“I intend to suggest to my father that I lead settlers from the Second Fleet back to the South Bay. I already know the Indians to be friendly, after all. Why lose the benefit of the work I have done with them already?”
“I will think upon it.”
* * *
Iroha held the gold nugget up. It sparkled in the sunlight. It had a cold beauty, she thought, a beauty without mercy, a beauty that had brought her husband to his death.
Once he had found the nugget, he had accomplished the task set by the shogun: He had found the gold fields. He could have rejoined her, and together they could have journeyed to Monterey.
Instead, he stayed. Why? What allure did the gold possess, that she did not?
If her husband had been less concerned with status and wealth, and more with love and faith, he would still be alive.
Had he ever cared for her? As Iroha? Or only as the daughter of the great and powerful Date Masamune? Would he have invited her to rejoin him if her father did not command the First Fleet?
She knew that as a samurai woman, she should not care. Marriage was an alliance between families, it had nothing to do with love.
But she cared.
And she cared about the colonists, too. Once the shogun was given tangible proof that the gold of California was not a fantasy, he might think twice about allowing the kirishitan to live there. The Tokugawa had taken control of all the gold mines throughout Japan, heedless of the claims of the local daimyos.
The Dutch were allies now, but they were also a potential threat. Japan didn’t have enough ships to transport all the kirishitan by the shogun’s deadline without their aid. And if the Japanese sent a large number of miners to the Bay, the Dutch might well learn of it. If they knew that those miners knew exactly where to go to find gold, the Dutch would be sorely tempted to wrest San Francisco Bay, and perhaps all California, away from the Japanese. And the Japanese in California were still too few to stop them.
A seagull swooped low across the water, and rose with a small fish gleaming in its mouth. The bird, at least, had no fears as to the consequences of finding a treasure.
Iroha tossed the nugget into the still-muddy waters of the Carquinez Strait. It made a soft “plop,” as if a frog had jumped in.
February 1635,
Kodachi Machi/Santa Cruz
“Sanada Jiro and Sanada Saburo, please come forward,” said Date Masamune.
The two samurai, wearing their formal attire, complied, then bowed deeply.
“Your feat in crossing the wilds of California, first to bring word of the plight of Iroha-hime and her party, and then to lead a rescue party to her, reminds me of the deeds of Hi no Omi no Mikoto the days of the Emperor Jimmu. It was that great samurai that led the imperial party to Yamato, earning himself the epithet, Michi no Omi, the Opener of the Way. You have opened the land road to San Francisco Bay.
“Since your service to Lord Matsudaira Tadateru was released by his death, you are offered positions as members of the grand governor’s personal guard, with suitable stipends.”
Saburo and Jiro exchanged quick glances, and bowed again.
“My brother and I thank you deeply,” said Jiro. “May we respectfully request that we be assigned to the protection of Iroha-hime?”
“That is indeed her wish, and I am pleased to make it my command.”
“Next. Captain Haruno. Please rise.”
The captain did so haltingly.
“It would be remiss of me not to assure that you did not suffer an economic loss as a result of your spending your time on missions of exploration and rescue rather than trade. So, besides the payments you have already received from me, I have decided to give you the exclusive right to sell sea otter pelts in Japan. You will pay our house the standard commission. This exclusivity will last for two years, after which we will review how well you have done.”
“I do not know the words to thank you, my lord.”
“Thank me through more fine deeds, Captain. And Captain—I think the time will come when we will need you to captain a warship, not a merchant ship. So learn what you can of such matters from our Dutch allies.”
“Last but not least, Mr. Tokubei.”
“Y-yes, my lord?”
“You go by the nickame ‘Tenjiku,’ do you not? Because you once visited the fabled land of India, where the Buddha was born?”
“Yes, Grand Governor.”
“Well then, I give you the right to use Tenjiku as your kamei.” The kamei was the house name, and only a samurai could have one. “You have a wakizashi already, but you must now have a katana. Now, where will we find one in this wild land of California?”
Masamune snapped his fingers. “Hosoya Yoritaki!”
The commander of the Ieyasu Maru’s samurai came to attention. “Sir!”