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brought a message from Lord Min-Orota.

The domain-lord, who had descended from his palace to the quayside,

requested permission to come aboard with four shinto priests in order

to pay his last respects to his friend and ally. Two senior members of

the delegation went ashore to escort him back to the vessel.

Lord Yama-Shita's open coffin lay atop a catafalque draped in white

silk. When the traditional mourning rites had been performed,

Min-Orota spent an hour in silent contemplation of his colleague's

body, then asked to speak privately with the closest of the dead man's

aides.

Only two were still on their feet. Four had been badly injured,

another was expected to die before reaching home, and the corpses of

several more lay in the hold.

When he had assured himself that they could not be overheard, Min-Orota

broached the subject of a 'chestful of rich silk cloth' that Lord

Yama-Shita had brought with him as an intended gift to the principal

ladies of the house of Min-Orota. The domain-lord had stressed the

uniquely special nature of the materials and workmanship involved but,

alas, he had not lived long enough to make the presentation himself.

Did the aides, asked Min-Orota, know of their lord's intentions in this

matter and, if so, where was the chest?

Min-Orota was fortunate that the two men facing him were among the four

people, outside of himself and the dead domain-lord, who knew the

precise nature of the object concealed beneath the bolts of cloth.

After exchanging thoughtful glances, the senior of the two aides

replied. Yes, they were aware of the intended gift, but since their

lord had not lived long enough to offer it himself, they did not feel

they had the necessary authority to make the gift on his behalf. That

decision could only be made by his successor.

Min-Orota praised their infinite tact and caution. They had

misunderstood him. He did not wish to receive that which could not be

freely given. What he had come to suggest was that the chest and its

contents be placed in his safekeeping until its eventual fate could be

decided. He was suggesting this because his spies in the late

Consul-General's residence had, that very morning, hastened to bring

him some most disquieting news. The Shogun had learned of the junk's

sensitive cargo and planned to intercept the flotilla during their

return journey on the pretext of according the honours due to the dead

domain-lord.

This revelation caused the two aides to exchange wary glances.

Min-Orota expressed his concern. The Shogun's men could easily find

some excuse to seize the chest's valuable contents on behalf of their

master. If faced with this danger, they could always save themselves

by having the chest thrown overboard - but would that not be a woeful

betrayal of their dead master's wishes?

The alternative was to transport the chest's contents overland but,

once again, the carriers could be intercepted by the Toh-Yota. Only

the house of Min-Orota, the chief partner in the enterprise which their

dead lord had once described to him as 'the spinning and weaving of

dreams', could be trusted to guard the chest and its contents until

YamaShita's successor had been chosen.

Min-Orota's choice of words and the emphasis he placed upon them left

the two aides in no doubt that he had been fully apprised of Lord

Yama-Shita's future plans. After retiring to the far end of the room

for a whispered conversation, they returned and knelt before

Min-Orota.

He signalled them to sit and speak. They bowed respectfully from the

waist and adopted a cross-legged position.

They were grateful, said the senior aide, for his warning about the

possible interception of their vessels.

The chest would be left in his care - but was he aware of the dangers

he faced in becoming its guardian?

Min-Orota declared himself r