Taniko remained kneeling with her arms around Atsue. Ryuichi held out his hands to her.

“Please, Taniko. Do not disgrace us like this.”

“It is you who disgrace yourself, Uncle.”

“Take the boy,” Horigawa snapped at the samurai.

The elder of the two men stepped forward and stood over Taniko. “Excuse me, my lady. Will you give us the boy?”

“I’m sorry,” said Taniko, “but I cannot do that.”

“We know you, my lady. It was you who helped one of our comrades into the beyond. You are held in great esteem by all samurai. But we must obey orders. Do not force us to shame you.”

Taniko closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Forgive me.” She tightened her grip on Atsue.

“It is you who must forgive us, my lady.” The samurai bent over and took hold of her arms. Atsue screamed. Ryuichi stood moaning and wringing his hands.

Suddenly Taniko let go of Atsue and leaped at the younger of the two samurai, grabbing for his sword. She had it half-way out of its scabbard when the samurai’s open hand smashed down on the side of her head. She fell, stunned, unable to move.

“She must have been a warrior in a former life,” said the older samurai.

“Mother!” Atsue cried. Taniko opened her eyes and saw her son in the grip of the younger samurai. She held out her arms to him and he struggled to free himself.

“Get the boy out of here,” Horigawa said. The man dragged Atsue from the room.

Shutting Atsue’s screams out of her mind, Taniko turned to the older samurai. She had to speak very slowly to keep the sobs from breaking through.

“Before you leave, ask the servants to give you his flute, koto and samisen and take them with you to the Rokuhara. The flute, Little Branch, is a Takashi family heirloom given Atsue by his father. The boy’s practice should not be interrupted. He is a very fine musician.” She remembered years ago when Lady Akimi had said of Domei’s son, Yukio, “His flute-playing is beautiful to hear.” Yukio, because of whom Kiyosi was now dead. Yukio, whose life she had helped save.

Until this moment that had not occurred to her. Now the realization of it stunned her.

“Homage to Amida Buddha,” she whispered. Only the Lord of Boundless Light could understand the tangled karma that made her somehow responsible for Kiyosi’s death.

Taniko stood, turning to Horigawa. “Take me and do what you will.”

Walking with the small steps of a lady, holding her back very straight, Taniko left the weeping family of Shima Ryuichi. She realized that she might never see any of them again, but she walked silently past them without saying goodbye. Her family had failed her once too often.

Horigawa commanded one of the Takashi samurai to get into the carriage with himself and Taniko. As they trundled through the streets of Heian Kyo, Taniko said, “Will you always have a guard present when you are with me, Your Highness?”

Horigawa smiled at her, a smile full of hatred. “You cannot possibly imagine the fate I have in mind for you. It will be most interesting to see how a delicate, well-bred lady, used to life in the capital, withstands the rigours of a journey to China.”

Taniko stared at Horigawa, open-mouthed. China? But if Yukio had fled to China, as she had heard, Jebu might have gone there, too. It was almost impossible to believe this was not some strange dream.

“Yes, my dear, China,” Horigawa said. “But that is only to be the beginning of your journey. Before you come to the end you will find yourself in hell.”

She was treated rather like a guest at Horigawa’s house. The women’s building had been unused for some time. It was dirty, and the roof leaked. But Horigawa’s servants, evidently on orders from the prince, worked hard and quickly and had it put right the day Taniko arrived.

She was completely cut off from the rest of the world. The servants avoided conversation with her. She longed for just a word about Atsue. Sometimes, when she woke from a night’s sleep, it would be a moment or two before she remembered that Kiyosi was dead and that Atsue had been taken from her. Then she would cry for hours before she could gather her strength to dress and take her morning meal. At night she would cry until she fell asleep.

There was absolutely nothing to do. She tried to write poetry, but she had no heart for it. She tried to write in her pillow book, which had followed her here from the Shima mansion along with her wardrobe and other personal possessions, but she had nothing to write about. Sometimes she thought about the tortures to which Horigawa might subject her, the kinds of death he might inflict on her, and she felt terror. But the realization of what she had lost, and how hopeless her future was, numbed her to fear. Whenever the sadness and the fear seemed unbearable, she found comfort in invoking the Buddha.

More than once it occurred to her that by slitting her throat she could put an end to her suffering, once and for all. But empty as her life seemed, dreadful as Horigawa’s plans for her might be, she was sustained by a feeling that somehow she would overcome all, that she still had a destiny to fulfil. Then, too, it would give Horigawa too much satisfaction to look down on her corpse and think he had driven her to kill herself. Nor could she bear to leave this world while Jebu was still part of it. As long as he was alive, she had not lost everything.

Finally, there was the thought of China, that fabulous country across the sea, from which came all beauty, all wisdom and all law. She could not die without seeing China.

One day a maid came to her. “His Highness says that you are to pack your very best robes and gowns, because you may be presented to some great lords of China.”

“Tell the captain of the guard to assign twenty outriders to you.” Filled with despair, Ryuichi bowed, turned and shuffled out of Sogamori’s presence.

Chapter Three

Taniko and Atsue were playing go when they heard the carriages and mounted men come rumbling through the gate of the Shima mansion. Atsue’s hand, about to place a white stone in a move that threatened a whole line of Taniko’s black stones in a corner, hesitated in mid air. He put the white stone down slowly, and they sat and looked at each other.

The returning party made much more noise than Uncle Ryuichi and his outriders had on leaving, as if there were more horses, perhaps more carriages, with him now. The nervousness Taniko had felt all morning turned to dread. Pushing the go table aside, she took Atsue in her arms.

After a time, the shoji screen to her chamber slid back, and Aunt Chogao’s tear-streaked face appeared in the opening. One look, and Taniko’s fear turned to a wild, despairing terror. Her aunt shook her head helplessly.

“Your uncle wants Atsue in the main hall.”

Taniko kept her arms around the boy. “If he wants Atsue he will have to come and tear him from me.”

Sobbing, Chogao left. Atsue was crying in Taniko’s arms. She patted the small shoulder beneath the dark green robe.

“Mother, kill me like you killed that man, and then kill yourself. We’ll meet Father in the Pure Land.”

Taniko bit her lip. “You have a long life before you, Atsue-chan. I would rather lose you than harm you in any way. And even in the worst moments of my own life I’ve never wanted to kill myself. Let us commend ourselves to the mercy of Amida. Homage to Amida Buddha.”

“Homage to Amida Buddha,” Atsue repeated.

Ryuichi came into the room. Behind him there walked a small, hatefully familiar figure wearing a tall black-lacquer hat.

“Good day to you, Taniko-san,” said Horigawa, baring his blackened teeth in a broad grin.

With a scream of rage Taniko reached for the nearest weapon, which happened to be a lighted oil lamp. She hurled it at Horigawa, who stepped aside, laughing at her. Ryuichi shouted an alarm as the small, orange flames raced up a paper wall. A servant rushed in with a pot of water and threw it on the fire, and Ryuichi beat out the remaining flames with a quilt.

“I see Lady Taniko is still given to setting houses on fire,” said Horigawa.

“It was you who put this idea in Sogamori’s mind,” said Taniko, wanting to spring upon her husband and strangle him.

Horigawa spread his hands. “On the contrary, I suggested to Lord Sogamori that the offspring of a woman of unsound mind and low birth could hardly be worthy of his attention. But he insisted. I am merely here to see that his wishes are carried out. By law you are my wife, and this boy is my son. He will be adopted by Lord Sogamori, and you, from now on, will be part of my household.”

His household. They were sending her back to Horigawa. Her mind reeled under the shock. For a moment she really did want to kill herself. Everything that had given her happiness in these past years was gone, as if swallowed by an earthquake.

She knelt and held Atsue. “We will not go.”

“That man isn’t my father,” Atsue sobbed.

“Of course not,” Taniko said through clenched teeth. “He is incapable of being anyone’s father.”

Ryuichi was pleading with Horigawa. “You don’t want her as a wife, Your Highness. I’ll see to it that she doesn’t trouble Lord Sogamori.”

A change came over Horigawa’s face. His cheeks reddened under his courtier’s white powder. His eyes narrowed and his thin lips drew back from the black teeth. In a voice choked with hatred he said, “She is my wife. Mine. I will dispose of her as I see fit. Do not interfere in this, Ryuichi.” Horigawa turned away from Ryuichi and called through the shutters to men standing on the veranda.

“Taniko,” said Ryuichi, “perhaps if you let the boy go without making a scene, we could persuade Prince Horigawa to allow you to stay with us.”

“Don’t deceive yourself, Uncle,” Taniko said coldly. “The prince has old scores to settle with me. As for you, you failed me when I needed you most. Now I don’t want to stay with you.”

“Try to understand, Taniko. All the world bends before Lord Sogamori as grass before the wind. I can’t withstand him.”

“I thought a samurai could withstand anything.”

Two men in red silk jackets and shin-length trousers, their long swords hanging from their belts, tramped into the room. They looked somewhat sheepish at entering the chamber of a lady unprotected by a screen. Standing against the wall, they kept their eyes averted from Taniko and looked questioningly at Horigawa.

“Really, Your Highness, this is unnecessary,” Ryuichi said. “You insult me by bringing your samurai into my house.”

“You have already shown yourself unable to make the members of your household obey the commands of Lord Sogamori,” said Horigawa. He turned to the samurai. “Take the boy from her and put him in Lord Sogamori’s carriage.”

Taniko remained kneeling with her arms around Atsue. Ryuichi held out his hands to her.

“Please, Taniko. Do not disgrace us like this.”

“It is you who disgrace yourself, Uncle.”

“Take the boy,” Horigawa snapped at the samurai.

The elder of the two men stepped forward and stood over Taniko. “Excuse me, my lady. Will you give us the boy?”

“I’m sorry,” said Taniko, “but I cannot do that.”

“We know you, my lady. It was you who helped one of our comrades into the beyond. You are held in great esteem by all samurai. But we must obey orders. Do not force us to shame you.”

“Can the Shima not control their women?” Sogamori whispered harshly. At the sudden change of tone Ryuichi’s innards froze with terror.

“Your miserable servant begs forgiveness if we have offended,” he mumbled, bowing his head.

“If you have offended?” Sogamori growled. “You should be ashamed to show your face before me, Ryuichi. You should have thrown yourself into the Kamo on the way here.”

“She is overcome with grief,” Ryuichi pleaded. “She does not know what she is saying.”

Horigawa spoke. “I have warned my lord Sogamori that the woman is both wilful and wicked.”

Ryuichi was outraged. He wanted to cry out, to demand that Horigawa apologize. The Shima family was being insulted here. But he remained silent. He was too frightened to speak.

Sogamori held up the sword again. “This will belong to Atsue when he performs his manhood ceremony as a Takashi.”

“We are overwhelmed by my lord’s offer to adopt the boy Atsue,” Ryuichi said. “Only, we plead for time. The boy’s mother is so newly bereaved.”

“Do you compare her suffering with mine?” Sogamori rasped. “What was she to my son but another courtesan? What right does she have to mourn? We will have the boy here today.”

The realization that he would have to face Taniko drove Ryuichi to make one last effort. “But she is the boy’s mother. She loves him.”

“She is still married to me,” Horigawa cut in. “By law I am the boy’s father. I say he shall go to Lord Sogamori.”

Ryuichi stared at Horigawa, astonished.

“Thus the woman is no obstacle, Ryuichi-san,” said Sogamori.

“I have a further thought, Your Excellency,” said Horigawa. “To ensure that she is kept under proper control, I shall take her back into my household.” He turned to Ryuichi and bared his blackened teeth. “You have borne the burden of caring for her long enough.”

Ryuichi was overcome with horror. She’ll kill herself, he thought. “No, no, that will not be necessary.”

“Let her be taken to Horigawa’s house at the same time Atsue comes here.” Sogamori laughed mirthlessly. “Peace will be restored to Ryuichi’s household.”

Horigawa said, “My journey to China on Your Excellency’s behalf will be an arduous one. It may be a year or more before I return. I will need the companionship and help of a wife. I have so immersed myself in my duties that I have not had time to seek one. On this voyage I shall have to make do with the one I have.”

But Taniko hates you, Ryuichi thought. You killed her baby daughter, now you are helping to steal her son. Merciful Buddha, she has lost Kiyosi, and now she will lose Atsue. And then to fall into the hands of Horigawa again—she will surely go mad.

“Yukio has escaped to China after killing my son,” Sogamori brooded. “Well, there is one Muratomo on whom I can avenge myself. Listen, Ryuichi.”

Ryuichi shrank back. “Yes, my lord.”

“Send your swiftest messenger to your brother Shima Bokuden in Kamakura. Tell him the Imperial chancellor finds the continued existence of Muratomo no Hideyori a danger to the serenity of the realm. He is commanded to execute Hideyori immediately. I want the head brought back to me by the same messenger.”

If only Bokuden were here, Ryuichi thought. He would know what to do. In the midst of all his anguish, the prospect of Hideyori’s death troubled Ryuichi least of all. Hideyori had never brought any good to the Shima house, and Yukio had destroyed their entire little world. Ryuichi had no tears to spare for the Muratomo.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Horigawa said, “The other Muratomo will not escape your wrath in China, Your Excellency. Through me, your vengeance will follow him to the Central Kingdom.”

“Prince Horigawa is a remarkable man, Ryuichi-san,” said Sogamori. “He is small in body, but within that small head of his is encompassed the entire Chinese language, not only all its literary classics but all its terms of trade and warfare. The prince can equally well address the Sung Emperor or bandy words with the lowliest sailor on the docks. The messages he carries to China and the information he brings back will be precious to me. If he needs your niece, he must have her.”

“I understand, my lord,” Ryuichi quavered.

“I will send a carriage with you for the boy, Ryuichi-san. Do not let your family trouble me again.”

Horigawa rose. “I will go along myself, with my own carriage, to bring my wife back to my house.” He bowed to Sogamori. “Would His Excellency be pleased to send some of his samurai with us as an escort?”

“Tell the captain of the guard to assign twenty outriders to you.” Filled with despair, Ryuichi bowed, turned and shuffled out of Sogamori’s presence.

The Takashi headquarters was across the Kamo River, east of the original limits of Heian Kyo, outside the city’s walls. The land had been given to Sogamori’s grandfather after a victory over pirates on the Inland Sea. In those days the Takashi estate was out in the countryside. Over the years, with each new acquisition of power and wealth, the stronghold grew, as a coral reef rises out of the sea. At the same time the capital spread eastwards, and now the Rokuhara was surrounded by innumerable lesser buildings, like a black rock in a swiftly moving current.

It was palace, fortress, barracks and prison all in one. Between the samurai quartered within its walls and those who lived near by with families and retainers of their own, the Takashi could call up ten thousand warriors at a moment’s notice.

Even after crossing the moat and passing through the fortified western gate, Ryuichi travelled a long time through a labyrinth of inner walls before he finally came to the hall where Sogamori awaited him. Ryuichi dismounted and dismissed his outriders, who looked thoroughly cowed now that they were in the Takashi stronghold. A group of Sogamori’s red-robed youths eyed Ryuichi’s party with a threatening casualness.

Approached by two Takashi samurai, Ryuichi tried to appear calm and superior, a difficult feat for a sweating, trembling fat man. Despite their deferential manner, the hard-faced warriors frightened him. The Shima were supposedly samurai themselves, but Ryuichi was more at home with ink, brush and account books than with bow and sword. He allowed the guards to lead him to Sogamori.

The chieftain of the Takashi clan, dressed in a billowing white silk robe, sat on a raised platform, a naked sword in his lap. His round skull was completely shaved; he had entered the priesthood several years earlier after a nearly fatal illness. Behind him, brightly lit by oil lamps, hung an enormous gold banner bearing an angry Red Dragon, its eyes blazing, claws extended, wings flapping, the scaly body, coil upon coil, seeming about to leap out of golden silk and destroy all in the room.

Ryuichi was grateful for the excuse to fall on his knees and press his forehead to the cedar floor. He was shaking so violently he felt he could no longer stand. Why did Sogamori have a sword in his lap? Was it for him?

“You are welcome here, Shima no Ryuichi,” said Sogamori in his grating voice. Ryuichi looked up. The lines of Sogamori’s broad face were deep and shadowed. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. The man must have been weeping for days, Ryuichi thought. There were tears glistening on Sogamori’s brown cheeks even now.

Below the platform, to Sogamori’s right and left, sat the men of his family. The place just below and to the left, where Kiyosi had always sat, was occupied by Sogamori’s second son, Notaro, his puffy, white-powdered features drooping with a faint boredom. Beside Notaro sat the third son, Tadanori, a famous dandy and poet, but not known to be good at much else. Sogamori’s other sons by his principal wife and his other wives sat facing each other in two rows leading up to the platform. Dullards, weaklings, and fops, thought Ryuichi. Other nobles, favourites of Sogamori, sat around the room. With surprise, Ryuichi recognized Prince Sasaki no Horigawa, smiling and gently fanning himself.

Sogamori took a sheet of paper from his sleeve. “We have been reading my son’s poems, Ryuichi-san. This is the last one he wrote, aboard ship on his way to Kyushu.

The shadow of the sail is my palace,
These cedar planks my bed,
My host, a seagull.

“Exquisite,” Ryuichi whispered, dry-mouthed. Sogamori sighed and wiped his face with his sleeve. In the silence Ryuichi thought how Taniko would love to have one of Kiyosi’s poems. But it was obvious Taniko had no friends here. Horigawa waved his fan before his face and smiled his secretive smile at Ryuichi.

Sogamori raised the sword, holding it by its gold and silver-mounted hilt. The blade glistened in the lamplight. It was sharply curved and double-edged for more than half its length.

“His sword,” said Sogamori. “Kogarasu. He didn’t want to risk losing it at sea, so he left it behind. If he had worn it, it would have gone down with him to the bottom of Hakata Bay. Kogarasu once belonged to our ancestor, Emperor Kammu, who received it from the priestess of the Grand Isle Shrine. I gave it to my son when he cut his hair and tied it in the topknot.”

Ryuichi bowed his head. “The grief of your house is the grief of my house.”

A silence fell. Sogamori studied Kogarasu, turning the sword this way and that to catch the light on its shadowy temper lines. Wrapping his white silk sleeve around his hand, he polished the blade lovingly. Gently, as if cradling a sleeping baby, he laid the sword in his lap.

“I am told that your own son, Munetoki, is well and is on his way home to you,” said Sogamori softly. “I hear he performed bravely in the battle at Hakata Bay. The joy of your house is the joy of my house.”

Was there irony in Sogamori’s tone? “A thousand years would not be enough time for me to express my gratitude to the chancellor for noticing my son,” said Ryuichi, bowing deeply.

“Can the Shima not control their women?” Sogamori whispered harshly. At the sudden change of tone Ryuichi’s innards froze with terror.

“Your miserable servant begs forgiveness if we have offended,” he mumbled, bowing his head.

“If you have offended?” Sogamori growled. “You should be ashamed to show your face before me, Ryuichi. You should have thrown yourself into the Kamo on the way here.”

For hours they cried together in each other’s arms.

In the evening the maids brought food to them. Taniko could not eat. She watched Atsue pick at the small slivers of fish with his chopsticks. In his green silk tunic and black trousers he looked like a replica of Kiyosi.

Why didn’t they chop me to bits with swords and be done with it? Taniko thought. How long could she feel this pain before she went mad?

“Homage to Amida Buddha.” Taniko started to recite the invocation. Atsue put down his chopsticks and joined her.

After the maid took away their dishes, Ryuichi pushed back the screen to Taniko’s chamber and peered in at them. His face was pale. In the dim corridor he looked like a goldfish trying to see up through the surface of a pond. Taniko, murmuring the homage to Buddha, looked back at him.

“You never went to Yasugi, Uncle.”

“Forgive me, Taniko-san. I remembered how you were when Horigawa brought you here. I couldn’t bear to see you like that again.”

“So, instead of telling me yourself, you mercifully allowed one of Sogamori’s lackeys to give me the news by accident.”

“Do not torment me, Taniko-san.”

“Ah, are you the one who is being tormented? I see. Well, don’t stand there in the doorway like a frightened peasant. Sit down with us.”

Ryuichi snapped his fingers at a maid. “Sake.” Still looking apologetically at Taniko, he sat down.

Taniko said, “Atsue, go to your bedchamber. I have something to discuss with your uncle.”

“Why can’t I hear? I’m the head of our family now.”

The words brought Taniko a renewed realization of her loss. She burst into a storm of weeping, while Ryuichi sat looking sadly at her. Atsue crept into her arms.

The maid brought hot sake. Taniko poured for Ryuichi and herself. “All right,” she said. “You will also have to decide what you want, Atsue-chan.” Atsue did not object to the term of endearment for a child. “Stay and listen.” The boy sat down again, facing his mother and his uncle. She turned to Ryuichi. “Sogamori has asked that I send the boy to him. He wants to take him from me and adopt him, make him a Takashi.”

Ryuichi nodded. “This afternoon I received a summons to the Rokuhara. Of course, it was worded as an invitation. What did you say to Sogamori’s secretary?”

“I refused. I want Atsue to stay with me.”

Ryuichi quickly drained another cup of sake. “You refused?”

“Yes. But Atsue must be the one to decide in the end.”

“Children do not decide their futures,” Ryuichi cut in. “Of course he will want to stay with his mother. But he has no idea of what he would lose. What can you give him that would compare with the station in life he would have as Sogamori’s son?”

“Kiyosi gave Sogamori other grandsons, and Kiyosi’s younger brothers still live,” said Taniko. “Why must Sogamori, who has so much, take this child from me?” Tears ran down her cheeks.

Ryuichi shrugged. “Aside from the late Kiyosi, Sogamori’s male descendants are a rather undistinguished lot. This boy, on the other hand, is a paragon. Perhaps it is because you and Kiyosi enjoyed some powerful bond in a former life. You must be aware that Atsue’s musicianship and his knowledge of the classics are remarkable. And his face—” Ryuichi sipped his sake and contemplated the boy. Atsue, his eyes downcast, flushed a deep scarlet. That’s one trait he gets from me, Taniko thought.

Ryuichi went on. “Anyone who knows anything about physiognomy can see Atsue has the face of one destined to hold a high place in the realm. In all respects, even at this young age, Atsue outshines Sogamori’s other descendants. That cannot have escaped you, Taniko. Be sure that Sogamori himself is well aware of it.”

Taniko turned to the boy. “Atsue-chan, what your uncle says is true. You can become an important member of the most powerful clan in the land. If you remain here, you’ll merely be a fatherless boy, part of a rather undistinguished provincial family.”

“I want to stay with you, Mother,” Atsue said instantly. “I love you, and you love me. I am afraid of Lord Sogamori. They say he is cruel and has a terrible temper. I don’t want to live in the Rokuhara. I don’t like the Rokuhara.”

“This is not childish prattle,” said Taniko. “The boy knows perfectly well what he is saying.”

“We dare not defy Lord Sogamori,” Ryuichi muttered.

“If Sogamori can take a child from us, he can take anything and everything from us.”

That thought made Ryuichi frown. “But there is nothing I can do. What can I say to Lord Sogamori at the Rokuhara tomorrow?”

“You are a samurai, Uncle, as much as he is. You can present the case to him and let him make what he will of it. When you go to the Rokuhara, tell Sogamori that the boy does not want to go and his mother does not want to send him.”

“Madness,” said Ryuichi.

“Uncle-san,” said Taniko, the tears coming again, “My champion is dead. You are the only defender I have left. If you won’t protect me, I am lost.”

Shaking his head, Ryuichi rose. “I will do what I can. Drink more sake. It will help you to sleep.”

It was a sweltering morning when Ryuichi went to the Rokuhara. Alone, sweating and trembling in his carriage, he fanned himself incessantly. Six armed, mounted men escorted him, but their presence did nothing to make him feel more secure. He was going, perhaps, to his death. What else could he expect if he disobeyed the command of Lord Sogamori, who could annihilate him as a careless sandal crushes an ant?

The Rokuhara was at once magnificent and frightening. Its three donjon towers, bedecked with proud red Takashi banners, dominated the surrounding district. Ryuichi saw them as soon as his carriage crossed the Gojo Bridge. The stone outer walls with their tile-roofed turrets were taller than those around the Imperial Palace. The walls girdled a spacious park bounded by four avenues. Three streams diverted from the Kamo River fed the moat, itself wide as a river, and ran through the park over beds of carefully chosen pebbles, beneath tiny ornamental bridges. Interior walls divided the grounds into parade fields, gardens and gravelled courts. The main buildings of the Rokuhara were imposing structures in the Chinese style, with red and green tiled roofs. Mixed in among these were a Buddhist temple, a Shinto shrine and many stables.

The Takashi headquarters was across the Kamo River, east of the original limits of Heian Kyo, outside the city’s walls. The land had been given to Sogamori’s grandfather after a victory over pirates on the Inland Sea. In those days the Takashi estate was out in the countryside. Over the years, with each new acquisition of power and wealth, the stronghold grew, as a coral reef rises out of the sea. At the same time the capital spread eastwards, and now the Rokuhara was surrounded by innumerable lesser buildings, like a black rock in a swiftly moving current.