Free Gai-Jin by James Clavell Page A

man has the necessary wisdom and has proved himself a man of honor
. It will be the same in all fiefs, as the land will be governed by a Supreme Council of State in Yedo or Kyōto, drawn equally from samurai of honor—under the guidance of the Son of Heaven.”
    “Sensei, you said
any?
May I ask, will that include the Toranagas?” Ori had asked.
    “There will be no exception, if the man is worthy.”
    “Sensei, please, about the Toranagas. Does anyone know their real wealth, the lands they really control?”
    “After Sekigahara, Toranaga took lands from dead enemies worth yearly about five million koku, about a third of all the wealth of Nippon, for himself and his family. In perpetuity.”
    In the stunned silence that followed, Ori had said for all of them: “With that amount of wealth we could have the greatest navy in the world with all the men-of-war and cannon and guns we could ever need, we could have the best legions with the best guns, we could throw out all gai-jin!”
    “We could even carry war to them and extend our shores,” Katsumata had added softly, “and correct previous shame.”
    At once they had known he was referring to the
tairō
, General Nakamura, Toranaga’s immediate predecessor and liege lord, the great peasant-general who then possessed the Gates and had therefore, in gratitude, been granted by the Emperor the highest possible title a lowborn could aspire to,
tairō
, meaning Dictator—not that of Shōgun, which he coveted to obsession but could never have.
    Having subdued all the land, chiefly by persuading his main enemy Toranaga to swear allegiance to him and his child heir forever, he had gathered a huge armada and mounted a vast campaign against Chosen, or Korea as it was sometimes called, to enlighten that country and use it as a stepping-stone to the Dragon Throne of China. But his armies had failed and soon retreated in ignominy—as in previous eras, centuries before, two other Japanese attempts had failed, equally in disaster, the throne of China a perpetual lodestone.
    “Such shame needs to be eradicated—like the shame the Sons of Heaven have suffered because of the Toranagas who usurped Nakamura’s power when the man died, destroyed his wife and son, levelled their Osaka castle, and have pillaged the heritage of the Son of Heaven for long enough!
Sonno-joi!”
    “Sonno-joi!”
they had echoed. Fervently.
    In the dusk the youths were tiring, their headlong flight racking them. But neither wanted to be the first to admit it so they pressed on until they were at the threshold of woods. Ahead now were paddy swamps on either side of the Tokaidō that led to the outskirts of Kanagawa just ahead, and to the roadblock. The shore was to their right.
    “Let’s … let’s stop a moment,” Ori said, his wounded arm throbbing, head hurting, chest hurting, but not showing it.
    “All right.” Shorin was panting as hard and hurting as much but he laughed. “You’re weak, like an old woman.” He picked a dry patch of earth, sat down gratefully. With great care be began to look around, trying to regain his breathing.
    The Tokaidō was almost empty, night travel being generally forbidden by the Bakufu and subject to severe cross-questioning and punishment if not justified. Several porters and the last of the travellers scurried for the Kanagawa barrier, all others safely bathing or carousing at the Inns of their choice—of which there was a multitude within the post towns. Throughout the land, trunk road barriers closed at nightfall and were not opened until dawn, and always guarded by local samurai.
    Across the bay Shorin could see the oil lamps along the promenade andin some of the houses of the Settlement, and amongst the ships at anchor. A good moon, half full, was rising from near the horizon.
    “How is your arm, Ori?”
    “Fine, Shorin. We are more than a
ri
from Hodogaya.”
    “Yes, but I won’t feel safe until we’re at the Inn.” Shorin began massaging his neck to