Lord Kiyomori Min-Orota was about to give a fresh impetus to this desire for revenge. His questionable loyalty was not the only reason he had been chosen as the go-between. He knew Lady Mishiko much better than the other progressive domain-lords. Her husband, Nakane Toh-Shiba, had served as the Shogun's Consul-General to Masa-chusa and Ro-diren- Lord Min-Orota's domain.

For the past nine years, the couple had occupied the official government residence not far from his own fortified palace near Bo-sona, and as the Shogun's senior representative to the Min-Orota court, TohShiba had been a frequent visitor. On most formal occasions, Lady Mishiko had accompanied her husband and Min-Orota had gone out of his way to maintain a cordial relationship. As the Shogun's nearest and dearest sister, Mishiko carried considerable clout. A favourable word from her on behalf of a pet.i.tioner often led to a happy result as, for example, in the three-yearly distribution of trading licences.

Lord Min-Orota had also played the role of a concerned friend and father-figure, being amongst the first to offer his condolences on the death of the Consul-General - a death he had witnessed and which, despite the surrounding terror, had caused him a great deal of quiet satisfaction. The Consul-General had been a dissolute pig who had behaved disgracefully towards his wife and family. Everyone had known what she was in for when the match was announced, but it had been a politically-sensitive marriage; another coup engineered by that old fox Ieyasu.

Mishiko had dutifully played the role of the heartbroken wife but she was well rid of him, and Min-Orota - knowing through his own informers of her liaison with the Herald, Toshiro Hase-Gawa, had expressed the hope that after a suitable period of mourning, she might find happiness elsewhere.

At the time, the source of that happiness had been standing by her shoulder. When he met their eyes, Min-Orota had been careful to give no sign that he knew what was going on, and the two lovers had given nothing away either. But it was not to be. Mishiko had suffered a doubly cruel blow, and since no one was supposed to know of the relationship, Min-Orota could not openly do or say anything to allay her sense of loss. This time the grief was genuine, and even more unbearable because it could not be shared with anyone.

As a domain-lord with one foot in the progressive camp, he was secretly relieved to be rid of the Herald.

Besides being a highly efficient diplomatic messenger, Toshiro Hase-Gawa had been far too good at his real job - nosing into other people's business. On the other hand, as a father with two daughters of his own trapped in arranged marriages, he could understand what she was going through. When it was safe to do so, he had taken the opportunity to privately express his sympathy over the loss of 'a loyal servant and friend' - someone, he knew, her children would miss greatly.

The veiled phrases he used left Mishiko in no doubt that he knew the score, and that if she needed someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, his was available. It was a good move. Mishiko had responded warmly and it had left him better placed than before. As well it might, for under the terms of his settlement with the Shogun after the Heron Pool disaster, he had been landed with paying a huge sum in compensation for her husband's death.

The fine had been levied on the tenuous grounds that the Consul-General's death was due to 'administrative negligence', i.e. it had occurred in his domain, aboard a flying-horse constructed in workshops financed by him and under his jurisdiction. Faced with a range of unpleasant alternatives, it had been an offer he couldn't refuse. MinoOrota was still stumping up the cash in instalments, and the pain of parting with such large amounts of money was not eased by a growing certainty that Nakane Toh-Shiba's death had been engineered by the Shogun himself.

It was an example of the uses and abuses of power- and it had always been thus. That was why there were always people - like the Yama-s.h.i.ta - waiting in the wings, ready to gamble everything in a bid to seize control of Ne-Issan and increase their share of its riches. The trick for middle-ranking players like Kiyo Min-Orota, was to hold the balance for as long as possible before committing yourself to what you hoped was the winning side. That was the good thing about this present move.

If the monkey-witches' plan to use Lady Mishiko to kill Ieyasu and Yoritomo succeeded, then the whole country was up for grabs. If it didn't, he would be on record as a loyal ally who had alerted the Shogun to the potentially damaging information uncovered by the Yamas.h.i.ta.

Whichever way it went, he couldn't lose.

Since the Yama-s.h.i.ta and its progressive allies were not supposed to know that Lord Min-Orota was heading south to reveal their plans, it provided him with a reason for making a stealthy approach to the Winter Palace.

And delivering another hefty instalment into Mishiko's pension fund gave Min-Orota a perfectly reasonable pretext for meeting the lady face-to-face.

Heading south from the back-water port of Mirabara, Min-Orota and his entourage came to Be-isha, a well-appointed post-house inn some three miles north of the Winter Palace. Scattering chickens, pigs and peasants in all directions, Min-Orota rode into the courtyard with his fifty-strong mounted retinue and despatched his princ.i.p.al aide to arrange suitable accommodation for themselves, plus the drivers and domestics accompanying the baggage-train which was still a mile back down the road.

The aide returned with the post-house keeper and his wife in tow.

After the habitual orgy of bowing and apologising for their total unworthiness, the palm-rubbing proprietor explained that the rentable accommodation was almost fully booked. Only one pavilion - the most expensive remained. This might suit the n.o.ble lord, but there was no place for his mounted retinue, or the drivers and porters who had yet to arrive.

The post-house keeper did not need to explain why, and Min-Orota cursed himself for not remembering that business was always brisk at this time of year. Whenever the Shogun took up residence in the Winter Palace, the permanent staff was overwhelmed by dozens of court officials, government administrators, various relatives of Yoritomo, friends and hangers-on - all with their own staffs and servants - plus a regiment of cavalry and foot-soldiers, drafted in to reinforce the palace guard.

This seasonal influx brought enticing amounts of disposable cash into the area. In off-duty hours, far away from home, government functionaries and soldiers of all ranks were always in need of entertainment and their arrival was welcomed by a small army of itinerant pedlars, jugglers, acrobats, prost.i.tutes, pimps, gamblers and shysters who came flooding in from the back-streets of Awashi-tana and Bati-moro to set up shop around the palace.

Lord Min-Orota's solution to the problem was simple.

Announcing that he required the exclusive use of the entire post-house for himself and his staff over the next three days, he offered triple the going rate. And when the startled proprietor accepted, he tossed him a bag of gold coins and gave him two hours to clear out the riff-raft and make the place presentable.

Satisfied he had resolved the situation, Kiyo called upon his personal bodyguard to follow him, wheeled his horse around and rode off towards the Winter Palace preceded by two aides, each bearing aloft the blue and brown house-flag of the Min-Orota family.

After presenting his credentials to the Captain of the Outer Keep, Min-Orota followed the flag-bearers across the moat bridge into the walled centre courtyard of the Winter Palace. Soldiers - mostly bowmen - were ranged around the battlements. Anyone who forced their way through the main doors uninvited would find it hard to break out of this killing zone. The sloping walls offered no hiding place. There were several exits, each one secured by iron-studded doors. They were tall enough to admit fully-armed hors.e.m.e.n, but to force an entry under fire would require the hasty application of explosives. Or traitors on the other side.

If the monkey-witches succeeded in turning the Lady Mishiko, they would have their traitor. One flail woman, but so well-placed, she was worth a thousand battle-hardened men.

Shikobu Asakawa, one of a score of senior secretaries who, with the aid of their own staffs, handled the endless stream of paperwork pa.s.sing through the Chamberlain's office, hastened to welcome Lord Min-Orota on behalf of his master.

Kiyo informed him he had come to deposit a further sum with the Court Treasurer for the upkeep of Lady Mishiko - for which he would like a receipt - then, lowering his' voice, he requested a private audience with the Lord Chamberlain. He had, said Min-Orota, extremely urgent and vital information to impart, and it was essential for his own safety that the meeting be kept secret from everyone except the, Shogun.

Shikobu, who had already been briefed by his master Ieyasu to expect such a visit, said: 'My lord, for reasons of state, the Chamberlain cannot receive you personally, but he has instructed me on this matter which'- he paused then adopted the same conspiratorial tone - 'I believe concerns a certain meeting at Sarakusa."

'That is so,' admitted Min-Orota.

'Then you may tell me,' said Shikobu. The secretary produced a slim scroll and pa.s.sed it to Lord Min-Orota.

'As you will see from this doc.u.ment, I am authorised to receive any information you wish to bring to the notice of the Chamberlain."

.Kiyo undid the scroll and read its contents with a frown. It was a brief letter addressed to him, confirming what Shikobu had said, and it was signed and sealed by Ieyasu.

Not good. Not good at all....

He rolled it up and handed it back to the secretary.

'I recognise the authority this letter gives you, but the information I bring is too sensitive to be communicated to an underling- even one as trusted as you. Inform Lord Ieyasu that I must see him without delay.

The fate of the nation hangs in the balance!" Ieyasu, having foreseen this possibility, had provided his secretary with a range of responses.

'My lord, I regret that the Chamberlain has been called away from the palace."

Min-Orota concealed his disappointment beneath a snort of irritation.

'I see. When will he return?"

Shikobu shifted uncomfortably. 'I am not at liberty to say."

Min-Orota exploded. 'Impudent scribbler! Do you want the Toh-Yota to continue to rule this country?!" 'W-Why, y-yes, my lord!" 'Than I demand that you tell me! When will he return? I' 'In-run-run ab-bout fourteen days, my lord!" 'Fourteen days?! Merciful Heaven, we could be at war by then!" Kiyo Min-Orota paced up and down with a great show of agitation. He was now quite enjoying his role. Planting himself in front of the secretary, he slowly pinched his lips together between his fingers then came to a weighty decision. 'This can wait no longer.

I must speak with the Shogun!" The unfortunate Shikobu wilted visibly.

Min-Orota turned away in disgust then came back to the attack. 'This is incredible. Do you mean to tell me the Shogun is not here either?!'

'They b-b-both left last n-night, sire!" 'And won't be back for fourteen days .... ' Min-Orota slammed his left hand down on the hilt of his sword.

'Don't just stand there, man! What are we going to do?!" 'Well, my lord, if you will allow me into your confidence, I can send word to the Chamberlain by courier-pigeon.

Or, if you are unwilling to do that, you can compose a message yourself and seal it in a message capsule."

Interesting, thought Min-Orota. It meant that Ieyasu and Yoritomo were on their way to one of the other palaces - all of which kept birds trained to fly to their home lofts in various parts of the country.

But which palace were they going to? He could always try asking, but it would have to be done obliquely. He had succeeded in rattling Shikobu, but the man was clearly under instructions to say as little as possible.

Min-Orota adopted a more conciliatory tone. 'I could, but how many hands will it pa.s.s through before reaching your master? You say they left during the night. How soon will the message reach him?"

Shikobu wilted again. As a member of Ieyasu's private staff he enjoyed considerable standing within the court, but he was bound by etiquette to defer to a domain-lord.

And in the case of Min-Orota, he had been instructed to be especially accommodating.

He braced himself for another explosion. 'Five days from now, my lord.