Ryoma : Life of a Renaissance Samurai by Hillsborough, Romulus

An Awakening

The August heat was sweltering, and nearly two years had passed since the Dragon's return to Edo. Samurai throughout the capital and indeed Japan were enraged over the drastic measures that Regent Ii Naosuke had enforced during his first four months in power. The animosity mounting between the supporters of opening the country to free trade, and those who vowed to expel the barbarians had reached a point of no return.
In the fall of 1858 Ryoma's official permission to study in Edo had once again expired, and he was recalled to his native Kochi. Traveling on foot from Edo along the Tokaido Road, he reached Kyoto one week later. Under a crisp, blue October sky, Ryoma crossed the Sanjo Bridge, one of several arched wooden bridges spanning the Kamogawa which flowed southward through the eastern portion of the ancient city from the mountains to the north. Parallel to the Kamogawa, just a stone's throw to the west, was the Takasegawa, a canal and important trade route between Kyoto and the neighboring town of Fushimi to the south. The Takasegawa was lined with houses of local merchants and stately residences of feudal lords. Among these was the Kyoto headquarters of Tosa Han, Ryoma's immediate destination. Due to the political uproar in Kyoto caused by xenophobic samurai and court nobles who opposed Regent Ii's decision to open Japan to foreign trade, the Bakufu had recently made it mandatory for all samurai traveling through the city to report to the headquarters of their respective han.

The turbulence was sparked by the regent's punishment of the three great feudal lords who had opposed the sealing of the commercial treaty with the Americans without Imperial sanction. In June, five days after the treaty had been signed, the Lords of Mito and Owari, two of the Three Tokugawa Branch Houses, entered Edo Castle uninvited to rebuke the Bakufu's decision to sign the treaty, and to express their disapproval of the choice of the child-Lord of Kii as heir to the Shogun. They argued that the Imperial Court supported the candidacy of Lord Yoshinobu, the seventh son of the Lord of Mito. They maintained that although the commercial treaty had indeed been sealed without Imperial sanction, the court might be appeased if Yoshinobu were appointed shogunal heir.

Ignoring these pleas, the Bakufu officially announced on the following day that the Lord of Kii would succeed Shogun Iesada. In order to strengthen his absolute rule over the military government, the regent ordered the punishment of the Lords of Mito and Owari, as well as that of the Lord of Fukui, another high-ranking daimyo who had also expressed his displeasure with Bakufu policy. These three daimyo were forced to retire, and placed under house confinement, while Lord Yoshinobu was banned from entering Edo Castle. As Mito, Owari and Fukui were among the Tokugawa Bakufu's most important retainers, the regent's punitive measures not only shocked the entire nation, they also aroused the outrage of the samurai of these three han.

In August, the regent ordered the wholesale arrest of anti-foreign Imperialist samurai who had come to Kyoto to urge the court to issue an edict for the regent's abdication, the revocation of the punishments handed out to Mito, Owari and Fukui, and reconsideration of shogunal succession. As a result of this insurgency, an Imperial proclamation was secretly delivered to Mito rebuking the commercial treaty and the punishment of the three lords, and ordering the Lord of Mito to hold counsel with other feudal lords to find the most suitable way to assure national peace and avoid derision from foreign countries.

Outraged over what he considered treason by Mito, the regent took drastic measures. The "Great Purge of Ii Naosuke" began with the arrest of over one hundred supporters of Imperial Reverence and Expelling the Barbarians, including court nobles, Bakufu officials, feudal lords and samurai. Unprecedented in scope and severity, the punishment was harshest on those the regent mistakenly assumed had initiated the secret Imperial proclamation: the Lord of Mito and his retainers. The retired Mito daimyo was placed under house arrest; his son, who had recently succeeded him, was confined to his residence and prohibited from performing his official duties; another son, Lord Yoshinobu, was forced to retire from political life and placed under house confinement; four of the eight men arrested during the purge who would eventually die in prison were Mito samurai.

* * *

As the sun set over the ancient Imperial capital, Ryoma could see the towering five-storied pagoda of Toji Temple-black against a brilliant orange sky-two leagues southwest from where he stood on the western bank of the Kamogawa. He intended to visit a childhood friend, Hirai Kao, but had been warned that the Sanjo house, where she was staying, was under the surveillance of Bakufu spies. Kao was the younger sister of Hirai Shujiro, a mutual friend of Ryoma's and Hanpeita's from Kochi Castletown. Unlike most upper-samurai, Shujiro and Kao were devout proponents of Imperial Reverence and Expelling the Barbarians, and had many friends among the lower-samurai in Kochi. A younger sister of the Lord of Tosa had recently married a prince of the Sanjo, one of the most powerful families at court and avid supporters of Imperial Reverence and Expelling the Barbarians. Kao, the daughter of a well-connected upper-samurai of Tosa, had been appointed maid-in-waiting to the Tosa princess.

Ryoma walked slowly northward along the river until night came. He was anxious to hear from Kao of the drastic measures the regent had taken with the radicals at court, but perplexed as to how he could get into the house of a court noble without being noticed.

As Ryoma silently approached the Sanjo house, just east of the Imperial Palace, he cursed the revealing light of the full moon, and hid himself in the bushes. From here he could see the house, and the second-story window which he had been told belonged to the room in which Kao slept. Suddenly there was the sound of someone moving nearby, and Ryoma released the latch to the sheath of his sword. As the noise came gradually closer, he drew the blade. Whoever it was now seemed to be less than three paces away, but still Ryoma could not make out the figure. Sweat ran down his forehead and both sides of his face, but he remained perfectly still. Then moonlight glistened from two sparkling eyes, and Ryoma had to repress his laughter.

"A cat," he muttered to himself, then stood up quietly and scaled a long white earthen fence which surrounded the Sanjo house. Just below the window of Kao's room were black-tiled eaves, which Ryoma reached by climbing a big willow tree beside the house. He stepped onto the eaves, slid open the window, and entered the house. "Kao," he whispered. "It's me, Sakamoto Ryoma."

"Ryoma?" Kao recognized his face in the moonlight shining through her chamber window.

"I need to talk to you."

"How did you get in here?"

"I snuck in."

"You must leave before someone sees you," the girl protested. "Go to Chifuku Temple tonight. It's at the top of Yoshida Hill." Kao wrote a short note of introduction to the priest of this Zen temple, handed it to Ryoma. "I'll meet you there tomorrow morning. I'm so glad to see you, Ryoma. I have many things to tell you. But one thing I must warn you of first: under no circumstances are you to tell anyone of our meeting."

Ryoma left the house, and silently stole through the surrounding neighborhood. After reaching the Sanjo Bridge, he walked eastward into the thickly wooded hills above the city. He spent the night at the Zen temple, in a simple one-room cottage, located in a wooded area just behind the main hall. When he awoke early next morning he was escorted by a monk to a small house on the temple grounds. The house stood in front of a pond surrounded by an immaculately kept garden. Lush bamboo grass grew beneath and around small pines. Plum, cherry and peach trees stood gray and bare with the coming of winter. Leafy camphor trees shaded the pond; camellia trees blossomed red, white and pink. Rocks of various shapes and sizes were neatly arranged along the water's edge, and a weathered wooden boat lay at the mossy shore.

Ryoma plucked a blade of bamboo grass near the entrance of the house, put it in his mouth, removed his sandals and entered. Inside the house Kao sat in the formal position on an immaculate tatami floor, greeting Ryoma with a bow, hands extended in front of her. She wore a kimono of pea-green silk, a small lacquered comb in her hair, and around her midriff a cream-colored sash.

Ryoma removed both swords from his hip and sat down cross-legged facing Kao, the blade of bamboo grass protruding from his mouth. Three of the walls were of a dark yellow earthen clay. Finely polished cedar logs were built into the threshold of the sliding screen doors. The ceiling was of woven cedar bark; a single log was built into an alcove to the right of the girl.

A white camellia had been placed in a flower vase of light green ceramic, which was arranged at the center of the otherwise bare alcove. On the plain yellow wall behind the vase hung a scroll of calligraphy in black Chinese ink. The sliding door behind Kao was open wide, and Ryoma had a wonderful view of the garden and the dark green pond in the background.

Between Kao and Ryoma was a hearth, built into the floor. On the hearth was a steaming iron kettle, and next to this, on the bare tatami, a teacup of black porcelain. Within reach were other utensils of the tea ceremony: a small black lacquered container of powdered green tea, a slender bamboo spoon for the powder, and a bamboo whisk to stir the bitter, frothy tea. A small tray of sweet bean cakes had been placed in front of Ryoma. He removed the chewed blade of grass from his mouth, placed it on the tray, and took one of the cakes in his hand. As Kao poured hot water into the cup and made tea, Ryoma inserted the entire cake into his mouth, wiped his hand on the front of his jacket, then smiled. "Very good," he said, and, without ceremony, slurped some tea.

"You're the same as ever, Ryoma." Kao seemed more amused than disturbed by Ryoma's lack of manners. "You're lucky you weren't arrested last night. Bakufu spies have been watching the Sanjo house for weeks. We can't have any visitors. Regent Ii is convinced that anyone who has anything to do with the Sanjo is in cahoots with us against the Bakufu."

"What are you doing there?" Ryoma asked.

"I'm serving Lady Tomo, who recently married the son of the former Lord Keeper of the Imperial Seal."

As Kao explained, although she was officially in Kyoto as maid-in-waiting to the sister of the Lord of Tosa, she was secretly serving the radical Sanjo family of court nobles. She was aiding "Imperial Loyalists," as the Imperialist samurai now called themselves, who had come to Kyoto to urge the court to act against Ii's sealing of the commercial treaty without Imperial sanction.

"How long will you stay in Kyoto?" Ryoma asked.

"As long as I can be of use to the Imperial cause. I am dedicated to my Lady, the Sanjo family and the overthrow of the Bakufu for the sake of the Japanese nation," Kao whispered.

"The overthrow of the Bakufu?" Ryoma exclaimed.

Ryoma had reason to be startled. The dominance of the Bakufu over the entire nation was beyond question. Even the radicals of Mito did not harbor the slightest ambitions of toppling the Bakufu. Rather, they despised the Bakufu's regent, whom the Lord of Mito and his followers labeled "a traitor disgracing the divine Emperor and the sacred nation." But the stage of history had already been set. The coup de theatre which would transform the conglomerate of 260 feudal clans into a single, unified nation was under way; and although Sakamoto Ryoma was yet unaware, his was to be a leading role in the great drama ahead, which would be the revolution to overthrow the Tokugawa Bakufu.

Shortly after his return to Kochi, Ryoma received a letter from a Mito samurai by the name of Sumiya Toranosuke, whom he had never met. Sumiya was traveling through western Japan on a campaign to organize opposition against the "dictator" Ii Naosuke. He had heard of the well-known Tosa swordsman, Sakamoto Ryoma, from men at the Chiba Dojo in Edo. In his letter, Sumiya wrote that he would like to meet Ryoma, and that he would be waiting for him at the Tachikawa Border Station, which separated Tosa from the neighboring province of Iyo. Pleased by his recent notoriety, Ryoma immediately set out on the long trek through the mountains to Tachikawa, arriving on the following morning.

Sumiya was dressed all in black. His full head of hair was tied in a topknot, and his sideburns extended down to his earlobes. He was unshaven, but his refined features, clear eyes and manner of speech made it apparent that he was a man of culture.

"Sakamoto-san, I appreciate your coming," the radical Loyalist from Mito greeted the Tosa swordsman, then without hesitation got straight to the point. "What do you think about the blasphemy in the national government?"

"I'm not exactly sure what you mean," Ryoma said.

An educated man would surely have realized that Sumiya was referring to Ii's recent purge of his political enemies who had opposed the sealing of the commercial treaty without Imperial sanction. Ignoring Ryoma's remark, Sumiya continued in a bookish manner. "Men of High Purpose are now concentrating their collective energies to organize enough support to restructure the present regime in Edo, and in so doing avenge not only the unjust punishments inflicted upon our virtuous Lords Nariaki and Yoshinobu, but also the immoral irreverence Ii has displayed toward court nobles in Kyoto, and even toward the Son of Heaven Himself."

"I see," Ryoma said, scratching the back of his neck. Although he was genuinely concerned with Mito's plight, the content of Sumiya's words was beyond his present grasp. "To tell you the truth, I'm really not very familiar with what is happening in the Edo government or in the Imperial Court," he admitted.

As the swordsman's ignorance was apparent, Sumiya abandoned his discourse to get to more immediate concerns. "I'd like to ask for your help in gaining entrance into Tosa for a few days so that I can talk with some of your people about Ii's atrocities."

Notwithstanding Ryoma's sympathy for this champion of Imperial Reverence and Expelling the Barbarians, the former head of the Chiba Dojo was a mere lower-samurai; despite his efforts, he was unable to arrange permission for Sumiya to enter Tosa.

The Mito man was grieved. Not only had he wasted precious time waiting at the border station for Ryoma's response, but he was also disappointed at the ignorance of the reputable swordsman for whom he had harbored such high expectations.

The meeting, however, was by no means a wasted endeavor. In fact, Sakamoto Ryoma's short encounter with the Mito Loyalist at the Tachikawa Border Station that chilly afternoon in November 1858 would one day have a great effect on the history of Japan. Bothered and embarrassed at his lack of knowledge concerning national affairs, Ryoma decided to educate himself.

On the next day Ryoma visited the home of Takechi Hanpeita, the master of the Zuizan Dojo, recently returned from Edo. In addition to fencing, Zuizan (Hanpeita had recently taken this pseudonym) taught Japanese and Chinese history and philosophy, with an emphasis on Confucianism. This ancient Chinese doctrine, which taught a code of morals based on filial piety and submission to authority, was, in strictly ethical terms, the most prolific source of the code of the samurai.

"Hanpeita, I need your advice," Ryoma said, accepting a cupful of sake from Hanpeita's wife, Tomiko.

"About what?"

"Will you recommend some books that will give me a general understanding of the political situation in Japan?" "Start by reading history," Hanpeita said.

"History? To understand current problems?"

"Yes. History teaches knowledge through example," declared the Confucian scholar. "History is the foundation of scholarship." Hanpeita stood up and walked over to a desk on the other side of the room. "Here," he said, "read these." He handed two handwritten volumes to Ryoma. One was titled A History of Japan, a celebrated Imperialist work popular among the supporters of Imperial Reverence and Expelling the Barbarians. The other was a Chinese history book.

Ryoma's scholastic endeavors during this period were by no means limited to these two studies of Oriental history. Shortly after reading them he visited 1 Kawada Shoryo, to borrow a copy of An Account of an American Castaway. . The book fascinated Ryoma. It told of a democratic system of government, whereby people elected their leaders. "The people of the nation vote to elect a president every four years." Ryoma repeated this sentence several times to understand the meaning. "There is an official document called the 'Bill of: Rights' which guarantees fundamental rights and privileges to the people. The Bill of Rights is a part of the Constitution, upon which all of the laws are based." The concept which confused Ryoma most was that of a congress, elected by the people, and which made the laws. "This is apolitical system1 which has been created to protect the 'civil rights' of the people." Ryoma read this sentence over and over again, because he could not understand the concept of "civil rights."

On the next day Ryoma visited Shoryo again. "Your book is fascinating," he said. "The Americans have some incredible ideas. To think that the people'; choose their Shogun."

"Not a Shogun," Shoryo laughed. "A president."

"What's a president?"

"The president of the United States is the leader of the people, who is chosen by the people every four years to represent them."

"Do you mean that even the peasants can choose their leader?" Ryoma was amazed.

"Ryoma," Shoryo spoke deliberately, "there are no peasants in the United States. But a farmer can become the president. Anyone can, regardless of lineage."

"That's fantastic!" Ryoma blurted, slapping his thigh. "But what are civil rights?"

"Civil rights are the personal liberties guaranteed to each individual citizen by the Constitution of the United States of America" "What's the Constitution!" Ryoma asked.

"The Constitution is the document which states the principles and laws of the United States that determine the powers and duties of the government, and which guarantees civil rights to the people."

During the following months Ryoma often visited Kawada Shoryo to learn the details of American government and democracy. The Western scholar also told Ryoma of everything he himself had learned about the joint-stock company and the booming industrialism of Europe and America, while they discussed a mutual dream of one day acquiring a Western-style steamer to operate their own shipping company.


In the Wake of the Storm
By spring of the sixth year of the Era of Peaceful Rule, 1859, Takechi Hanpeita had become the undisputed leader of the self-styled Men of High Purpose who lived in and around Kochi Castletown. Most of these men were of lower-samurai stock, some were peasants, others the sons of village headmen from the surrounding countryside. They talked among themselves of the dire necessity of fortifying the nation to protect it from the Western onslaught. They cursed Regent Ii Naosuke for sullying the sacred nation with foreign treaties. They pledged their alliance to Imperial Reverence and Expelling the Barbarians, vowing to die before they would allow the foreigners free rein in Japan.

Master Zuizan, age twenty-nine, was the champion in Tosa of the xenophobic Imperial cause, and Sakamoto Ryoma, twenty-three, was his right-hand man. The two, however, were an unlikely team. The reserved sword master was a rigid moralist who shunned everything Western, while the Dragon harbored preposterous dreams of one day commanding a Western-style warship.
The bright sun illuminated the crystal-blue sky above the castletown on the fifth day of March. It was the morning after the heads of upper-samurai households had been invited by the Lord of Tosa to drink sake at his castle, an honor from which Ryoma, Hanpeita and the other lower-samurai were excluded.

"Ryoma," Nakaoka Shintaro hollered as he stormed into the Sakamoto house amid a gathering of several young samurai. Shintaro was the first son of a powerful village headman from the mountainous district of Aki, whose family had long ago been awarded the privilege of having a surname and bearing the two swords of the samurai. One of Hanpeita's leading disciples, Shintaro began his formal education in his early childhood under a Buddhist priest, and afterwards studied under a doctor of Chinese medicine, at whose academy he became a teacher at just fourteen. Later Shintaro moved to the castletown, where he entered Hanpeita's fencing dojo, and now, at the age of twenty, studied literature, philosophy and fencing under Master Zuizan. "Zuizan-sensei has sent me here," Shintaro said, his fists clenched in anger, his eyes flashing. "Ikeda Toranoshin's younger brother, Chujiro, was murdered last night by an upper-samurai. Zuizan-sensei wants you to come to Toranoshin's house immediately."

Ikeda Toranoshin, also a lower-samurai, was Ryoma's junior at the Hineno Dojo in Kochi. "Where's Tora?" Ryoma asked, as he stood up and grabbed his two swords.

"He's held up in his house with Zuizan-sensei and about twenty others," Shintaro said, then relayed the events of the previous night as he had heard them.

The spring air was sullen in the neighborhood around Kochi Castle. It was the final night of the annual Peach Blossom Festival, when the heads of the upper-samurai households were invited by the Lord of Tosa to drink sake at his castle. The hour was growing late, and Yamada Koei, an upper-samurai with a reputation as a bad drunk, had just left the castle with his tea instructor. As they were about to pass the main gate of Eifuku Temple, just west of the castle, Yamada collided with a man who had been walking in the opposite direction. This was Chujiro, the younger brother of Ikeda Toranoshin. "Impertinence!" roared Yamada, grabbing Chujiro's sleeve. Although Chujiro tried to avoid trouble, the drunken man was adamant. "A lower-samurai," he thundered, identifying Chujiro's social rank by the clothes he wore. "Apologize immediately, or die!" he raged, ignoring the urging of his tea instructor to let the matter alone.

As Yamada continued his drunken tirade, a young boy who was an acquaintance of Chujiro happened by. Shrouded under the cover of the quarter-moon darkness, the frightened boy hid in the nearby bushes, where he witnessed the ensuing horror.

Chujiro refused to apologize, and Yamada became enraged at what he considered an insult to his social superiority. "Your name," he demanded, but Chujiro, overcome by resentment and fear, remained silent. Yamada drew his sword in a flash of deadly blue, and a split second later blood sprayed like a fountain from Chujiro's chest.

The young witness to the murder ran to the nearby house of Chujiro's older brother, who upon hearing what had happened, raced with the boy to the scene of the murder. Here Toranoshin found his brother's body lying in a pool of blood, and at a distance of about fifty paces from the temple gate, spotted Yamada washing his bloodied hands in a stream. Confirming with the boy that this was indeed his brother's murderer, Toranoshin drew his long sword, quietly crept through the bushes, and was upon his unsuspecting victim in a matter of seconds.

"I avenge my brother's murder," Toranoshin screamed, as his sword flashed into a crimson spray, and Yamada's head dropped to the ground. Not yet satisfied with his revenge, Toranoshin now went after the petrified tea instructor. "I revenge my brother's murder," he repeated, before thrusting his sword, still wet with Yamada's blood, into the heart of the genteel artist.

The living room of Toranoshin's house was filled with lower-samurai when Ryoma and the others arrived. Some wore kenjutsu training uniforms, others armor. While some of them were busy lubricating the blades of their swords, others polished spears, and all were heatedly discussing the impending battle with the upper-samurai who demanded that Toranoshin be handed over to the authorities.

"I say we attack right away," one man said. "If they think we're going to turn over Toranoshin, they're crazy," hollered another. "They'll have to kill all of us first."

'Calm down!" demanded a stern voice at the center of the room. "Ryoma, I'm glad you've come." This was Master Zuizan, recently appointed by the Tosa government as inspector of all swordsmen in the domain.

"Where's Tora?" Ryoma asked.

"He's back there." Hanpeita gestured with his head toward the rear of house. "Turning him over to the authorities would be a crime which I could not easily condone," Hanpeita said calmly, stroking his long chin. "Seppuku would be much more honorable."

"What?" Ryoma shouted. "That's crazy! You want him to commit seppuku for avenging the cold-blooded murder of his brother! He's a hero, not a criminal."

"Toranoshin acted with complete honor," said a younger man who was sitting away from the others. This was Ike Kurata, who had grown up in the same neighborhood as Ryoma. "Ryoma," Kurata seethed, "first they kill Chujiro, then they have the gall to demand that Toranoshin die. I say, down with the upper-samurai and this rotten han."

For the past two and a half centuries the lower-samurai of Tosa Han had been suppressed by the upper-samurai. The lower-samurai had originally been the retainers of the House of Chosokabe, the former ruler of Tosa. When the first Tokugawa Shogun defeated his enemies at the decisive Battle of Sekigahara at the turn of the seventeenth century, he confiscated the lands of the Chosokabe, who had sided against him, and awarded them to a minor feudal lord, the head of the House of Yamanouchi, who, although not a direct Tokugawa retainer, had not fought against the Shogun. When Yamanouchi occupied Tosa, he brought with him his own vassals, who became the upper-samurai of Tosa Han, direct Yamanouchi retainers. The vassals of the banished Chosokabe either fled to other domains where they became peasants, or remained in their native land as second-class samurai. Dress codes were established so that the two classes could be easily distinguished. The lower-samurai were forbidden to wear wooden clogs, a privilege which was reserved for direct Yamanouchi retainers. Nor were the lower-samurai allowed on certain occasions to wear silk, and no matter how hot the weather, it was against the law for any but upper-samurai to carry a parasol to screen the sunlight when in close vicinity to the castle.

"This is war," insisted another lower-samurai. "Let's attack now."

"We'll divide Tosa in half, and avenge the dishonor done our ancient lord," bellowed another.

"Quiet!" Ryoma demanded. "Let's get some order into this mess. Now first of all, everyone calm down."

Hanpeita broke the short silence that followed. "Toranoshin is a brave and honorable man. And in order to avoid war.." Hanpeita was suddenly interrupted by a scream from the rear of the house. Drawing his sword, Ryoma, followed by Kurata and Shintaro, raced through the long wooden corridor and into a small room. At the center of the tatami floor kneeled Toranoshin, sprawled forward. In his right hand he clenched a short sword drenched in blood, which he had plunged into his belly up to the hilt. His left arm was extended in front of him, his fingers contorted in agony.

"Tora!" Ryoma screamed, then kneeled down and took his friend in his arms.

"Kill me!" Toranoshin begged deliriously, blood trickling from his mouth. As the dying man entered a state of shock, his hands began twitching furiously, but his bulging eyes focused on Ryoma.

Hanpeita and the others rushed to the room. "Toranoshin, you don't deserve this," one of them screamed. Indeed, had this been any of the other 260 Japanese fiefdoms, Toranoshin may well have been rewarded for his valor and fraternal loyalty, and certainly he would not have been branded a criminal. But things in Tosa were cut and dry: it was a crime, under any circumstances, for a lower-samurai to strike a direct retainer of the House of Yamanouchi.

"Tosa Han is rotten," Ryoma muttered, still holding Toranoshin in his arms. Kurata, now kneeling on the floor next to Ryoma, looked up at the others and screamed, "Call for a doctor! We need a doctor to save his life!"

"Silence!" Hanpeita ordered. "Toranoshin, you will not have died in vain. You are a brave warrior," he solemnly declared. "Kurata, he's suffered enough. Perform the duties of a second."

Tears of rage filled Kurata's eyes. "Toranoshin, I swear that your brave death will be avenged. We'll tear this rotten han apart."

"Kura, show the compassion of a warrior!" Ryoma screamed, holding Toranoshin in an upright position. "He's suffered enough. Perform the duties of a second right away."

"Ikeda Toranoshin!" cried Kurata, beside himself with anger and grief, "you are the bravest of samurai." He drew his long sword, raised it high above the neck of his comrade.

"Thanks, Kurata," gasped Toranoshin.

"We'll meet in heaven," Kurata screamed, and an instant later Toranoshin's head lay in front of the corpse, blood pumping from the neck in gruesome, audible spurts. Kurata wiped the blood from his sword with his sleeve, resheathed the blade, and screamed, "Vengeance! We must get vengeance!"

"What are we waiting for?" yelled another man. "Let's go. We must avenge the death of the Ikeda brothers."

"Wait!" Hanpeita roared, commanding the attention of the some twenty men present. "Shintaro, take care of the body," he said. "Ryoma, you take everyone to my house and make sure that nobody does anything rash. I'm going to report this to the authorities."

"But Sensei," Kurata objected, tears of rage flowing down his face, "we can't forgive this. We must avenge Toranoshin's brave death."

"Down with the upper-samurai!" Shintaro shouted. "Down with Tosa Han!"

"Down with the Yamanouchi!" several others shouted.

'Calm down!" Hanpeita ordered, silencing the entire group. Glaring through steely eyes the sword master said, "Everyone go with Ryoma. We must act coolly, deliberately and most of all accurately. We will strike when the time is right," declared the undisputed leader of all young samurai of the lower classes in Tosa Han.

* * *

Around this time, a quite separate event of even greater consequences incited contempt throughout the population of upper-samurai in Kochi Castletown. The Lord of Tosa, Yamanouchi Yodo, had been forced into retirement by Ii Naosuke, and subsequently placed under house arrest at his villa in Edo.

Yamanouchi Yodo, who as an outside lord had no authority in the Edo government, was nevertheless considered one of the "Four Brilliant Lords" of his time. With the coming of Perry in 1853, the then twenty-seven-year-old Tosa daimyo, an accomplished poet and swordsman, took it upon himself to write a letter to the Bakufu, advising absolute refusal of the American demands to open the country. "Since refusal will undoubtedly mean war with the barbarians," he wrote, "it is of utter importance for Japan to prepare itself for war if we are to avoid becoming another China." With only direct retainers of the Shogun invited to express opinions in national affairs, such a bold display by an outside lord was unprecedented.

Yodo's brazen personality even vexed his own government ministers, most of whom were far older than the self-styled "poet warrior" when he ascended to Tosa rule at age nineteen. During a ceremonial party in the Grand Hall of Kochi Castle, too much sake had led some of the more loquacious ministers to express disapproval for their young lord's display of bravado on the previous day, upon his return from his first official visit to Edo. When Yodo's entourage of some four hundred samurai reached the vicinity of Kochi Castle after weeks of travel, the daimyo was advised to remain seated in his palanquin, and allow himself to be carried along the road leading to the castle gates. This, after all, was considered the only proper manner for a daimyo to return to his realm. Not so for Yamanouchi Yodo, who preferred to portray the image of a powerful warlord of three centuries passed, during the age when respect from one's vassals could only be earned through sheer strength. Paying little regard to customs which had, in his mind, become effeminate through the comforts of two and a half centuries of peace, Lord Yodo called for his own horse, climbed out of his palanquin, mounted the steed and rode majestically past the throngs of samurai and townspeople who waited in kneeled reverence until the procession had passed safely through the castle gates.

Yodo, who had been drinking alone on the following night in a room in the inner-palace, overheard the disapproving talk among his ministers in the Grand Hall. He proceeded to storm through the door, startling all present, and immediately grabbing one of them by the sleeve. "So, you've been ridiculing me behind my back," Yodo hollered. Releasing the man, Yodo removed his silken kimono. Naked but for his loincloth, the muscular young lord challenged the befuddled minister to a wrestling match right there in the Grand Hall. The previously festive mood was now as solemn as the main hall of a Buddhist temple, as Yodo ordered his retainer to accept. "If you don't fight your hardest," he roared, "I'll order you to cut your belly open." Infuriated at the younger man's audacity, the minister charged him, but was immediately knocked off his feet by a powerful blow to the jaw. "Next!" the daimyo ordered another minister to attack, also knocking him down, before proceeding to beat up all twelve ministers in similar fashion.

Having quite literally subjugated his vassals, the Lord of Tosa stood at the center of the Grand Hall, arms folded at his bare chest. "I guess there's nobody here who can beat me," he snickered, then calmly put on his kimono before leaving his twelve befuddled ministers to themselves.

The "poet warrior" was also in the habit of lambasting other daimyo, most of whom he openly considered his mental inferiors. As his reputation spread, many of the feudal lords who were in attendance in Edo refused invitations to drink with him, fearing that an evening with the "Drunken Lord of the Sea of Whales"-Lord Yodo's nom deplume was indicative of both his love of sake and the whales which abounded off the Tosa coast-might lead to political discussion concerning the difficult times, and an inevitable tongue-lashing by the eloquent daimyo.

Yodo's wrath even extended to the lords of the Three Tokugawa Branch Houses. In the event that any of the other some 260 daimyo should encounter one of these three elite lords while traveling through the streets of Edo, he was required to alight his palanquin and pay the proper respects. To avoid such humiliation, most lords were in the custom of ordering their palanquin bearers to steer clear of any palanquin displaying the crests of Owari, Kii or Mito. Not so Lord Yodo. One rainy day the Tosa daimyo, upon spotting the crest of Owari, ordered his own vehicle be stopped right along side of the esteemed Tokugawa retainer. Ignoring the downpour, Yodo alighted his palanquin, calmly walked over to that of the Lord of Owari, and paid the proper respects. Upon such an occasion, however, protocol also demanded that the Owari daimyo lean out of his own palanquin in acknowledgment of the respects paid. Accordingly, the Lord of Owari was, like Yodo, thoroughly drenched. Yodo's strategy worked: from this time on whenever a lord of the Three Tokugawa Branch Houses spotted the palanquin displaying the Tosa crest, he would inevitably order his bearers to steer clear of "that crazy daimyo of Tosa."

Yodo's boldness seemed to know no limits. During his first meeting with the head of the Shogun's Senior Council, Yodo muttered something about the heavy responsibilities of the elite councilor's high position.

"Not at all," the councilor graciously dismissed the flattery.

Here, however, the conversation took a sarcastic turn. "What I actually think," said Yodo, "is that you must have a very easy time and enjoy yourself in dealing with so many stupid daimyo. But I guarantee things won't be quite so easy with me."

Yodo had cause for indignation. Among the feudal lords in Japan, whose rule was hereditary, were literal morons who could neither read nor write. Others, having been pampered since birth, hadn't the faintest idea of the great problems facing the nation. In contrast, Lord Yodo was a gifted poet, accomplished scholar, eloquent speaker, and polished swordsman. As Lord of Tosa, he ranked nineteenth in revenue among all the feudal lords, and held a Fourth Imperial Court ranking, entitling him to sit among his peers before the Shogun, in the Great Hall of Edo Castle. It was natural for a man of his caliber to resent the archaic system which prohibited him from taking part in national affairs simply because he was an outside lord, while other "stupid daimyo" were invited to voice their opinions merely because of birthright.

Moreover, Yodo's brazen personality clashed with that of Regent Ii Naosuke. Just as the self-respecting "poet warrior" had spoken his mind to the head of the Shogun's Senior Council, he had recently made known to the Edo government his views concerning the defense of Osaka from possible foreign invasion. Drinking alone one night, as was his custom, Yodo composed a letter to the Bakufu from his official residence in Edo, advising that the best way to protect Japan's mercantile center would be to first burn the entire city to the ground. Quite a bold suggestion, considering that Osaka was a domain of the Shogun himself. Despite the Japanese saying "There is but a fine line between insanity and genius," the Drunken Lord of the Sea of Whales had substantial reason for his radical views. "The city is inhabited entirely by merchants," Yodo wrote. "And most of these merchants know how to do little else but make money. In fact, if an Osaka merchant should happen to cross paths with a lone samurai, he would inevitably start quivering like a scared rabbit at the sight of the two swords. What would happen if a fleet of Black Ships were to open fire from Osaka Bay, before actually landing to invade the city? Surely you can't suppose that such cowardly merchants would take up arms and fight. As I know that you will agree, the useless inhabitants of Osaka would surely choose to run with their money in the opposite direction, leaving the entire city in the hands of the barbarians." Yodo suggested that if Osaka were leveled to the ground so that one could see for leagues in all directions, the samurai assigned to protect the city would stand a far greater chance of repelling an invasion.

Upon reading Yodo's letter, Regent Ii, who was by now the absolute ruler of the Tokugawa regime, flinched, then muttered a single phrase under his breath, telltale of the Tosa lord's imminent confinement: "That son of a bitch!"

Fortunately, Yodo had recently recalled his favorite vassal, Yoshida Toyo, from temporary retirement, and appointed him as regent of Tosa Han, the most powerful post in the domain. Although Toyo was of the lower echelons of Tosa's upper-samurai classes, he was one of the most educated men in the han, who had first come to Yodo's notice in 1853, the year that Perry's fleet appeared off the coast of Edo. The pressing times had compelled the Tosa daimyo to recruit a group of able officials to organize a list of major reforms within his fiefdom. As leader of this group, Toyo became the target of animosity by the ousted members of the old guard, the highest stratum of Tosa society, who, in their preoccupation with maintaining the status quo, had lost sight of the necessity for economic reform in the face of modernization.

One hot summer night in 1854, while Toyo was in attendance upon his lord in Edo, an incident occurred which would result in four years of temporary retirement for Yodo's able but perhaps overly self-esteeming, if not notoriously obstinate, retainer. Yodo was holding a small party at his official residence for a distant relative who was stationed in Edo in Bakufu service. When Yodo's special guest became drunk he verbally ridiculed Toyo, and even tapped him on the head with his fan.

"Watch your manners!" Toyo burst out angrily, punching the Bakufu functionary square in the face. Then jumping on top of him and pinning him down on the floor, Toyo said furiously: "Not only have I dedicated my life to Lord Yodo, but I am also a minister of his great domain. Was it your intention to slight my lord by laying a hand on his loyal vassal?" Despite the man's frantic apologies, Toyo punched him again, and could only be stopped when Yodo himself physically intervened. Insulted, the guest suggested to Yodo that seppuku would be a just and proper punishment for his errant vassal.

Feigning indignation, Yodo ordered Toyo into another room until riled spirits could be calmed. In order to avoid further trouble with the Bakufu official, Yodo returned his favorite retainer to Kochi, where he was forced to resign his post and live quietly in a small village on the outskirts of the castletown.

Yodo was bewildered over the temporary loss of such an able man, whom he had every intention of reinstating when the time was right. The chance finally came four years later, shortly before Ii Naosuke's sudden rise to power. Then, when Yodo was forced into retirement and confined to his villa in Edo, Toyo quite naturally became first minister to the new Lord of Tosa. But since Yodo's heir was only thirteen years old at the time, Yoshida Toyo, at forty-three, assumed control of the Tosa government in the spring of 1859. Although there was great concern in Kochi that Ii Naosuke may go to such extremes as to abolish the Yamanouchi lineage and confiscate the entire Tosa domain, it was largely due to Toyo's scrutiny and wise negotiation with Bakufu officials that Yodo's punishment was kept to the minimal forced retirement and house confinement in Edo.

* * *

"Ryoma!" Takechi Hanpeita called at the front door of the Sakamoto house late one morning in the second week of March. "Have you heard the news?" he said, entering.

"What is it?" Ryoma, lying on the living room floor, replied drowsily.

"Ii Naosuke has been assassinated."

"What?" Ryoma started in surprise. Ii Naosuke was not only the most powerful man in Japan, but as Lord of Hikone, was always accompanied by an entourage of armed bodyguards. Getting through such an escort to take the head of the regent was a nearly impossible task, even for eighteen expert swordsmen who were resigned to die on the spot.

The impossible was achieved on the snowy morning of March 3, 1860, when a band of samurai, dedicated to the perpetuation of things Japanese, cut down Ii Naosuke at one of the main gates of Edo Castle, putting an abrupt end to the regent's reign of terror, and unleashing a wave of assassination which would not cease until after the downfall of the Tokugawa Bakufu seven years later.

"Seventeen men from Satsuma and one from Mito did the job," Hanpeita told Ryoma. "First they cut the devil while he was still in his palanquin. Then, after pulling him out onto the freshly fallen snow, they cut him up. Finally, the Mito man took the devil's head and ran with it to the front gate of the house of a member of Ii's Senior Council, where he committed seppuku."

Ryoma sat up straight, gave Hanpeita a hard look. "If the regent of the Tokugawa Bakufu can be cut down in cold blood at the very gates of Edo Castle," he said, "then there's no telling who might be next. People in Edo are going to go crazy, cutting down Bakufu officials left and right."

"Yes," Hanpeita agreed through steely eyes. "We Tosa men can't let Mito and Satsuma outdo us. We too have to prove our single dedication to the Imperial cause."

During the following months, Ryoma's house served as a gathering place for the disciples of Master Zuizan, and for other so-called Men of High Purpose who came to the castletown from throughout the seven districts of Tosa. With the death of the Ikeda brothers having ignited two and a half centuries of smoldering resentment into raging flames of anger toward the privileged upper classes, these young men had adopted a defiant attitude toward the establishment in Tosa. Then, with the assassination of Regent Ii Naosuke, the collective scorn of Tosa's lower-samurai was now also aimed at the Tokugawa Bakufu in Edo.

Nor was the radical effect of Ii's assassination limited to the lower-samurai of Tosa. Samurai from Choshu and Satsuma, the two most powerful "outside han," were now burning with a mutual resentment for the Edo regime which had subjugated them for the past two and a half centuries. In short, the fear by which the Bakufu had controlled the island nation began evaporating into thin air at the very instant the regent's warm blood dyed the freshly fallen snow a deep shade of crimson at the gates of the Shogun's castle.

The Lord of Tosa, however, was not inclined to oppose the Bakufu. Unlike the Mori of Choshu and the Shimazu of Satsuma, whose ancestors had been subjugated for having fought against the first Shogun, the Yamanouchi of Tosa owed its rule to the goodwill of the founder of the Tokugawa regime. Accordingly, the upper-samurai of Tosa neither shared the contempt for the Bakufu that prevailed among the lower classes of their fief, nor would they ever collectively stand against the Tokugawa. Although Lord Yodo would continue his call for change within the shogunal system, he would support his ancestral benefactor in Edo to the bitter end.

* * *

In addition to the foreign treaties, another issue which the Imperial Loyalists adamantly opposed was the call for an alliance between the Imperial Court at Kyoto and the military regime at Edo. By means of a "Union of Court and Camp," as the proposed alliance was called, the Bakufu hoped to subdue the Loyalists. Those who claimed loyalty to the Emperor would certainly not wage war against Edo, for doing so would be tantamount to taking sides against the Imperial Court. The Tokugawa also reasoned that by uniting with the court, it would be able to maintain its absolute political authority which had been under question since the coming of Perry in 1853, and more recently with the assassination of the regent. But the plan had one great flaw: although the court would indeed recognize Edo's absolute political authority, by seeking to borrow Imperial prestige, Edo was acknowledging the power which Kyoto had recently come to wield.

Nevertheless, to secure a union with the court, the Bakufu proposed that a marriage be arranged between Shogun Iemochi, only fourteen years old, and Princess Kazu, the thirteen-year-old sister of Emperor Komei. Once the Princess was married to the Shogun and living within the confines of Edo Castle, a Loyalist attack on the Bakufu would be nothing short of an assault on the Imperial Family. In short, the Bakufu reasoned that once this political marriage had actually been achieved, the radicals would no longer be able to use their claim of "loyal dedication to the Son of Heaven" as a war banner by which to act against the Shogun, who would be directly related to the Emperor.

In order to persuade Emperor Komei to sanction the marriage proposal, the Bakufu claimed that such a bond would serve to unite the hearts of the Japanese people, thus consolidate national strength so that Japan would be in a better position to expel the "barbarian devils." Then, in July 1860, the Bakufu pledged the impossible: to expel the foreigners from Japan if the Princess would marry the Shogun, an offer which the chronically xenophobic Emperor could not refuse.