The message read: To His Excellency, Nori Anjo, Esq., Chief roju. I have your dispatch of yesterday and inform you it is rejected entirely.

If you do not pay the agreed installment of the indemnity for the murder of two British soldiers on time, the amount owing will be quadrupled for every day of delay.

I am sorry to learn you are clearly not masters of your own calender. I will correct this for you at once. I will leave for Kyoto on my flagship with an escorting squadron, twelve days from today, docking at Osaka. Then, with a mounted escort and obligatory sixty-pound cannon of our mounted Royal Artillery for royal salutes, I and the other Ministers will proceed at once to Kyoto to seek redress for you from His young Majesty, Shogun Nobusada personally or, if he is not available, from His Imperial Highness, Emperor Komei personally, promising full royal honours with a twenty-one-cannon salute. Please inform them of our impending arrival. (signed) Her Britannic Majesty's Minister and Ambassador, Sir William Aylesbury, K.c.b....

"Emperor? What Emperor?" Johann said disgustedly. "There's only the Midako, Mikado, some name like that, and he's only a kind of minor pope without power, not like Pius the Ninth, who meddles and connives and plays politics and, like all Gottverdampt Catholics, wants us back on the stake!"

"Come now, Johann, they're not all bad.

Now English Catholics can vote and even stand for Parliament like anyone who's eligible."

"The pox on Catholics. I'm Swiss and we don't forget."

"Then why are the Pope's personal guards all Swiss?"

"They're Catholic mercenaries." Johann shrugged. "Give me the rough copy of the dispatch and I'll get to work."

"Sir Willie says you're not renewing your contract."

"It's time to move on and leave the field to younger and wiser." Johann beamed suddenly.

"Y."

"That's not funny. Please send Nakama in, I think he's in the garden."

"Don't trust that bastard. Best watch him, Phillip."

Tyrer wondered what Johann would say if he knew the real truth about him.

Hiraga opened the door. "Hai, Taira-san?"

"Ikimasho, Nakama-sensei, old chap, hai?" Let's go, all right? Tyrer said, beaming, still marvelling at the change.

When Hiraga had arrived at dawn this morning, gone were the dirt and rags and most of all the samurai haircut--his short hair now similar to that of almost any commoner. In his neat, starched but ordinary kimono, new sun hat hanging by its thong on his back, new tabi and thongs, he was like the son of a prosperous merchant.

"My God, you look terrific, Nakama," he had burst out, "that haircut suits you."

"Ah Taira-san," Hiraga had said hesitantly, with pretended humility, following the ploy he and Ori had formulated. "I think what you say me, he'rp me give up samurai, stop be samurai. Soon go back Choshu, become farmer 'rike grandfather, or in beer or sak`e factory."

"Give up samurai? Is that possible?"' "Hai. Possib're. P'rease not want say more, yes?"' "All right. But it's a wise decision, congratulations."

Involuntarily Hiraga ran his hand over his head, the close shorn sides and newness itching.

"Soon hair grows, Taira-san, same yours."

"Why not?"' Tyrer wore his hair, naturally wavy, almost to his shoulders. Unlike most he was fastidious about its cleanliness: a pettipoint had hung over his bed forever, stitched by his mother, Cleanliness is next to Godliness. "How are your bruises?"' "I forgotten them."

"I have forgotten them."

"Ah, thank you, I have forgotten them. Some good newses, Taira-san." Elaborately, Hiraga had told him about going to the Yoshiwara and arranging Fujiko for tonight. "She yours, o'rr night. Good, neh?"' For a moment Tyrer had been speechless.

Impulsively he wrung Hiraga's hand.

"Thank you. My dear friend, thank you." He had sat back and pulled out his pipe and offered tobacco to Hiraga who refused, hard put not to laugh. "That's marvelous," Tyrer's mind had jumped him ahead to their tryst, his heart throbbing and manhood conscious. "My God, marvelous!"

With an effort he had put all those immediate, erotic thoughts aside to concentrate on the day's schedule. "Have you arranged somewhere to stay in the village?"' "Yes. P'rease we go now, yes?"' During their walk to the Japanese quarter, always careful to keep their voices down and not speak English near any passerby, Tyrer had continued to probe Hiraga, mining diamonds, amongst them the names of the Shogun and Emperor. At the dwelling of the shoya, he had inspected the shop and tiny drab room off it where Hiraga was supposed to be staying. Then he had brought him back to the Legation, completely pleased and reassured. "Did you notice on the street how you were hardly noticed, even by the soldiers, now that you don't look like a samurai?"' "Yes. Taira-san. You can he'rp me, p'rease?"' "Anything, what?"' "I 'rike try to wear your clothes, become more 'rike gai-jin, yes?"' "Great idea!"

When they got back to the Legation, Tyrer hurried to see Sir William, excitedly had given him the names of the Shogun and Emperor.

"I thought you would want to know at once, sir.

Also another piece of info: I think I've understood correctly but he says all Japanese, even daimyos have to get permission to visit Kyoto, where the Emperor lives."

"What are daimyos?"' "That's what they call their kings, sir. But everyone, even them, they must get permission to visit Kyoto--he says the Bakufu which is another name for the Shogunate, like their Civil Service, are afraid to allow free access there, to anyone." He had tried to keep calm but the words rushed out of him. "If that's true, and if the Shogun's there at present and the Emperor's there permanently and if all power's there--if you were to go there, sir, wouldn't that bypass the Bakufu?"' "An inspired leap of logic," Sir William said kindly with a sigh of pleasure, already there, long before Tyrer had explained.

"Phillip, I think I will redraft the dispatch. Come back in an hour--you've done very well."

"Thank you sir." Then he had told him about the "new" Nakama and new haircut.

"My thought is that if we could persuade him into European clothes he would become more and more malleable--of course as he teaches me Japanese while I'm teaching him English."

"Very good idea, Phillip."

"Thank you, sir, I'll arrange it instantly. I can have the bill sent to our shroff for payment?"' Some of Sir William's good humor vanished. "We have no excess funds, Phillip, and the Exchequer... Very well. But one outfit only. You're responsible the bill's modest."

Tyrer had left hastily and now that he had finished his work on the dispatch, he was going to take Hiraga to the Chinese tailor down the road.

High Street was not crowded at this time of the day, midafternoon, most men in their countinghouses, or at siesta, or at the Club. A few drunks huddled in the lee of the wharfs, the wind still gusting. Later a football match had been arranged, Navy versus Army on their parade ground, and Tyrer was looking forward to it, but not to the meeting with Jamie McFay he had had to agree to, after the tailor's. "He's head of Struan's here, Nakama-san, somehow he'd found out about you, and that you can speak some English.

He's to be trusted."

"So ka? Struan? The man who is to marry?"

"Oh, the servants told you about the engagement party? No, McFay's just their head merchant.

Mr. Struan, the tai-pan, is the one who's going to be married. That's his building, warehouse, offices and living quarters."

"So ka?" Hiraga studied it.

Difficult to attack or get into, he thought.

Barred lower windows. "This Struan, also his woman, they stay there?"

Tyrer's mind leapt to Fujiko and he said absently, "Struan does, I'm not sure about her. In London, this building would be nothing compared to ordinary houses, thousands upon thousands.