The Birkenhead Drill and Other Stories

Long Live the Taikun

Tokugawa Iesada, the heir apparent to the seat of the Taikun, had never seen his father so angry before.

The Taikun paced the golden-walled study back and forth, fuming; his face red, his eyes bulging, his silken robe swooshing violently at every turn. In his fist, crumpled remains of a letter dripped bits of paper onto the straw mat floor.

“What is the matter, Father?”

The Taikun stopped abruptly, only now noticing his son standing timidly in the door of the study.

“It’s that damned fool of a Councillor again.”

“Hotta-dono?”

He looked at Iesada with faked wonder. “You remembered. Well done. But Hotta’s not deserving of the honorific, the swine.”

“What’s he done this time?”

“What he hadn’t done, rather!”

“He hadn’t resigned.”

“Not only that, he defied all my orders and continues the negotiation with the barbarians in secret. And now – now he’s requested a personal audience! He’s coming here today!”

“Can you not refuse?”

“Of course I can. I can have him thrown off a cliff or fed to dogs. I’m a Taikun. But… Abe asked me to hear the man out one last time, and Abe is the only other person in this palace who thinks, so I decided to give him one more chance.”

“But why, if he angers you so…?”

Father looked at him with disgusted disappointment. “How many times… there’s subtlety to ruling. I have to show I’m not a mindless tyrant. The outlying clans are agitated as they are, and I’ll need all the support I can get to deal with the South. So, yes, I’ll hear him out that one last time – and only then have him killed. Now sit down somewhere, the bastard’s about to arrive.”

Iesada knelt down on a soft pillow and tried to suppress a cough. He knew how his father hated his poor health. The result was a burst of chokes followed by a fury of wheezes and rasps. The Taikun gave him a murderous look just as the door to the study slid open and in came Councillor Hotta, bent in a deep bow. He started a long, official greeting, but the Taikun interrupted him with an almost-snarl.

“Just get on with. And you – ” he turned to his son, “try not to interrupt us, if you can.”

*

 “…and so, you see, I believe it is imperative to the well-being of this country that we successfully conclude the negotiations with the Gorllewin delegation.”

Hotta finished his long speech and bowed. There was a glint in his eyes which Iesada didn’t like – arrogant, almost cocky, as he looked from him to his father, far too sure of himself for someone who was facing the wrath of the lord and master of Yamato. His father surely noticed it too… but he remained deceptively calm.

“Well-being of the country, you say?”

“Yes, kakka. With the Gorllewin help, we could not only crush any rebels, but also defend ourselves from other encroaching barbarians, like the ones who recently arrived in Kiyō…”

“Play barbarian against a barbarian… yes, there is something in the idea. I can see why Abe insisted on giving you a chance.”

Hotta grinned and sat up from a bow, certain of success.

“Tell me, dear Councillor,” the Taikun continued, “how important the well-being of Yamato is to you?”

 “It is all I live and strive for.”

“Then would you be willing to… sacrifice your career for it? Or life?”

The grin vanished from Hotta’s lips. “I – I don’t understand…”

The Taikun supported himself on his thighs. “Let us make a deal. I’ll agree to all your propositions officially – on the condition that you kill yourself afterwards.”

“But – but I’m the architect of the negotiation! The Gorllewin only communicate with me. It would throw – ”

“I’m certain any of my Councillors would do the job just as fine.”

“If you agree with my policies, then why…?”

“You defied me, Councillor. Time and time again. This is not something that I may let slide. Besides, I need a test of your commitment. If you really care about Yamato, you’ll do as I say.”

Something changed in Hotta’s face. Iesada wasn’t at first sure what. The look in his eyes became determined, his lips pursed into a narrow line.

“I refuse,” he said, darkly.

Iesada’s father seemed not to notice the change yet. He waved his hand. “Then I’m afraid I have no choice but to dismiss both you and your advice. Your usefulness has expired.”

“Father – ” Iesada started, but the Taikun grunted, annoyed at the interruption.

“Be quiet, son. Watch and learn.”

“I said, I refuse,” Hotta repeated, standing up slowly. “I was hoping we could avoid the disagreement, but it seems my hand is forced.”

“What are you – ”

The danger of the situation finally dawned on the Taikun. He reached for the dagger hidden at his waist.

“Guards! To me!” He cried.

“They won’t come,” said Hotta. “None can hear you now.”

The transformation of his face was complete. His eyes glistened gold, narrowing into menacing slits. He bared his teeth, showing long, sharp, glistening fangs.

“An Abomination!” the Taikun cried. The dagger dropped from his hand.

“You had a chance to live a long and peaceful life,” Hotta hissed, “but no, you had to try and actually rule.”

The Councillor turned to Iesada. The heir froze in fear. He needed to cough, but did not dare.

What kind of nightmare is this?

“Watch and learn, indeed, young tono,” he spat the honorific mockingly, “how we deal with things at the court. Learn who the true rulers of Yamato are.”

With that, he leapt upon the Taikun, with speed and strength of a tiger pouncing upon its prey. His eyes turned jet black as he plunged fangs in the old man’s neck. The Taikun gasped, his hands twitched in convulsion. He gurgled, still trying to call for help, but only blood spewed from his trembling lips. At last, he was dead.

Hotta wiped the blood from his mouth and grinned mockingly at the Taikun’s young heir.

“Congratulations, Iesada-dono. You have just become the new Taikun. Do you understand what just happened here?”

Iesada shook his head slowly, still unable to speak a word.

“Poor Ieyoshi-dono collapsed while discussing the latest developments with his Councillor,” Naosuke said, his face returning to a normal shade of pale and a grievous, mourning expression. “I wonder what they were talking about? Perhaps the appointment of the new Chief Councillor? Only his son would know...”

The Councillor – or the monster that had taken his shape – left the room as quietly and inconspicuously as he appeared. Only now was Iesada free to move and speak. But instead of calling for help, he just stood there, as if still paralyzed, over the frail, pale body of his dead father, once known as the twelfth Taikun, scion of the Tokugawas, ruler of all of Yamato. He stood there and wept. Not for his father, but for himself.