Toranaga trotted up and dismounted, offering the lure. Obediently the goshawk left her prey and then, as he deftly concealed the lure, she settled on his outstretched gauntlet. His fingers caught her jesses and he could feel her grip through the steel-reinforced leather of the forefinger perch.
“Eeeeee, that was well done, my beauty,” he said, rewarding her with a morsel, part of the hare’s ear that a beater sliced off for him. “There, gorge on that but not too much—you’ve still work to do.”
Grinning, the beater held up the hare. “Master! It must be three, four times her weight. Best we’ve seen for weeks, neh?”
“Yes. Send it to the camp for the Anjin-san.” Toranaga swung into the saddle again and waved the others forward to the hunt once more.
Yes, the kill had been well done, but it had none of the excitement of a peregrine kill. A goshawk’s only what it is, a cook’s bird, a killer, born to kill anything and everything that moves. Like you, Anjin-san, neh?
Yes, you’re a short-winged hawk. Ah, but Mariko was peregrine.
He remembered her so clearly and he wished beyond wishing that it had not been necessary for her to go to Osaka and into the Void. But it was necessary, he told himself patiently. The hostages had to be released. Not my kin, but all the others. Now I’ve another fifty allies committed secretly. Your courage and Lady Etsu’s courage and self-sacrifice have bound them and all the Maedas to my side, and through them, the whole western seaboard. Ishido had to be winkled out of his impregnable lair, the Regents split, and Ochiba and Kiyama broken to my fist. You did all this and more: You gave me time. Only time fashions snares and provides lures.
Ah, Mariko-chan, who would have thought a little slip of a woman like you, daughter of Ju-san Kubo, my old rival, the archtraitor Akechi Jinsai, could do so much and wreak so much vengeance so beautifully and with such dignity on the Taikō, your father’s enemy and killer. A single awesome stoop, like Tetsu-ko, and you killed all your prey which are my prey.
So sad that you’re no more. Such loyalty deserves special favor.
Toranaga was at the crest now and he stopped and called for Tetsu-ko. The falconer took Kogo from him and Toranaga caressed the hooded peregrine on his fist a last time, then he slipped her hood and cast her into the sky. He watched her spiral upward, ever upward, seeking a prey that he would never flush. Tetsu-ko’s freedom is my gift to you, Mariko-san, he said to her spirit, watching the falcon circle higher and higher. To honor your loyalty to me and your filial devotion to our most important rule: that a dutiful son, or daughter, may not rest under the same heaven while the murderer of her father still lives.
“Ah, so wise, Sire,” the falconer said.
“Eh?”
“To release Tetsu-ko, to free her. I thought the last time you flew her she’d never come back but I wasn’t sure. Ah, Sire, you’re the greatest falconer in the realm, the best, to know, to be so sure when to give her back to the sky.”
Toranaga permitted himself a scowl. The falconer blanched, not understanding why, quickly offered Kogo back and retreated hastily.
Yes, Tetsu-ko was due, Toranaga thought testily, but, even so, she was still a symbolic gift to Mariko’s spirit and the quality of her revenge.
Yes. But what about all the sons of all the men you’ve killed?
Ah, that’s different, those men all deserved to die, he answered himself. Even so, you’re always wary of who comes within arrow range—that’s normal prudence. This observation pleased Toranaga and he resolved to add it to the Legacy.
He squinted into the sky once more and watched the falcon, no longer his falcon. She was a creature of immense beauty up there, free, beyond all the tears, soaring effortlessly. Then some force beyond his ken took her and whirled her northward and she vanished.
“Ah, Tetsu-ko, thank you. Bear many daughters,” he said, and turned his attention to the earth below.
The village was neat in the lowering sun, the Anjin-san still at his table, samurai training, smoke rising from the cooking fires. Across the bay, twenty ri or so, was Yedo. Forty ri southeast was Anjiro. Two hundred and ninety ri westward was Osaka and north from there, barely thirty ri, was Kyoto.
That’s where the main battle should be, he thought. Near the capital. Northward, up around Gifu or Ogaki or Hashima, astride the Nakasendō, the Great North Road. Perhaps where the road turns south for the capital, near the little village of Sekigahara in the mountains. Somewhere there. Oh, I’d be safe for years behind my mountains, but this is the chance I’ve waited for: Ishido’s jugular is unprotected.
My main thrust will be along the North Road and not the Tokaidō, the coastal road, though between now and then I’ll pretend to change fifty times. My brother will ride with me. Oh yes, I think Zataki will convince himself Ishido has betrayed him to Kiyama. My brother’s no fool. And I will keep my solemn oath to seek Ochiba for him. During the battle Kiyama will change sides, I think he will change sides, and when he does, if he does, he will fall on his hated rival Onoshi. That will signal the guns to charge, I will roll up the sides of their armies and I will win. Oh yes, I will win—because Ochiba, wisely, will never let the Heir take the field against me. She knows that if she did, I would be forced to kill him, so sorry.
Toranaga began to smile secretly. The moment I have won I will give Kiyama all Onoshi’s lands, and invite him to appoint Saruji his heir. The moment I am President of the new Council of Regents we will put Zataki’s proposal to the Lady Ochiba, who will be so incensed at his impertinence that, to placate the First Lady of the Land and the Heir, the Regents will regretfully have to invite my brother Onward. Who should take his place as Regent? Kasigi Omi. Kiyama will be Omi’s prey . . . yes, that’s wise, and so easy because surely by that time Kiyama, Lord of all the Christians, will be flaunting his religion, which is still against our law. The Taikō’s Expulsion Edicts are still legal, neh? Surely Omi and the others will say, “I vote the Edicts be invoked”? And once Kiyama is gone, never again a Christian Regent, and patiently our grip will tighten on the stupid but dangerous foreign dogma that is a threat to the Land of the Gods, has always threatened our wa . . . therefore must be obliterated. We Regents will encourage the Anjin-san’s countrymen to take over Portuguese trade. As soon as possible the Regents will order all trade and all foreigners confined to Nagasaki, to a tiny part of Nagasaki, under very serious guards. And we will close the land to them forever . . . to them and to their guns and to their poisons.
So many marvelous things to do, once I’ve won, if I win, when I win. We are a very predictable people.
It will be a golden age. Ochiba and the Heir will majestically hold Court in Osaka, and from time to time we will bow before them and continue to rule in his name, outside of Osaka Castle. Within three years or so, the Son of Heaven will invite me to dissolve the Council and become Shōgun during the remainder of my nephew’s minority. The Regents will press me to accept and, reluctantly, I will accept. In a year or two, without ceremony, I will resign in Sudara’s favor and retain power as usual and keep my eyes firmly on Osaka Castle. I will continue to wait patiently and one day those two usurpers inside will make a mistake and then they will be gone and somehow Osaka Castle will be gone, just another dream within a dream, and the real prize of the Great Game that began as soon as I could think, which became possible the moment the Taikō died, the real prize will be won: the Shōgunate.