James Clavell - Gai-Jin

"We will delay one day. Tomorrow night is best."

Takeda's anger began to return. "Why?"

"Do you want a chance of escape? To deal the death blow but live to enjoy it? All of us? I agree with you it is time. You are right, Takeda.

But tomorrow gives me time to plan."

After a moment, Takeda said, "Akimoto?"

"Let us agree to delay. To escape as well... Hiraga's wise, Takeda, neh?"

The silence grew immense. "Delay. One day. I agree." Takeda got up and left for his hideaway in the next Teahouse.

After a moment, Hiraga said, "Akimoto, in a little while, go and sit with him, reassure him."

"He's Satsuma, Cousin. Katsumata was Satsuma."

Hiraga glanced at the shrubs bent by the south wind. "Sit with him. Reassure him."

Tyrer was appalled. "No contract, Raiko-san?"

"No, so sorry, Fujiko has changed her mind and has a much better offer, so sorry but she's adamant."

"Please?" he asked, missing most of her Japanese.

She repeated it, adding, "That's why I asked to see you urgently. So sorry, she won't see you, tonight or ever."

All of Tyrer's being plunged into a pit.

He questioned her in his most polite and best Japanese but she shook her head. "So sorry," she said with finality, bowing a dismissal.

"Good night, Taira-sama."

As if a drunkard, Tyrer went out onto the veranda. The shoji slid shut. He stumbled onto the garden path, cursed as he realized he had forgotten his shoes. In a daze he sat on the veranda and slipped them on. "What the hell's happened?"

Three days ago, when he had returned with Babcott from Yedo, all had been perfect, the contract agreed but for one minor point, payment was to be made within the week. His previous bill had been settled to smiles and bows, with Fujiko that night more loving and sweeter than ever before. This evening, when Raiko had sent a servant to the house he shared with Babcott, asking him to see her urgently, he had presumed, amused, it was just to sign the paper. He had left a message earlier that probably he could not come tonight nor would he be available tomorrow--he was due to go to Kanagawa.

And now this. "I don't understand." Gusts swirling more leaves around his feet. Miserably, he pulled his coat closer around him. The night seemed blacker than before. With a great sigh he got up and plodded down the meandering path, stopped abruptly as a samurai almost bumped into him.

"Christ Almighty, Nakama!" he burst out.

Hiraga went for his sword and Tyrer thought he was a dead man. But the sword stayed half in the scabbard and he saw the eyes staring at him on a hair trigger... "Don't," Tyrer said, his voice choked at the sudden apparition, "I'm... I'm not armed." He raised his arms in surrender, froze, cursing himself for his stupidity, almost died again as Hiraga slammed the sword back into its scabbard.

"Taira-sama, I not hurt you, I thought you enemy. You are friend." Hiraga smiled and stuck out his hand.

Blankly Tyrer shook it then erupted, "What are you doing, we thought you'd fled to Yedo, what's this about being ronin? We have to turn you over to him, to Yoshi, you know Yoshi is after you, Lord Yoshi?"

"Not here!" Hiraga cautioned and took his arm and Tyrer felt the iron grip, "Come with me."

Motioning him to silence, he guided him down another path, into another in the maze of little pathways well screened from each other by hedges, until Tyrer had lost all sense of direction.

Then this path ended at a bungalow. Wind tugged at the thatch, whining in the rafters.

Hiraga motioned him onto the veranda, kicked off his own shoes and waited until Tyrer had done the same then pushed him forward. "Inside, p'rease."

Wet with fear and powerless, Tyrer obeyed. There was no chance to run. He saw Hiraga look carefully to see if they had been followed. The shoji slid to. A shaded candle dimly lit the interior of the usual one-room house, a tiny bathroom adjoining. The flame guttered and almost went out in the draft.

"Sit! P'rease. Now, say again but not fast, keep voice down." Ominously Hiraga took his short sword out of his belt and laid it on the tatami beside him. "So?"

Trying to contain the shaking that mixed nauseatingly with his distress, Tyrer related about Yoshi and Abeh and the murder of Utani and how they all thought Hiraga had fled elsewhere. "We've got to turn you over to Yoshi, to guards at the gate-- Captain Abeh went back to Yedo, Nakama, and... what should I call you, Nakama or Hiraga?"

"As you wishes, Taira-sama."

"Hiraga then, that's your real name isn't it?"

"I am caw'red that. But Japanese have many names, one at birth, another when age seven, another at manhood, and take another if want. I am Nakama, or Hiraga, your friend."

"Friend?" Tyrer said bitterly, forgetting his fear. "Why didn't you tell me you were an assassin. You killed Utani, you killed him, didn't you?"

"Yes, he a target, very bad man. Yoshi another. This not Ing'rand, Taira-sama, not Ing'rand. These bad men, the Bakufu, they thief power from the Emperor, they tyrants."

Solemnly, Hiraga explained as best he could about the shishi and their struggle to eliminate the despotic government--his sincerity obvious-- explaining the greed of Utani and his rapacious taxes, how the Toranaga clans and daimyos possessed all the wealth of the land, the Toranagas most of all, about the corrupt Bakufu, and that the people were starved and powerless. "We want give Nippon back to Emperor, make govern fair for a'wre people."

By "all people" Hiraga meant all samurai though Tyrer took it to mean all Japanese. And as he questioned Hiraga, fascinated with this unique window into the inner workings of Nippon--and Japanese mentality--he was more and more convinced there was merit on Hiraga's side.

He had only to consider English history and the people's struggle to cast off the "divine right of Kings" and the rule of tyrants, to become more and more sympathetic. Not hard to recall the huge cost in lives to create Parliament and the rule of the people for the people: a king's head, others humbled, revolution, riots, deaths before the British Raj and Pax Britannica had blossomed.

Remembering also the debt he owed this man, he said gloomily, "Even so, I don't see any hope for you. The moment you're seen you'll be captured, by your people or mine. There's nothing I can do to prevent that."

Hiraga took a deep breath and launched himself into the void: "One thing, yes, you can do to he'rp me. He'rp me on to ship, ship for Ing'rand."

Tyrer gaped at him. "Eh? You're mad!"

"P'rease, keep soft, many enemy here,"

Hiraga said quietly, passionately excited with this stunning, radical idea that had swooped out of the air at him, as if down from the Sun Goddess herself. "P'rease 'risten. Many times you say me 'rearn about gai-jin, your country best, neh? I go there with my cousin. We 'rearn best way to make govern, your Par'iment.

We 'rearn your way. Yoshi right about navy and army, but I think more best to 'rearn banking and business and trading. We need knowing best way, neh? Your way, Ing'rish way, neh?"

Eloquently Hiraga continued to spin his web, his anxiety lending him extra words and soft cadences. This was his final plan, his only possible escape from Yoshi's trap. He was certain that a year or two spent with gai-jin, with the right introductions and help would be of enormous value to sonno-joi.

It is the perfect answer to inevitable death if I stay, he had reasoned exuberantly. In a year or two we will return, perfect Ing'rish speakers, bursting with their secrets about produk'shun and stoku markit, rifles, cannon, tactics, strategy, the methods they used to conqueror the outside world, even to humble China!

This is the Land of the Gods! China should be ours, not the gai-jin's. Before I leave I'll tell our Choshu shishi leaders of my plan, and somehow keep in touch through letters. "It's simp're, Taira-sama. You speak to Captain, we sneak aboard no prob'rem. No one need know."