When this was translated, he saw consternation on the face of the elderly man. Another lengthy conversation between him and the Bakufu official.
Johann reported wearily, "The old fellow dismisses this with their usuaclass="underline" but that "unfortunate occurrence" was by a Legation staff employee who then committed seppuku-- suicide. It's not the Bakufu's fault at all."
Equally tiredly, Sir William said, "Give them back the usual, by God: that they appointed him, they insisted we employ him, so they are responsible--and he only committed suicide because he was badly wounded in the murder attempt on my predecessor and liable for immediate capture!" Trying to push away his tiredness, he watched the two officials talking with their interpreter, and the third man listening as he had done all afternoon. Perhaps he's the one with real power.
What happened to the other men from yesterday, particularly the younger man--the one Andr`e Poncin accosted as he left. What is that devious bastard Seratard up to?
The freshening wind caught a loose shutter and jolted it against the window. One of the sentries leaned over the lintel and hooked it back in place. Not far offshore was the fleet, the ocean a deep grey now and whitecapped. Sir William noticed the looming squall line. His anxiety for the ships increased.
Johann said, "The old fellow asks, will you accept three thousand."
Sir William's face went red. "Ten thousand in gold!"
More talk then Johann mopped his brow.
"Mein Gott, ten it is, to be paid in two installments at Yokohama, ten days from now, the balance the day before the Yedo meeting."
After a deliberately dramatic pause, Sir William said, "I will give them my answer in three days if it's acceptable."
Much sucking in of breath, a few more wily attempts to change the three days to thirty, to ten, to eight all of which were stonewalled and refused. "Three."
Polite bows and the Delegation was gone.
Once they were alone, Johann beamed. "That's the first time we made any progress, Sir William, the very first time!"
"Yes, well, we'll see. Just don't understand them at all. Obviously they were trying to wear us down. But why? What's the good of that?
They already had the scroll so why the devil didn't they hand it over in the beginning and have done with all their cursed time wasting? Bunch of bloody idiots! And why send two empty palanquins."
Phillip Tyrer said brightly, "Seems to me, sir, that's just one of their characteristics. To be devious."
"Yes, well, Tyrer, come with me please."
He led the way to his private office and when the door was closed he said angrily, "Didn't the F.o. teach you anything? Are you totally without brains? Don't you have enough sense to have a poker face at diplomatic meetings? Are your brains addled?"
Tyrer was in shock at the venom. "Sorry sir very sorry sir I was just so pleased at your victory I cou--"
"It wasn't a victory, you idiot! It was just a delay, albeit heaven sent!" Sir William's relief that the meeting was over and had, against his expectations, achieved much more than he could have wished for, fuelled his irritability.
"Are your ears filled with mildew? Didn't you hear the "what appears to be a just complaint"-- that's the biggest hole they could ever leave, by God!
We achieved a delay, that's all, but it happens to suit me perfectly and if the Yedo meeting takes place in thirty days I'll be astounded. The next time DON'T let your feelings show, for God's sake, and if you ever become an interpreter... you just better learn Japanese quickly or you'll be on the next boat home with a note on your record that will get you a posting to Esquimoland for the rest of your life!"
"Yes sir."
Still steaming, Sir William saw the young man staring at him stoically and wondered what was different about him. Then he noticed his eyes.
Where have I seen that look before--the same, almost indefinable strangeness that young Struan also had?
Ah yes, of course, now I remember! In the eyes of the young soldiers coming back from the Crimea, the untouched as well as the wounded--allied or enemy. War had torn the youth out of them, torn out their innocence with such obscene speed that forever after they were changed. And it always shows not in their faces but in their eyes. How many times was I told: before the battle a youth, a few minutes or hours later, adult--British, Russian, German, French, or Turk the same.
I'm the idiot, not this young chap. I'd forgotten he's hardly twenty-one and in six days he's almost been murdered and been through as violent an experience as any man can have. Or woman, by Heaven! That's right, there was the same look in the girl's eyes too. Stupid of me not to realize it. Poor girl, isn't she barely eighteen?
Terrible to grow up so fast. I've been so lucky.
"Well, Mr. Tyrer," he said gruffly, envying him--that he had come through his baptism of fire bravely, "I'm sure you'll be all right. These meetings are, well, enough to try the patience of Job, eh? I think a sherry is in order."
Hiraga had had great difficulty escaping from the garden through the circles of samurai, and sneaking back to the Inn of the Forty-seven Ronin. When he reached it, long overdue, he was shocked to discover the assassination party had already left for the ambush.
Ori said helplessly, "One of our people reported that the Delegation had come out of the castle exactly as yesterday, banners as yesterday, that there were five palanquins as yesterday, so we presumed Lord Yoshi would be in one."
"Everyone was supposed to wait."
"They did, Hiraga, but if... if they hadn't left when they did they would never be in place in time."
Rapidly Hiraga changed into a cheap kimono and collected his weapons. "Did you see the doctor?"
"We, the mama-san and I, we thought it too dangerous today. Tomorrow will be fine."
"I'll see you in Kanagawa then."
"Sonno-joi!"
"Go to Kanagawa! Here you're a hazard!"
Hiraga slipped over the fence and went by back alleys and little-used paths and bridges, circling for the Castle. This time he was lucky and avoided all patrols.
Most of the daimyo palaces outside the castle walls were deserted. Using cover well, he picked his way from garden to garden until he reached the burnt-out wreckage of what had been the daimyo's palace destroyed during the earthquake three days ago. As planned, his shishi friends were gathered for the ambush near the broken main gate that fronted the main pathway to the castle gate. There were nine of them, not eleven.
"Eeee, Hiraga, we'd given you up!" the youngest, the most excited, whispered. "From here we'll kill him easily."
"Where are the Mori samurai?"
"Dead." His cousin, Akimoto, shrugged.
He was the oldest amongst them, a burly twenty-four. "We came by separate ways but I was near them and the three of us ran into a patrol." He beamed. "I fled one way, they another, I saw one take an arrow and go down.
I never knew I could run so fast, forget them, when will Yoshi pass by?"
Their disappointment was vast when Hiraga told them their prey was not in the cortege. "Then what shall we do?" a tall, very handsome youth of sixteen asked. "This ambush is perfect--half a dozen important Bakufu palanquins have gone by with hardly a guard around them."
"This place is too good to risk for no special reason," Hiraga said. "We'll leave one at a time. Akimoto, you firs--"
The shishi on guard whistled a warning.
Instantly, they went deeper into cover, eyes pressed to openings in the broken fences. An ornate, covered palanquin with eight half-naked bearers and a dozen samurai banner guards was thirty-odd yards away, heading leisurely for the castle gate. No one else was in sight, either way.