Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

This could be a trick. Maybe Lord Ienobu meant to kill him and Yanagisawa and Yoshisato and gamble that he could escape before Lord Mori’s troops killed him. Or Yanagisawa might have secretly ordered the assassination of Lord Ienobu. If either side attacked, Sano would be caught, unarmed, in the crossfire of the first battle in a war.

Both parties halted at the tent. Lord Ienobu’s, Yanagisawa’s, and Yoshisato’s faces were rigid with their effort to conceal anxiety. Sano felt the same rigidity on his own features. The damp atmosphere was hard to breathe, as if the tension had wrung all the air out of it. Lord Ienobu said, “One of my men will search you.” A soldier from among the troops behind him stepped forward. “One of yours can search Manabe- san and myself.”

Sano, Yanagisawa, and Yoshisato stood with their arms spread and feet apart as a soldier examined them for hidden weapons. Sano imagined dirty handprints left on him from so many recent friskings. Lord Ienobu flinched as he and Manabe endured the same indignity. Then he gestured for Sano, Yoshisato, and Yanagisawa to enter the tent. He and Manabe followed them in. Manabe closed the tent flaps. The two sides knelt on the cushions, facing each other, the charcoal brazier between them. Gray daylight penetrated the white tent. The space was too close, too full of animosity. Sano, seated between Yanagisawa and Yoshisato, knew he was at a worse disadvantage than the other men: Each of them had an ally present; he was the only one to whom everyone else was an adversary.

Each side bowed with cold politeness to the other. Lord Ienobu said, “The shogun is weaker this morning. He’s passed more blood, he’s on such a heavy dose of opium for the pain, he’s rarely conscious.”

Sano hadn’t expected better news, but he hoped Ienobu was exaggerating the graveness of the shogun’s condition.

“If you’re saying there’s not much time left before he dies, then get to the point,” Yanagisawa said, his belligerence coated with suavity.

Lord Ienobu ignored Yanagisawa and said to Yoshisato, “You and I are the rivals for the succession. This is between us.”

“So talk to me.” Yoshisato was calm; maybe he’d attended similar councils with rival gang bosses. He exuded menace toward the man who’d had him kidnapped and imprisoned.

“I called you here to discuss a peace treaty,” Lord Ienobu said.

It was as Sano had suspected: Lord Ienobu didn’t really want a war. Cautious hope vied with disappointment in Sano. War was a samurai’s proper element, and Sano instinctively hungered for it, but he had personal reasons for wanting to forestall this one. After destroying his marriage and his son’s happiness, the least he could do was make peace so that his family wouldn’t be killed in a war. Maybe then Reiko would forgive him; maybe she wouldn’t leave him. And if there was peace between Yanagisawa and Lord Ienobu, his alliance with Yanagisawa wouldn’t be necessary and they could call off Masahiro’s wedding.

Maybe, maybe, said Yanagisawa’s mocking voice in his memory.

“Why a peace treaty?” Yoshisato said with a tight half smile. “Are you afraid of losing a war?”

“Indeed not. I have the Tokugawa army, and the most powerful daimyo clans, backing me.” Bravado puffed up Lord Ienobu. “ You’re the one who should be afraid.”

“That’s your idea of making peace?” Yanagisawa said indignantly. “You bluff us into surrendering?”

Sano surmised that both sides had come to the meeting because both wanted a way out of a war. But he knew they would fight if they had to; their pride was at stake. The peace negotiations would fail if left up to them. Sano said, “Stop.” The other men turned to him, surprised he’d interrupted. He appealed to Yoshisato. “At least listen to Lord Ienobu’s terms.”

Yoshisato’s and Yanagisawa’s expressions hardened. Sano sensed Yanagisawa remembering that he’d already lost one war. He surely must know he couldn’t afford to lose this one. Second chances were rare.

Yoshisato flicked a warning glance at Yanagisawa, then asked coolly, “What are your terms?”

“Smart boy.” Lord Ienobu grinned. “Here’s what I want: You admit you’re not the shogun’s son. You give up your claim on the succession.”

“Forget it!” Yanagisawa said with a scornful laugh, ignoring Sano’s frown.

Lord Ienobu and Yoshisato had eyes only for each other. Yoshisato said, “What’s in it for me?”

“I won’t have you put to death when I’m shogun,” Lord Ienobu said.

Yanagisawa said, “Hah!” Yoshisato glowered and said, “You insult me.”

“That’s not good enough, and you know it,” Sano told Lord Ienobu. “Sweeten the deal.”

“All right, all right.” Lord Ienobu patted the air. “I’ll make you both daimyo . You can each have your own province to rule.”

“You can’t buy us off!” Yanagisawa exclaimed.

“At least consider it,” Sano urged. The carnage that would result from a war was dreadful to contemplate, and so was the outcome-Ienobu or Yanagisawa in power. Whoever won, Sano and his family would lose their lives. Sano had to keep both sides in play, to check each other. And this was a better deal than he’d thought Ienobu would offer.

“What, and be Lord Ienobu’s subject?” Yoshisato’s voice filled with disdain. “And pay him tributes every year? While he keeps my family in Edo as hostages to my good behavior? Never!”

Lord Ienobu shrugged with a false nonchalance that didn’t hide his consternation. “Well, it was worth a try.”

“Here’s my counterproposal.” Yoshisato leaned toward Ienobu. “You step down as Acting Shogun. You give up your claim on the dictatorship. You crawl back in your hole, and when I’m shogun, I won’t dig you out and step on you.”

Ienobu reared up on his rickety knees. “You insolent young bastard!”

Yoshisato laughed, a breathy sound like tinder bursting into flame. “ I’m a bastard? That’s the skunk calling the tiger striped.”

Morbidly sensitive about his illegitimacy, Ienobu wheezed and turned purple. Yanagisawa smiled, proud of Yoshisato for giving as good as he got. Frustrated because the men were foiling his attempts to save them and their country from themselves, Sano said, “Quit the personal remarks! The fate of Japan is the issue!”

“You’re not just insolent, you’re naïve,” Lord Ienobu told Yoshisato. “You’re so eager to go to war, but you don’t know what war is like!”

“How would you know? How many battles have you fought?” Yoshisato’s superior manner said he’d fought in plenty. His gaze raked Ienobu’s scrawny physique, noted the shame on Ienobu’s face. “Just as I thought. Not a single one.”

“I’ve studied history,” Ienobu huffed. “War destroys cities and crops and leaves thousands dead, both samurai and commoners. And you would risk that, on the small chance that you could beat me?” Scorn twisted his features. “You’re a fool.”

Manabe began to look anxious, for the first time Sano had ever seen. Yanagisawa lost his smile. Sano said, “That’s enough!”

“You’re a hypocrite,” Yoshisato retorted. “Do you really expect me to believe you care about the crops or the commoners or anybody but yourself? But supposing you do, here’s how to settle this: We fight a duel, one-on-one. Just you and me.” He stood and flung his open palm at Ienobu. “Right here, right now.”

“It’s not a fair match,” Manabe protested.

Even as he uttered a disdainful laugh, Ienobu recoiled from Yoshisato’s hand. His involuntary reaction betrayed how much the challenge terrified him. “Don’t be silly.”