“Very easy. It’s finished. I order it.”
“Please excuse me, Sire,” Fujiko said, her voice toneless, “I didn’t mean that. I made that agreement freely and solemnly before Buddha with the spirit of my dead husband and my dead son. It cannot be changed.”
“I order it changed.”
“So sorry, Sire, please excuse me, but then bushido releases me from obedience to you. Your contract was equally solemn and binding and any change must be agreed by both parties without duress.”
“Does the Anjin-san please you?”
“I am his consort. It is necessary for me to please him.”
“Could you continue to live with him if the other agreement did not exist?”
“Life with him is very, very difficult, Sire. All formalities, most politenesses, every kind of custom that makes life safe and worthy and rounded and bearable has to be thrown away, or maneuvered around, so his household is not safe, it has no wa—no harmony for me. It’s almost impossible to get servants to understand, or for me to understand . . . but, yes, I could continue to do my duty to him.”
“I ask you to finish with the agreement.”
“My first duty is to you. My second duty is to my husband.”
“My thought, Fujiko-san, was that the Anjin-san would marry you. Then you would not be a consort.”
“A samurai cannot serve two lords or a wife two husbands. My duty is to my dead husband. Please excuse me, I cannot change.”
“With patience everything changes. Soon the Anjin-san will know more of our ways and his household will also have wa. He’s learned incredibly since he’s been—”
“Oh, please, Sire, don’t misunderstand me, the Anjin-san’s the most extraordinary man I’ve ever known, certainly the kindest. He’s given me great honor and, oh yes, I know his house will be a real house soon, but . . . but please excuse me, I must do my duty. My duty is to my husband, my only husband. . . .” She fought for control. “It must be, neh? It must be, Sire, or then all . . . all the shame and the suffering and dishonor are meaningless, neh? His death, my child’s, his swords broken and buried in the eta village . . . Without duty to him, isn’t all our bushido an immortal joke?”
“You must answer one question now, Fujiko-san: Doesn’t your duty to a request from me, your liege lord, and to an astonishingly brave man who is becoming one of us and is your master, and,” he added, believing he recognized the bloom in her face, “your duty to his unborn child, doesn’t all that take precedence over a previous duty?”
“I’m . . . I’m not carrying his child, Sire.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, not sure.”
“Are you late?”
“Yes . . . but only a little and that could be . . .”
Toranaga watched and waited. Patiently. There was much yet to do before he could ride away and cast Tetsu-ko or Kogo aloft and he was avid for that pleasure, but that would be for himself alone and therefore unimportant. Fujiko was important and he had promised himself that at least for today he would pretend that he had won, that he had time and could be patient and arrange matters it was his duty to arrange. “Well?”
“So sorry, Sire, no.”
“Then it’s no, Fujiko-san. Please excuse me for asking you but it was necessary.” Toranaga was neither angry nor pleased. The girl was only doing what was honorable and he had known when he had agreed to the bargain with her that there would never be a change. That’s what makes us unique on earth, he thought with satisfaction. A bargain with death is a bargain that is sanctified. He bowed to her formally. “I commend you for your honor and sense of duty to your husband, Usagi Fujiko,” he said, mentioning the name that had ceased to be.
“Oh, thank you, Sire,” she said at the honor he did to her, her tears streaming from the complete happiness that possessed her, knowing this simple gesture cleansed the stigma from the only husband she would have in this life.
“Listen, Fujiko, twenty days before the last day you are to leave for Yedo—whatever happens to me. Your death may take place during the journey and must appear to be accidental. Neh?”
“Yes, yes, Sire.”
“This will be our secret. Yours and mine only.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Until that time you will remain head of his household.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Now, please tell Gyoko to come here. I’ll send for you again before I go. I have some other things to discuss with you.”
“Yes, Sire.” Fujiko bowed deeply and said, “I bless you for releasing me from life.” She went away.
Curious, Toranaga thought, how women can change like chameleons—one moment ugly, the next attractive, sometimes even beautiful, though in reality they’re not.
“You sent for me, Sire?”
“Yes, Gyoko-san. What news have you for me?”
“All sorts of things, Sire,” Gyoko said, her well-made-up face unafraid, a glint in her eyes, but her bowels in upheaval. She knew it was no coincidence that this meeting was taking place and her instinct told her Toranaga was more dangerous than usual. “Arrangements for the Guild of Courtesans progress satisfactorily and rules and regulations are being drawn up for your approval. There is a fine area to the north of the city that would—”
“The area I’ve already chosen is nearer the coast. The Yoshiwara.”
She complimented him on his choice, groaning inwardly. The Yoshiwara—Reed Moor—was presently a bog and mosquitoed and would have to be drained and reclaimed before it could be fenced and built on. “Excellent, Sire. Next: Rules and regulations for the gei-sha are also being prepared for your perusal.”
“Good. Make them short and to the point. What sign are you going to put over the gateway to the Yoshiwara?”
“ ‘Lust will not keep—something must be done about it.’ ”
He laughed, and she smiled but did not relax her guard, though she added seriously, “Again may I thank you on behalf of future generations, Sire.”
“It’s not for you or them I agreed,” Toranaga told her, and quoted one of his comments in the Legacy: “Virtuous men throughout history have always decried bawdy houses and Pillow Places, but men aren’t virtuous and if a leader outlaws houses and pillowing he’s a fool because greater evils will soon erupt like a plague of boils.”
“How wise you are.”
“And as to putting all the Pillow Places in one area, that means all the unvirtuous may be watched, taxed, and serviced, all at the same time. You’re right again, Gyoko-san, ‘Lust will not keep.’ It soon gets addled. Next?”
“Kiku-san has regained her health, Sire. Perfectly.”
“Yes, I saw. How delightful she is! I’m sorry—Yedo’s certainly hot and unkind in the summer. You’re sure she’s fine now?”
“Yes, oh yes, but she has missed you, Sire. We are to accompany you to Mishima?”
“What other rumors have you heard?”
“Only that Ishido’s left Osaka Castle. The Regents have formally declared you outlaw—what impertinence, Sire.”
“Which way’s he planning to attack me?”
“I don’t know, Sire,” she said cautiously. “But I imagine a two-forked attack, along the Tokaidō with Ikawa Hikoju now that his father, Lord Jikkyu, is dead, and along the Koshu-kaidō, from Shinano, as Lord Zataki has foolishly sided with Lord Ishido against you. But behind your mountains you’re safe. Oh, yes, I’m sure you’ll live to a ripe old age. With your permission, I’m shifting all my affairs to Yedo.”