let it show. It was true that Hashiba bored easily—bored as easily as a child, in fact—but this idea sounded like Nene’s, not his.
“My lord, the Bear Cub—”
“Grew tiresome long ago. Don’t mistake me: that wedding of yours was the best entertainment I’ve had all year. Oh, take that look off your face. You’d see the humor in it too, if only you didn’t take that boy and his monk so damned seriously. We’re going home, Shichio.”
Shichio willed himself to stay calm. He would not walk away from the Bear Cub. He couldn’t. Glorious Victory Unsought was the only thing that could sate the mask. Apart from that, Shichio was not one to forgive a grudge. The whelp had to die. As painfully as possible. That was all there was to it.
He looked at Nene, who gave him a friendly smile. “If this Daigoro is an enemy of the throne, then by all means, remain here,” she said. “May I ask what sort of threat he presents?”
The whelp knows the truth, Shichio thought, and that truth will kill me as surely as a kaishakunin’s sword. It was a miracle that the story hadn’t reached Hashiba’s ears already. At long last Shichio’s spies had captured a mail carrier, whose packet included a letter describing the Battle of Komaki in exacting detail. The trouble was, they’d only intercepted the one. If the Bear Cub had finally decided to circulate the story, Shichio’s men should have run across it more than once by now. Something was very, very wrong.
But none of that would persuade Hashiba or Nene. “He embarrassed me publicly,” Shichio said. “Is it not enough that I should defend my honor?”
“Oh, yes,” Nene said. Her frown seemed to convey genuine sympathy. That was a sham, of course, but the woman had real talent. “My people passed word to me about that atrocious wedding. Believe me, Shichio-san, my husband may find it humorous, but I do not. I sympathize with your plight entirely. In fact, I’ve found a way to heal the wound. If you’ll accept it, of course.”
My people, Shichio thought. He knew she was well informed, but this was something else. The reference to her “people” meant she hadn’t heard about the wedding from Hashiba, but that raised a new question: how did the woman have spies this far north? Had she brought them with her? Did they fly ahead of her, heralding her advance like a swarm of fireflies? If so, then why hadn’t Shichio’s agents warned him of her arrival?
He forced a sweet, submissive smile. “My lady, I am eager to hear your proposal.”
“Kanagawa-juku. My old friend Oda Nobunaga had many allies there. I have found a suitable house for you, an old and respected clan with some ten thousand koku. House Urakami. Their fief includes one of the largest cities in the province.”
The largest, and still a fishing village. Shichio knew of it. It was thirty-odd ri north and east of Izu, which was to say thirty-odd ri deeper into the barbarian hinterlands. Its remoteness was its tactical value. Shichio knew of it because the Odawara Hojos were one of the last holdouts in the north, and sooner or later Hashiba would have to fight them. As a coastal power, they would be difficult to attack by sea. By land, every approach from the south was utterly predictable. Shichio’s plan was to sail past them by night, putting ashore at the sleepy little post town of Kanagawa-juku. From there the army could land in force and march on Odawara from the north.
“It is so far from Kyoto, my lady.”
“But not so far from Izu. If this boy remains a threat, root him out. Then hold the north for us. Marry well and live well. As I said, House Urakami is a noble and venerated clan. Its lord died of the flux and now his dowager rules in his stead. I sent word to her and she has consented to accept your hand.”
“Sent word?” Shichio was ashamed he’d uttered it aloud. Ordinarily he was the master of his own tongue, but this was outrageous news. Nene must have written weeks ago if she’d heard back from these Urakamis already. How long had she been simmering this little scheme?
“My lady, I appreciate your generosity. Let no man say I don’t. But—”
“Excellent,” said Hideyoshi. “It’s settled, then.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. When he smiled, he exposed teeth jumbled so haphazardly that they seemed to have been