Yoritomo was one of those who drew strength from the garden - a
treasured re-creation of a fragment of a past life in a place known to
the chroniclers as The World Before. Yoritomo had fallen under its
magic spell at the age of nine, and from then on had made daily visits
to the same spot on the top step of the veranda whenever his branch of
the family had been in residence at Yedo. His feelings toward it had
not changed- only now, no one else was allowed to sit in his chosen
place which, upon his accession, had assumed the status of a shrine.
Although austere by nature, Yoritomo was not, and had no wish to
become, an ascetic saint-like figure.
During his adolescence, his periods of contemplation had been
sandwiched in between the normal activities and youthful excesses one
would expect a young nobleman to indulge in. Sensual delights, while
not encouraged, were not forbidden and although young samurai were
taught that the companionship of other warriors was preferable to that
of women, they were not always able to resist the lure of a sentimental
- and sometimes illicit - relationship.
And neither could the new Shogun.
Toshiro, now clad in a broad-shouldered kimono of dark-toned brocaded
silk, approached the guard-captain whose men were posted round the
perimeter of the pebble garden. Both samurai wore white headbands
fastened at the nape of the neck over wigs made of Mute hair, swept
upwards to form the traditional top-knot. The guard-captain's headband
bore the usual blood-red disc flanked by two word-signs denoting his
rank and function.
On Toshiro's headband, the Shogun's bird emblem took the place of the
red disc. A long and short sword, housed in gently curving scabbards,
were thrust through the sash around his waist.
Had he been anyone else, he would have been obliged to remove them
but, as a Herald of the Inner Court, he had the right to bear arms in
the presence of the Shogun.
It was a sign of the extraordinary trust Yoritomo had in this band of
young men. It was not entirely by chance that Toshiro happened to be
the same age as the Shogun.
None of the new Heralds chosen by Yoritomo was over thirty; the
youngest was twenty-five.
The guard-captain led Toshiro along the path towards the open-sided
summerhouse where Yoritomo sat crosslegged, lost in contemplation of
the stone landscape. The five samurai seated behind him in a
semicircle sprang silently to their feet, then relaxed their grip on
