“That was planned then?”
“Of course. Will you never learn? On that day I ordered her divorced from you.”
“Sire?”
“Divorced. Isn’t the word clear?”
“Yes, but—”
“Divorced. She’d driven you insane for years, you’d treated her foully for years. What about your treatment of her foster mother and ladies? Didn’t I tell you I needed her to interpret the Anjin-san, yet you lost your temper and beat her—the truth is you almost killed her that time, neh? Neh?”
“Yes—please excuse me.”
“The time had come to finish that marriage. I ordered it finished. Then.”
“She asked for divorce?”
“No. I decided and I ordered it. But your wife begged me to revoke the order. I refused. Then your wife said she would commit seppuku at once without my permission before she would allow you to be shamed in that way. I ordered her to obey. She refused.” Toranaga continued angrily, “Your wife forced me, her liege lord, to withdraw my legal order and made me agree to make my order absolute only after Osaka—both of us knowing that Osaka for her meant death. Do you understand?”
“Yes—yes, I understand that.”
“At Osaka the Anjin-san saved her honor and the honor of my ladies and my youngest son. But for him, they and all the hostages at Osaka would still be in Osaka, I’d be dead or in Ikawa Jikkyu’s hands, probably in chains like a common felon!”
“Please excuse me . . . but why did she do that? She hated me—why should she delay divorce? Because of Saruji?”
“For your honor. She understood duty. Your wife was so concerned for your honor—even after her death—that part of my agreement was that this was to be a private affair between her and you and myself. No one else would ever know, not the Anjin-san, her son, anyone—not even her Christian priest confessor.”
“What?”
Toranaga explained it again. At length Buntaro understood clearly and Toranaga dismissed him and then, at long last alone for the moment, he got up and stretched, exhausted by all his labor since he had arrived. The sun was still high though it was afternoon now. His thirst was great. He accepted cold cha from his personal bodyguard, then walked down to the shore. He stripped off his sopping kimono and swam, the sea feeling glorious to him, refreshing him. He swam underwater but did not stay submerged too long, knowing that his guards would be anxious. He surfaced and floated on his back, looking up into the sky, gathering strength for the long night ahead.
Ah, Mariko, he thought, what a wondrous lady you are. Yes, are, because you will certainly live forever. Are you with your Christian God in your Christian heaven? I hope not. That would be a terrible waste. I hope your spirit’s just awaiting Buddha’s forty days for rebirth somewhere here. I pray your spirit comes into my family. Please. But again as a lady—not as a man. We could not afford to have you as a man. You’re much too special to waste as a man.
He smiled. It had happened at Anjiro just as he had told Buntaro, though she had never forced him to rescind his order. “How could she force me to do anything I didn’t want?” he said to the sky. She had asked him dutifully, correctly, not to make the divorce public until after Osaka. But, he assured himself, she would certainly have committed seppuku if I’d refused her. She would have insisted, neh? Of course she would have insisted and that would have ruined everything. By agreeing in advance I merely saved her unnecessary shame and argument, and myself unnecessary trouble—and by keeping it private now, as I’m sure she would have wished it, everyone gains further. I’m glad I conceded, he thought benignly, then laughed aloud. A slight wave chopped over him and he took a mouthful of sea water and choked.
“Are you all right, Sire?” an anxious guard, swimming nearby, called out.
“Yes. Of course yes.” Toranaga retched again and spat out the phlegm, treading water, and thought, that will teach you to be smug. That’s your second mistake today. Then he saw the wreck. “Come on, I’ll race you!” he called out to his guard.
A race with Toranaga meant a race. Once one of his generals had deliberately allowed him to win, hoping to gain favor. That mistake cost the man everything.
The guard won. Toranaga congratulated him and held on to one of the ribs and waited until his breathing was normal, then he looked around, his curiosity enormous. He swam down and inspected the keel of Erasmus. When he was satisfied he went ashore and returned to the camp, refreshed and ready.
A temporary house had been set up for him in a good position under a wide thatched roof that was supported with strong bamboo posts. Shoji walls and partitions were set on a raised deck flooring of wood and tatamis. Sentries were already stationed, and rooms were also there for Kiri and Sazuko and servants and cooks, joined by a complex of simple paths, raised on temporary pilings.
He saw his child for the first time. Obviously the Lady Sazuko would never have been so impolite as to bring her son back to the plateau at once, fearing that she might intrude in important matters—as she would have done—even though he had happily given her that opportunity.
The child pleased him greatly. “He’s a fine boy,” he boasted, holding the infant with practiced assurance. “And, Sazuko, you’re younger and more attractive than ever. We must have more children at once. Motherhood suits you.”
“Oh, Sire,” she said, “I was afraid I’d never see you again, and never be able to show you your newest son. How are we going to escape the trap . . . Ishido’s armies. . . .”
“Look what a fine boy he is! Next week I’ll build a shrine in his honor and endow it with . . .” He stopped and halved the figure he’d first thought of and then halved that again. “. . . with twenty koku a year.”
“Oh, Sire, how generous you are!”
Her smile was guileless. “Yes,” he said. “That’s enough for a miserable parasite priest to say a few Namu Amida Butsu, neh?”
“Oh, yes, Sire. Will the shrine be near the castle in Yedo? Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it could be on a river or stream?”
He agreed reluctantly even though such a choice plot would cost more than he had wanted to spend on such frippery. But the boy’s fine, I can afford to be generous this year, he thought.
“Oh, thank you, Sire . . .” The Lady Sazuko stopped. Naga was hurrying over to where they sat on a shaded veranda.
“Please excuse me, Father, but your Osaka samurai? How do you want to see them, singly or all together?”
“Singly.”
“Yes, Sire. The priest Tsukku-san would like to see you when convenient.”
“Tell him I’ll send for him as soon as possible.” Again Toranaga began to talk with his consort but, politely and at once, she asked to be excused, knowing that he wanted to deal with the samurai immediately. He asked her to stay but she begged to be allowed to go and he agreed.
He interviewed the men carefully, sifting their stories, calling a samurai back occasionally, cross-checking. By sunset he knew clearly what had happened, or what they all thought had happened. Then he ate lightly and quickly, his first meal today, and summoned Kiri, sending all guards out of hearing.
“First tell me what you did, what you saw, and what you witnessed, Kiri-chan.”
Night had fallen before he was satisfied, even though she was perfectly prepared.