Bloody Sunrise Page 9

  Nicholas found it incredible that they should be sitting on the grass in the warm sunshine discussing such a ghastly custom. ‘And suppose it is a matter of his strength failing him?’

  Tadatune gave a scornful smile. ‘It is no physical strength than can fail a samurai, Barrett san. It is well known, that the pain of a sword thrust does not come for perhaps a second, or even longer, which is sufficient time to complete the side cut. Only the mind can fail in strength, and a samurai whose mind fails in strength is dishonoured. Now, let us turn to happier things.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nicholas agreed. ‘Let’s.’

  ‘Let us suppose that you become a mighty warrior, Barrett san . . .’ his smile widened, indicating that he was letting his imagination roam to the impossible. ‘And thus meet with nothing but victory in battle. It falls to your lot to slay some great daimyo or commander in single combat. This is a feat which will surely entitle you to much reward. But you must prove that you have accomplished the deed, and this can only be done by producing the head of the victim before your own daimyo. The head must be presented to your lord in the proper fashion, by taking the dead man’s foodsticks, thus, and thrusting them through his topknot.’ He illustrated on his own head. ‘Then your servants can grasp the sticks and carry the head. It is for this reason that a samurai must never be separated from his food sticks, but must carry them in his girdle at all times. He must also carry a small knife, like this.’ He drew the tiny blade, hardly larger than an English penknife, but with no hinge for folding. ‘You will see that this one has my personal design upon it, so that no one finding it can have any doubt that it is mine. When you are accepted as a samurai, you will be given one of these knives. Now, you see it has but one purpose. If you quarrel with another samurai, and wish to settle the matter, you will first of all take one of your enemy’s servants prisoner, and out off his head. That done, you will stick your knife into his ear, and have your servants deliver the head to the house of your enemy. This constitutes a challenge which he may not refuse, for fear of dishonour.’

  ‘I really am quite puzzled how any of these gentlemen have managed to survive at all,’ Nicholas remarked to Tom, in English.

  ‘What is that you say?’ Tadatune inquired.

  ‘I was wondering when we were going to get into those happier things you mentioned.’

  ‘We will now practice with the bow,’ Tadatune decided.

  ‘The bow, my friend, is a thing of the past,’ Nicholas pointed out. ‘As I am trying to convince your lord.’

  ‘The samurai who cannot handle a bow is not a samurai,’ Tadatune declared. ‘How can the bow ever be replaced with gunpowder? Bah! We will now practice the bow.’

  *

  Saigo was more sympathetic. ‘You have a difficult road to travel,’ the general said. ‘Most samurai, you see, are trained from birth. From their earliest memory they are taught the importance of honour and of obedience to the code of bushido. From the moment they can walk they are taught the use of the sword and the bow. But you must master all of these arts within the space of a few months.’

  ‘I doubt we can,’ Nicholas said. ‘And is it important? Midshipman Ebury and I will be leaving here very shortly anyway. Will we not?’ Saigo smiled.

  *

  ‘I do not trust that fellow, Nick,’ Tom said, as they sat at dinner in their house.

  ‘I think we have to,’ Nicholas said. ‘There has not really been time for my letter to reach Edo, and for a reply to have arrived. We must be patient, Tommy, and learn the arts of these people. It may indeed stand us in very good stead, one day.’

  And in fact life in Kagoshima was pleasant enough, provided one obeyed the rules, and for the two Englishmen, both as foreigners and as not-yet-samurais, the rules were elastic enough. There was much to admire in the extreme cleanliness of the average Japanese, and in their true love of beauty, as represented by the care with which their women arranged flowers or their artists executed the most exquisite designs upon silken screens. There was much to respect in their acceptance of parental authority, and in its natural concomitant, their extreme devoutness towards their dead ancestors, a worship which was combined with the forms of Buddhism – but none of the renunciation of the flesh and ambition of that religion as practiced in India, for in Japan even the monks carried swords and were happy to use them – to make up Shintoism, which was the national religion. And there was so much to enjoy in the beauty of the country, especially, Nicholas gathered, down here in the south, where weather extremes could be avoided – hurricanes excepted; according to Saigo, it seldom snowed on Kagoshima.

  There was also the contentment of having nothing to do but practice being a soldier and endeavour to learn Japanese – at which they were more successful – for as Saigo had promised, their livelihood was entirely a matter for the lord. As Nicholas had no desire to employ more people, he continued to have a considerable surplus in koku, but the system had the desirable social aspect of preventing either hoarding or saving: the koku had to be consumed, which kept the economy in a very healthy state; Nicholas spent his on furniture, paintings, and Japanese swords for Tom and himself. It also meant that a samurai could leave his son only his ability as a warrior, his honour, and the favour of his lord; only a daimyo could bequeath real property. In fact, the sons of samurai, having been made samurai themselves in most cases before their fathers’ deaths, never suffered want, and were permitted to continue enjoying the same house and property as their fathers – provided they always obeyed their lord and never dishonoured their caste.

  Nicholas was informed that he could expect his income to grow once he was accepted as a samurai; Saigo himself was worth eight hundred koku a year. The promise seemed rather pointless, as he had every expectation of leaving Kagoshima within a few months. But when those months passed without his receiving any reply from Edo, he began to realise that he and Tom were, actually, prisoners. ‘Now what are we going to do?’ Tom asked, when they discussed the situation.

  ‘We have two alternatives,’ Nicholas decided. ‘One is to attempt to make our escape, as you suggested last year.’

  ‘And which, as you pointed out, is just about impossible,’ Tom said. ‘We stand out like two sore thumbs amongst these people, so there is absolutely no chance of our disguising ourselves. Thus if we attempted to make our way across country the Satsumas would have no trouble in finding us. While as for escaping by sea, we must either use a rowing boat or find sufficient men to man one of their galleys, and I don’t see that is possible either.’

  ‘Then we must adopt the second alternative, which is to have it out, face to face, with General Saigo. Or with Lord Shimadzu.’

  ‘There is a third alternative, you know,’ Tom suggested. ‘Accepting fate, and just staying here. Think on it, Nick. If you’re right, then your letter was never delivered in Edo. That means that as far as the Navy is concerned, Juno went down with all hands. Now, let’s consider both sides of the coin. Suppose we did get back. There’d be a court-martial. So the loss of the ship wasn’t your fault, there’ll still be people who will say we should have done more to save the crew, even if it involved losing our own lives to a pack of mutineers. Even if we are fully acquitted, the fact of having lost Juno will be entered in our records. Even if it isn’t, we have a long climb up the ladder to get anywhere. Apart from this showing the flag and blowing up a few Chinese bandits, Great Britain is at peace. Nor is there much chance of a naval war in the foreseeable future. Not even with France, in my opinion; they’ll never risk taking us on again, no matter how they may be building warships. We are going to spend the rest of our lives waiting on dead men’s shoes, Nick. With a wreck entered in our records, those shoes are going to have to be deader yet. Whereas here, well, I have never been so absolutely contented. And we’ve been promised the earth! Once Shimadzu gets his rifles and we’ve trained his people to use them, does it matter if we get involved in a shooting war with this Shōgun fellow? We could wind up as generals. I mean, look at us.
We have all the money we need, servants, those geisha girls just up the road, exquisite food and drink . . .’

  ‘And we would never return to England, and our loved ones,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘England!’ Tom’s tone was disparaging. ‘I have no loved ones. Do you?’

  Nicholas had forgotten that Tom Ebury was an orphan, thrust into the Navy by an unsympathetic guardian. But then, he was hardly better. His father was dead, and his mother lived with a man who would not marry her. He loved his mother dearly, but he could not deny that she was a source of enormous embarrassment to him whenever they met. Nor could he convince himself that she would be terribly upset were he to disappear. But . . . ‘What about things like love, and marriage? Would you forego them as well?’

  Tom flushed. ‘Are they not to be had here? I will tell you this, Nick. There is a young lady right here in Kagoshima, who is very pleased to see me, every time I encounter her.’

  ‘Here in Kagoshima? You’d better tell me her name.’

  ‘Ise Suiko. You must have noticed her. She walks with her sisters in the afternoon, all fans and parasols and flutters.’

  ‘Ise Suiko,’ Nicholas said. ‘Yes, I have noticed her. She is very pretty. And you have got to be mad.’

  ‘May I ask why?’ Tom asked, suddenly cold.

  ‘Simply because her father is a cousin of Lord Shimadzu. And a leading samurai. Do you suppose he would contemplate for a moment allowing his daughter to marry anyone who is not a samurai? Even if he were not also a barbarian?’

  ‘I entirely agree with you. But only with regard to being a samurai. Therefore the sooner we can become samurai the better. And that means making Lord Shimadzu happy.’

  Despite the seriousness of their predicament, Nicholas could not suppress a sly grin. ‘You mean you’d happily cut open your own stomach if necessary?’

  ‘I have no intention of playing the coward, Nick. Nor, I would say, do you. Now tell me honestly: do none of these little darlings attract you?’

  *

  Notwithstanding Tom’s suggestion, Nicholas tackled Saigo at the first opportunity. ‘Are you not happy here?’ Saigo asked.

  ‘I am, utterly happy, General. But I have my duty.’

  ‘Surely your first duty is to the man who saved your life.’

  ‘Would that be Tadatune, or yourself, your excellency?’

  ‘Neither of us, Barrett san. We are but instruments of Lord Shimadzu.’

  ‘Then you mean it is to him I must apply?’

  ‘I would not recommend it. Barrett san. Fate cast you upon our shores, and Lord Shimadzu is a great believer in fate. He knows, as do we all, that war with the Tokugawa is inevitable, and cannot now be long delayed. When he and I reviewed the situation, last summer, I was forced to tell him that we were inferior to the northerners in two things: cannon and modern weapons. He immediately ordered that these deficiencies be made good, but then I had to tell him, in all honesty, that the mere possession of such weapons is of little value where they are not understood, and where they cannot be put to their best use. I have spent all my life as a soldier, but there have been no wars in Japan during my lifetime. I can study history, but there have been no real wars in Japan for two hundred years, since Iyeyasu gained his great victories and united the country. We were still considering how this could be remedied when you were cast away on our shores. Even more, you were cast away at the exact moment I happened to be on a visit to Bungo. You, a man with vast experience of modern wars.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say vast experience,’ Nicholas protested.

  ‘Vast compared with ours. Thus you will understand that in the eyes of Lord Shimadzu, fate has conspired to bring these things about, for his advantage, and the advantage of the Satsuma.’

  ‘General, will you give me an honest answer to a question? Was my letter ever delivered to Edo?’

  ‘Your letter was lost along the way, Barrett san.’

  Nicholas’s head jerked. Even if he had guessed what the answer would be, it was still a shock to hear it. ‘You do not think that was outrageous behaviour? Then, despite all your honeyed words, we are prisoners.’

  ‘I would hope you will not so consider yourselves. As I have said, you are seconded. Again as I have said, this war cannot be long delayed. Once it is fought, and won, you will be free to leave Kagoshima.’

  ‘And my career will be ruined, because I did not report the wreck of the Juno sooner.’

  Saigo smiled. ‘I have said, we will give you documents to prove that you could not. But if you were to be dismissed your service, you would always find a home here, Barrett san. And fine prospects. Listen to me! I am older than you, and have seen a great deal of life. And the most important lesson in life is to accept the whims of Fate, and continue to live your life to the best of your ability, knowing that only such a course can lead to success. Certainly it is a waste of time to rail against Fate, and bemoan one’s situation. Consider this: if Lord Shimadzu believes that Fate sent you to Bungo for his benefit, is it not equally possible that Fate sent you to Bungo for your own benefit?’ He frowned. ‘Why do you smile?’

  ‘Simply because you are saying exactly what my midshipman has been telling me,’ Nicholas said.

  ‘Ah, so. He would stay in Kagoshima?’

  ‘He finds it very pleasant. As do I, General. But he has no family . . .’

  ‘And you mourn your family? Why do you not create a new family, here in Kagoshima? Then would you truly be content.’

  ‘Where am I going to find a family, here in Kagoshima?’

  ‘It is very simple, my young friend. You choose a wife, and have children.’

  ‘A wife?’ Again, shades of Tom. ‘Which of your samurai would give me their daughter to wed?’

  ‘Well, none of them, to be sure, Barrett san, as you are not yet a samurai yourself. But if you are impatient, not only samurai have daughters. Nor need you feel you would be marrying beneath you. For while a woman may never marry a man of a lower caste, there is nothing to stop a man doing so, as he then raises the woman to be of his own caste. Many samurai marry the daughters of those lower than themselves. Obviously one could not marry the daughter of a honin or an eta. But the daughter of a merchant or a farmer, now, her only misfortune is that her father was not born to carry arms.’

  ‘You make it all sound very simple, your excellency.’

  ‘Well, think about it. I am certain there is no merchant in Kagoshima, in all Bungo, would not be happy to wed his daughter to a warrior from across the sea, who has won the favour of Lord Shimadzu, who is certain to become a samurai and then a hatamoto. It would be a great honour for anyone.’

  It was a tempting thought. Nicholas spoke without thinking. ‘Is an innkeeper considered a merchant, General Saigo?’

  ‘An innkeeper? Why, indeed. An innkeeper . . .’ Saigo gave a bellow of laughter. ‘The daughter of Masaru Toshiro, who first gave you shelter!’

  Nicholas could feel the heat in his cheeks as he blushed. ‘I have seen no one prettier, or more attractive, in Japan,’ he confessed. ‘But I doubt she really knows I exist. We only met a couple of times, while I was staying in her father’s inn.’

  ‘Yet you would like to have her.’ Nicholas would have preferred another way of putting it. ‘Then you shall,’ Saigo told him.

  ‘You mean it would be in order for me to court her?’

  ‘Court?’

  ‘Call upon her. Send her flowers. Invite her to accompany me for a walk.’

  ‘My dear Barrett, you cannot do that to a Japanese lady. Invite her to go walking with you? That would ruin her reputation.’

  ‘Oh!’ Nicholas found these people’s mores confusing. Sumiko had supervised him being bathed, had seen his all, but she could not go walking with him?

  ‘In Japan, we do not court,’ Saigo told him. ‘Do you wish to marry this girl?’

  ‘If she will have me. But I do not see how we are going to find that out.’

  ‘Whether she likes you or not i
s irrelevant. If you wish to marry her, it is simply a matter of whether her father will agree. And I can assure you that Masaru Toshiro is not likely to refuse a proposal from a man so certain of advancement.’

  Nicholas scratched his head. ‘You mean Miss Masaru has no say in the matter at all?’

  ‘Of course not. How may a young girl have any say in the choosing of her husband? Leave it with me. I will arrange everything. You will be married to Masaru Sumiko a week today.’

  My God! Nicholas thought. What have I done?

  Chapter Four – The Bride

  ‘Some people have all the luck,’ Tom grumbled. And then grinned. ‘Do you suppose General Saigo would also organise my marriage to Ise Suiko?’

  ‘I think we should let him handle one such event at a time,’ Nicholas suggested.

  ‘And I agree with you. Much as I find the girl attractive, I’m not sure I want to wake up at the end of next week and find myself married to her.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nicholas said grimly.

  Tom laughed. ‘But you’re in the cart now, old boy. Never mind: I’ll be your best man.’

  *

  ‘Barrett san.’ Masaru Toshiro performed the kowtow, much to Nicholas’s embarrassment, and then himself removed the sandals from Nicholas’s feet, and replaced them with slippers, while a young woman performed the service for Tom. ‘We had heard of your approach. Welcome to my humble inn.’

  ‘It is I who must thank you, Mr Masaru, for again receiving me into your home,’ Nicholas said. ‘And stand up, I beg of you. There is no need for you to kneel to me.’ How good it was to be back. In six months, nothing had changed. The sea breeze still blew across the beach and through the houses; only the shattered wreckage of Juno had disappeared, and Nicholas was glad of that.

  Masaru bowed. ‘My lord Shimadzu-no-Tadatune awaits within, Barrett san.’ For Saigo had decided, no doubt after consulting with Lord Shimadzu, that Shimadzu-no-Takanawa and his lady should act as Nicholas’ parents for the coming ceremony – apparently a bridegroom had to have parents, even if only temporarily. Thus Tadatune was his brother for the occasion, and indeed, it had been left to him to make all the arrangements.