White Butterfly : prologue
Takatori Saijou was old. There were those in his household who believed that politics was a game for young men, Saijou knew that they were wrong, politics was the game the old played against the young, politics were the games men played against their wives with their concubines. Politics were all that really mattered. He had grown old and powerful, but a powerful man, he mused, sipping his sake, should never have two sons.
Politics was a cruel whore, demanding and proud. He turned the bowl in his hands looking at the young gaijin facing him, the negotiator. He wore eyeglasses as he perused the contract in his hand. “I take it,” he said calmly rescrolling the document, “that this is all in order.” He batted the scroll against his thigh, he wore wide black hakama and his haori was emblazoned with a crest that Saijou knew belonged to the imperial negotiators but also maple leaves. “My employer will be satisfied,” Crawford, the gaijin said patiently with a little bow of the head as he lifted his sake cup.
“I trust that you understand that although the nature of your employment is confidential that both my sons have their own ways of garnering secrets.” Crawford nodded without saying a word, his eyes blinked shut slowly. “They will each try to buy you to earn my favour. It is common knowledge that I intend to play each against the other.” Crawford blinked in response; he was admiring the sake, because it was rare in the imperial court, the Dairai, that one got to taste such fine wine. “There will be gifts, trust nothing from them, trust no one, not even myself, until the negotiations are complete. I trust you have brought your own men.” Crawford nodded slightly, “there will likely be attempts on your life from both my sons.”
“I am an imperial negotiator.” Crawford said quietly, “the house that you have put aside for my use will be swept for spies and my men are loyal only to me, but I know enough from past experience to know that it will not stay that way. Do your sons know the real reason I am here?”
Saijou shook his head, “they think that the emperor has sent you to negotiate a peace between us and the Taira, I see no reason to dissuade them, but they are not foolish, arrogant and self deluded but not foolish.” He poured more of the sake into the cup, “they will eventually come to the conclusion that the emperor has sent you to choose my successor from between them.”
“Then they do not know your decision.”
Saijou smiled, a cold slow smile that suggested a smugness to him that was not exhibited in any other way. “No, they do not, and they will not.”
“The emperor is aware of Reiji’s action against the Fujimiya.” Crawford told him bluntly.
“It is the least of his sins,” Saijou said, “all that keeps him in check is Shuiichi, it is in the best interest of the Takatori to use the two of them against each other to allow for the politics we wish to foster.”
“The Fujimiya were beloved of the emperor.” Crawford said quietly, “he was not best pleased to learn of Reiji’s deception, he has forbidden that the Takatori enter court.”
“My decision should go a long way to appeasing the emperor.”
Crawford laid down the bowl of sake, half full. “It is late, my lord,” he said bowing his head, “I would make sure that my men are settled in the house you have put aside for my use whilst I am in your service.”
“The thing we talked about,” Saijou said quietly.
“I will do my best,” Crawford told him. “But there will be casualties. It is the price of such a negotiation.”
“You cannot make tamago-gohan,” Saijou answered without a smile, “without breaking a few eggs.”
The house that the Takatori had given over to his use was impressive but by no means the totality of the estate. He had expected a small house but instead had received a mansion. It sprawled over the land with a small lake to the back, as he had requested, it meant a rear attack on his position was less likely and could be easily spotted, and the estate’s quarry, which it was famous for, to the west. It meant it could only be approached on two sides, one of which was a series of gardens that led to a small and secluded shrine.
All in all, despite it’s size, and it was much larger than he had anticipated with easily fifty rooms and a library, although it lacked books, and a kimono storage room. Despite Saijou’s offer of servants he had brought his own with him from Kyoto and sat at the brazier in what became known as the fire place room, which doubled as a storage room judging by the chests around the walls, he would enjoy his time among the Takatori, his servants were loyal and they deserved time away from the capital and all its petty intrigue.
There were advantages to being an imperial negotiator, Crawford thought with a dry smile, and this was only one of them. He wondered idly what Saijou would think when he discovered that as well as being sent to play the two sons against each other for imperial favour that he was to assassinate the old man. If nothing else it would be amusing.
|
