Still enwrapped in his rage and adrenaline, Yoshi leaped at the prone man, the splintered haft of his sword ready on high, a stake to drive into the man's throat for the death blow. But he stayed the blow a hair above the man's neck, heart pumping, ecstatic with his skill and control and that he had not failed this time, victory meaning nothing.

His pent-up fury was no more.

Content now, he tossed the broken haft aside and began to unwind, the exercise room bare and Spartan like the rest of the castle. All were panting from their exertions, the prone man still twisting and turning with pain. Then Yoshi was astonished to hear gentle clapping. Angrily he turned-- by his custom, no one was ever invited to witness these practice sessions where the extent of his prowess could be gauged, his weaknesses could be judged, and his brutality measured--but this anger vanished also.

"Hosaki! When did you arrive?" he said, trying to regain his breath. "Why not send a messenger to tell me you were coming?" His smile vanished. "Trouble?"

"No, Sire," his wife said so happily, kneeling beside the door. "No trouble, just an abundance of pleasure to see you." She bowed deeply, her riding skirt and jacket, serviceable heavy green silk, modest and travel marked, like the padded matching overmantle and wide hat tied under her chin and short sword in her obi. "Please excuse me for slipping in like this, uninvited, and not changing first but, well, I could not wait to see you--and now I am even more pleased I did for now I know that you are a better swordsman than ever."

He pretended not to be delighted, then went closer and looked at her searchingly. "Really no trouble?"

"Yes, Sire." She beamed, her adoration open. White teeth and ebony slanted eyes in a classic face that was neither attractive nor ordinary but not to be forgotten, her whole presence was one of great dignity.

"Yoshi," his father had said nine years ago when he was seventeen, "I have chosen your wife for you.

Her blood line is Toranaga, equal to yours though from the minor branch of Mitowara. Her name is Hosaki, meaning an "ear of wheat" in the ancient tongue, a harbinger of abundance and fertility, and also a "spear head." I do not think she will fail you in either capacity...."

Nor has she, Yoshi thought proudly. Already two fine sons and a daughter, and she's still strong, always wise, a firm manager of our finances--and, rare in a wife, pleasant enough to pillow occasionally though with none of the fire of my consort or pleasure partners, particularly Koiko.

He accepted a dry towel from the man who was unhurt, and waved his hand in dismissal. The man bowed silently and helped the other, still in agony, to limp out.

He knelt near her, towelling the sweat away. "So?"

"It's not safe here, neh?" she said softly.

"Nowhere is safe."

"First," she said in a normal voice, "first Yoshi-chan, we will look after your body: a bath, massage and then talk."

"Good. There is much to talk about here."

"Yes." Smiling she got up, and again at his searching look reassured him, "Truly at Dragon's Tooth all is well, your sons healthy, your consort and her son happy, your captains and retainers alert and well armed-- everything as you would want. I just decided to make a short visit, on a sudden whim," she said for the listening ears, "I merely needed to see you, and to talk about castle management."

And also to bed you, my beauty, she was thinking in her secret heart, looking up at him, her nostrils filled with his masculine smell, conscious of his nearness and as always aching for his strength.

While you are away, Yoshi-chan, I can keep calm, most of the time, but near you? Ah then that is very hard though I pretend, oh how I pretend, and hide my jealousy of the others and behave like a perfect wife. But that does not mean that I, like all wives, do not feel jealousy violently, sometimes to a point of madness, wishing to kill or even better to mutilate the others, wanting to be desired and bedded with an equal passion.

"You've been away too long, husband," she said gently, wanting him to take her now, on the floor, to rut like she imagined young peasants would rut.

It was near midday with a kind wind that broomed the sky. They were within his innermost sanctum, a suite of three tatami rooms and bathing room off a corner battlement. She was pouring tea for him, elegantly as always. Since a child she had studied the tea ceremony, as he had, but now she was a Sensei, a teacher of tea in her own right.

Both had bathed and had been massaged. Doors were barred, guards posted and maids dismissed. He wore a starched kimono, she a flowing sleeping kimono, her hair loosed. "After our talk I think I will rest. Then my head will be clear for this evening."

"You rode all the way?"

"Yes, Sire." The journey had been rough in fact, little sleep and changing horses every three ri, about nine miles.

"How long did it take you?"

"Two and a half days, I just brought twenty retainers under the command of Captain Ishimoto."

She laughed. "I certainly needed the massage, and the bath. But first--"

"Almost ten ri a day? Why the forced march?"

"Mostly for my pleasure," she said lightly, knowing there was time enough for bad news. "But first, Yoshi-chan, tea for your pleasure."

"Thank you." He drank the fine green tea from the Ming gourd and set it down again, watching and waiting, swept up in her mastery and tranquility.

After she had poured again and sipped and set her own cup down she said softly, "I decided to come here without delay because I had heard disquieting rumors and needed to reassure myself and your captains that you were well--rumors that you were in danger, that Anjo was padding the Council against you, that the shishi attempt on him and Utani's assassination were all part of a major escalation of sonno-joi, that war is coming, within and from without, and that Anjo is further betraying you, and all the Shogunate. He must be insane to allow the Shogun and his Imperial wife to go to Kyoto to kowtow."

"All true or partially true," he said, equally quietly, and her face tumbled. "Bad news travels with the wings of a hawk, Hosaki, neh? It's worse because of the gai-jin." Then he told her about his meeting with the foreigners and Misamoto, the spy, then in more detail about the castle intrigues--but not about Koiko's suspected connection to the shishi: Hosaki would never understand how exciting she is and how much more exciting this knowledge makes her, he thought. My wife would only advise Koiko's immediate dismissal, investigation and punishment and give me no peace until it was done. He finished by telling her about the alien fleet at their doors, Sir William's letter and threat, and today's meeting.

"Zukumura? An Elder? That senile fish head? Isn't one of his sons married to a niece of Anjo's? Surely old Toyama didn't vote for him?"

"He just shrugged and said, "Him or another, it means nothing, we will be warring soon. Have who you want."

"Then at best it will be three to two against you."

"Yes. Now there is no curb on Anjo.

He can do what he wants, vote himself increased powers, make himself tairo, whatever stupidity he wants, such as Nobusada's stupid trek to Kyoto." Yoshi felt another tightness in his chest but put it away, glad to be able to talk openly--as much as he could ever be open, trusting her more than he could trust anyone.

"The barbarians were as you imagined them, Sire?" she asked. Everything about them fascinated her: "know your enemy as you know yourself..."

Sun-tzu had been the prime learning book for her and her four sisters and three brothers, along with martial arts, calligraphy and the tea ceremony. She and her sisters also had concentrated teaching by their mother and aunts on land and financial management, together with practical methods of dealing with men of all classes, and the all-important future. She had never excelled at martial arts though she could use a knife, and war fan well enough.