"Emiko! Our bath!"

At once her chief lady-in-waiting led her out and down the corridor, cocooned by other ladies and maids like the queen bee she was.

Nobusada glared up at the Chamberlain and stamped his tiny foot. "Am I to be kept waiting? Show me the bath and send for the masseuse, I want my back rubbed now. And make sure there is no noise--I forbid noise!"

"Yes Sire, the Captain issues the order daily and I will send the masseuse to the bathhouse, Sire. Sako will b--"

"Sako? She's not as good as Meiko--where's Meiko?"

"So sorry, she's sick, Sire."

"Tell her to get better! Tell her to be better by sunset. No wonder she's sick. I feel sick! This foul journey! Baka! How many days on the road? It should be at least fifty-three and it's less than... why all the haste..."

The Captain of the Escort waited for the Chamberlain in the garden. He was in his thirties, bearded, highly trained, a renowned Master of Swords. His adjutant hurried up.

"Everything is secure, sir."

"Good. It should all be routine by now," the Captain said, his voice weary and edged. Both wore light travelling armor and hats and two swords over Shogunate tunics and pantaloons. "Only one more day--then our problems get worse. I still cannot believe the Council and Guardian would allow such a dangerous venture."

His adjutant had heard the same thing said every day. "Yes, Captain. At least we will be in our own barracks, with hundreds more men."

"Not enough, never enough, we should have never left.

But we did and karma is karma. Check the rest of the men and make sure the evening roster of guards is correct. And then tell the horse master to look at my mare, to take a look at her left foot, she may have split her hoof..."

Shoeing horses was unknown in Japan at this time.

"She almost shied passing the barrier, then come back and report." The man hurried away.

The Captain was more satisfied than usual.

His tour of the Inn and its grounds within the high, giant perimeter bamboo fences, and particularly this sector, the hedged area with a single gateway, had reassured him that the Shogun's cluster of bungalows was easy to defend, that all other travellers had been forbidden the Inn for this night, that the watch knew the password and were clear on their prime duty: no one was allowed within five metres of the Shogun or his wife uninvited, and no one, ever, with any weapons--except the Guardian, the Council of Elders and himself, and any guards accompanying him. The law was well known, the punishment for an armed approach death, for both the armed man and the unalert guards--unless pardoned by the Shogun personally.

"Ah, Chamberlain! Is there any change of plans?"

"No, Captain." The old man sighed and mopped his brow, his jowls shaking. "The August Ones are bathing as usual, then they will rest as usual, take their real bath and massage at sunset as usual, after which they will dine as usual, play Go as usual and so to bed. All is in order?"

"Here, yes." The Captain had a garrison of a hundred and fifty samurai at any one time within the compound that measured about two hundred metres square. A unit of ten men guarded the only entrance, a pleasing bridge over a stream that led to tall decorative beams and equally ornate gates. Around the whole perimeter hedge a samurai was stationed every ten paces. These would be relieved by fresh units from the six hundred samurai lodging in barracks just outside the main gate or nearby in other Inns. Patrols would scour the garden and fence line discreetly as noise and an obvious samurai presence infuriated the Princess and therefore her husband.

Above them the clouds were thickening, a bleak, misted sun not yet on the horizon, a high wind toying with the clouds. It was cold and promised to be colder. Servants were lighting lanterns amongst the shrubs, their light already reflected in the pools, and glistening off rocks that had been moistened for that effect moments ago.

"It's beautiful," the Captain said.

"Easily the best, though most of the other Inns have been good." This was the first time he had ever made such a journey. All his life he had been within or near Yedo Castle, with or near Nobusada, or the previous Shogun. "Beautiful, yes, but I'd rather have the Lord Shogun and his wife in Sakamoto Castle than here. You should have insisted."

"I tried, Captain but... but she decided."

"I will be glad when we are in our own barracks, when they are within the palace walls and even gladder when we and they are safe at home in Yedo Castle."

"Yes," the Chamberlain said, privately weary of his Master and Mistress and the constant fault finding, nagging and petulance. Still, he thought, his back aching, wanting a bath and massage too, and the attentions of his youthful friend, I suppose I would be the same if I was as exalted as them, so mollycoddled from birth, and only sixteen. "May I ask the password, Captain?"

"Until the middle of the night it is "Blue Rainbow."

Two hundred metres away on the eastern outskirts of the village, an old broken-down farmhouse huddled at the end of an alley not far from the Tokaido and the Otsu barrier. Inside, the leader of the shishi attack team, a Choshu youth called Saigo glowered at the farmer, his wife, four children, father and mother, brother and a maid who knelt petrified, crowded into a corner. This was the only room and it served for living eating working sleeping. A few scrawny chickens in a rafter cage clucked nervously. "Remember what I told you. You know nothing, have seen nothing."

"Yes Lord, certainly, Lord," the old man whimpered.

"Shut up! Turn your backs, face the corner and close your eyes, all of you. Tie your sashes around your eyes!"

They obeyed. Instantly.

Saigo was eighteen, tall and strongly built, with a rugged handsome face and he wore a short dark tunic and pantaloons similar to the samurai at the Inn and two swords, straw sandals, no armor. When he was satisfied the peasants were blind as well as docile, he sat beside the door and peered out through rips in the window paper and began to wait.

He could see the barrier and guard houses clearly. It was not yet sunset so the barrier was still open to latecomers. It had taken him and his men many days to find this place, ideal for their purposes. The back door led to a maze of alleys and paths, perfect for a sudden retreat.

This afternoon, the moment the Shogun's party had passed through the barrier, he had taken sudden possession.

Footsteps. His hand readied his sword, then relaxed. Another youth came in silently, to be followed by another from a different direction.

Soon seven more were within. Outside one stood guard, another at the corner of the alley that joined with the Tokaido, with an eleventh man, hiding in the village, to act as courier to gallop the glad tidings of success to Katsumata in Kyoto that would signal the attack on Ogama and the Gates. They were tough young men, dressed as he was without armor and identification, formerly goshi--the lowest rank of samurai--now ronin, all more or less the same age, nineteen to twenty-two.

Only Saigo, eighteen, and Tora, seventeen, his Satsuma second in command, were younger. Drafts through rents in the window shivered them --that and their tension.

With signs he motioned them to check their swords, shuriken and other lethal weapons--no need for words during the whole operation. As much as could be planned had been decided over the days.

They all agreed it was to be conducted in silence.

A glance out of the window. The sun was touching the horizon, sky clear. It was time.

Solemnly he bowed to them and they bowed to him.

He turned his attention back to the peasants.

"Three men will be outside," he said harshly, "One rustle out of any of you until I get back and they'll fire the farm."