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"I will, Sire," the soldier said proudly, "but first I claim the right of free speech before your loyal vassals, officers, and coun-"

"You've forfeited all rights!"

"Very well. Then I claim it as a dying wish - as hatamoto - and in return for twenty-eight years of faithful service!"

"Make it very short."

"I will, Sire," General Kiyoshio replied icily. "I beg to say, first: Going to Osaka and bowing to the peasant Ishido is treason against your honor, the honor of your clan, the honor of your faithful vassals, your special heritage, and totally against bushido. Second: I indict you for this treason and say you've therefore forfeited your right to be our liege lord. Third: I petition that you immediately abdicate in Lord Sudara's favor and honorably depart this life - or shave your head and retire to a monastery, whichever you prefer."

The general bowed stiffly, then sat back on his haunches. Everyone waited, hardly breathing now that the unbelievable had become a reality.

Abruptly Toranaga hissed, "What are you waiting for?"

General Kiyoshio stared back at him. "Nothing, Sire. Please excuse me." His son began to get up.

"No. You're ordered to stay here!" he said.

The general bowed a last time to Toranaga, got up, and walked out with immense dignity. Some stirred nervously and a swell moved through the room but Toranaga's harshness dominated again: "Is there anyone else who admits treason? Anyone else who dares to break bushido, anyone who dares to accuse his liege lord of treason?"

"Please excuse me, Sire," Isamu, the old counselor, said calmly. "But I regret to say that if you go to Osaka it is treason against your heritage. "

"The day I go to Osaka you will depart this earth."

The gray-haired man bowed politely. "Yes, Sire."

Toranaga looked them over. Pitilessly. Someone shifted uneasily and eyes snapped onto him. The samurai, a warrior who years ago had lost his wish to fight and had shaved his head to become a Buddhist monk and was now a member of Toranaga's civil administration, said nothing, almost wilting with an untoward fear he tried desperately to hide.

"What're you afraid of, Numata-san?"

"Nothing, Sire," the man said, his eyes downcast.

"Good. Then go and commit seppuku because you're a liar and your fear's an infectious stench."

The man whimpered and stumbled out. Dread stalked them all now. Toranaga watched. And waited.

The air became oppressive, the slight crackling of the torch flames seemed strangely loud. Then, knowing it was his duty and responsibility, Sudara turned and bowed. "Please, Sire, may I respectfully make a statement?"

"What statement?"

"Sire, I believe there is no . . . no more treason here, and that there will be no more trea-"

"I don't share your opinion."

"Please excuse me, Sire, you know I will obey you. We will all obey you. We seek only the best for your-"

"The best is my decision. What I decide is best."

Helplessly Sudara bowed his acquiescence and became silent. Toranaga did not look away from him. His gaze was remorseless. "You are no longer my heir."

Sudara paled. Then Toranaga shattered the tension in the room: "I am liege lord here."

He waited a moment, then, in utter silence, he got up and arrogantly marched out. The door closed behind him. A great sigh went through the room. Hands sought sword hilts impotently. But no one left his place.

"This . . . this morning I . . . I heard from our commander-in-chief," Sudara began at last. "Lord Hiro-matsu will be here in a few days. I will . . . talk to him. Be silent, be patient, be loyal to our liege Lord. Let us go and pay our respects to General Serata Kiyoshio...."

Toranaga was climbing the stairs, a great loneliness upon him, his footsteps reverberating in the emptiness of the tower. Near the top he stopped and leaned momentarily against the wall, his breathing heavy. The ache was gripping his chest again and he tried to rub it away. "It's just lack of exercise," he muttered. "That's all, just lack of exercise."

He went on. He knew he was in great jeopardy. Treason and fear were contagious and both had to be cauterized without pity the moment they appeared. Even then you could never be sure they were eradicated. The struggle he was locked into was not a child's game. The weak had to be food for the strong, the strong pawns for the very strong. If Sudara publicly claimed his mantle he was powerless to prevent it. Until Zataki answered, he had to wait.

Toranaga shut and bolted his door and walked to a window. Below, he could see his generals and counselors silently streaming away to their homes outside the donjon walls. Beyond the castle walls, the city lay in almost total darkness. Above, the moon was pallid and misted. It was a brooding, darkling night. And, it seemed to him, doom walked the heavens.

CHAPTER 50