The room was quiet like the house. This was their family house, built within the innermost ring of defenses and the wide moat around the castle, where only the most favored and trusted hatamoto were allowed to live. Circling the house was a bamboo-walled garden and a tiny stream ran through it, tapped from the abundance of waters surrounding the castle.
She heard footsteps. The front gate creaked open and there was the sound of servants rushing to greet the master. Quickly she put the knife away in her obi and dried her tears. Soon there were footsteps and she opened her door, bowing politely.
In ill humor, Buntaro told her Toranaga had changed his mind again, that now he was ordered to Mishima temporarily. "I'll leave at dawn. I wanted to wish you a safe journey-" He stopped and peered at her. "Why are you crying?"
"Please excuse me, Sire. It's just because I'm a woman and life seems so difficult for me. And because of Toranaga-sama."
"He's a broken reed. I'm ashamed to say it. Terrible, but that's what he's become. We should go to war. Far better to go to war than to know the only future I've got is to see Ishido's filthy face laughing at my
"Yes, so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help. Would you like saké or cha?"
Buntaro turned and bellowed at a servant who was waiting in the passageway. "Get saké! Hurry up!"
Buntaro walked into her room. Mariko closed the door. Now he stood at the window looking up at the castle walls and the donjon beyond.
"Please don't worry, Sire," she said placatingly. "The bath's ready and I've sent for your favorite."
He kept his eyes on the donjon, seething. Then he said, "He should resign in Lord Sudara's favor if he's not got the stomach for leadership anymore. Lord Sudara's his son and legal heir,
"Yes, Sire."
"Yes. Or even better, he should do as Zataki suggested. Commit seppuku. Then we'd have Zataki and his armies fighting with us. With them and the muskets we could smash through to Kyoto, I know we could. Even if we failed, better that than give up like filthy, cowardly Garlic Eaters! Our Master's forfeited all rights.
"Please excuse me-it's not for me to say. He's our liege lord."
Buntaro turned back again, brooding, to stare at the donjon. Lights flickered on all levels. Particularly the sixth. "My advice to his Council is to invite him to depart, and if he won't-to help him. There's precedent enough! There are many who share my opinion, but not Lord Sudara, not yet. Maybe he does secretly, who knows about him, what he's really thinking? When you meet his wife, when you meet Lady Genjiko, talk to her, persuade her. Then she'll persuade him-she leads him by the nose,
"I think that would be very bad to do, Sire. That's treason."
"I order you to talk to her!"
"I will obey you."
"Yes, you'll obey an order, won't you?" he snarled. "Obey? Why are you always so cold and bitter? Eh?" He picked up her mirror and shoved it up to her face. "Look at yourself!"
"Please excuse me if I displease you, Sire." Her voice was level and she stared past the mirror to his face. "I don't wish to anger you."
He watched her for a moment then sullenly tossed the mirror back onto the lacquered table. "I didn't accuse you. If I thought that I'd… I wouldn't hesitate."
Mariko heard herself spit back, unforgivably, "Wouldn't hesitate to do what? Kill me, Sire? Or leave me alive to shame me more?"
"I didn't accuse you, only him!" Buntaro bellowed.
"But I accuse you!" she shrieked in return. "And you
"Hold your tongue!"
"You shamed me in front of our lord! You accused me and you won't do your duty! You're afraid!
His sword came out of its scabbard, and she gloried in the fact that at least she had dared to push him over the brink.
But the sword remained poised in the air. "I… I have your… I have your promise before your… your God, in Osaka. Before we… we go into death… I have your promise and I… I hold you to that!"
Her baiting laugh was shrill and vicious. "Oh yes, mighty Lord. I'll be your cushion just once more, but your welcome will be dry, bitter, and rancid!"
He hacked blindly with all his two-handed strength at a corner post and the blade sliced almost totally through the foot-thick seasoned beam. He tugged but the sword held fast. Almost berserk, he twisted it and fought it and then the blade snapped. With a final curse he hurled the broken haft through the flimsy wall and staggered drunkenly for the door. The quavering servant stood there with the tray and saké. Buntaro smashed it out of his hands. Instantly the servant knelt, put his head on the floor, and froze.
Buntaro leaned on the shattered door frame. "Wait… wait till Osaka."
He groped out of the house.
