of warrior’s blood in Hashiba’s body, but ever since the emperor bestowed him with the right to wear the topknot and daisho, he did enjoy playing at being samurai.
He’d called for a tall tower to be built along the back wall. That must have been a colossal task for the carpenters, given that there wasn’t a tall, straight tree trunk anywhere on the mountain. Shichio guessed the uprights were spare masts plundered from the fleet in the bay. He could also guess at the tower’s purpose. Hashiba always preferred to look at the world from high above, as much for the quiet as the feeling of lordship. This tower would afford him a majestic view of the sunset on the bay, and of the stars when they came out in their fullness.
Shichio brushed aside a fold of canvas and slipped into Hashiba’s enclosure. Even as he entered, he heard Hashiba coming down from the viewing deck. He was speaking to someone, too softly for Shichio to make out the words. In the failing light he couldn’t see Hashiba either; attendants had erected two bright fires on either end of the square, which left spots in Shichio’s vision.
“Shichio-san,” said a voice from above. “Your timing is most fortunate. We were just speaking of you.”
Shichio’s heart sank into his stomach. He knew that light, lilting voice. Now he had no choice but to kneel in the dust and bow. “Nene-dono. I wasn’t told you had come.”
“I have been away from my husband for long enough,” said Nene, Lady in the North, first and foremost of Hashiba’s wives. She wore orange and gold tonight, lavishly embroidered with crisscrossing cedar leaves. The train of her kimono was half as long as she was tall, and the cuffs of her sleeves hung down to her knees. Long black hair spilled down her back, with two neat tails draped over her collarbones and hanging down to the tips of her breasts. Her lips were painted black, her face white, with two black dots halfway up her forehead to symbolize the eyebrows she’d shaved away.
Nene walked with her hands tucked inside her voluminous sleeves, not arm in arm as Hashiba often walked with his wives and concubines. The regent had never been shy of physical contact, but he and Nene maintained quite a chaste relationship. She had provided him no sons—no children at all, in fact—but more than this, Hashiba seemed to think of her like an elder sister. She was ten years his junior, but from the beginning of their marriage, she had been his confidante and political advisor. It was absurd. No other warlord in the land would allow his wife to dictate policy.
In truth Nene dictated nothing. She had nothing to do with his military council, but in his political dealings she had been a central figure for as long as Shichio had known him. Even Oda Nobunaga had held her in great esteem. For that matter, Shichio had to admit that he himself gave her respect in his own way. She was his only worthy adversary. She was the reason he’d first seduced Hashiba into sailing to Izu instead of riding up the Tokaido. Nene had no stomach for sea travel, and avoided ships at all costs.
“Come on, get up,” Hashiba said. “Let’s have a seat. We’ve got things to talk about.”
As if by magic, attendants appeared out of the deepening shadows. They arrayed three folding stools near one of the fires, and Hashiba sat in the center. It did not slip by Shichio that Nene sat at Hashiba’s right hand.
No, he thought, not Hashiba. That had been his name when Shichio first met him, and so Shichio had called him ever since. But in the company of others, Hashiba became the great Lord General Toyotomi no Hideyoshi, Chief Minister and Imperial Regent. Shichio must speak to him as his lord, not his equal. That too separated him from Nene. She had always spoken to him like a sister. He was still a powerful man, and she accorded him that respect, but she was allowed a degree of familiarity that Shichio could only express when he and Hashiba—no, Toyotomi-dono—were alone.
By the time Shichio sat, servants were already on their way with sake and tea and cold soba noodles to whet the appetite. “Shichio, tell me,” the regent said, “did you see the sunset?”
“I did, Toyotomi-dono.”
“Beautiful, neh?”
“It was, Toyotomi-dono.”
“Good. Let it be the last one. We’re going back to Kyoto.”