Katsumata laughed to himself. There are no gods, any gods, or heaven, or life after death. Stupid to believe otherwise, stupid gai-jin and their stupid dogma. I believe what the great Dictator General Nakamura said in his death poem, From nothing into nothing, Osaka Castle and all that I have ever done is but a dream within a dream. "The gai-jin Settlement is within your grasp like never before. Those two youths awaiting judgment pointed a way. I beg you take it."

He hesitated and dropped his voice even more.

"Rumor has it, Sire, secretly they are shishi."

Sanjiro's eyes narrowed even more.

Shishi--men of spirit, so called because of their bravery and deeds--were young revolutionaries who were spearheading an unheard-of revolt against the Shogunate. They were a recent phenomenon, thought to number only about a hundred and fifty throughout the land.

To the Shogunate and most daimyos they were terrorists and madmen to be stamped out.

To most samurai, particularly rank-and-file warriors, they were loyalists waging an all-consuming battle for good, wanting to force the Toranagas to relinquish the Shogunate and restore all power to the Emperor, from whom, they fervently believed, it had been usurped by the warlord Toranaga, two and a half centuries ago.

To many commoners and peasants and merchants, and particularly to the Floating World of geishas and Pleasure Houses, shishi were the stuff of legends, sung about, wept over, and adored.

All were samurai, young idealists, the majority coming from the fiefs of Satsuma, Choshu and Tosa, a few were fanatic xenophobes, most were ronin--wave men, because they were as free as the waves--masterless samurai, or samurai who had been outcast by their lord for disobedience, or a crime, and had fled their province to escape punishment, or those who had fled by choice, believing in a new, outrageous heresy: that there could be a higher duty than that due their lord, or their family, a duty to the ruling Emperor alone.

A few years ago the growing shishi movement had formed themselves into small, secret cells, committing themselves to rediscover bushido-- ancient samurai practices of self-discipline, duty, honor, death, swordsmanship and other warlike pursuits, arts long since lost--except for a few Sensei who had kept bushido alive. Lost because for the last two and a half centuries Japan had been at peace under rigid Toranaga rule that forbade warlike pursuits, where, for centuries before, there had been total civil war.

Cautiously the shishi began to meet and discuss and to plan. Swordsmanship schools became centers of discontent. Zealots and radicals appeared in their midst, some good, some bad. But one common thread joined them--all were fanatically anti-Shogunate, and opposed to allowing Japanese ports to be opened to foreigners and foreign trade.

To this end, for the last four years, they had waged sporadic attacks on gai-jin, and begun to articulate an unprecedented, all-out revolt against the legal ruler, Shogun Nobusada, the all-powerful Council of Elders and Bakufu that in theory did his bidding, regulating all aspects of life.

The shishi had conjured up an all-embracing slogan, Sonno-joi: Honor the Emperor and Expel the Barbarians, and had sworn, whatever the cost, to remove anyone in the way.

"Even if they are shishi," Sanjiro said angrily, "I cannot allow such a public disobedience to go unpunished, however merited--I agree those gai-jin should have dismounted and knelt, as customary, and behaved like civilized persons, yes, it was they who provoked my men. But that does not excuse those two."

"I agree, Sire."

"Then give me your advice," he said irritably. "If they're shishi as you say and I crush them, or order them to commit seppuku, I will be assassinated before the month is out, however many my guards--don't attempt to deny it, I know. Disgusting their power is so strong though most are common goshi."

"Perhaps that is their strength, Sire,"

Katsumata had replied. Goshi were the lowest rank of samurai, their families mostly penniless country samurai, hardly more than the warrior peasants of olden times with almost no hope of getting an education, therefore no hope of advancement, no hope of getting their views acted upon, or even heard by officials of low rank, let alone daimyo. "They've nothing to lose but their lives."

"If anyone has a grievance I listen, of course I listen. Special men get special education, some of them."

"Why not allow them to lead the attack on the gai-jin?"

"And if there is no attack? I cannot hand them over to the Bakufu, unthinkable, or to the gai-jin!"

"Most shishi are just young idealists, without brains or purpose. A few are troublemakers and outlaws who are not needed on this earth. However some could be valuable, if used correctly--a spy told me the oldest, Shorin, was part of the team that assassinated Chief Minister Ii."

"So ka!"

This had occurred four years ago. Against all advice, Ii, who was responsible for maneuvering the boy Nobusada to be Shogun, had also suggested a highly improper marriage between the boy and the Emperor's twelve-year-old half sister, and, worst of all, had negotiated and signed the hated Treaties. His passing was not regretted, especially by Sanjiro.

"Send for them."

Now in the audience room a maid was serving Sanjiro tea. Katsumata sat beside him.

Around stood ten of his personal bodyguard.

All were armed. The two youths kneeling below and in front of him were not, though their swords lay on the tatami within easy reach. Their nerves were stretched but they showed none of it. The maid bowed and left, hiding her fear.

Sanjiro did not notice her going. He lifted the exquisite little porcelain cup from the tray, sipped the tea. The tea's taste was good to him and he was glad to be ruler and not ruled, pretending to study the cup, admiring it, his real attention on the youths. They waited impassively, knowing the time had come.

He knew nothing about them except what Katsumata had told him: that both were goshi, foot soldiers like their fathers before them. Each had a stipend of one koku yearly--a measure of dry rice, about five bushels, considered enough to feed one family for one year. Both came from villages near Kagoshima. One was nineteen, the other, who had been wounded and now had his arm bound, was seventeen. Both had been to the select samurai school at Kagoshima he had begun twenty years ago for those showing special aptitudes that gave extra training, including studies of carefully chosen Dutch manuals. Both had been good students, both were unmarried, both spent their spare time perfecting their swordsmanship and learning. Both were eligible for promotion sometime in the future. The older was called Shorin Anato, the younger Ori Ryoma.

The silence became heavier.

Abruptly he began talking to Katsumata as though the two youths did not exist: "If any of my men, however worthy, however much provoked, whatever the reason, were to commit a violent act that I had not authorized and they remained within my reach, I would certainly have to deal with them severely."

"Yes, Sire."

He saw the glint in his counselor's eyes.

"Stupid to be disobedient. If such men wanted to remain alive their only recourse would be to flee and become ronin, even if they were to lose their stipends. A waste of their lives if they happened to be worthy." Then he looked at the youths, scrutinizing them carefully. To his surprise he saw nothing on their faces, just the same grave impassivity. His caution increased.

"You are quite correct, Sire. As always,"

Katsumata added. "It might be that some such men, if special men of honor, knowing that they had disturbed your harmony, knowing you would have no other option than to punish them severely, these special men even as ronin would still guard your interests, perhaps even forward your interests."