A Heavy Message

The candle flame burned motionlessly, until it flickered with a passing draft. Shadows were momentarily illuminated in the otherwise dark room. The flame then regained its stillness. Tokugawa Ieyasu acknowledged the flame’s greeting and received the message it carried. Such a heavy message.

How had it come to this? Only three people knew Ieyasu’s true location; his son Hidetada, General Ogawa Suketada and his consort Saigō no Tsubone. One of those three had betrayed his location to his enemy. True, each one had a reason to strike at Ieyasu, but it made it no less palatable. With a heavy heart, Ieyasu accepted the responsibility of delivering the traitor to their fate. But that was for later.

It was November, and the cold rain drummed relentlessly onto the roofs of the Ninomaru Palace of the Nijo Castle. Ieyasu sat alone in the centre of the fourth chamber of the Ohiroma, the Great Hall. Each of the four chambers served a different purpose. The first chamber was used for receiving low-ranking visitors, whilst those with higher rank were received in the inner chambers. Ieyasu knew not the rank of his imminent guest, but offered him the greatest respect by meeting in the innermost chamber. Whoever sent this guest was a man of great power in Japan. And a fool. 

With his katana resting on his knees, Ieyasu contemplated the conspiracy that enveloped him. Of course, people wanted him dead. Enemies and allies both. His army and his entourage were heading east to prepare for battle. But Ieyasu had discreetly left the preparations to return to Kyoto to meet with General Ogawa to discuss him switching allegiances to Ieyasu. The uttermost secrecy was required, because the switch of allegiances was to occur during battle, allowing Ieyasu to weaken his enemy’s army whilst replenishing his own. The meeting with General Ogawa had to take place away from prying eyes and to remain undetected, Ieyasu taken a great risk in travelling with only a small guard. He had returned to the castle and somehow, he’d been located, and his enemy had sent their regards.

He had travelled back to the Castle with his consort, Lady Saigō. Her presence in the castle provided the ostensible reason for the maids, chefs and general activity in the castle that followed Ieyasu wherever he went. But at least the troublesome courtiers and ministers were away with the army. Surely Lady Saigō, that delicate flower who provided so much beauty, wasn’t responsible for the betrayal? She was the centre of his world. But who else? His son and heir? Ieyasu had told his son of his plans, so that he remained in charge of the battle preparations. He knew Ieyasu’s travel plans. But no, Ieyasu did not want to believe it. The only other option was General Ogawa, who was already risking so much to meet at the castle. Who had betrayed him?

The question troubled him. Ieyasu sought calm before meeting his guest. His fingers traced the intricate carving on the scabbard of the katana. He thought of all the grinding battles, frenzied skirmishes and the personal duels that had led him to this moment. So much blood returned to the earth. His heart calmed. He knew his katana’s thirst would be sated tonight.

Somewhere behind Ieyasu a creak hesitantly broke the silence. It was a familiar sound, known to him since he’d first built the castle. Ieyasu was disappointed. His enemy had obviously sent a novice. The guest should have been received in the first chamber. Ieyasu corrected himself, the novice should have been sent to wait in the servant’s quarters after already making so many errors.

Off to the side of the room was a door within which Ieyasu’s bodyguard’s lay in wait. Traditional etiquette dictated that these doors should be discrete and hidden. But Ieyasu had scorned this convention when he built the castle and displayed the bodyguard’s doors prominently. All visitors should be made acutely aware of his power. He had often enjoyed watching his guests recoil at the sight of the door, as they contemplated whether to petition for even more of Ieyasu’s generosity. But the bodyguards had been instructed specifically not to receive tonight’s guest, for that pleasure would be Ieyasu’s.

Again, the creak. This time, closer. Ieyasu closed his eyes. It was time. He stilled his mind. Then in a single movement, Ieyasu swept to his feet and he turned to his rear, drew the katana from the scabbard and sank the sword deep into the stomach of man who was reaching for his neck. The man was an assassin, dressed in black, and the garrotting chain fell from his hand.

Ieyasu threw him to the floor.

The assassin was dying, slowly. Dark blood oozed from his wound as he tried to drag himself across the floor. Ieyasu reflected; such a terrible mess on the tatami floor, who should pay for the repairs? He tuned the man over.

“Who sent you?”

The assassin gargled bubbles of blood, but no words came.

“Who? Which idiot sent such a novice?” Ieyasu wiped the blood from his blade as he spoke, “Why did they send you, a mere pup? Surely you knew that I would be surrounded by guards?

Only a novice would not know that opening a door on an autumn night would create a draft which would trouble all the candles throughout the Palace? Only a novice would not know these floors were sprung with nightingale boards to creak and alert everyone to your presence?” Ieyasu stepped to his side to sound the familiar creak to make his point. 

“Why? Why send you?”

Then it dawned on him. It wasn’t the idiocy of his enemy that sent this man, it was cunning.

“You’re the decoy.”

His eyes flashed in bitter admiration.

“Guards, to the Lady’s quarters, at once!” Ieyasu broke into a sprint to intercept the assassins headed for his consort. The creak of nightingale boards was drowned out by the screams from the Lady’s quarters. The candle flame flickered, then found its stillness once again.