and I, we bow as foreign custom. Polite, yes? No mean harm. Doctor-sama say, Please excuse, man no dead only..." He searched for the word, could not find it, so he pointed at his head, "Pain, one week, two."
Yoshi laughed. Tension left the room.
"Take him away. When he wakes bring him back." He waved the others to their places and motioned the Englishmen to sit opposite him. When they had settled themselves awkwardly, he said, "How is the tairo, how did the examination go?"
At once Babcott and Phillip replied with simple words and gestures that they had agreed in advance, explaining that the examination went well, that the tairo had a bad hernia--a rupture--that Babcott could help relieve the pain with a truss and medication which would have to be made and fetched from the Settlement, that the tairo had agreed he should return in a week to fit it and bring the results of tests. Meanwhile, he had given him medication that would take most of the pain away and help him sleep.
Yoshi frowned. "This "hern'ah," it is permanent?"
"Doctor-sama say that--"
"I know the Doctor is talking through you, Taira," Yoshi snapped, displeased with what he had heard, "just translate his words without ceremonial titles!"
"Yes, Sire. He says damage is per'man'nt," a new word for him. "Tairo Anjo need... need medicine always stop pain, all time, sorry, each day time, and also use each day time this "truss."" Tyrer used the English word and with his hands, explained the belt and pressure point. "Doctor think tairo'-sama good if has care. No can... can not fight use sword easy."
Yoshi scowled, the results not heartening.
"How long..." He stopped and waved his guards out. "Wait outside." Abeh stayed. "You too." Reluctantly his Captain closed the door. Yoshi said, "The truth: How long will he live?"
"That only God says."
"Huh, gods! How long Doctor thinks tairo will live?"
Babcott hesitated. He had expected the tairo to order him not to speak to Yoshi but once he had told him about the hernia and medicine, and had given him some of his laudanum tincture which had relieved the pain almost at once, the tairo had chuckled and encouraged him to relate "the good news." But the hernia was only part of the problem.
His fuller diagnosis, one that he had not told Anjo, or Phillip Tyrer, wanting to reserve judgment until he had made an analysis of urine and stool samples, had consulted with Sir William and made a second examination, was that he was afraid there could be a dangerous deterioration of the intestines from unknown causes.
The physical had only taken an hour or so, the verbal probing many hours. At forty-six, Anjo was in bad condition. Teeth rotten, surely septicemia from those sooner or later.