"No, master," said one of his two bodyguards.
They were riding along a rain-swept quay in the Hatchobori district. Their wicker hats concealed their faces; their straw capes covered the identifying crests on their garments. Yanagisawa glanced furtively over his shoulder at the watercraft moored at the quay. He didn't see anyone except laborers hurrying goods from barges to ware houses. But this was a time for extra caution.
The other guard said, "Your precautions seem to have worked."
After leaving Edo Castle, Yanagisawa and his guards had traveled by palanquin to the estate of a daimyo who was an ally. They'd borrowed horses, donned rain gear, and ridden out the back gate. They'd surely lost anyone who'd followed them from the castle. Now they turned down a street where shops, restaurants, and teahouses occupied narrow storefronts. The street was deserted except for a samurai-one of Yanagisawa's own troops-who stood outside a teahouse distinguished by a giant conch shell hung above its entrance.
Yanagisawa's party dismounted. The samurai opened the door. Yanagisawa and his bodyguards stepped inside, where two more of his soldiers waited in a room with a tatami floor and a low table for drinks, otherwise empty. They'd cleared out the proprietor and customers in advance of Yanagisawa's arrival.
"Are they here yet?" Yanagisawa asked, shedding his wet hat and cape.
The soldiers pointed to a doorway covered with a blue curtain. As he moved toward it, Yanagisawa felt excitement speed his pulse. He was embarking upon the plan he'd outlined to his son last night. His success depended upon the people he was about to meet.
Pushing aside the curtain, he stepped into another room. On the tatami floor knelt two old women. Both in their sixties, they wore rich silk robes patterned in muted colors that gleamed in the gray light from the barred window. Their faces were made up with white rice powder and red rouge, their hair upswept and anchored with lacquer combs. They both looked out of place in these humble surroundings. Otherwise, they could not have been more different.
The younger woman boldly spoke first. "You have kept us waiting for more than an hour." Her speech was crisp, precise, high-class. She had an emaciated figure on which her rich garments hung like cloth on sticks. Her face was narrow, with elegant bone structure, but the right side was distorted, its muscles bunched together, the eye half closed, as if in pain.
"It was best that we not arrive at the same time and be seen together," Yanagisawa explained.
"Still, you took far too long getting here, Honorable-"
Yanagisawa raised his hand. "We'll not use our real titles or names," he said, kneeling opposite the women. "You can call me 'Ogata.' I'll call you 'Lady Setsu.' "
"Surely such theatrics are not necessary here." She swept a disdainful gaze around the shabby room, the window that gave a view of an empty alley in a neighborhood where no one they knew ever came.
"There are spies everywhere," Yanagisawa said, "as you well know."
"Lady Setsu" nodded, conceding his point. Her right eye leaked involuntary tears.
"Me, what about me?" the elder woman piped up. She had a babyish voice and a doughy face that reminded Yanagisawa of a rice cake dusted with powdered sugar. "What shall I be called?" She giggled. "I've always liked the name 'Chocho.' "
Butterfly, Yanagisawa thought. How inappropriate for such an old, fat woman. " 'Lady Chocho' you shall be," he said, putting on his most gallant, charming manner. "It's most suitable. You are as pretty and graceful as your namesake."
Lady Chocho preened, delighted by his flattery. Yanagisawa smiled. He'd already won an ally. But her companion frowned.
"It was quite inconvenient and uncomfortable to travel so far in such bad weather," Lady Setsu said, "particularly since my health is poor, as you well know."
Yanagisawa knew she suffered from terrible headaches that caused spasms in her face. "Yes, I do know, and I apologize for bringing you all the way out here," he said contritely.
Lady Chocho had borne the fruit that was key to his plan, whose acquisition was the object of this meeting. But Lady Setsu had a say in the matter, too.
"I didn't mind coming," Lady Chocho said, beholding Yanagisawa with the admiration that he often excited in both women and men.
Lady Setsu shot her a glance. Lady Chocho quailed and bowed her head. Lady Setsu had much influence over her friend, Yanagisawa knew from his informants.
"Why did you choose such a squalid dump?" Lady Setsu brushed at her sleeves as if afraid of fleas.
"Because it has no connection to us, and we'll never use it again," Yanagisawa said. "Those are my favorite criteria for places to hold secret meetings."
"Very well. I suppose you have a good reason for summoning us?" Lady Setsu's voice hinted that it had better be good. Even though he was the shogun's second-in-command, her age, her pedigree, and the irritability caused by her pain made her insolent.
"Yes," Yanagisawa said. "I've a proposal to make."
Suspicion narrowed her good eye. "What sort of proposal?"
"For a collaboration that would benefit us both."
Lady Setsu permitted herself a thin, bad-humored smile, which only appeared on the side of her face not distorted by the headache. "What can you offer that would induce us to collaborate with you?"
She pronounced the last word as if she thought him a demon incarnate, which she probably did. Yanagisawa didn't mind. He would rather be feared and reviled than discounted.
"I can offer you a chance at what you most want in the world," he said.
Lady Chocho tugged Lady Setsu's sleeve. "What's he talking about?"
"Quiet," Lady Setsu ordered. To Yanagisawa she said, "Why do you think that we want for anything? We're quite comfortably situated."
"That could change." Yanagisawa paused to let her absorb the ominous impact of his words. "The shogun's health is uncertain."
Lady Setsu regarded him suspiciously. "His Excellency was well enough to attend the martial arts tournament yesterday."
She was well informed, Yanagisawa observed. "Just last month he was wretchedly ill. You must be aware that he grows feebler with every passing year."
"Well, yes. But he often fancies himself ill when he isn't really."
"Still, he's an old man. He's expected to die sooner rather than later."
Lady Setsu hastened to say, "He's been threatening to die for ages." Just as Yanagisawa had hoped, the prospect of the shogun's passing deeply worried her. "He hasn't yet."
"Nobody lives forever," Yanagisawa pointed out. "And when he does die, the regime will change hands. The new dictator will have little use for people close to the past shogun." In case she missed his hint, he added, "People such as you."
Fear flashed across her expression. Yanagisawa knew he had her in his grasp now. "People such as yourself," she retorted.
"True," Yanagisawa said. "I'd like to know that when the dictatorship does change hands, I'll be safe. Wouldn't you?"
Lady Setsu said grudgingly, "I see your point."
"I don't," Lady Chocho said, pouting because they'd left her out of their discussion.
Yanagisawa turned to her with his most charming smile. "My point is that we have so much in common that we're destined to be great friends."
"Oh, I'd like that." Lady Chocho simpered.
Lady Setsu flicked a tolerant glance at her companion, then said to Yanagisawa, "What is your proposal?"
He hid his glee that he'd coaxed her this far. He must exercise caution. "The first step would involve a wedding."
"I love weddings!" Lady Chocho clapped her hands in delight. "Who's getting married?"
Comprehension dawned on Lady Setsu's face. "Your nerve is astounding. You take my breath away."
"He takes mine away, too," Lady Chocho said with a giggle.
"So you don't like my plan?" Yanagisawa prepared to argue, cajole, and eventually convince.
"I didn't say that." Lady Setsu's manner expressed reluctant admiration for his ingenuity. "But you realize there are serious obstacles."