James Clavell - Gai-Jin

Bloody old-- "Marlowe!"

"Yessir."

"We'd better find out what the devil's going on. You go ashore... no, I need you here!

Thomas, would you please be good enough to send an officer to the Legation? Marlowe, detail a signalman to go with the detachment."

At once the General jerked his thumb at his aide who hurried off, closely followed by Marlowe. Seratard pulled his heavy great coat closer against the chill of the wind. "I'm afraid Sir William has boxed himself in."

"I remember you giving your opinion this morning," the Admiral said curtly.

The meeting he had called with the Ministers had been noisy and had brought forth no solution, except Count Zergeyev's: immediate and massive force. "Which, my dear Count," he had pointed out sourly at once, "we don't have now if it's necessary to follow up a simple bombardment to seize the city and surrounds."

Ketterer pursed his lips and glared at Seratard, the dislike mutual. "I'm sure Sir William will find an answer, but I tell you frankly, by God, if I see our colors struck, Yedo goes up in smoke!"

"I agree," Seratard said. "A matter of national honor!"

Von Heimrich's face hardened.

"Japanners are not stupid--like some people. I cannot believe they will disregard the force we have now."

The wind picked up suddenly, crackling some of the spars aloft, sea greyer, clouds greying.

All eyes went to a black squall line on the eastern horizon. The squall was heading shorewards threatening their exposed anchorage.

"Marlowe, send a... Marlowe!" the Admiral bellowed.

"Yessir?" Marlowe came running.

"For God's sake stay within hailing distance!

Signal all ships: "Prepare to stand out to sea. Should conditions deteriorate rapidly, on my command take individual action and rejoin at Kanagawa as soon as conditions permit."

You Captains get back to your ships while you've the weather." They rushed off, glad to be away.

"I will get back to my ship too," the French Admiral said. "Bonjour, messieurs."

"We'll come with you, Monsieur Admiral,"

Seratard said. "Thank you for your hospitality, Admiral Ketterer."

"What about Count Alexi? He came with you, didn't he?"

"Let him sleep. Better for the Russian bear to sleep, n'est-ce pas?" Seratard said coldly to von Heimrich, both of them knowing full well Prussia's secret overtures to the Tsar to remain neutral in any confrontation, to allow Prussia to expand in Europe to satisfy an open state policy: the creation of a German nation of German-speaking peoples with Prussia its spearhead.

Marlowe, hurrying for the signalman, saw his ship, the Pearl, neatly at anchor and was worried about her, loathing not being aboard and in command. Uneasily he glanced seaward again, gauging the squall line, the weight of blackening clouds, the smell and the taste of the salt on the wind. "That bugger's going to be a sod."

In the Legation audience room Sir William, flanked by a Scots officer, Phillip Tyrer and guards sat coldly facing three Japanese officials who were leisurely seating themselves, their guards behind them: the grey-haired Elder, Adachi, daimyo of Mito, the mock samurai, Misamoto the fisherman, and last, a short, big-bellied, Bakufu official, secretly fluent in Dutch, whose covert assignment was to report in private to Yoshi on the meeting and the behavior of the other two. As usual, none had used their correct names.

Five palanquins had arrived as yesterday, with the same ceremony though an increased number of guards. Only three were occupied which Sir William had found curiously disturbing. This, added to heightened samurai activity during the night around the temple and Legation, prompted him to send a partial alarm signal to the fleet by half-masting the pennant that he hoped Ketterer would understand.

Outside in the forecourt, Hiraga, again disguised as a gardener, had been equally perturbed --even more so that Toranaga Yoshi was not amongst the officials. This meant the attack plan so carefully poised to ambush Yoshi near the castle gates on his return had to be called off. At once he had tried to melt away, but samurai irritably ordered him back to work. Seething, he obeyed, waiting his chance to escape.

"You're two and a half hours late," Sir William said icily as an opening salvo.

"In civilized countries diplomatic meetings are on time, not late!"

Immediate and flowery apologies of no consequence. Then the usual obligatory introductions and sugary compliments and aggravating politenesses, and over an hour of back and forth, of demands calmly deflected, ponderous arguments, delays requested, astonishment where none was merited, questions needing to be repeated, facts dismissed, the truth disregarded--alibis, explanations, rationalizations, excuses, all courteously delivered.

Sir William was about to explode when, with great formality, the Elder, Adachi, produced a sealed scroll, handed it to their interpreter who handed it to Johann.

Johann's own weariness dropped away.

"Gott im Himmel! It's under the seal of the roju."

"Eh?"

"The Council of Elders. I'd recognize the seal anywhere--it's the same as Ambassador Harris got. You better accept it, formally, Sir William, then I'll read it aloud if it's in Dutch which I doubt." He stifled a nervous yawn. "Probably just another delaying tactic."

Sir William did as Johann suggested, hating to be so confined and having to rely on foreign mercenary interpreters.

Johann broke the seal and scanned the document. His astonishment was open: "It's in Dutch by God! Skipping all the titles, formal language etc., it says: The Council of Elders, having received what appears to be a just complaint, apologizes for the, for the dereliction of its subjects and wishes to invite the honored Minister of the British and other accredited Ministers to meet the Council thirty days from now, in Yedo, when the formal complaint will be presented, the matter discussed, acted upon, and an indemnity for said just complaint agreed. Signed ... Nori Anjo, Chief Minister."

With a supreme effort, Sir William kept his erupting relief bottled. This unbelievable reprieve gave him the face-saver he desperately needed, and now if he could finesse them just a little further... To his sudden fury, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tyrer smiling broadly. Without looking at him he hissed, "Stop smiling you bloody idiot," and in the same breath added harshly, "Johann, tell them they will have my reply in three days. Meanwhile I want an immediate indemnity, in gold, in three days, for ten thousand pounds sterling for the families of the Sergeant and Corporal murdered in this Legation, last year, and already demanded four times!"

When this was translated, he saw consternation on the face of the elderly man. Another lengthy conversation between him and the Bakufu official.

Johann reported wearily, "The old fellow dismisses this with their usual: but that "unfortunate occurrence" was by a Legation staff employee who then committed seppuku-- suicide. It's not the Bakufu's fault at all."

Equally tiredly, Sir William said, "Give them back the usual, by God: that they appointed him, they insisted we employ him, so they are responsible--and he only committed suicide because he was badly wounded in the murder attempt on my predecessor and liable for immediate capture!" Trying to push away his tiredness, he watched the two officials talking with their interpreter, and the third man listening as he had done all afternoon. Perhaps he's the one with real power.

What happened to the other men from yesterday, particularly the younger man--the one Andr`e Poncin accosted as he left. What is that devious bastard Seratard up to?

The freshening wind caught a loose shutter and jolted it against the window. One of the sentries leaned over the lintel and hooked it back in place. Not far offshore was the fleet, the ocean a deep grey now and whitecapped. Sir William noticed the looming squall line. His anxiety for the ships increased.