occupied guardhouses along the walls that separated the estates. Yanagisawa’s procession halted outside a gate that boasted a three-tiered roof and ornate double ironclad doors.
One of Yanagisawa’s secretaries addressed the gate sentries: “The Honorable Chamberlain Yanagisawa wishes to call on the Honorable Lord Matsudaira.”
Soon attendants ushered Yanagisawa into a mansion that nearly equaled the palace in size and refined elegance. Behind his cool demeanor, his heart drummed fast, and he braced himself as he and his party entered an audience chamber.
There, upon the dais, sat Lord Matsudaira, first cousin to the shogun, head of the major Tokugawa branch clan, and daimyo of a province in the rich agricultural Kanto territory near Edo. Lord Matsudaira looked as the shogun would if a magic mirror broadened his aristocratic features, sparked intelligence in his eyes, enlarged and toughened his frail body. The man seemed a throwback to Ieyasu, the first Tokugawa shogun, who’d unified Japan almost a century ago. Only birthright had placed Tokugawa Tsunayoshi ahead of Lord Matsudaira in the bakufu .
Surrounded by guards who stood against the walls, Lord Matsudaira glared in open hostility at his guests. Yanagisawa knelt before the dais, his men ranged behind him. They exchanged bows, wary and distrustful, like rival generals meeting on a battleground to declare war. During the ritual sharing of refreshments, they behaved with an elaborate courtesy that was more insulting than outright rudeness.
Then Lord Matsudaira said, “I’ve been expecting you. What took you so long?”
Yanagisawa pretended to misunderstand Lord Matsudaira’s intimation that he knew Yanagisawa thought he was involved in the kidnapping and had come to accuse him. “I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you,” he said. “Important affairs of state commanded my attention at the palace.”
His tone implied that his status as chamberlain put him at the heart of Tokugawa politics, while Lord Matsudaira hovered on the fringes despite his exalted heritage and Yanagisawa’s inferior birth. As Yanagisawa scored the first point in their battle, a flash of offense crossed Lord Matsudaira’s face. Yanagisawa knew the man would like to be shogun, thought he deserved the post more than did his cousin, and resented his secondary role in governing Japan.
“More likely they were affairs of the bedchamber that busied you,” Lord Matsudaira said with a sardonic smile.
He made no secret of the fact that he loathed Yanagisawa as a parasite who’d seduced his way to the top of the bakufu and usurped power from the Tokugawa clan. He seized every chance to condemn Yanagisawa’s ignoble deeds. A flame of anger leapt in Yanagisawa, but he raised an eyebrow in feigned amusement.
“Many men have learned the high price of wit like yours,” he said, reminding Lord Matsudaira that he’d used political sabotage, physical force, and assassination to keep himself on top and punish anyone who crossed him.
“Only an inferior official rules by coercion.” Disgust contorted Lord Matsudaira’s mouth. “A superior one rules by honest, fair management, in the ancient tradition of Confucius.”
Yanagisawa knew that Lord Matsudaira prided himself on his reputation for honor and integrity and had led crusades against corruption in the government. The self-righteous ass! His inherited position allowed him to scorn people like Yanagisawa, the son of a retainer to a minor daimyo , who’d struggled for the authority Lord Matsudaira took for granted.
“Might often triumphs over virtue,” Yanagisawa said in a casual tone edged with hostility.
Lord Matsudaira had repeatedly spoken against Yanagisawa to the shogun and courted the allegiance of his other enemies; but so far, his attempts to oust Yanagisawa had failed. Now Lord Matsudaira looked annoyed at the reminder, but he countered with a smug smile: “Not as often as you would like.”
He owned the loyalty of two
One of Yanagisawa’s secretaries addressed the gate sentries: “The Honorable Chamberlain Yanagisawa wishes to call on the Honorable Lord Matsudaira.”
Soon attendants ushered Yanagisawa into a mansion that nearly equaled the palace in size and refined elegance. Behind his cool demeanor, his heart drummed fast, and he braced himself as he and his party entered an audience chamber.
There, upon the dais, sat Lord Matsudaira, first cousin to the shogun, head of the major Tokugawa branch clan, and daimyo of a province in the rich agricultural Kanto territory near Edo. Lord Matsudaira looked as the shogun would if a magic mirror broadened his aristocratic features, sparked intelligence in his eyes, enlarged and toughened his frail body. The man seemed a throwback to Ieyasu, the first Tokugawa shogun, who’d unified Japan almost a century ago. Only birthright had placed Tokugawa Tsunayoshi ahead of Lord Matsudaira in the bakufu .
Surrounded by guards who stood against the walls, Lord Matsudaira glared in open hostility at his guests. Yanagisawa knelt before the dais, his men ranged behind him. They exchanged bows, wary and distrustful, like rival generals meeting on a battleground to declare war. During the ritual sharing of refreshments, they behaved with an elaborate courtesy that was more insulting than outright rudeness.
Then Lord Matsudaira said, “I’ve been expecting you. What took you so long?”
Yanagisawa pretended to misunderstand Lord Matsudaira’s intimation that he knew Yanagisawa thought he was involved in the kidnapping and had come to accuse him. “I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you,” he said. “Important affairs of state commanded my attention at the palace.”
His tone implied that his status as chamberlain put him at the heart of Tokugawa politics, while Lord Matsudaira hovered on the fringes despite his exalted heritage and Yanagisawa’s inferior birth. As Yanagisawa scored the first point in their battle, a flash of offense crossed Lord Matsudaira’s face. Yanagisawa knew the man would like to be shogun, thought he deserved the post more than did his cousin, and resented his secondary role in governing Japan.
“More likely they were affairs of the bedchamber that busied you,” Lord Matsudaira said with a sardonic smile.
He made no secret of the fact that he loathed Yanagisawa as a parasite who’d seduced his way to the top of the bakufu and usurped power from the Tokugawa clan. He seized every chance to condemn Yanagisawa’s ignoble deeds. A flame of anger leapt in Yanagisawa, but he raised an eyebrow in feigned amusement.
“Many men have learned the high price of wit like yours,” he said, reminding Lord Matsudaira that he’d used political sabotage, physical force, and assassination to keep himself on top and punish anyone who crossed him.
“Only an inferior official rules by coercion.” Disgust contorted Lord Matsudaira’s mouth. “A superior one rules by honest, fair management, in the ancient tradition of Confucius.”
Yanagisawa knew that Lord Matsudaira prided himself on his reputation for honor and integrity and had led crusades against corruption in the government. The self-righteous ass! His inherited position allowed him to scorn people like Yanagisawa, the son of a retainer to a minor daimyo , who’d struggled for the authority Lord Matsudaira took for granted.
“Might often triumphs over virtue,” Yanagisawa said in a casual tone edged with hostility.
Lord Matsudaira had repeatedly spoken against Yanagisawa to the shogun and courted the allegiance of his other enemies; but so far, his attempts to oust Yanagisawa had failed. Now Lord Matsudaira looked annoyed at the reminder, but he countered with a smug smile: “Not as often as you would like.”
He owned the loyalty of two
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