Jozen’s head was buzzing. Not from saké but from the incredible war strategy that Yabu, Omi, and Igurashi had described so openly. Only Naga, the second-in-command, son of the arch-enemy, had said nothing, and had remained throughout the evening cold, arrogant, stiff-backed, with the characteristic large Toranaga nose on a taut face.
“Astonishing, Yabu-sama,” Jozen said. “Now I can understand the reason for secrecy. My Master will understand it also. Wise, very wise. And you, Naga-san, you’ve been silent all evening. I’d like your opinion. How do you like this new mobility—this new strategy?”
“My father believes that all war possibilities should be considered, Jozen-san,” the young man replied.
“But you, what’s your opinion?”
“I was sent here only to obey, to observe, to listen, to learn, and to test. Not to give opinions.”
“Of course. But as second-in-command—I should say, as an illustrious second-in-command—do you consider the experiment a success?”
“Yabu-sama or Omi-san should answer that. Or my father.”
“But Yabu-sama said that everyone tonight was to talk freely. What’s there to hide? We are all friends,
Naga’s eyes narrowed under the taunt but he did not reply.
“Everyone can speak freely, Naga-san,” Yabu said. “What do you think?”
“I think that, with surprise, this idea would win one skirmish or possibly one battle. With surprise, yes. But then?” Naga’s voice swept on icily. “Then all sides would use the same plan and vast numbers of men would die unnecessarily, slain without honor by an assailant who won’t even know who he has killed. I doubt if my father will actually authorize its use in a real battle.”
“He’s said that?” Yabu put the question incisively, careless of Jozen.
“No, Yabu-sama. I’m giving my own opinion. Of course.”
“But the Musket Regiment—you don’t approve of it? It disgusts you?” Yabu asked darkly.
Naga looked at him with flat, reptilian eyes. “With great deference, since you ask my opinion, yes, I find it disgusting. Our forefathers have always known whom they killed or who defeated them. That’s
Jozen bridled. “Lord Ishido doesn’t covet your father’s lands. He only seeks to protect the Empire for its rightful heir.”
“My father’s no threat to the Lord Yaemon, or to the Realm.”
“Of course, but you were talking about peasants. The Lord Taikō was once a peasant. My Lord Ishido was once a peasant. I was once a peasant. And a
Naga wanted no quarrel. He knew he was no match for Jozen, whose prowess with sword and ax was renowned. “I wasn’t trying to insult your master or you or anyone, Jozen-san. I was merely saying that we samurai must all make very certain that peasants never have guns or none of us will be safe.”
“Merchants and peasants’ll never worry us,” Jozen said.
“I agree,” Yabu added, “and Naga-san, I agree with part of what you say. Yes. But guns are modern. Soon all battles will be fought with guns. I agree it’s distasteful. But it’s the way of modern war. And then it’ll be as it always was—the bravest samurai will always conquer.”
“No, so sorry, but you’re wrong, Yabu-sama! What did this cursed barbarian tell us—the essence of their war strategy? He freely admits that all their armies are conscript and mercenary.
“Is that what your father thinks?” Jozen asked too quickly.
“My father doesn’t tell me or anyone what he thinks, as you surely know. I don’t speak for my father, no one speaks for him,” Naga replied, angry at allowing himself to be trapped into talking at all. “I was sent here to obey, to listen and not to talk. I apologize for talking. I would not have spoken unless you asked me. If I have offended you, or you, Yabu-sama, or you, Omi-san, I apologize.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I asked your views,” Yabu said. “Why should anyone be offended? This is a discussion,
“Yes. I think you’d be wise to keep a very close check on every gun in your domain.”
