No effort would be spared!

Could they keep her visit and their presence a secret if they knew the Shogun's life depended on it? Wild horses would not drag a confession from them!

Such selfless loyalty and devotion could never be influenced by mere monetary considerations - but there was nothing like gold to cement a relationship. Lady Mishiko instructed her samurai to hand over a generous number of coins not - she emphasised - as a reward, but to defray some of the costs incurred in offering such warm-hearted hospitality.

At 05:46, when the enveloping darkness had changed from black to a dark, leaden grey, the ox-cart drew up by a stone mausoleum patterned with lichen and carpeted with decaying leaves. It lay some way back from the road at the end of an overgrown path amid trees and tangled undergrowth about half a mile south of the Summer Palace.

It had lain neglected for over eight decades because the occupant - a former Shogun - was from the Dat-Suni, the family which had ruled Ne-Issan before being deposed by the Toh-Yota, ably a.s.sisted by the Yama-s.h.i.ta, the Min-Orota and others. Over those same eight decades, ambition and envy had eroded the blood-bond forged in battle.

Grat.i.tude had been replaced by suspicion, culminating in the present barely-concealed struggle for power in which Lady Mishiko was an unwitting p.a.w.n brought into play by Cadillac.

On leaving the farm, the samurai and one guard had gone back to bring the beach party to safety. Another guard now coaxed the sweating oxen round and trundled off southwards to return the cart to its owner.

That left Cadillac, Roz and Lady Mishiko, one maidservant to provide an arm for Mishiko to lean on, two more to carry the chest of clothing, and a brace of armed men to help meet any trouble on the way in.

Mishiko had a key to open the rusty iron door, but with the usual Iron Master cunning, it did not fit into the open keyhole but into another lock which was concealed under a large decorative iron stud. There were thirty-six of them, arranged in a geometrical pattern covering the door. Thirty-five of them were immovable; the third one down from the top in the row to the right of the open keyhole could be loosened by three turns to the left, pivoted to one side - and hey, presto! - a well-oiled lock that opened the door onto a pitch-black tunnel about seven feet high and just wide enough to accommodate two people side by side.

The guards lit the two new torches they had brought with them. One entered the tunnel first followed by Lady Mishiko and her supportive maid, then Cadillac and Roz, the two baggage handlers, then the second guard with the other torch. The door was relocked under Mishiko's supervision, the key was handed back to her and off they went.

The tunnel did not run in a straight line. It had several ninety degree turns to right and left, with other tunnels running off it every now and then. Mishiko, who gave directions to the guard ahead, seemed to know exactly where she was going. Cadillac counted off the paces as they went. Towards the end, there were several short upward flights of steps and it was here that the corridor narrowed, forcing them into single file.

Mishiko took over the lead from the torchbearer.

Motioning them to make as little noise as possible, she shed her sandals and walked on, leaving them for her maid to pick up. Everyone followed suit and proceeded with equal caution on their stockinged feet.

They now came to a wooden staircase whose top end spiralled through ninety degrees and came to rest against a timbered ceiling supported by heavy beams. Mishiko signalled for absolute silence. Cadillac and Roz watched her creep up the steps until her head was against the ceiling.

She listened for a moment, then gently eased what turned out to be a short length of planking upwards, then slid it aside. She repeated this action with the adjacent plank.

Those below found themselves looking up into a dark, narrow pa.s.sageway.

Signalling them to follow, Mishiko mounted the angled steps at the top of the stairs, and stepped carefully over the loose planks onto the solid floor beyond. As soon as Roz, Cadillac and the others had joined her, the planks were quietly replaced.

The secret exit beneath the floor was cunningly concealed.

The planks were extremely close-jointed, and immediately beyond the hidden staircase was a flight of three steps leading to a closed door.

Mishiko had gone in the other direction, using the same key to unlock a similar door across the end of the short pa.s.sageway, after first checking through a spyhole that the room beyond was empty.

Cadillac joined her. 'Where are we?" he whispered.

'These are my private quarters. We are in the Summer Palace."

At last. . . .

Cadillac took in his torchlit surroundings. As with most Iron Master interiors there was very little furniture.

Sliding doors indicated that other rooms lay beyond. All the windows he could see were fitted with inside screens and heavy external shutters which in daytime would keep out most of the light. 'How can we get from here to where Ieyasu and the Shogun will be staying?"

'I will show you, but first I must see that my servants get some restand we must also contact the good Captain gamakura."

Turning to the maid who had served as an arm rest during the trip through the tunnel, Mishiko took her aside, issued a set of whispered instructions and handed her a key. The maid bowed and slipped quietly ut of the s.p.a.cious apartment.

'Is it going to be difficult for her to get to him?" asked Cadillac.

'Not if the G.o.ds are with us,' replied Mishiko. 'Oyoki has only been in my service for the past year, but i am sure she will be able to deliver my message. She is one of the Captain's five daughters."

Mishiko then explained that Kamakura had been the Herald's sword-master and also a firm friend who had nurtured the hope that the young man might honour him by marrying one of his daughters.

He was to be disappointed. When the Shogun ordered the Herald to commit seppuku - ritual suicide - Toshiro had asked Kamakura to act as his second. The kaishakunin was entrusted with the task of beheading the victim to spare him further agony once he had started to cut his stomach open.

'The death of the Herald was a cruel blow to the Captain and his family. They grieve for him still,' said Mishiko. 'Fortunately, they are still unaware of the full extent of his relationship with me - and that could be to our advantage."

It could indeed. Cadillac bowed. 'Allow me to congratulate you once again, mi'lady."

Mishiko responded with a brief smile then switched her attention to the servants who had remained discreetly out of earshot. 'This perilous journey could not have been achieved without your tireless efforts.

Please accept my grateful thanks. I and my travelling companions must now leave for a short while. You are to stay here until we return.

Make as little noise as possible. Extinguish the torches. Bring me two lanterns then take some bedding from the store cupboards and try to sleep. Oyoki will wake you if and when you are needed."

The servants bowed and hurried away to do her bidding. One of the guards came back with the lanterns, then shuffled off to get his head down.

Lucky sonofab.i.t.c.h, thought Cadillac. Roz had dozed off in the ox-cart, but he had found it impossible to relax and was now almost out on his feet. His eyes itched with tiredness. He longed to rub them but could not do so without removing his face mask - and he couldn't do that in Mishiko's presence.

He blinked himself awake, stifled a monster yawn another luxury denied to anyone wearing a mask - and willed himself to keep going. The plan they had hatched called for three more vital objectives to be achieved during the night. It was now 06:31 and still dark, but the lower ranks who were saddled with the daily task of lighting fires, fetching and heating water and preparing food would soon be up and moving around.

Ten minutes later, when the exhausted servants were sleeping soundly, Mishiko led Cadillac and Roz back into the corridor, up the steps at the end into the room beyond. Behind an ornate folding screen, was the entrance to another secret pa.s.sageway. This one was concealed behind a large, seemingly solid, vertical slab of wood, supporting a heavy ceiling beam at the point where it met the wall.

Anyone pa.s.sing through the narrow aperture had to squeeze through sideways, but the pa.s.sageway beyond widened to accommodate them in single file. Roz and Mishiko were able to proceed'without hindrance, but the restricted dimensions forced Cadillac to walk with hunched shoulders and lowered head. Like its underground counterpart, the pa.s.sageway twisted and turned and was joined to others, equally narrow and shrouded in darkness.

Was the entire palace riddled with similar secret bolt-holes?

And how had they been built without their existence becoming common knowledge?

Cadillac did not intend to press Mishiko for answers to such questions.

The system was in place, and it served their purpose admirably, but it was a sad commentary on life at the top. It also presented a strange paradox.

To build a castle with a network of secret escape routes implied that the past and present Shoguns lived in constant fear of. coups and a.s.sa.s.sinations - yet the belief system by which samurai lived demanded a calm acceptance of death. Perhaps that calm acceptance only applied to those samurai lower down the pyramid, whose job it was to die defending their lords and masters.

After a journey lasting a fraction under nine minutes, but which seemed to take forever, they arrived at their destination. Emerging through a similar fake wall beam, Cadillac and Roz joined Mishiko in Yoritomo's deserted bedchamber.

Working to a pre-arranged plan, Roz took control of Mishiko's mind and conjured up a ghostly smoke-wreathed image of the Herald Toshiro HaseGawa.

Mishiko stood rooted to the spot as he strode forward, drew her protectively to him and begged her to watch and listen to the spirit-witches.

It was, of course, Cadillac's voice she was hearing, but in her mind, it was the Herald who appeared to speak in the same tired, husky voice as before.